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Since the time of the Buddha, more
than two thousand five hundred years ago, monks have retreated into the depths
of the forests, mountains and caves, seeking physical isolation to aid them in
the development of meditation and realization of Dhamma, the truth of the
Buddha's Teaching. Whether in solitude or in small groups, such monks live a
life of simplicity, austerity and determined effort and have included some of
the greatest meditation masters since the Buddha himself. Far from cities and
towns, willing to put up with the rigors and hardships of living in the wild for
the opportunity to learn from nature, and uninterested in worldly fame or
recognition, these forest monks often remain unknown, their life stories lost
among the jungle thickets and mountain tops.
This book is the autobiography of
one such monk. Venerable Ajahn Tate recorded his own life story -- it was first
published for his seventy-second birthday celebration -- so that it might be of
benefit to those monks, nuns, laymen and laywomen following him. He recounts his
life from his boyhood encounter with forest monks to his final status as one of
the great masters of the modern era. Venerable Ajahn Tate passed away in 1994
aged ninety-two.
In his Autobiography, the author
also takes the opportunity to record his gratitude to all those people --whether
monks or lay-- who had helped him over those years. Much of this is directed
towards the ordinary rural villagers of the Northeast of Thailand who are Ven.
Ajahn Tate's own stock. Although it is the poorest and most underdeveloped
region, the people there are particularly devout Buddhists and it is from them
that most of the Thai meditation masters have arisen. In later years, this
Northeast-based Forest Kammatthana (Tudong) Tradition started to attract
the interest of sophisticated city folk and he also describes and acknowledges
this trend.
This book is not intended only a
description of Ven. Ajahn Tate's experiences but is a narrative of a personal
spiritual quest and contains advice and reflections on Buddhist meditation and
practice. It also, incidentally, offers a unique, grassroots perspective on
rural life spanning a period of unprecedented change in Thai culture. However,
Ven. Ajahn Tate did not just stay in his native region, for he wandered through
the forests to all corners of Thailand and even across its borders. He gives us
therefore also glimpses of Laos and the Shan States, and notes that would be
interesting even to the anthropologist. The descriptions of his journeys to
Singapore, Indonesia and Australia are mainly for his Thai readers but even so
they give a new reflection on 'developed countries'.
Lay disciples have sometimes
written biographies of deceased meditation masters not knowing all the
influential events in their teachers' lives. Some biographies have been
idealized out of respect for the teacher. Ven. Ajahn Tate, however, writes with
straightforward frankness, honestly relating the events that affected him most
deeply and were instrumental in shaping his life. Ven. Ajahn Tate lived into his
nineties and in the later years of his long life he was considered the most
senior disciple of the 'fathers' of the contemporary forest tradition of
Northeast Thailand, Ven. Ajahn Bhuuridatta and Ven. Ajahn Sao Kantasiilo. During
his early years of practice he had enjoyed a privileged intimacy with these
great teachers.
In writing his autobiography, Ven.
Ajahn Tate assumes a familiarity with the Thai forest tradition and its ways of
practice, so the following brief explanation of the lifestyle and its purpose
may be helpful.
In former times, the monasteries in
the villages and towns of Thailand were usually the principal centers of
learning. The village monastery provided a spiritual center for the village,
where rites and ceremonies could be performed and where local boys could become
monks, learn to read and perhaps start to study the Buddhist scriptures.
(Traditionally, all the boys in a family were expected to become novices or
monks for at least one three-month Rains Retreat period.) In the more isolated
rural areas, however, knowledge of the Vinaya (the monks' training rules
laid down by the Buddha) was often only rudimentary and therefore standards were
not very strict. Young monks who were interested in furthering their Buddhist
studies could transfer to a monastery in a local market town, provincial center
or even Bangkok. The program there, however, would more usually be dedicated to
scholastic study than strict observance of the monk's rules or meditation.
The revival of the forest tradition
in Thailand during the last century was a grassroots movement to return to the
lifestyle and training that was practiced in the time of the Buddha. Some monks
abandoned the busy village and town monasteries for the peace and quiet of the
forest. They followed the Vinaya Rule more strictly, emphasizing the importance
of every detail. Such monks lived without money, living frugally on whatever was
offered and patiently enduring when necessities were scarce. They integrated the
extra austere practices (tudong) recommended by the Buddha into their lifestyle.
For example, eating only one meal a day from their alms bowl, wearing robes made
from discarded cloth, and living in the forest or in cemeteries --often using
a krot (a 'tent-umbrella' with mosquito net) for shelter. These forest
monks would often wander barefoot through the sparsely settled regions --
Thailand's previously small population was scattered over quite a large
country-- seeking places conducive to meditation.
The very heart of the forest
tradition is the development of meditation. By cultivating deep states of
tranquility and systematically investigating the body and mind, insight can
arise into the true nature of existence. The forest masters were noted for their
creativity in overcoming the problems, hindrances and defilements of the mind,
and for their daring determination to realize Nibbana, enlightenment, the
fulfillment of the spiritual path taught by the Buddha.
The reader is asked to remember
that this work was written by a Thai for a Thai audience, with no thought of its
being translated into English. It depicts and represents the lifestyle, social
values and gender roles of a rural Asian culture at the beginning of this
century. The experience of ultimate reality must necessarily be expressed
through the conventional modes of a particular time and place. Furthermore, the
author often wrote specifically for young monks, giving advice and warnings.
Nonetheless, the timeless truths of Ven. Ajahn Tate's wisdom shine forth, bound
neither by era nor culture.
Nearly all the tropical forest Ven.
Ajahn Tate walked through and described had
been destroyed during his lifetime.
In an attempt to slow this destruction and save such forest as remains, forest
monks have often been in the forefront of raising social awareness of
environmental issues. In many areas the only patches of forest left are those
protected behind forest monastery walls.
This book also includes two other
examples of Ven. Ajahn Tate's Dhamma teachings, for those who want a practical
guide on the path to serenity and insight: Steps Along the Path and
The Meaning of Anatta both translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. (Other English
translations available are: Only the World Ends (translated by Jayasaro
Bhikkhu) and Buddho (translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.)
Ven. Ajahn Tate dedicated his life
to the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha, and from great compassion he taught and
trained his followers in the practices leading to Nibbana. It is our sincere
wish that the readers of his autobiography find it to be a source of inspiration
and that they experience the deep peace, joy and wisdom that are the fruits of
the Buddha's path.
Translators
Due to this memoir's uniqueness and
importance, I have aimed for an accurate translation even at the cost of losing
some of the original's spirit and inspiration. However, in some places with a
wholly Thai context, material has been condensed and this is shown by ellipses
(...).
All (parentheses) are from the
original, [brackets] and footnotes have been added by the translators. The
author had brought the book up to date with additions and the translation has
kept to that structure, the section numbering therefore comes from the original.
Please see the Glossary for an
explanation of many words and terms. (Note that there is a separate glossary for
Steps Along The Path.)
??? Transliteration of Thai names
and terms into the meager twenty-six letters of the English alphabet must always
involve a compromise between consistency and readability. Pali names and terms
are problematic because of type and diacritical restrictions in this electronic
format. We have at least tried to show some long Pali vowels by following the
convention of doubling up the English vowel, e.g. "Paatimokkha". The 'n tilde'
is shown by an "ny". The glossary has extra indications where a 'period'
indicates that there is a dot under\over the following letter, e.g.
"Kamma.t.thaana". ???
Dates in the original are always
given according to the (Thai) Buddhist Era (B.E.). We have converted them to the
Common Era, which began 543 years later; e.g. B.E. 2539 is C.E. 1996.
Titles and honorifics are important
in Thai social interaction. I have tried to follow this convention, remaining
faithful to the original, and hope that it does not prove too unwieldy.
Many people have helped in the
realization of this completely new translation. (Mr. Siri Buddhasukh produced an
early translation in 1978, which he entitled My Life.) This more thorough
translation originated through the energy of Upasika Tan Bee Chun. Ven. Bhikkhu
Ñaanadhammo put a great deal of work into assisting with the translation and
then Jane B. and Steve G. in Cornwall, England, Barry (now Bhikkhu Santidhammo)
in Australia, Khun V. and Khunying Suripan in Thailand, all helped to complete
the task.
We ask forgiveness from the
venerable author and our readers for any inadequacies or mistakes in the actual
translation. Any translation must inevitably fall short of the original and in
the end it rests with you, the reader, to complete the translation within
yourself. Whether monk, nun or layperson, from East or West, may this 'life of
Dhamma' inspire you to enrich your own life through the practice of Dhamma.
A. Bhikkhu
September 1996
Most biographies are written by
someone else, or when the person in question is already dead. There is the
tendency to follow conventional writing sensibilities by eulogizing the subject,
in a way similar to what one hears at the funeral rites. Though one might know
that the person had also committed some dark deeds, etiquette and decorum
dictate what can be recorded. Good manners are exhibited in four ways:
1. A person is bad in many ways. When asked
about him or her one should not reply or only say a little.
2. A person is good in few ways. When asked
about him or her one describes them all.
3. One's own bad traits are few. When asked
about them one describes them all.
4. Though one's good traits are many, if
nobody asks, one says nothing, and when asked, one says little.
I am someone who goes directly for the
truth, and therefore I don't want anyone to write this sort of biography after I
am dead. I know about myself so it is better that I do the job. After my death
they can then write as they like about me. If they dislike me, this will
influence what they relate, perhaps they will inflate the trifling cause of
their displeasure beyond the truth. On the other hand, if they love me, they
will magnify my good points out of all proportion.
In truth, I first wrote this
Autobiography only for myself, to show my appreciation of a life wearing
the saffron robe. There was no thought of publication because I would have felt
rather ashamed at the idea, for an autobiography is self-promoting. Even when
people asked to have it printed for me, I still wasn't happy with the idea.
When lay devotees arranged my sixth
cycle [seventy-second] birthday celebrations on the twenty-sixth of April 1974,
they also asked to print and to distribute my Autobiography at that time. I
realized that if I didn't agree it would get written after I was dead anyway. I
therefore quickly finished off the Autobiography that I had been writing so that
it was ready for the celebration. ...
May readers forgive me if my
Autobiography sometimes seems too self-congratulatory, and therefore
offends against good taste. But if one doesn't write about what really happened
what else could one include?
Phra Desarangsee
(Ven. Ajahn Tate)
Wat Hin Mark
Peng
31 March 1974
... Although I have brought this
Autobiography up-to-date, please understand that the essential core has not been
changed because the real subject of the book is still here. ...
Phra Rajanirodharangsee
(Ven. Ajahn Tate)
26 April 1991
My first name is Tate and I had the
family name of Ree-o rahng. I was born at about nine o'clock, on a Saturday
morning, 26 April 1902 (B.E. 2445). It was the fourth day of the waning moon[1] in the year of the tiger. My
birthplace was the village of Nah Seedah, in the sub district of Glahng Yai,
Bahn Peur District, Udorn-thani Province.
My father's name was Usah, and my
mother's Krang. They were ordinary rice-farmers and both had grown up as
fatherless orphans. After migrating from different regions they had met and
married at the village of Nah Seedah. My father originally came from Darn Sai in
Loei Province, while my mother was from Muang-fahng, (now a sub district) in the
district of Lup-laer, Uttaradit Province. They established themselves in Nah
Seedah Village and continued living there, producing ten children in all:
Mr. Kumdee Ree-o rahng (now
deceased)
Mrs. Ahn Prahp-phahn (now deceased)
Kaen (boy) (died as a
child)
Krai (girl) (died as a child)
Mrs. Naen Chiang-tong (now
deceased)
Mr. Plian Ree-o rahng (now deceased)
Mrs. Noo-an Glah Kaeng (now
deceased)
Ven. Phra Gate Khantiko (now deceased)
Ven. Phra Tate
Desarangsee[2] (myself)
Mrs. Thoop Dee-man (now
deceased)
When I was nine, I went with all my friends
to the village monastery for schooling, studying central Thai and the indigenous
and traditional Dhamm' and Korm[3] alphabets and scripts. There were many
monks and novices at the local village monastery of Nah See-dah, and my eldest
brother --who had ordained as a monk-- was our teacher. He taught following the
Mullabot Bapakit, the old fashioned reading primer and I studied there
for three years. However, I was not very good at my lessons for I preferred to
play rather than study.
