Dear Mr. P.,

You ask me whether it is all right to trade in opium and ganja. This is what the Buddha says: --

There are, monks, these five trades that should not be carried on by an upásaka. Which five?

Trading in weapons, trading in living creatures, trading in flesh, trading in intoxicants, trading in poisons. These, monks, are the five trades that should not be carried on by an upásaka.
(Anguttara Nikáya V,xviii,7)

(The Venerable Sáriputta speaks to the Buddha:)
'What, Bhante, is the reason why the trade that one man undertakes is a complete failure, and why the trade that another man undertakes does not come up to expectation, and why the trade that yet another man undertakes does come up to expectation, and why the trade that still another man undertakes exceeds expectation?'

(The Buddha replies:)
'Here, Sáriputta, someone goes up to an ascetic or a monk and invites him saying, "Tell me what you need, Bhante". Then he does not give what is expected of what he promised. If this man, when he dies, is reborn again in this world, then whatever trade he undertakes does not come up to this level of failure.

Or again, Sáriputta, someone goes up to an ascetic or monk and invites him saying, "Tell me what you need, Bhante". Then he gives less than was expected of what he had promised. If this man, when he dies, is reborn again in this world, then whatever trade he undertakes comes to less than expectation.

Or here, Sáriputta, someone goes up to an ascetic or monk and invites him saying, "Tell me what you need, Bhante". Then he gives as much as was expected of what he had promised. If this man, when he dies, is reborn again in this world, then whatever trade he undertakes does come up expectation.

Or here, Sáriputta, someone goes up to an ascetic or monk and invites him saying, "Tell me what you need, Bhante". Then he gives more than was expected of what he had promised. If this man, when he dies, is reborn again in this world, then whatever trade he undertakes exceeds expectation.

This then, Sáriputta, is the reason why the trade that one man undertakes is a complete failure, and why the trade that another man undertakes does not come up to expectation, and why the trade that yet another man undertakes does come up to expectation, and why the trade that still another man undertakes exceeds expectation.' (Anguttara Nikáya IV,viii,9)

Certainly it is difficult to live a good life, and the benefits may not be apparent here and now; but if we believe what the Buddha has told us then it is very well worth the effort that it costs even if it kills us. Not for the sake of life will a Sotápanna break the five precepts. The depressing effects of bad kamma done in the past may last for many lives, not just for one; but do not forget that good kamma also has its effect for a long time -- sometimes for longer than bad kamma. And this is important: -- if we do good kamma now we shall be reborn in a position to go on doing good kamma, for a man who is rich because of past good kamma has the opportunity of doing more good kamma now than a poor man who has not done good kamma in the past. And remember also that, although your past kamma is not good enough to make you rich and successful now, it is none the less very good kamma indeed, for you have been born a human being during the time of a Buddha's Sásana. The next time you see a sick dog or a cow dying of thirst, think, 'I might have been born as that; and if I do wrong now it is probable that I shall be born as that'. It is always better to bear up when misfortune assails us, but there is nothing else we can do: we inherit our past deeds.



[EL. 170]   10.x.1958

Dear Mr. P.,

I have just received your letter of the 8th. The shortest answer to your question why I think solitude is essential for mettá and why other people are a positive hindrance is simply this. The Buddha has said that noise is a thorn to first jhána; mettá practice is first and foremost to obtain jhána; and other people are noisy. But this needs some expansion and qualification.

It may be said, perhaps, that mettá is recommended by the Buddha for getting rid of anger, and that anger normally arises in our dealings with other people; and that it is therefore in our dealings with other people that mettá is best practised. It is most certainly true that we have need of mettá in our dealings with other people, and the Ven. Thera's advice to you is excellent and there is nothing to be said against it. But the trouble is this: before we can be in a position to have mettá in our dealings with other people we have to first know what mettá is, and secondly to have it at our command. Now, just as it is possible to practise ánápánasati in the presence of other people when one has already become skilled in it by oneself, so it is possible to practise mettá in the presence of others only when one has practised it a great deal when alone. And just as the worst conditions for practising ánápánasati are the noise and bustle of other people, so it is with mettá. Until you are able to practise either ánápánasati or mettá in solitude you will never succeed in company -- the obstacles are far too great. For example, suppose there is someone you dislike, and in whose presence you become angry: unless you are already able to prevent anger from arising when you think of him in his absence (which needs much practice), you will have no chance at all of getting rid of the anger that arises when you actually meet him. Once anger takes possession of you there is very little you can do except to stop it from finding expression in words or deeds, and to allow it to subside; it is far too late to start practising mettá. But if you thouroughly practise mettá before you meet such a person, then it is possible that anger will not arise when you do meet him. Having mettá in your dealings with other people consists in having mettá before you deal with them, that is, in solitude -- once you start dealing with them you will have little opportunity of attending to mettá (or if you do attend to mettá it will interfere in your dealings just as attending to your in and out breaths takes your mind away from the matter in hand).