In those days, the establishment of
government schools had not yet spread throughout the countryside. So while my
eldest brother was a monk he had taken the opportunity to go out and travel and
gain some wider experience. He also had a good retentive memory and was able to
learn central Thai[4] quickly and on returning could teach
us. There were many of us studying under him -- monks and novices as well as
children. The numbers became so large that some people on seeing the situation
asked him whether it had already become an official school. We not only studied
Thai script but also learnt some religious chanting and how to read the texts
written in the Dhamm' and Korm scripts. These lessons lasted for
three years and then I had to leave the monastery because my elder brother
withdrew from the monk hood. Most of my classmates also left because no one
could take over the job of teaching.
Although I had left the monastery,
my life continued to be involved mainly with the monks and novices. When my
brother left the monk hood, no monk remained to take on the responsibilities of
abbot. Occasionally, visiting monks would pass through and it was my job to act
as liaison between these monks and the villagers. I regularly offered my
services: in the morning, I went to present them with their food; in the
evening, it was the fetching and filtering of their water; and then gathering
flowers for the monks to use in their devotional offerings [puuja]. It
was my job quickly to inform the village about how many monks had come and make
sure that there was enough food to go round.
I conscientiously and unfailing
took on these duties for a full six years. My parents gave me their full support
and encouragement, and urged me on in my services to the monks. My undertaking
of these duties caused my parents to show me even more love and affection.
Nevertheless, whenever I was slow or tardy they would always make sure that I
was put right. It was not just my parents who considered that I was successfully
serving the monks, for all the villagers seemed to have a special affection and
warmth for me. This was evident whenever business affecting the monks or the
monastery came up, for then they would always seek me out.
About this time, I began thinking
with increasing interest about good and evil, about virtuous and base deeds.
Whenever any doubts or questions came up, I would always make sure to ask my
father. Consequently, he started to take more interest in me. At night, when he
was free, he liked to explain about things -- about the ways of the world and
about Dhamma. I can still remember some of his instructions. He taught me:
"Having been born a son, don't be the son of a family cremated in the same
cemetery". This means that a son should go and seek experience and knowledge
away from his home village. One has to die, but one shouldn't lie down and die
in one's birthplace. This advice really appealed to me because my character
already inclined in this direction.
I asked him: "If two people go and
make merit through good deeds and generosity, and one is ordained as a monk
while the other isn't, which one of them would gain the greater merit?". He
replied that, "if a monk does this much merit," and he exhibited his
thumb, "he will gain this much result" -- lifting up two fistfuls in
emphasis. "Whereas," he continued, "the non-ordained person might make
this much -- two fistful's -- merit, but he would only receive one
thumb's worth."
Although I probably didn't then
fully understand his explanation, I still felt completely satisfied after
hearing and seeing it through. This might have been because my character already
naturally inclined towards the monastic life. I still remembered an occasion
from my early days in the monastery, when I went with my elder brother to visit
another monastery. There was a novice there whose demeanor and behavior were
exemplary. He made such a strong impression on me; he was so inspiring and
admirable, that I felt a special sympathy towards him. I found myself following
his every movement, whether he was walking or sitting or going about his various
duties. The more I gazed after him the stronger my faith and feeling grew. On
returning to our monastery, I couldn't get his image out of my mind. I could
think of only one thing: 'Oh, when can I ordain and become a novice like him?'.
This was my continual preoccupation.
At this point, there is something
that I feel must relate. It concerns the life story of my parents. This is
something very special for me because I recall their love and kindness towards
me with such immense gratitude. Particularly so concerning the time they spent
teaching me about various things -- especially about morality and religious
values. It really seems as if they had a special love and concern for me. They
also used to tell me about their younger days in quite some detail, so much so
that listening to their trials and tribulations aroused sadness and a feeling of
great pity and compassion for them both.
As I have mentioned before, both my
father and mother were refugees and fatherless orphans. My father originally
lived in the highlands of Darn Sai District, in Loei Province. He migrated from
there to escape the privations of its hand-to-mouth existence and came down to
the more fertile lowlands. People had told him that the region around the town
of Nongkhai was fertile and abundant in rice and food. This was in stark
contrast to his home region where, even though their occupation was the growing
of rice, they never seemed able to produce enough rice to eat. The countryside
there was mostly mountainous with little land available for normal paddy fields
so planting supplementary fields up on the mountain slopes was necessary. This
called for the cultivation of large areas to produce sufficient rice.
My father told me that because his
father was already dead, the responsibility for supporting his four brothers and
sisters together with his mother had fallen on him. Their fields had extended as
far as the eye could see. When they paused in their work to have a meal, they
would not bother putting up any shelter but would eat out under the open sky.
This was done because my father was concerned that his younger brothers and
sisters after eating their fill would become lazy and want to rest rather than
getting on with the work. Despite all such effort, in years of inadequate
rainfall there would not be enough to eat. Some families had no rice at all and
so were reduced to consuming ma-gor[5] fruits as a substitute. This might
have had to keep people going for as long as a month at a time.
He trekked down to the lowlands
with his four younger brothers and sisters and their mother. There was sister
Boonmah, brothers Gunhah and Chiang-In, and sister Dtaeng-orn. The party
expanded when many relatives and other people also elected to go. Their
migration involved crossing several high mountain ranges -- the Poo Fah and Poo
Luang, for instance -- and dense jungle tracts. People owning elephants or pack
animals could more easily convey their belongings and so had an advantage over
those who were forced to carry everything on their shoulders. Their own strength
had to serve as their vehicle.
It took more than a week to reach
the village of Nah Ngiew. On arrival, they established a temporary camp on the
edge of a large lake, Nong Pla or Fish Lake, in Nong Dtao. Later, they moved on
and made a permanent settlement in the village of Nah Ngiew, which is still
there to this day.
My mother's side of the family was
of the Lao Puan tribe. They had been forced out of Laos by the Thai army in the
reign of King Rama III and were released in the region of Uttaradit. They later
settled down in (the modern sub district of) Muang Fahng, Lup Laer District,
Uttaradit Province. My mother told me that her mother had related the events of
the migration down from the town of Chiang Kwahng to her. My grandmother was
still too young to walk so the adults put her in a woven bamboo basket that they
then suspended from one end of a bamboo-carrying pole, the other end being
balanced with their belongings. In this way they blazed a trail -- penetrating
dense jungles, fording streams and traversing mountain ranges until they reached
Muang Fahng. When my grandmother grew up, she married and had two children and
these were my mother and her younger brother.
Afterwards, her husband died and my
grandmother was left alone with two children. At that time the surrounding
regions had become infested with bandits and thieves, and the authorities seemed
powerless and unable to deal with them. Under such conditions even ordinarily
honest people were corrupted and became criminals. An example of such a person
was the man Chiang Tong who had been a member of their migrant group. He joined
the bandits and was constantly leaving home and going out to cause mischief. In
the end, he had to flee from the threat of arrest by hiding out around Glahng
Yai in Bahn Peur District. While there, he witnessed the good-natured ness of
the local inhabitants and saw their peaceful ways with their abundant and
prosperous life. He decided to go back to Muang Fahng and report, and try to
persuade his relatives and friends to move on to Glahng Yai.
My mother told me that scores of
people decided to join the party that was to journey on. They traveled on foot
down through Phetchaboon, continuing to Loei Province and stopping to rest at
the monastery in Hooay Port Village. It was there that people came down with
smallpox and many died. The inhabitants of Hooay Port Village showed such good
will and kindness in their help towards the needy at this time, that several of
the party decided to stay on and settle down right there.
Those remaining in Chiang Tong's
group struggled on down and eventually arrived at Glahng Yai Village. My
grandmother with her younger brother and her two children -- this was my mother
and her younger brother, my uncle -- had to remain dependent on older and senior
friends in the group. When the time arrives for us to experience suffering, then
odd things can occur. It happened that my grandmother's younger brother met a
group of traveling Burmese traders and abruptly decided to go off with them.
There had never been any argument or disagreement between them throughout the
long journey, he simply left and was never heard from again.
On arrival at Glahng Yai Village, a
group separated from the main party and moved on to settle in the village of Nah
Bong Poo Pet, in the district of Pon-pisai. One of my mother's uncles on her
father's side went away with this group, leaving my grandmother and her two
fatherless children to depend on her elder companions.
Afterwards, when my mother had
grown up she met my father and fell in love. They were married and settled down
to live together in the village of Nah Seedah and produced ten children -- as
has been mentioned earlier.
My grandmother eventually married
again, this time to the same Chiang Tong who had been their leader on the
journey. They lived out their later years together until misfortune struck: a
tree branch fell on my grandmother's head and fatally injured her. Chiang Tong
was a person guilty of many wrong doings and karmic retribution soon caught up
with him. After my grandmother's death, he again married a woman of the same
migrant party, but this time his new wife committed suicide by hanging herself.
He realized that he had much evil karma and so decided to enter a monastery.
Chiang Tong wore white robes and
kept the Eight Precepts[6] of a Buddhist devotee and lived into
old age, reaching almost a hundred years. Yet he didn't stay in the monastery,
preferring to live with his grandchildren in their house in the village.
However, when he chanted his daily devotions to the Lord Buddha, Dhamma and
Sangha, his grandchildren would become annoyed at the disturbance and would
scold him. He was very old and had nowhere else to go, and he was also becoming
senile, forgetting things such as whether he had eaten or not. His grandchildren
became more frustrated and cursed and abused him, and not a day passed without
them saying they wished he were dead. He returned the abuse and cursed them in
endless ways, saying he hoped they turned out like him.
It was a pitiful state of affairs.
Those people who have done evil will find that the consequences are liable to
catch up with them before they die. Living amongst base people -- those who are
unprincipled and lacking in virtue and morality -- tends to pass on such evil so
that it corrupts most of the people involved.
This suffering of ours has no
limits. We let go of one thing and grasp hold of something else. It goes on and
on and on in this way, throughout our life. This is why the wise person becomes
weary and tired of the suffering inherent in this world and seeks for a way to
go beyond it.
After her mother passed away, my
mother was able to find support from her husband and children, for their
livelihood was now enough to get by on. Although they might only have as little
as six baht[7] to their name, they were not too
concerned. Food and rice were abundant and money wasn't so necessary in those
days. Rice farming alone produced enough food to last through the whole year,
while the cultivation of too large an area meant there would be nowhere -- no
space left in the granary -- to store the extra grain. Even farming a modest
area still produced a large surplus of paddy rice.
After a time their third son died.
My father had had a particular love for this son and he became so distraught
with the loss that he almost went out of his mind. The child had been so
loveable and intelligent; so well spoken and articulate; so easy to teach. He
had been obedient, had loved his parents and always listened to their
instructions. Although there remained six children, besides his wife, it seemed
to my father as if he had lost everything. He could see only as far as that lone
dead child, while his despair enveloped everything else in darkness. With time,
the dark clouds of sorrow gradually dissipated and the light of Dhamma -- as
found in the Buddhist teachings -- began to illuminate his heart, allowing him
dimly to see the way out. He thought that if he could distance himself from all
concerns -- by becoming a monk -- it might somewhat assuage his grief. One
consideration was that he could share the merit gained from such ordination with
his dead son and that would certainly enable the son to take rebirth in a happy
realm (Sugati). My father consequently took leave of his wife and
children to be ordained, and stayed a monk for two Rains Retreats.
This going forth as a monk
into the Buddha's religion does not automatically end any of the distress that a
person might be feeling. Such suffering arises dependant on internal defilements
and we have been accumulating these worldly defilements from the time of our
birth. This is something that has been going on for innumerable lives and births
so don't even try to disclose and count all those defilements. Someone lacking
in wisdom can't possibly unearth those layers of defilements -- laid down and
accumulated already beyond counting -- and spread them out to see. For that
reason, they can't bring about their final elimination. (However, ordination is
still helpful in that it at least enables one to begin to see something of the
way to go.)