You might, however, be thinking that, whereas ánápánasati concerns only myself since it is a matter of watching my own breaths and not somebody else's, mettá on the contrary concerns other people since it is a question of my relationship with other people and my attitude towards them. And you might think that it follows from this that the presence of other people is either an advantage or even absolutely necessary for the practice of mettá. In a certain sense this is true: you cannot practise mettá towards other people unless they are in some way present -- but the presence of other people does not imply that their bodies must be present. I do not mean that their 'spirit' is present while their body is absent (which is a mystical confusion of thought), but simply that 'other people' is a fundamental structure of our conscious constitution. Let me give an illustration. It happens to all of us that upon some occasion when we are doing something perhaps rather shameful (it might be simply when we are urinating or excreting, or it might be when we are peeping through a keyhole or something like that) and we believe we are alone and unobserved, we suddenly hear a slight sound behind us and we immediately have the unpleasant idea 'I am being watched'. We turn round and look and find nobody there at all. It was only our own guilty conscience. Now this is an indication that in order to have a relationship with other people we do not need other people's bodies: we are conscious of other people (at least implicitly) all the time, and it is this consciousness that we have to attend to when we practise mettá. (Another illustration, from my own experience. Upon two separate occasions in my life I have fallen in love with a character in a book -- badly enough to take away my appetite for a few days. That is to say, I was in love with people not only that I had never seen but that did not even exist. [Remarkably painful experiences!] The presence of a body was in no way necessary.) When we practise mettá we are developing and gradually changing our attitude towards other people; and we always have an attitude towards other people whether their bodies are present or not. The only thing a (living) body does when we meet one is to be the occasion for the consciousness 'this is another person'. And if we have already been practising mettá and have acquired an un-angry attitude towards other people, then when we actually meet another person our attitude towards him will be correct right at the beginning, and no anger will arise. It is only when we are already disposed to anger that we get angry when we meet someone; and if we are disposed to mettá (through long practice in solitude, on our consciousness of other people whose actual bodies are absent) we have mettá in our dealings with them. But other people's bodies are noisy and disturbing and interfere with our developing mettá towards these other people -- it is not other people that are a hindrance to the practice of mettá, but their bodies.

I hope this is reasonably clear and not too philosophical. There are two difficulties involved in writing this account: the first is that I am not quite sure why you are of the opinion that it is best to be with other people when practising mettá (though I have tried to guess); and the second is that I have never practised mettá bhávaná (I am not much inclined to anger and have preferred another subject of meditation), and consequently I cannot speak directly from experience. You must make whatever deductions you think necessary from what I have said, in view of this. There are some people who seem to think that mettá practice consists of walking around with a sickly smile on their face or in showing in some other way their benevolence towards mankind. These people, of course, find the presence of other people indispensable; for otherwise nobody would appreciate their benevolence, which would be a waste. I take it you are not referring to them.)...

P.S. 1. There are not two ways of practising mettá, one for jhána and one for one's dealings with others; there is just the one method, practised in solitude, which will lead to jhána if persisted with, and which will ensure that when we do happen to deal with other people we do so with mettá. It is noteworthy that in the Sutta for protection against snakes one first develops thoughts of mettá to all beings, legless, two-legged, four-legged, and many-legged, and one then says patikkamantu bhútáni, 'let beings keep away'. Mettá is best at a distance from its object.

2. The unsuccessful attempt to practise mettá in company with other people may lead to the unwitting substitution of some other practice (such as cága or generosity) in the belief that it is mettá. In extreme cases one may appoint oneself unofficial Welfare Officer to Humanity, or simply develop into a meddlesome busybody.