As the clouds of his sorrow
gradually lifted, my father realized that he missed his six innocent children
and his abandoned wife. They were fatherless, without friends or relatives and
this moved him to leave the monk hood and become a householder again.[8] This was good fortune for those of us
who still had to take birth. My young sister and I were subsequently born into
my parent's home, born to people who had founded their lives in goodness, (that
is, they were filled with the refinement and grace of morality and virtue). I am
proud to say that this birthplace compares favorably with any other in this
world, because from birth onwards I was always in contact with virtue and
Dhamma. I was able to grow up and mature in the cool shade of the yellow robe of
Buddhism, right until today.
The thing that I rejoice in most is
that although I didn't support my parents in the normal lay manner, I could
still sustain and foster their goodwill and kindheartedness. This was achieved
by my following the holy life as a monk and by being able to help train their
hearts in stages right up to the last days of their lives. Both my parents
seemed well pleased with how I had turned out and were not disappointed in
having brought me up. This was because I had fulfilled a son's filial
obligations. That is to say, I had given them teachings and instruction
concerning the practice of morality and virtue, which enabled what they already
knew to develop progressively higher and higher. I am especially happy that I
was able to help my father with advice and suggestions about his meditation
practice, right until his last day. He was delighted and more than willing to
receive my training methods and to put them into practice, until he was able
clearly to see the results in his own heart. Eventually, he was able to exclaim
that throughout all his seventy-five years he had never known such peace and
happiness.
It gives me enormous joy to have
taught my mother right through to her final day. When she was breathing her
last, I was present caring for her, helping her to remember Dhamma. She was
consciously aware and willingly took my counsel to heart, so that in her last
moments her face became bright and radiant. There is a stanza of the Lord Buddha
-- if I remember it correctly -- where he outlined how a son of good family,
intent on repaying the kindness and virtue of his father and mother should act:
'If he were to administer to
their every need in the best possible way, to a degree difficult to find in the
world; even if he were to provide them with the treasure of a World Ruling
Monarch
(Cakravartin). as an offering -- all this would still fall short. It
still could not be considered full recompense for the kindness and excellence of
one's parents. This is because all those things can only offer pleasure and
happiness during their lifetime. Once they have died, there is no way they can
take such things with them. However, if the son of good family instructs his
mother and father, who are deficient in morality and virtue, to establish
themselves in these wholesome and fine qualities; or if they are already
established therein, he encourages and supports their further development, then
that son can be considered one who has truly repaid his debt'.
The wealth of the Noble
Treasure is priceless and can go with the individual wherever he or she may
go. Therefore, saying that I have managed to practice following all the Lord
Buddha's instructions is not incorrect. It is the complete fulfillment of one's
obligations, even though a proper and formal contract may never have been made.
About this time in my life --
perhaps it was because I was entering my teens or for another reason, I don't
know -- my father showed an extra special interest in me. After the evening
meal, around seven o'clock, he was liable to bring up some topic and illustrate
it with examples. He regularly taught me in this way, no matter whether it was
concerned with spiritual or worldly matters.
Sometimes he would question me or
ask my opinion. For example, he would enquire: "Do you like girls? And when
you marry, what sort of girl will you marry?". This is how it proceeded. I
can still remember my answer: "I like girls with a fair and light complexion,
without blemish, courteous and well mannered in thought, speech and behavior.
Her family background wouldn't pose any problem. However, if she came from a
good, respectable family, all the better".
While asleep one night, I had a
visionary dream:
There I was with a large group
of friends, setting out from the house to go and play in the fields. This was
typical boyish behavior for us in those days. Just then, two forest
monks[9] appeared, walking towards us with alms bowl
and 'krot' over their shoulders. On seeing me, one of the monks rushed at me and
I was so afraid that I fled for my life. Yet all my friends just stood there
unconcerned, as if nothing untoward was taking place. The circumstances were
such that I had to take the final resort, by seeking refuge at home with my
parents. Yet it wasn't to be, for when I ran into the house yelling to mother
and father for help, both remained impassive and unconcerned as if nothing
unusual was going on. Meanwhile, the forest monk hadn't stopped chasing after me
and was close on my heels. I ran into the bedroom and dived under the mosquito
net. The monk burst in after me and yanked up the mosquito net. Then, using a
whip, he lashed at me with all his strength. I was terrified and so startled
that it woke me up.
When I came to my senses, I found I
was still trembling and was soaked in perspiration from head to toe. My heart
throbbed violently and where I had been whipped still stung. I really thought
that it had all actually happened and even gingerly felt with my hand to check.
It was so vivid that it seemed real. I then pulled myself together and mindfully
went over what had happened. After careful consideration the mind eventually
calmed down and my fear went away.
This episode gradually faded from
my memory and was forgotten for a long time. It was only when I was out
wandering in the jungle as a forest novice-monk with my meditation teacher that
it all came back to me. That visionary dream from the distant past did truly
seem to point out future events and to have been correct in every respect.
About this time another incident
happened to me -- but this was no dream or vision. I had been unable to get to
sleep until late at night for I was taken up with recalling and reflecting on
the great kindness and goodness of my parents. I allowed my thoughts to wander
and pondered about them, seeing how they had raised and nurtured us ten children
with great sacrifice and grinding toil until we reached maturity. Soon, their
children would be grown up and married and have families of their own. They
would all then disperse, going their separate ways. I reached that thought and
felt compelled to consider what my parent's situation would then be like. Who
was going to provide for and take care of my mother and father? I was
considering all this according to the sensibility of a child, without real
thought for the future. This made me feel very sad and despondent, grieving for
the future destitute condition of my parents. It moved me so much that I began
to sob and the tears soaked my pillow. I was in this state for a long time and
the more I thought about them, the greater my despondency. I made the decision
that when I was grown up I would not get married like everyone else. When
everyone else left home I would take over the responsibility of caring for
mother and father all by myself, and do it to the best of my ability. My heart
was gladdened and contented after arriving at this resolution and as it was
already very late into the night I fell asleep.
All dhammas exist here,
within each of us and the one that knows Dhamma is the heart or mind. Whether it
knows much or little, whether it knows in a course or more refined way, depends
on one's present competence, one's aptitude and maturity (boon-paramii)
and the training each person has received.
The resolution that I made then
came from gratitude and appreciation of the goodness and virtue of my parents.
Another night a similar thing
happened. I lay there reflecting on the condition of the ordinary village farmer
and their routine working year:
The annual cycle begins during the
months of March and April when forest needs to be cleared for new fields. The
area is burned off, the remaining stumps and roots dug out and fences erected.
When the monsoon rains arrive, the various crops have to be prepared and planted
out, according to whatever is planned. Those families with few or insufficient
members would have to decide how to divide their time between the various tasks.
There is the general ploughing to
do, and the sowing and preparation of the nursery-rice seedlings. This entails
working and laboring continuously until the rice seedlings are ready for
transplanting.[10] There is then the replanting of each
young rice plant into the ploughed and ready fields. Of course, I am speaking
here of a year with good and timely rain. A dry year means wasted time and
effort with deprivation and loss.
It is mainly the housewife's task
to have previously organized adequate supplies. This would include, for example,
rice, chili peppers, salt, pickled fish,[11] and tobacco. Then when everyone gets
down to work in the fields there is no need to be concerned about finding
provisions. Normally, with favorable rainfall they will complete the rice
planting by August or it might extend into September. With that done everyone
turns to gathering food reserves to be put away ready for harvest time. Besides
this, there is fishing gear to be repaired and readied for use in the coming dry
season.
As the monks come to the end of
their Rains Retreat, the villagers will usually begin harvesting the paddy rice.
However, prior to this, they must first harvest any hill rice.[12] Throughout the harvesting season
there is still the added labor of picking the other crops and vegetables as they
ripen in their fields. There may be chili peppers, cotton and beans. In those
days when the paddy crop was abundant the harvesting might not be completely
finished much before late January. Then came the job of transporting the
threshed rice to the storage granaries that might go on into February.
Even when harvesting was taking
place during the day, at night the bamboo strips[13] to bind the rice sheaves had to be
fashioned. With the harvest over, there would then be firewood to find for
boiling up the sugar cane to obtain the syrup.
About the boiling up of the sugar
cane:
The daily process began in the
early afternoon with entry into the sugar cane plantation. Sufficient cane had
to be cut ready for the next morning's boiling. The cut cane was carried out of
the fields and carted off -- if one owned a cart[14] -- and stacked at the boiling shed.
Getting up at first light one had to go and press the juice out of the cane and
this would go on late into the morning. Inadequate help would bring delay so
that someone would have to go off and prepare the meal. With the sugar cane all
pressed, everyone could come together for a communal meal. After that, they
would all separate and go about their respective duties leaving one person to
watch over the cauldron of boiling sugar cane juice. Some farmers had so much
sugar cane that they didn't finish processing it until March. By then it was
time to start clearing the forest to make fields once more.
Well then. What was it on that
night that led me to go over all this in such detail? All the different phases
of the adult's working year. What was I after? It saddened me so, feeling for
and sympathizing with the sort of life we are born into, deficient in
opportunity or free time. After our birth there seems only to be actions and
deeds to be done. Individual distinctions only appear because of disparate
duties and difference in rank or status. The future leads on into a continuing
doing, unless, that is, one is asleep or dead.
This way of thinking went directly
against my juvenile views and perception of reality. I was intoxicated with the
idea that 'this world is so much fun'. Remember, in those days children didn't
have to go to school nor did they have any responsibilities to worry about.
After having eaten there was only playing around and looking for fun with my
friends. If sometimes we had to go and take the cattle or buffalos out to graze,
we could also turn that into fun.
On that night, I clearly perceived
all the suffering involved in being born into this world as a human being. I saw
it for myself, right there in my own heart, previously never having given it any
consideration at all. This time, however, my perception was only about seeing
the suffering inherent in the struggle to fill one's stomach, with seeing that
each day offered no free time, no break in the process. I could not see what I
had to do to surmount and go beyond such suffering. That lack of understanding
shows that it cannot be considered the Noble Truth of Suffering[15] for it is only concerned with the
ordinary, mundane truth of suffering.
It was during this period, that our
part of the country became infested with brigands and cattle rustlers. These
gangsters took over the whole region and even ten-year-old children and women
engaged in the thieving. The authorities were impotent and so the villagers had
to look after themselves. Each household kept a whole pack of guard dogs and at
night everyone had to take it in turns to stand guard. Whenever cattle were
stolen, the owner would have to go and pay an absurdly overpriced ransom for
their return.
The stouthearted would go out after
the thieves and hunt them down like wild animals. There would then be some peace
and respite. The authorities seemed to approve and even actively encourage such
retaliation.
I was still only small but I also
had some big ideas about being famous. I did not want to become renowned as
thief or robber but rather as the hero who conquered them, so I set my mind on
one thing: 'What can I do to make myself invulnerable[16] to all weapons?'. I could
then go out and crush these hordes of brigands, wiping them all out.
At this time I was also helping to
look after a very talkative and boastful monk -- excuse me, but that is the
description he deserves. His place of origin was the village of Muang Kai, which
is where the district of Varnorn-nivart borders on Bueng Kahn District. He
shrewdly must have guessed my innermost thoughts because before long he was
suggesting: "After the Rains Retreat, why don't you come back with me to my home
village. I have there every sort of thing. If you want charms, arcane herbs, the
whole range of accessories that give invulnerability, I have them all."
I was delighted with this. So as
soon as the Rains Retreat ended, three older youths -- my elder brother and two
of his friends -- with myself as a much younger fourth accompanied this monk
back to his home village. We discovered on reaching our destination that the
monk had really duped us into escorting him back home. None of the villagers in
that area had any respect for him, because he had already ordained and disrobed
numerous times. The last news I heard of him was that he had disrobed yet again,
had got married and that both husband and wife were smoking opium. The two
bigger youths who had gone with us still pleaded with him to learn about and
obtain the various special things.[17] But he was always evasive and beat
around the bush and looked for excuses to extricate himself. We discovered the
truth when we spoke to the other monks in that monastery, for really he didn't
have anything remarkable or rare, his only accomplishment being that of bragging
and talking big.
Our group stayed with him for about
ten days before taking leave to return home with our hopes all unrealized. Every
day while we had been staying with him, he had urged us to go out to find eels
for him to eat.[18] He really loved eels, although he
didn't like any other type of fish.
It took us three days to walk home.
I felt particularly humiliated and ashamed. On leaving home I had resolved to
seek out and learn the occult knowledge of 'invulnerability' so that by my
return I would be secure against any weapon belonging to anyone. When I reached
home, my friends found every possible opportunity to make fun of me and this
made me feel even more humiliated. However the experience did have its positive
side for I became disillusioned with the whole thing and lost my foolish
credulity in charms and magical powers. From that day forward, right up to the
present, whenever anyone comes in and talks of their wondrous properties my mind
remains wholly indifferent. When I later became a novice, my friends had tried
to persuade me to go and study about such things. They were even willing to pay
the customary 'teacher's fee' and sponsor the whole venture but I would not
change my mind.
I consider myself particularly
fortunate on this account: I had been born into a family of good moral conduct
and virtuous behavior; I had been taught and prepared through living in a
monastery with monks -- who could be truly regarded as good monks. Whenever
external conditions and surroundings coerced and pressured my mind, forcing it
to turn towards what was low and base, it seemed that things never turned out as
my base desires would have it. If they had, who knows what might have happened
to me. Perhaps one can say that my good karma and past merit
guided and protected me.
That long journey was the first
time in my life that I had gone away from home. We were all staying at Muang Kai
Village when the news first came through about the outbreak of World War I. It
was all anyone ever spoke about when they came to visit the monastery.[19] I became so homesick that I cried
every day. Some days I couldn't get to sleep until late into the night because
of my constant pining for my parents.
When I arrived home again, I
resumed my practice of serving the monks in the monastery as I had always done.
However, I didn't always sleep at the monastery and had the duty of bursar or
steward (Veyyavaccakorn) to the monks, being the intermediary and liaison
between them and the villagers. This worked out very well. All the villagers
seemed increasingly to appreciate my efforts because I had become adept and
competent. Another consideration in their growing interest in me might have been
that I was also entering adolescence. They would give me jobs to do and
simultaneously tease me.
I had been going regularly to the
monastery throughout an extended period of about six years and had become
closely acquainted with the monks and novices. However, on no occasion did any
of the monks teach me about keeping the Five or Eight Precepts. Strange as it
may seem, this is quite understandable because the Sangha or Community of
monks of that time was seriously deficient in learning.
In 1916, Ven. Ajahn Singh
Khantayaagamo (the future Phra Ñaa.navisit'samiddhiviiraacaarn) and Ven.
Ajahn Kham -- disciples of the Venerable Meditation Master Ajahn Mun Bhuuridatta
Thera[20] -- were out walking tudong.[21] They were the first forest monks to
reach the village of Nah Seedah. Although there were monks resident in the local
monastery, they still came and asked to stay with us. It almost seemed to me as
if they had aimed specifically at coming to see my father and me. We attended on
them with deep reverence and faith because we saw that their way of practice was
different from other groups of meditation monks. (My father had previously
attended on Ajahn Seetut.)
In particular, the visiting monks
taught me about their various obligations and duties. For example, I learnt the
'do's and don'ts' in offering[22] things to a monk and about
meditation using the mantra- word 'Buddho' as an object of preliminary
recitation. My mind was able to converge in samadhi[23] to the point where I lost all desire
to speak with anyone. This was where I first experienced the flavor of
meditation's peace and stillness. It's something I've never forgotten. Later,
when I was a novice studying with many others, I would slip out -- unknown to
anyone -- into the cool and quiet of the night to meditate alone.
The venerable monks stayed with us
for a little more than two months. At first they were also intending to spend
the Rains Retreat but a previous malarial infection flared up again. Therefore,
just before the start of the Rains Retreat, they left to stay at an abandoned
monastery in the village of Nah Bong, Nahm Mong Subdistrict in the district of
Tah Bor and I was able to go with them.
The monks were ill with malaria
throughout the three months of the Rains Retreat. In spite of his illness, Ven.
Ajahn Singh would still kindly use some of his free time to teach me reading and
writing, with occasional training in religious matters. Towards the end of the
Rains Retreat something came up in his mind -- I don't know quite what -- for he
said that after the Retreat he would have to return to his home village and
asked if I would go with him. "The journey will be long and tough," he added. My
answer was an immediate, "Venerable Sir, I will go with you".
A few days before the end of the
Rains Retreat, I asked his permission to go home to take leave of my parents.
Both of the monks seemed pleased with the idea that I would be going with them
and they quickly organized some flowers, incense and candles for me to go and
offer to my parents. This is the traditional way of asking forgiveness and
blessing. (They gave me excellent teaching about this custom. In fact even the
first time I had fled from home, I had followed this practice.)
On the evening of that night, after
seeking forgiveness and a blessing from my parents, I continued around and asked
the same of all the family elders and the older people in the village. Whomever
I went to see would weep with sorrow, as if I were going off to my death. I
became a bit sentimental and could not hold back my own tears. At daybreak, my
mother and aunt set out with me to where the Venerable Ajahn was staying and we
all spent the night there. It was Pavarana, the last day of the Rains
Retreat, and early the following morning, after the meal, the Venerable Ajahn
led us off on our journey. Once again, my aunt and the villagers gathered there
and shed some tears together.
It was perhaps unprecedented for a
boy of that region and my age to venture away from home on such a long journey.
It also meant being cut off from my relatives and friends who would have offered
comfort and warmth. Not only that, it seems that I may well have been the first
boy to venture off -- without any worries or regrets -- following after forest
meditation monks. We set off walking from Tah Bor wading through water and mud,
steadily pressing on through the forest and passing across the rice fields.[24] Whenever one of the monks became
feverish with malaria, he would climb up to rest in a field shelter[25] or else under a tree that was shady
and dry, out of the mud. At daybreak the venerable monks would still make the
effort to go out on alms round and they were able to feed me too.
We walked for three days before
reaching the provincial town of Udorn-thani, staying at Wat[26] Majjhima-vat for ten nights before
setting off again on our journey. We took the road to Khon Kaen Province and
passed through the present provinces of Mahasarakam, Roi-et and Yaso-torn. This
journey of ours -- the two of us with the Venerable Ajahn -- took just over a
month before reaching Nong Korn Village of Hua Dtaphan Subdistrict, in the
district of Amnart Charoen. This was the village where the Venerable Ajahn's
mother lived. He stayed there for about three months so that he could teach and
help her in spiritual matters.
While staying in Nong Korn Village,
Ven. Ajahn Singh sent me to ask for novice ordination[27] with the Venerable Upajjhaaya Loo-ee
from the monastery in Keng Yai Village who would act as my Preceptor. I
was about to enter my eighteenth year.
At this time, I was becoming
somewhat more proficient in my reading and had been going through the
Trai-lokavithan.[28] This book describes the future
degeneration and destruction of the world of the satthantara kappa time.
Reading this moved me to deep sadness and my eyes were filled with tears for
many a day. At meal times I had no appetite because my heart was lost in
thoughts of the approaching degeneration and the calamity awaiting human beings
and all creatures. It was as if all this would be unfolding before my eyes
within just a few days.
Venerable Ajahn Singh took me to
stay at Wat Sutat-narahm in Ubon town. It was a monastery where he himself had
once lived. I now entered the monastery school at Wat See-tong to continue with
my Thai Language studies. Having settled me there and with the Rains Retreat
being over, Ven. Ajahn Singh turned back to his forest wandering. He returned by
way of Sakhon Nakorn Province because a group of monks led by the Venerable
Ajahn Mun was wandering in that region. The night before Ven. Ajahn Singh set
out, he called a meeting of the monks and novices and informed us of his
intentions. On hearing this news, I felt such an enormous reluctance to be
parted from him that I began to sob -- right there in the middle of that large
gathering. Feeling self-conscious and embarrassed in front of my friends, I beat
a hasty retreat and hurried outside to reestablish some mindfulness and try to
compose myself. I remembered the occasion in the time of the Lord Buddha, when
the Venerable Ananda wept on learning that the Lord Buddha was soon finally to
pass away. By reflecting on this, it somewhat assuaged my own heart's grief and
I could go back into the meeting. The Venerable Ajahn had meanwhile been
teaching on various themes.
At the same time as learning Thai,
I had to allocate time for memorizing Pali chanting and studying the General
Dhamma Studies Course.[29] I was very conscious that in spite
of being so much older than the other students keeping up with them would be
difficult. I was going through the third grade of the course but couldn't sit
the final examination because the Ecclesiastical Head Monk of that Region
(Chao Kana Monton) had made a rule that one had to be more than twenty
years old. It therefore wasn't until my third year there that I could take the
examination and was able to pass it that same year.
My memorizing of the Pali texts
continued and I was learning by heart the Paatimokkha Rule.[30] I applied myself to this because of
my regard and admiration for the monastic discipline. My Thai language studies
only extended to the completion of the primary education course (because
government schools then only taught the three elementary grades).
On leaving the Thai language school
I turned my full attention to studying Pali. However, in that year of my studies
it so happened that Ven. Mahaa Pin Paññaabalo -- who was the younger brother of
Ven. Ajahn Singh -- came back from Bangkok. He initiated a course in Nak
Dhamm' Toh, Grade Two, which was the first of its kind in that
administrative region of the Northeast. I therefore also enrolled for that
course but I was never able to finish it, nor indeed the Pali, because Ven.
Ajahn Singh returned to spend the Rains Retreat at Wat Sutat-narahm. After the
Rains Retreat -- and before I could take my examinations -- he led Ven. Ajahn
Mahaa Pin and me off on tudong.
It was the novice Tate who became
the millionaire. Here, I am talking about the time when the government thought
up the idea of creating one new 'millionaire' every year in Thailand. They thus
brought out an annual lottery with a first prize of fifty or sixty thousand
baht. In those days, this was considered a fortune large enough for a Thai
millionaire. It was all done so that we Thais would not feel humiliated before
other richer countries.
One night it so happened that
Novice Tate was unable to sleep because he had just won first prize in the
lottery. It was time to set about finding the site to build himself a grand and
extensive three-story mansion. This residence would be furnished to the most
modern designs and be in the center of the commercial district. The employees
and assistants would have to fill the shelves with every imaginable kind of
merchandise. He would be at ease in body and mind without a worry in the world
and spend his time lounging on a sofa, making eyes at the attractive young women
who would come in to shop. Whoever chanced a glance in his direction and smiled,
would receive a happy smile back. Throughout his life of eighteen to nineteen
years, he had never known greater happiness.
He had indeed attained the rank of
millionaire -- just as the government had wished. Yet then, within the blink of
an eye, with all the things still fresh and new, aniccaa or
impermanence intrudes. Ah, impermanence! All abruptly breaks down
and disappears from his heart and that's something he regrets so much.
Novice Tate comes to his senses and
he realizes that it is already late into the night: 'It should already be
time for sleep -- Hey, what is this? Not only has the lottery yet to take place
but I haven't even bought a ticket! How come I've already become a millionaire?
I must be going crazy!'. That night he felt an unspeakable degree of
mortification and shame. If any knowledgeable persons were to know about these
fantasies what would they say? He finally fell asleep and awoke at dawn with
guilty feelings from the night before and never told anyone about this
occurrence.
Anyone can become this sort of
'millionaire' -- not just Novice Tate. I described him as a millionaire only in
the sense that in his mind's eye he could imagine possession of an abundance of
property and wealth. Still, at least he was content with the amount that his
imagination produced. This is much better than those people already possessing
material wealth who fantasize about getting even more. They are forever
dissatisfied with what they already have and thereby are always discontented and
troubled. Of what benefit is all that wealth to such people? Wealthy or poor,
the real question lies with whether one is happy or not. It is certainly
not the case that the more one possesses the better it is. The Lord
Buddha thus taught that contentment with what one actually has is a resource and
wealth of great value.
I went forth as a monk through my
faith in the Lord Buddha's Teaching -- the Dhamma and the Vinaya
Discipline. Then I sincerely followed the way of practice, clearly seeing the
truth that he had indicated.