3. Mettá must be sharply distinguished from Socialism or Communism. A Socialist or Communist (when he is sincerely convinced, which is quite frequent) loves Humanity as a whole. But Humanity as a whole ('the People', 'the Masses') is an abstraction that can neither be loved nor hated. The attempt to love Humanity or Mankind as a whole normally results in hate for each individual person. Each individual person, in the eyes of a Socialist or a Communist, is an enemy of the People. Thus the more extreme Communists are cheerfully willing to kill any amount of persons for the sake of the People. The practice of mettá, on the other hand, consists in loving all individual beings, starting with oneself.



[EL. 171]   16.x.1960

Dear Mr. P.,

I am sorry you find that you are losing your temper easily, for the Buddha has said that anger is very much more to be blamed than lust. I suggest that you might try to act in this way: whenever you feel you are losing your temper and are about to say some angry words, stop whatever you are doing and count up to ten slowly before you say anything. It is possible that this will give you time to cool off a little and you may not say your angry words at all. But you must practise this sometimes when you are not angry so that you can still be able to do it when you do get angry.

You can also repeat these words to yourself every evening before going to sleep, and in the morning when you wake up:

'When I get angry this is pleasing to my enemies in seven ways.

1. When I get angry I am ugly to look at, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

2. When I get angry I do not rest or sleep in comfort, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

3. When I get angry I have ill-fortune, I have bad luck, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

4. When I get angry I lose my wealth, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

5. When I get angry I lose my good reputation, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

6. When I get angry I lose my friends, and this is pleasing to my enemies.

7. When I get angry I do wrong actions by mind, word, and deed, and when I die I shall go to a bad destiny, a place of misery and unhappiness, and this is pleasing to my enemies.'[1]

Dear Mrs. P.,

When a person feels that he may be at fault, it is right and proper for him to speak about it and not conceal it. The Buddha has said that this is the way to progress. When people tell me of their success or failure I give what advice I can; but these things do not concern me personally, since I have my own work to attend to.

Life is not easy for anybody. It is not easy for you; it is not easy for your husband; and, also, it is not easy for me. But at the present time we have the immense good fortune to know what the Buddha teaches, and know what we must do now to make things easier for ourselves in the future. When two people live together they sometimes make each other happy and they sometimes make each other miserable. So long as there is craving and attachment this will happen, and if a person wishes to avoid it he must live alone. But that is not possible for everybody. What matters is not what others do but what we ourselves do -- it is our own actions, our own kamma, whose fruit we experience, not other people's. So a person ought to be a good husband or good wife (as the case may be) even if the other person has faults. It is hard to be perfect, but at the time of death one should be able to say to oneself, 'I have done my best, I have done nothing that I regret'. Remember that it is more important to follow the Buddha's Teaching than it is to be happy in this life; but this is not an easy thing to understand.



[EL. 173]   2.viii.1961

Dear Mr. P.,

...It is very difficult for you (or for anybody else) to hurt my feelings, and I much prefer people to talk bluntly to me rather than to wrap up their meaning in a lot of fine words. You can always remember this: that amongst the laymen and dáyakas who have helped me in this life, I do not know of any single one to whom I am more grateful than yourself.



[EL. 174]   26.x.1961

Dear Mrs. P.,

...The Sutta in question is the Jívaka Sutta (of Majjhima Nikáya).[1] This Sutta does not prohibit people from eating meat, but says that bhikkhus may not eat meat that they have seen, heard, or suspected as having been killed on their account. Perhaps the Ven. Maháthera might try to talk to the two spirits in a friendly manner, and perhaps ask them what they want and if they need some help.