The Lord Buddha once pointed out a
moneybag to Venerable Ananda and explained that it was something poisonous. He
added that it was not only poisonous to monks and nuns who involve themselves
with it, but also to lay people who do not know how to handle it correctly. For
lay people however it is a necessity, something that has to be used, for their
condition and way of life is quite different from that of a monk or nun. Taking
this further, anyone in possession of great wealth but unable to deal with it
properly is in the same position as someone holding a firebrand. The fire will
inevitably burn down from the ignited end to scorch the hand that grasps it.
I was a novice for five years
before becoming a monk and having spent such a long time in a monastery gave me
a considerable advantage over the other newly ordained monks. I was on old hand,
so to speak, and knew very well how the monastery worked. It gave me a head
start over those who were given bhikkhu ordination with me. For instance, I
already knew the chanting and could recite the Patimokkha.
On the 16th of May 1923,[31] at 11.48 ???A.M., I went forth as a
monk in the ordination boundary[32] of Wat Sutat'. I was approaching
twenty-two years of age. My Preceptor[33] was the Venerable Phra Maharat with
Venerable Maha Pin Paññaabalo acting as the Announcing Ajahn.[34]
This was the year that my teacher,
the Venerable Ajahn Singh Khantayaagamo, led a party of six -- four monks and
two novices -- to spend the Rains Retreat at Wat Sutat'. It was the first time
that a community of forest meditation monks stayed the Rains Retreat in the
provincial town of Ubon.
Venerable Ajahn Singh came back to
spend the Rains Retreat in Ubon because he learnt that his younger brother,
Venerable Maha Pin, had arrived back there from Bangkok. Ven. Ajahn Singh's plan
was to take his brother out wandering for meditation in the jungle. Before Ven.
Maha Pin had gone to Bangkok, he had promised Ven. Ajahn Mun that he would first
go and study and then come back to take up the way of practice. Ven. Ajahn Singh
had been delighted to hear that his younger brother had returned and thus came
to spend the Rains Retreat at Wat Sutat-narahm.
Following the end of the Rains
Retreat and the Ka.thina season,[35] Ven. Ajahn Singh led a large group
of us walking on tudong. Those of us new to tudong, apart from
Ven. Maha Pin and myself, were Ven. Kam Phoo-ay, Ven. Torn and two novices.
There were twelve of us all together.
(Ven. Mahaa Pin Paññaabalo had
completed his fifth grade Pali studies. He can therefore be considered the first
scholastic monk of Mahaa grade[36] in Thailand at that time, to go off
on tudong. Most of the academic monks considered the going off on
tudong a disgraceful thing to do.[37] It was due to Ven. Ajahn Singh being
our leader that I was allowed to go along on tudong because without my
presence my Preceptor was obliged to recite the Patimokkha Rule himself.)
I had been living at Wat Sutat' in
Ubon, separated from family and close friends, for a full six years. While I was
living there various people left their sons and grandsons under my care. Four
boys lived with me as my 'disciples',[38] of whom two were ordained as
novices. They had been with me ever since my own novice days, right through to
my ordination as a monk. We had developed a father-son relationship and so when
it came time to separate, they all began to weep thinking how much they were
going to miss me. I too was almost unable to hold back my tears. However, being
their teacher it would have looked bad if I cried in front of them so I gritted
my teeth and suppressed my sorrow, not letting my true feelings show. Even so, I
found my voice hoarse with emotion.
At the time those feelings hadn't
seemed too overpowering but later, after we had left, they seeped in and made me
feel dull and listless for a remarkably long time. Whether I was walking,
standing, sitting or lying down, even while talking or eating, my heart was
preoccupied in gloom and sadness, longing for my 'disciples'. How will they
manage? What will they eat? Will they have enough to eat or have to go without?
Who will teach them? Or perhaps someone would come along to bully and boss them
about. This was the first time in my life that I had ever experienced such
depression.
I therefore had to think through
and reflect on my situation: 'These boys are neither my children nor my
grandchildren; they aren't blood relatives; they only came to rely and depend on
me. I guided and instructed them to the best of my ability. Why is it that I
miss and pine about them so much?' At this point, I pondered what it must be
like for people with a wife and children of their own. There! If these
'disciples' had been my own sons, my own flesh and blood, how much greater would
have been my grief. I now perceived the drawback and danger in such longing and
yearning and this realization permeated right through to my heart. This
understanding has never been lost.
Human beings are really no
different from young monkeys that cannot live alone, separated from their
mother. This caused me to become overwhelming fearful of sentimental attachment.
Such yearning and longing lead to suffering both when one is united and when
separated. What can we do to gain freedom?
Our party of twelve -- eight monks
and four novices -- with Ven. Ajahn Singh leading, made our way out of Ubon town
during November.[39] We walked steadily on, never staying
anywhere along the way for more than a single night until we arrived at the
village of Hua Dtaphan. We rested there for quite some time before moving on to
stay at Hua Ngoo Village where we readied our requisites[40] before continuing our wanderings
through the forest.
Our walking on tudong this
time did not offer much solitude and seclusion because of the large number in
our party. Nevertheless, it did give a fair taste of the experience of walking
and wandering through forests and jungle. For instance, one night we arranged
our resting places with krot umbrellas and mosquito nets in place. After
we had chanted our evening puja,[41] a storm broke on us with gale force
winds and pouring rain. To lie down or even to sit became impossible as the area
started to flood. We quickly gathered up our gear and fled, thinking to ask for
shelter in the nearby village monastery. Besides everything else, we couldn't
find the right path into the village,[42] which meant we had to circle back
and forth close to the village perimeter for many hours.
When we eventually reached the
village monastery, we found that it was already occupied by sleeping lay people.
These were the six traveling salesmen who had been walking with us for part of
the journey. When they had previously spotted the mass of dark storm clouds
building up on the horizon, they had announced that they were going to stay in
the village rather than sleeping out. They now helped to arrange whatever
sleeping places could be found for us. With the sleeping places arranged, we
hurried back to escort the Ven. Ajahn in, with those seven or eight of our
companions who had remained outside with him. Reaching the monastery and sorting
out our things, we could then lie down and try to get some sleep. The
hut[43] though was absolutely soaked through
and there were no mats or pillows available because it was an abandoned
monastery. Yet our exhaustion enabled us to gain some brief sleep, even if
everything was wet through. At daybreak, we went out on alms round to the
village and received nothing more than plain cooked rice and a banana each.
After the meal we continued our
journey. The Ven. Ajahn led us straight through dense jungles towards the
provincial towns of Roi-et and Kalasin. We passed through Dong Ling and emerged
in the district of Sahassakan, near Koomphavapee District of Udorn-thani
Province. However, we didn't actually enter the main town but stayed to the west
in the village of Chiang Pin. We went there to await the arrival from Bangkok of
the Ecclesiastical Head [Monk] of that Region or Chao Kana Monton.
The Chao Kana Monton instructed our
party to come and wait upon him in Udorn at this time with the aim of bringing
Ven. Maha Pin to take up residence in Udorn. This was because Udorn town didn't
yet have any monks of the Dhammayut' Community.[44] However, things didn't turn out that
way. When the Chao Kana Monton arrived from Bangkok, it was learnt that
Phraya Rachanukoon (later to receive the title Phraya Mukhamontri) had requested
Ven. Mahaa Joom Bandhulo (later to become Ven. Phra Dhammachedi) to accompany
him to Udorn, so that he could take up residence at Wat Bodhisomphorn there.
We all went to pay our respects to
the Chao Kana Monton as soon as he arrived and found that there had been
another change of plans. He now wanted to send Ven. Maha Pin to stay in the
province of Sakhon Nakorn and to have me stay with Ven. Maha Joom in Udorn. His
reasons being that there weren't any suitable monks in Udorn. Also, he thought
that as I was a local and already had some academic training, I should stay and
help see to the administrative business of the monks.
I instead requested that he allow
me to go off to practice meditation to honor his authority and dignity. For
meditation monks were few and far between, whereas scholastic and administrative
monks were numerous and wouldn't be difficult to find. He gave his permission
and recommended that I should stay and assist Ven. Maha Pin.
After these matters had all been
settled, Ven. Ajahn Singh led our group off to pay respects to Venerable Ajahn
Mun who was staying at Kor Village, in the district of Bahn Peur. Venerable
Ajahn Sao[45] also happened to be there at that
time. So it came about that I was able to meet both Venerable Ajahns and pay my
respects to them for the first time in my life. That evening Ven. Ajahn Mun
wholeheartedly bestowed on us a Dhamma talk to mark the occasion of seeing us
for the first time. This was especially so when he saw Ven. Maha Pin. It was
Ven. Maha Pin who had previously committed himself -- after listening to Dhamma
talks by Ven. Ajahn Mun and Ven. Ajahn Singh while in Ubon -- to return and
practice after studying academically in Bangkok. As for me, Ven. Ajahn Mun
probably only knew as much about me as Ven. Ajahn Singh had passed on to him.
That night, after the Dhamma talk
was over, Ven. Ajahn Mun spoke more informally with us about Dhamma. He
concluded the discussion by forecasting something about the various abilities
and qualities of Ven. Maha Pin and myself. This made me feel extremely
uncomfortable and abashed, for I was right there in the midst of the monks and
was not only newly ordained but I couldn't see in myself anything special enough
to interest the Ven. Ajahn Mun.
In fact, I had begun to feel very
self-conscious from the moment we entered the monastery area in the early part
of the evening -- although I don't know how the others felt about it. I had
looked over the place and noted the way the monks lived, similarly with the
novices and right through to the lay people in the monastery. How could they all
be so well mannered and orderly? Each seemed to be going about their personal
duties and routine tasks. Then came the predictions about Ven. Maha Pin, and
when he moved on to me it doubled my embarrassment. Venerable Maha Pin himself
probably didn't feel much at all, apart from some introspective checking of his
abilities with what Ven. Ajahn Mun had predicted.
The next morning after the meal,
Ven. Ajahn Singh led our party off again on the trail to the village of Nah
Seedah. We stayed there for four nights before retracing our steps back to spend
another night with Ven. Ajahn Mun. Then we walked back to Udorn and carried on
to Sakhon Nakorn, in line with what we had agreed with the Chao Kana
Monton. However, subsequent events didn't work out as the Chao Kana
Monton had planned because Ven. Maha Pin became ill and couldn't take up the
duties entrusted to him. Therefore, for that year's Rains Retreat, the Ven.
Ajahn Singh took our group of monks off to stay at the forest monastery of Nong
Laht Village. This action made the Chao Kana Monton highly displeased
with us, so we had to send Ven. Boon, who had completed the General Dhamma
Studies Course, to stay in Sakhon Nakorn.
Before entering the Rains Retreat,
I found an excellent Dhamma companion in a monk by the name of Venerable Glom,
from Loei Province. We had twice gone up to the cave Tam Puang, on Poo Lek
Mountain, to develop meditation together. The first time we went up for four
nights and the second time for six nights. The village headman named Orn-see --
(later he became the Sub district Official Khun Prajak, and then he ordained and
continued as a monk until his death) -- arranged for someone to climb up to
offer us food on a regular basis. I will always remember his kindness and
goodwill. Ven. Ajahn Mun had remarked that this particular village headman was
intelligent and astute about everything -- from his quick-witted speech, to his
work and social involvements in the community. He always seemed able to keep
abreast of affairs. When it came to monks, his talents were remarkable for he
was immediately and competently able to arrange whatever a monk might need, with
nothing more than the barest hint by the monk.
The two of us were thus supplied
with all four suitable things supportive of meditation practice[46] and so were able to push strongly
forward. The more we meditated, the more we felt grateful to the headman and the
villagers for all their goodwill. Our daily meal consisted of one ball of
glutinous rice about the size of a bael-fruit[47] with some dried chili powder. This
was enough to sustain us in our meditation practice without any harmful effects.
Reducing food intake while increasing meditation exertion brings lightness to
the body, clarity to the mindfulness and makes samadhi less difficult. I
meditated with great diligence and my mindfulness improved and became more
firmly established. While living in the cave, I trained my mindfulness to give
it constancy throughout the day and night. I refused to allow any lapse when my
mind might heedlessly wander away following after external objects. Mindfulness
became steadily and exclusively established in the body and mind. I even made
sure that however my mind had been established before going to sleep, it would
return to the same state on awakening. Although sometimes there was still a bit
of absentmindedness during the meal.
Increasing my exertion also raised
my appreciation for the villagers' goodwill -- it seemed to follow like the
shadow its subject. I was very much aware that being a monk my existence rested
in the hands of the villagers and I therefore continued my meditation practice
to repay my debt to them. I became certain that my meditation efforts during
this time completely fulfilled the obligations of my indebtedness.
As the Rains Retreat approached, we
went down to stay with Ven. Ajahn Singh in the monastery of Nong Lart Village.
As I was still a newly ordained monk during this Rains Retreat, I didn't have to
take on any responsibilities. Apart, that is, from attending to the needs of the
senior monk[48] and applying myself to the
meditation practice. The Venerable Ajahn gave us special consideration in this.
Throughout the Rains Retreat I
further developed my meditation practice following the scheme that I had
observed while out on the mountain. On top of that, I added some yoga techniques
as an experiment. By this I mean progressively reducing my daily food intake
from seventy small lumps of sticky rice down to three mouthfuls. Then I
gradually increased again to thirty mouthfuls before cutting back down to five
mouthfuls. Each sequence of this would take some three or four days and I
continued like this throughout the Rains Retreat. Although the longest period
was when I ate only fifteen mouthfuls of food a day and then it was only
vegetarian food. My build is naturally quite slim and so when that became quite
emaciated the villagers started to notice. Everyone who saw me, asked what was
wrong but I had the will power and the spirit to carry on as normal with my
duties and meditation practice.
As soon as the Rains Retreat was
over, I resumed eating some meat and fish again. But Oh! How foul they now
smelled. We human beings consume their meat and make it into our own flesh. It's
just as if we snatch away and steal something foul and then eat it. This is why
the devas and other heavenly beings won't come close to humans -- it's
our offensive smell. Yet human beings themselves seem to find no difficulty in
embracing and admiring these corpses of ours.
After the Rains Retreat I went up
onto the mountain once more, but this time accompanied by Ven. Ajahn Singh
himself. We had stayed up there for nine days when he became ill and asked me to
go down and bring back the rest of our party of monks. When we saw that taking
care of him there wouldn't be convenient, we all moved down to nurse him in the
forest area of Nong Boo-a. (This is now a village.)
Ven. Ajahn Mun sent a message at
that time requesting that I go and meet him in the district of Tah Bor. I
complied with those instructions and took my leave of Ven. Ajahn Singh and, as
it happened, met up with Ven. Ajahn Mun and Ven. Ajahn Sao along the way. They
had received an invitation from Wat Bodhisomphorn, in the town of Udorn-thani.
It was at this time that 'Grandmother'[49] Noi (who was the mother of Phraya
Rajanukoon) came to take part in the consecration ceremony for the laying
down of the boundary stones (siima) of Wat Bodhisomphorn. This was her
first meeting with Ven. Ajahn Mun. She had been able to listen to one of his
sermons and her faith in him began. I was able to stay there with Ven. Ajahn Mun
for many days before we both set out for Tah Bor.
During this Rains Retreat I resided
near the village of Nah Chang Nam and not far from Tah Bor where Ven. Ajahn Mun
was staying. Venerable Ajahn Oon and I conscientiously made the effort to go
regularly to see him and listen to his Dhamma talks. This Rains Retreat I was
again without any responsibilities except continuing with my own meditation
practice. All other tasks, such as receiving any guests, I had handed over to
Ven. Ajahn Oon. Previously he had been a teacher in the Mahaa-nikaya and
a monk there for nine years, having only recently transferred to the Dhammayut'
Nikaya.[50]
During this Rains Retreat a sad
event concerning Ven. Ajahn Tah took place. He was one of the more senior monks
and, I think I am right in saying, he was also Ven. Ajahn Mun's very first
disciple. I think he had been a monk for about sixteen or seventeen years.
Originally he had gone to undertake studies in Bangkok but was unable to
complete them. He had heard of Ven. Ajahn Mun's good reputation from the
frequent extolling by Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upali (Chan Siricando) and
therefore left Bangkok to follow Ven. Ajahn Mun.
This year, Ven. Ajahn Tah had gone
with Ven. Ajahn Khan to spend the Rains Retreat in the Pah Bing Cave in Loei
Province. While there he had become unbalanced[51] and had fled in the middle of the
Retreat to see Venerable Ajahn Mun. Ven. Ajahn Tah said that he had committed
the worst possible breach of the Monastic Discipline[52] and that his distress was so intense
that it felt as if his yellow robes were on fire. When a thorough inquiry into
the circumstances and events in question was made, there was evidently no truth
in the matter at all. It was just his own exaggerated doubts and anxieties over
some trivial incidents that had thrown him into turmoil.
One of Ven. Ajahn Tah's
tribulations concerned what had occurred some time previously, when he had gone
to develop his meditation near the village of Pone Sawang. His samadhi had
become strong and this had brought great brightness to the mind. Any Dhamma
issue that he brought up for investigation seemed to be totally cleared up and
then the heart would converge to one-pointed ness. This made him believe that:
"I have come to the end of the Holy Life".[53] He later announced this claim in the
midst of the community of monks. Afterwards, when that bright condition of mind
faded, he began to suspect that he was guilty of boasting about obtaining
supernormal states and had thus broken the monk's discipline in the worst
possible way.
Although people explained to him
that there was definitely no offence because he had made his claim through
mistaken assumptions and misinterpretations, he wouldn't believe them. In fact,
this guilt-ridden anxiety had already caused him many years of distress but he
had previously endured it. However, with the arrival of this Rains Retreat it
had become unbearable and he thought the only way left for him was to disrobe.
Ven. Ajahn Mun was unable to cure him and so had to let him go, sending him to
stay with Ven. Ajahn Sao. Unfortunately, the following year Ven. Ajahn Sao could
no longer restrain him and the final result was that he did indeed disrobe.
After that he completely vanished as if into thin air and no one has heard news
of him right up to the present.
Witnessing all this really made my
heart sink and I felt downhearted and saddened. I reflected that if such a
senior, long-practiced monk could still become mentally unstable, what about me?
What could I do to avoid such unbalance? These thoughts made me so apprehensive
and fearful for my own well being that I revealed my anxieties to Ven. Ajahn
Mun. He told me: "That's right! You have to be careful of yourself. Don't stay
too far away from a competent and knowledgeable teacher. When something comes
up, then hurry to confer and consult with him."
After the Rains Retreat had ended,
Ven. Ajahn Mun and his party set out to walk down towards Sakhon Nakorn.
I had been thinking of my mother
and so I returned home in order to assist her. I think I was successful in this
respect, for I recommended that she observe the Eight Precepts and dress in
white. On this occasion, my aunt, uncle and my elder brother were also all
inspired with faith and determined to keep the Eight Precepts and wear white.
This was especially so with my elder brother, for he left his wife and a newly
born son of only a few months to ordain as a monk. I had them leave their
village and follow the senior monks so that they could become better acquainted
with Dhamma companions and receive training from many different meditation
teachers. I followed along later with my brother and uncle, catching up with
them at the village of Plah Lo, Phannah Nikom District, where Ven. Ajahn Singh
had spent the Rains Retreat. He led our group on to establish a temporary base
near the village of Ahgaht Amnoy. Not long after our arrival there, Ven. Ajahn
Mun came to join us and he had me go on with him to set up a base near the
village of Sahm Pong.
Living in close association with
such senior monks was very good for me. It forces one to be mindful and alert at
all times. One day, the novice who regularly attended on Ven. Ajahn Mun was
absent so I took over his duties (acariya-vat'). One of these included
going to sleep on the veranda of Ven. Ajahn Mun's hut. Venerable Ajahn Mun was
usually awake and starting to meditate at three o'clock every morning. On waking
he would immediately reach for a box of matches to light a candle and they would
make a slight rattling noise. I felt obliged to be up before him each morning so
that I could be quick enough to go into his room and attend to his needs. After
sleeping there and doing this for many nights, Ven. Ajahn Mun obviously began to
think that it was unusual because he asked me: "Venerable Tate, don't you ever
sleep?". I replied that I certainly did.
The climate[54] in Sahm Pong did not seem to agree
with my health and constitution. Although I still had quite a good appetite I
seemed to lack energy and my body continually ached and was stiff and sore all
over. My meditation exertion, however, never faltered. After the meal, I would
go into the jungle to find a secluded spot to develop calm in solitude
throughout the day. During the nighttime I would walk in meditation and then go
up to listen to Ven. Ajahn Mun's Dhamma talk that lasted from eight until ten
o'clock. If a large gathering of monks was present, his Dhamma talk might not
finish until midnight or two o'clock in the morning. Ven. Ajahn Mun always made
sure that he kept up this way of teaching and training, and it continually
inspired his circle of dedicated disciples to be zealous in their meditation
practice.
After Venerable Ajahn Mun left that
place, Ven. Ajahn Sao took over for three years. I learnt later that many monks
who stayed on there had died. One was Ven. Ajahn Bhoo-mee who 'died' there only
to recover.[55]
At the approach of the Rains
Retreat, I made my way back to the district of Ahgaht Amnoy and stayed just
north of the town in a cremation ground.[56] Meanwhile, Ven. Ajahn Singh was
spending the Rains Retreat to the south of that same district town. My elder
brother, my uncle, mother and aunt, with a nun from Pon Sawang Village all
stayed together for the Rains Retreat. I was the sole monk although there was a
novice by the name of Chuen who was from Tah Bor. My uncle died nearing the
start of the Retreat, which left just six of us.
During this time there was an
outbreak of smallpox among the townspeople. Almost all of them scattered and
fled into the surrounding fields and forests to escape the infection. Even the
resident monks of the local monastery followed the same route as the lay people,
leaving virtually nobody behind who could offer alms for us to eat. This
occurred because the residents of Ahgaht Amnoy had never experienced an epidemic
of smallpox before.
It was a town of more than a
thousand households and only as few as five people had contracted smallpox.
However, those who became infected pretended to be healthy to escape detection
and by the time they were found out the disease was already well advanced. The
procedure for anyone found with symptoms was to move them away into the forest.
They were quarantined there in a small bamboo hut built for them, while food was
sent out for them to eat.
It was indeed a happy chance that
Ven. Ajahn Singh had some knowledge of forest herbs. He was thereby able to
bring out some medicinal herbs to use in treating the disease and could tell the
townspeople not to cast their sick away in the jungle. The result was that only
a few people actually died. When news reached the authorities they came and
inoculated everyone.
We were remarkably fortunate that
the townspeople retained their deep respect for meditation monks. This meant
that although the town had been completely abandoned, they would still
stealthily come back in at four or five o'clock in the morning to prepare rice
to put into the monks' bowls. When we went on alms round, they would come out to
offer food and then rush off back into the forest.
I would like to take this
opportunity to express my sincere thanks and appreciation for the generosity of
the townspeople of Ahgaht Amnoy.
Such merit and goodwill go
beyond life itself for they form a true refuge for the suffering people of this
world and the next. When we suffer, if we can't rely on our virtue and past good
deeds, what can we depend upon?
The people of Ahgaht Amnoy were
more afraid of smallpox than the tigers of the surrounding jungle. Even
neighbors and relatives wouldn't speak to each other. I asked them when they
would start talking together again and they told me it would still be quite some
time, after the end of the Rains Retreat, in January or February.
During this Rains Retreat I often
went to listen to Ven. Ajahn Singh's Dhamma talks. This meant that I had to walk
through Ahgaht Amnoy town and then on for a farther three kilometers. (The town
was deserted and not even a lone dog was to be seen.) I received a Dhamma talk
from Ven. Ajahn Singh that really shook me up. Perhaps he was making a show of
it to unsettle me, or was it just that he didn't understand my true character?
It's difficult to say. He said that I had an obstinate and unyielding sort of
character; that I was stubborn and unwilling to accept anyone else. While he was
saying this, I focused my mind to check out how it was within my heart.
I really did have the utmost
respect and reverence for Ven. Ajahn Singh and therefore was always ready to
receive his teachings and instructions. Yet why did he say such things about me?