[EL. 175]   19.vii.1962

Dear Mr. P.,

Dealing in opium and ganja is the same as dealing in intoxicants, and is therefore one of the ways of livelihood that the Buddha has said to be unsuitable for a Buddhist layman. As for prostitution, I am not aware that the Buddha has said it is wrong for a woman to gain her livelihood in this way; but it is obvious enough that a woman should not choose this profession unless she is quite unable to make her living in any better way. It must be remembered that, generally speaking, a woman is dependent upon a man for her living, and that a man will usually only undertake to support a woman if she is pleasing to him; and the principal way in which a woman pleases a man is by her bodily attractions. Although the Buddha nowhere praises sensual pleasures, he does not altogether condemn them in people who live as laymen and laywomen. He has not said that men and women should never come together, and we know that even those who are sotápanna or sakadágámí still enjoy sensual pleasures (if they are not monks or nuns). Although, clearly enough, it is better for a woman to use her attractions to get a husband who will support her and to whom she can remain faithful, this may not always be possible for her (for example, her husband might die and leave her a penniless widow, or he might abandon her), and she may find that she must make her own living. But if a woman decides to become a prostitute she should take good care to keep the five precepts. In the first place she should not become a prostitute if there is anyone (a man or a relative, or even a society) who is already giving her a livelihood. If there is not, and she is quite independent, then she must always honour the arrangements that she makes with her clients. If, as a prostitute, she accepts, or agrees to accept, payment from a man, then she must regard herself as that man's wife until the engagement or contract has come to an end. If she fails to do this and goes with another man (either with payment or for nothing) before discharging her obligation to the first man, then she breaks the third precept and becomes kámesu micchácáriní. There is a Játaka story (I forget which) that describes how a prostitute who was tempted by Sakka managed to keep her precepts even though she was thereby reduced to the verge of starvation. Thus it is possible (though perhaps not very easy) for a woman to live as a prostitute and at the same time to keep the precepts. But it is not a profession that is to be recommended, and a woman should only adopt it as a last resort.

An old man can pull a rickshaw for a living if he wishes -- that is a matter of his own choice, and he does no harm to other people and can perfectly well keep the precepts. No doubt he will soon ruin his health and perhaps kill himself if he continues to do so, but this is not against the Buddha's Teaching. On the other hand, if a person engages this old man's rickshaw, he should have compassion on the old man and not make him over-exert himself, and he should pay him generously.

As for using animals for work, to plough, or to draw a cart, and so on, there is no harm in this, but the animal should be cared for, well fed, and not overworked. And when the animal gets too old for work it should be allowed to live out the remainder of its life in peace and comfort.



[EL. 176]   23.i.1965

Dear Mrs. P.,

The root of the whole trouble, as the Buddha has pointed out, is desire or affection. A husband has affection for his wife and his wife has affection for him; and this is very pleasant for both of them while it lasts. But, as the Buddha has said, all things that are dear to one change and become different in the course of time -- it is a universal law. So it may happen, perhaps, that the husband gets affection also for some other person and offends against the wife. And his wife, because of her affection for her husband, now feels grief and becomes angry, and perhaps speaks bad words and offends against her husband. In this way, because of affection, people offend against each other, and suffer accordingly. To the arahats, who have got rid of all affection, who have nothing dear to them in all the world, this cannot happen. They do not give offence, and they do not feel offended when other people do them wrong; and for them it is no longer possible to live at home with a family. They are happy when they are alone. But it is not possible for anybody to become arahat just by wishing it, and most people have to live with their affections and make the best of a bad job. How is this to be done? Best of all is to control the mind, to guard one's thoughts and not to allow oneself to enjoy thoughts that are wrong. But this is very difficult, and it needs a great deal of practice to be successful. The next best thing is to control one's speech and one's actions -- never to allow an evil thought that has arisen to be expressed as evil words or evil deeds. And though this, too, is difficult, it is possible for those who live in a family at home to achieve success in this. But this, too, needs practice. Each time one fails one should confess one's failure, and then determine to do better next time. But success may not come all at once. Just as a young child when it is learning to walk falls down not once, but many times, and yet eventually, by repeated effort, manages to walk without falling -- just so, one who is trying to keep the five sílas, and to restrain words and deeds, may fall down many times before he is strong enough to achieve success. One should not think, 'I am now not able to control myself, therefore I shall never be able to control myself', but 'I am now not able to control myself, therefore let me make an effort so that I shall be able to control myself in the future'. In this way, success is possible. This is true both for the husband if he cannot restrain his actions, and for the wife if she cannot restrain her speech.

And remember, always, that the wise person is quickly offended by his own faults and feels sharp disgust; but he is not offended by other people's faults, even if they are against him. Thus he corrects himself, and does not feel anger towards others.

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Footnotes:

[171.1] Cf. A. VII,60 (iv,94-98). [Back to text]

[174.1] M. 55 (i,369). [Back to text]