Still, what he said about me -- my not easily acquiescing to others -- was
certainly true. I had always been that sort of person, finding anything that
seemed illogical or unreasonable difficult to accept. My own opinions were
subjected to the same careful checking and if they didn't measure up or lacked
foundation I would be absolutely intractable in not accepting them. That's how I
was. (I will be explaining more about this character trait later in the book.)
I sat there listening to Venerable
Ajahn Singh's Dhamma talk and also examining the state of my own mind. It caused
an audacious boldness to spring up, like pouring fuel on a fire to put it out. I
seemed to glide on the way back to the monastery, feeling so light because my
mind was fully engaged on that point. That night, I redoubled my efforts in
meditation thinking that:
"Here I am. I've been trying
with my meditation practice as far as this. And yet why is it that I can't
identify the defilements that must definitely be present, right there in my
heart, while another person can turn around and know about them before me. This
is really humiliating. Ven. Ajahn Singh is a human being, born of mother and
father, nourished by mother's milk and weaned through spoon-feeding. Just like
me and yet he can perceive the defilements within me better than I can myself.
Here, today, if I can't fathom out my own defilements then I should die in the
attempt."
When I actually got down to my
meditation practice, nothing in particular seemed to happen. I did, however,
examine Ven. Ajahn Singh's assessments and the way he had used them -- as he was
supposed to -- in giving his Dhamma talk and concluded: Even if I'm not as he
seems to think I am, I can but continue to purify myself, for in the end, no one
else can know better than I can myself. With that my heart became tranquil
and unperturbed.
My accelerated exertions brought
upset to the bodily 'humors',[57] making me feel that I should lie
down and rest. However, I couldn't really get to sleep for as I started to doze
off I experienced what the country folk call a pee-um. Everyone knows
about this phenomenon[58] so there is no need to describe it
fully here. The important question remained whether or not the pee or
spirit of the pee- um actually exists. That night I was able to search
out the truth in many ways.
At first, it felt as if some huge,
looming black form came forward and seated itself on my chest, so that I
couldn't breathe. My heart nearly gave out in the struggle to regain
consciousness. Some people assert that the spirits of all the creatures that one
killed[59] reside in one's thumbs. Resting the
hands on one's chest during sleep therefore allows the spirits to come out and
suffocate one. So I now removed my hands from my chest and stretched them down
by my sides. Nevertheless, it came back and suffocated me again: 'Hey, what's
happening here? Could it possibly be because I'm sleeping on my back?' I turned
over and lay on my side to see what would happen and the suffocating sensation
came on again. This time the suffocating pressure was such that it felt as if I
would smother and die.
I therefore turned to focus on the
condition of those about to die:
The first time, I directed
mindfulness so that it was keeping closely aware of the mind, following it to
know what happens at death. Mindfulness stayed with the heart right up to the
final moment when only the barest awareness remained. A feeling was present that
to release that faint degree of awareness would be death.
At this point, the question became
whether it would be better for me to let go and allow death to take place. I
felt that my heart was currently quite pure and that if I were to let go, I
wouldn't lose because of it. Although there also remained a delicate feeling
that expressed the thought that: 'rather than letting go and die, by remaining
alive, I could continue to be of benefit to other people. If it were all to
finish here with my death, then it could only be to my own purely personal
advantage. Also, people wouldn't know the full circumstances and causes of this
death. If that's the case, it's certainly better not to let myself die.' I
therefore attempted to wiggle and move my hands and feet, until I came around.
The second time it happened, I saw
no bodily form but rather an enormous dark mass that loomed over me. I knew now
for certain that it wasn't a ghost. The cause seemed more connected with the
'elemental winds' driving upwards. After trying to move my hands and
feet, it all cleared up.
When it happened for a third time,
it seemed less intense than before. It was more of a drowsy state and I just
determined to get up. For all my readers in this situation, notice your state
when you regain consciousness. There should be a heavy-headed dullness and
lassitude present. At this point, if you don't take any medicine to balance
these 'winds' before going back to sleep, it will happen again. In my own
case, I've always found that the best and only cure is by smelling borneol
crystals.[60]
At this same period, I tried to
uncover and understand the condition that exists during the state of sleep. As a
rule, we are never aware of the actual moment of falling asleep. It's only upon
waking that we come to know that we fell asleep.
Before we fall asleep there will be
the state of tiredness, weakness and drowsy dullness of body and mind. The
chains of thinking processes become shorter and eventually all awareness of
thought-objects is released and we quickly enter what they call sleep.
When we bring in mindfulness to
focus on the current condition of that final moment before sleep, we will find
that there is only the barest awareness left. It's almost impossible to fix on
it, while no mental-objects are left at all. Only the most delicate mindfulness
remains present to follow and watch the current condition of the mind arising in
that moment. It is like when the mind drops into bhavanga.[61] If, at this point, we don't wish to
allow sleep to take over, an effort has to be made to look out for a single
mental or emotional object. This can then be subjected and held to and taken up
for thought processing. As a result, the mind will brighten up and be refreshed,
free from all fatigue and drowsiness. It will also have the beneficial effect
equal to having slept for four or five hours.
On the other hand, if we wish to
sleep, this is achieved by letting go of that final remaining trace of
mindfulness and sleep will come with ease and comfort. This way is especially
good because one only sleeps for a very short period, so there is no wasting of
time. It won't last for more than five or ten minutes. If you have actually
established and focused mindfulness, as I have been explaining, you can rest
assured that you won't be asleep for more than five minutes.
If, rather than going to sleep, you
just want to rest body and mind, go and find a suitably quiet and peaceful place
to rest in. It can either be somewhere completely secluded or among other
people. Lie down, stretch out, relax and be comfortable without tensing any part
of the body. Then settle the mind on a single object in that condition of
letting go. Let it just remain alone in emptiness for a while, and, on getting
up, you will feel in all respects as if you had been sleeping for four or five
hours.
This word sleep. In truth,
the mind doesn't sleep. It is rather that the body rests, without having to make
any movements. Even those who enter the high state of meditation called the
attainment of cessation[62] can't be said to have gone into a
state of sleep. This is really the state where the meditator supervises the
heart with mindfulness to fix it on one mental object.
That object steadily becomes ever
more refined -- as does mindfulness and the heart -- until all feelings and
thoughts completely cease due to the strength of the meditator's skilled
practice. Mindfulness no longer has anything to do and so fades out completely.
Although bodily breathing continues, it has become so subtle and refined that
one can hardly say whether it exists or not. In fact, it does exist but it no
longer appears to move through the nose. One can compare it to an external
breeze that while present is not enough to manifest in the stirring and
fluttering of leaves. No one could then assert that no wind/breath exists for if
there is no wind/breath there's no air and then all living-breathing beings in
this world would be dead.
The Lord Buddha called this
'entering the attainment of cessation', for at this point the nervous
system of the six sense doors[63] will not receive any contact. This,
however, is different from the state of sleep. When asleep, something may very
well impinge on the senses so that one immediately wakes up. The attainment
of cessation requires sufficient practice and preparation of heart so that
it becomes competent and skilled. After attaining this state many wondrous
things[64] can occur. It's not possible to hurt
the meditator who has entered into this state -- even if someone set him on fire
it would never touch him. On the other hand, after entering Nibbana, the body
can indeed disintegrate.
The meditator can withdraw from the
attainment of cessation through the power of a previously made
determination.[65] When they reach the determined time,
the breath will gently start to become progressively coarser and coarser until
all the bodily functions have reverted to their previously normal state.
Attainment of
cessation is not Nibbana
but a state of absorption.[66] This is because absorption
lacks the right-view wisdom (paññaa-sammaadi.t.thi) that can investigate
the root causes of the defilements, such as those of the Sense Sphere
(Kaama-bhava) and the Fine-material Sphere (Ruupa-bhava). This is
rather the domain of insight-knowledge (vipassanaa-ñaa.na) and
right-knowledge and realization of the Path (magga ñaa.na-dassana). All
the absorptions are only instruments of encouragement and support, which
smooth the Way and enhance energy.
Thus, before the Lord Buddha's
Final Passing Away, (Parinibbana) he entered and progressed up through
the various levels of absorption. He then returned to the Fourth
Absorption, which forms the foundation for insight, and entered Nibbana from
there. That was between the Sense Sphere and the Fine-material
Sphere for that forms the base for the supra-mundane dhamma.
(lokuttara dhamma).
The question might arise here: "So!
Why is this old monk going on about the attainment of cessation, about
Nibbana and states of absorption? Has he reached and realized
these states or not?" The doubter might answer himself with: "Can't one say
that this is really a matter of boasting about attaining to supra-mundane
states?".
In truth, anyone who attains to
the cessation of perception and feeling, or to Path, Fruit and
Nibbana, or to the absorption of the attainment of cessation,[67] does not make the assumption that,
'I have reached, entered or reside in such a state'. There
is simply proficiency with the necessary skilful means that leads to and
connects with them. Just when the meditator is about to enter such a state, any
remaining assumptions and suppositions about it will bring him up short.
Otherwise, the average sort of person everywhere, intelligent and knowledgeable
about the Teachings and the Discipline, they could all go off together and
attain to the Path and Fruit and Nibbana, to the absorption of the
attainment of cessation. The whole town, the whole country would all be
doing the same!
At the moment of realizing such
states there is no hope of making up assumptions and formulations about them.
Only after transcending those conditions can one recollect and systematically
check back over their successive stages and development. Once having worked it
out one will then be able to formulate and set out all aspects of these states.
It's not always necessary for the
person who explains about these things to have actually reached those levels.
When the Teachings have been set down and their essential meaning established,
one has to explain about it to the best of one's own understanding. Sometimes
this will be done correctly and sometimes it will be mistaken. If things had not
been worked out in this way, how could the Teachings of the Lord Buddha have
endured and continued down to the present day?
People listen, yet even though they
all may be listening to the same theme, to the same points, many will understand
in quite different ways, from different angles. Furthermore, those meditator’s
who have attained to exactly the same stage, via an identical technique, will
still find that their individual skill and ingenuity are quite different.
This is why the Dhamma that one sees by and for oneself is so wondrous and
amazing and why it's so difficult to achieve.
"So why do you come along finding
fault and only condemning me? It's simply not fair."
Please excuse this digression into
the nether realms.[68] Now let us return to my
autobiography.
With the end of the Rains Retreat,
Ven. Ajahn Singh led our party to the village of Sahm Pong. It was the customary
practice for us all to gather and pay our respects to the Ven. Ajahn Mun. On our
way there, I related to Ven. Ajahn Singh all my recent experiences and thoughts
about the pee-um and sleep. He made no response at all, remaining quite
silent. When we arrived, however, he proceeded to relate this matter to Ven.
Ajahn Mun. At that moment, I was sitting a little apart from them so I don't
know what he said about my experiences -- I couldn't hear. I thought that
probably it was all considered inconsequential and beside the point, not being
connected with the practice of the Noble Path. He therefore didn't pursue it any
further, as he might have done with other issues.
Almost one hundred monks and
novices gathered to pay their respects to the Venerable Elders and Senior
Ajahns, and it was considered quite an event for those times. After it was over,
Ven. Ajahn Mun had me, with one other monk and a novice, accompany him to the
village of Kah Non Daeng. This was where the Ven. Ajahn Oon, Ven. Ajahn Goo and
Ven. Ajahn Fan had spent the Rains Retreat. We stayed there for three days and
Ven. Ajahn Mun related to the group about my practice with sleeping and not
sleeping. Everyone remained silent, without comment. This was particularly so
with Ven. Ajahn Oon who previously had discussed this very topic with me, when I
was still unable to do it.
During the time that Ven. Ajahn Mun
resided at the forest monastery of Sahm Pong, he would give daily Dhamma talks.
If anyone was feeling despondent or irresolute, or someone had fallen ill, he
directed his talk like this:
"So then, it isn't fear of death
that you have but a desire to die many times." (He meant by this, that if you continue
meditating with dauntless strength and determination, the heart's purification
will cut back the fear of death.)
As soon as Ven. Ajahn Mun departed,
no one was left in the monastery to continue to give Dhamma talks. The morale
and strength of heart of his disciples thereby drained away and no one was able
to carry on living there. The 'air' at that monastery was particularly
inhospitable and it was plagued with malarial fever. Everyone with poor health
or weak constitution would be struck down with fever. The whole resident
community of monks eventually followed along behind us. They said that it was so
bad that they couldn't continue to live there any longer and that the air of
Sahm Pong monastery was so heavy and oppressive that it made them feel drowsy
and lethargic all day long.
When this group of monks caught up
with us again, Ven. Ajahn Mun made an observation about our ranging farther
afield through secluded places, so that we could spread the Dhamma even more
widely. He continued by pointing out that we had already traveled throughout
much of the three or four provinces of this region. These were Sakhon Nakorn,
Udorn-thani, Nongkhai and Loei. He queried us about which provinces would be
best to head for? The majority were for going down towards Ubon Province. But
Ven. Ajahn Mun himself was not really satisfied with this suggestion because
suitable jungle, mountains and caves were hard to find in that region. However,
if there were a consensus for going there, then he wouldn't object. Having come
to this collective decision, we made ready to set off, traveling in small
groups.
It was necessary for me to
accompany my mother on her journey back home and so I was not able to go with
Ven. Ajahn Mun. It was on this trip that Ven. Ajahn Mun and his party
encountered major upheavals. There were both good and bad results from this:
The good side was an increase in
the number of forest monasteries for Kammatthana forest monks, which up to then
had not existed at all. This was the occasion when forest monks for the first
time permanently settled Ubon Province. From that time forward it has continued
to spread out until today there are monasteries with Dhammayut' monks in
virtually every district.
The negative side was the
deterioration in the quality of the monks' practice. In fact, the decline this
time ...[69] was unprecedented, until Ven. Ajahn
Mun was finally obliged to turn away from the community there and leave for
Chiang Mai Province.
I returned to spend the Rains
Retreat for a second time at Nah Chang Nam Village. Meanwhile, my elder brother
went for the Rains to Nah Seedah Village with our father. After the Retreat had
ended, I took my brother and we went to develop our meditation practice in the
cave called Phra Nah Phak Hork. Sometime after this, my brother went back down
to find Venerable Ajahn Sao who had spent the Rains Retreat in Nakorn Panom
Province. It was after this Rains Retreat that my brother went forth as a monk
at Wat Srii Thep.
I brought my father to come and
stay with me in the Phra Nah Phak Hork Cave. It was the first time in the eleven
years since his ordination into white robes[70] that he had come to spend the Rains
Retreat with me. Furthermore, I had never stayed for the Rains so close to my
home village as I did that year. I consider that it was an especially fortunate
year, for it gave me the opportunity to support my father in the way of Dhamma
practice. He developed his meditation to the best of his ability and achieved
excellent results. So much so that he was forced to exclaim that it was the
first time since his birth that he had begun to experience deeply the flavor of
Dhamma. He could sit in meditation for as long as three or four hours at a time.
I was delighted to have fulfilled my aspirations by being of aid and assistance
to him.
Yet when circumstances come
together and the time is ripe, untoward things can come upon us. That is to say,
my father fell ill. His children and grandchildren saw only the hardship of his
situation -- when intense pain came during the nighttime, who would look after
him? For there were only the two of us, father and son, staying up in the cave.
So the family came and carried him off down to the village so that they could
attend to him there. He refused, however, to go back to stay in the village
monastery where he had been before. Instead, he had them set him up in his shack
in the middle of the rice fields. I often went down to encourage his constant
attention towards Dhamma.
That was the year when something
quite miraculous arose connected with my father. The rice seedlings in the
villagers' fields of that whole area were in very poor condition, despite the
moderately good rainfall. All the stems had turned a reddish colour with the
startling exception of those in the patch surrounding my father's shack. These
were a lush green and were so remarkable that the village people began to say
that 'Father White Robe' would not survive the year.[71] And this indeed proved to be the
case.
On that particular day I had gone
to instruct my father. I had reminded him of Dhamma and offered him strategies
to use in his meditation and investigations, until he seemed quite pleased and
contented. He still seemed quite strong and fit, so at the approach of night I
made my way back up to the Nah Phak Hork Cave. He passed away in the middle of
that night, possessed of mindfulness and a peaceful state of mind right up to
the final breath. At dawn they came to get me and I arranged that his funeral
and cremation rites were properly completed that same day. He passed away in
August 1928, at the age of seventy-seven, having been ordained a white robe
devotee for eleven years.
I had been living by myself in the
cave before my father came to join me, and after his death I found myself alone
again. To have the opportunity for this sort of solitude is rare and I
determined in my heart to make the most of it: 'In the same way as someone
offers flowers in reverence to the Buddha -- may my life, may the flesh and
blood of this body, may the tasks and duties I undertake, may they all become my
offering and puuja to the Triple Gem.'
Thus resolved, I got down to
intensifying my meditation practice with strength and determination. I
established and set mindfulness within the heart, not allowing any thoughts or
imaginings to be directed outside. Everything was to remain wholly within an
inner calm and stillness, all day and all night. The setting of mindfulness
before sleep should be the same on awakening.
Sometimes, it even happened that
although I was asleep and aware of the fact, I was unable to get up. It took
some effort on my part to move the body and by that come back to waking
consciousness again. My own understanding at that time was that the stilled,
one-pointed heart, didn't allow thoughts to careen away externally and so would
definitely be able to transcend every bit of suffering. I thought that wisdom's
only function was to purge the out-wanderings of the heart and return it to a
state of stillness.
I therefore did not try to use
wisdom in an examination of, for example, the body and sense
impressions[72] and so failed to come to an
understanding about body and heart. These are still interrelated and
interdependent, and whenever any material or mental object comes into contact in
whatever way there must inevitably be disturbance. This causes the stilled and
settled mind to be shaken up and agitated, following the influence of the
defilements.
I applied myself to walking
meditation until my feet were split and bloody. Then I came down with a fever
that persisted throughout the Rains Retreat, but I wasn't going to slacken off
my meditation efforts. I had once read accounts of some Elder-monks in times
gone by who had walked in meditation until their feet had split and
broken. However, I had found this quite hard to believe. I had supposed
that the use here of this particular verb 'broken' suggested that their
feet had been pounding down and striking against some hard object, which is what
caused the abrasions. Walking with circumspection along a smooth and level
meditation path -- what was there to knock against?
Actually, the same Pali word is
used to render both 'broken' and 'worn through' or
'perforated'. A monk is described as sick (or feverishly ill) through
several causes: arising from kamma; from season; from bile disorders;
from clashing with external things; and arising from striving in meditation. It
was only then that I realized that my meditation exertions performed with a mind
of such zealous energy were lacking in wisdom. Yet there I was, living alone
without a competent Dhamma companion to give me advice. To be only bold and
daring in one's striving while the heart lags behind in wisdom is not so good.
This was what caused my fever.
When the Rains Retreat was over, I
retraced my steps and went to find my brother and the Ven. Ajahn Sao in Nakorn
Panom. I went because I had been separated from all my Dhamma companions and
meditation teachers for more than two years. Ever since Ven. Ajahn Sao and Ven.
Ajahn Mun and company had left Tah Bor District, I had been the sole monk of our
group to remain in the area.
At that time, Luang Dtah Mun[73] of Kor Village had come to spend the
Rains Retreat at Nah Seedah, the village where I was born. He was the sort of
character that liked to travel around disputing with less knowledgeable monks.
He would challenge them with his supposed mastery of the religion and was ready
to debate with anyone and beat them hollow. "Even all those forest meditation
monks," he said, "when they see me coming they duck away. Just look for
yourself, none of them can cope and they have all fled through their fear of me.
The only one left now is this 'Mister Tate',[74] but in a few days he'll be on his
way too."
After continually hearing things
like this, nobody could be bothered to speak to him anymore. If they did try,
they couldn't get a word in edgeways for he always had to be 'the only one to
get it right.'
It was during that Rains Retreat
that a dispute arose between him and the monks in the monastery of Glahng Yai
Village. These monks surreptitiously approached me with an invitation to come
down from the cave to clear up and settle the conflict. As soon as I arrived, he
reversed his position and dropped the quarrel. Yet he repeated this kind of
dispute and prevarication so often that all the local monks were totally
disgusted with him. Perhaps one can use the Southern Thai phrase: 'he had
gone crazy for fame and celebrity'. They no longer bothered getting involved
with him, for any discussion was becoming clearly pointless.
Then came the final day of the
Rains Retreat, the Pavarana Day. This is a traditional time for
ceremonial offerings so they went and invited Luang Dtah Mun to come and join in
the sermon giving. Likewise, they came and invited me, although they didn't
mention that to him. By the time I got to the village there wasn't a person to
be seen for they were all already waiting for me at the village monastery. This
was unusual, for on a normal day when they knew I was coming, all the villagers
tended to come out and wait, lining both sides of the road.[75] Some people would even call out and
make quite a commotion so that I became reluctant to walk through Glahng Yai
Village.
When Luang Dtah Mun's sermon was
over, I convened a meeting of all the gathered monks to discuss the points he
had brought up. He had said that chanting our praise to the Buddha by starting
with "Araha.m ..."[76] is wrong; that as we ourselves were
not arahants we couldn't pay reverence to them. He gave his logic and
reasons for this, and said that one must begin the recitation with "Namo"
and then continue with "Namo [tassa Bhagavato] Arahato Sammaa
Sambuddhassa". I pointed out to him that this formula pays homage to
Arahato in just the same way, so perhaps Luang Dtah Mun -- following his
own logic -- is already an arahant and enlightened?
It was at this point that Luang
Dtah Mun exploded with anger and said, "If I wasn't an arahant, I
certainly wouldn't carry on being a monk like this and would have disrobed and
gone home to sleep with my wife ... ". His language continued with more
crudities and was offensive to everyone listening. I therefore came back and
questioned what gauge he used in his assumptions about his own
arahantship. He answered that 'to look at the earth' was the
measuring standard. I replied that anyone could perceive the earth; even grazing
cattle bent their heads and looked at the earth from morn 'till night -- that
must make them all arahants.
"This Luang Dtah has boasted of
having attained to supernormal states." As soon as I had said this he was
shocked and struck dumb, unable to say anything at all. I went on to refer to
many issues. I announced, for instance, that if it was true that he had
continually disputed with and challenged the local monks and the forest
meditation monks, he should speak out now. But he absolutely refused to speak.
By this time, it was almost evening
and the monks were preparing for the Pavarana Ceremony. Luang Dtah Mun
went into the Uposatha Hall to join in the ceremony but the monks refused
to allow him to take part[77] and he therefore had to return to
Nah Seedah Village alone. On that day most of the village had come to the
monastery and nobody had been left behind to watch over the houses. Even the
district headman, who had never previously set foot in a monastery, came that
day. After that he continued with regular attendance for the rest of his life.
I didn't immediately return to the
cave that evening, but went to sleep at the village monastery in Nah Seedah.
Luang Dtah Mun came to see me, panting and gasping for breath, almost unable to
put words together. He was sulking and felt so slighted that he was going to
flee that very night. He said he was too ashamed and embarrassed to face people
and had to leave. I requested him to think again and at least stay until the
morning, saying that I had no ill will towards him and had only been speaking
according to truth and reason. But he couldn't sleep all night, and at the crack
of dawn went off to see the District Chief Monk and requested permission to
disrobe. Although it had been only one day, the news of what had happened had
already spread. The Chief Monk already knew about it and therefore told him that
permission was not needed and for him just to go ahead and disrobe. He then went
to the village of Kor to ask permission from his former Dhamma Studies teacher,
but he too knew about the situation and likewise told him that permission wasn't
necessary and to go ahead and take the robes off.[78]
Finally he did disrobe and quietly
locked himself away in his former wife's bedroom. It was many days before he
dared show his face again.
I've included these rather
ancillary episodes in this autobiography to make it more comprehensive.
After relating those more
tangential stories, I now want to get back to essential matters. Luang Dtee-a
Tong In was originally from Korat Province, of the village of Koke Jor Hor. He
moved to run a business in Tah Bor where he became a prosperous and prominent
merchant, well known throughout the area. He and his wife were both pious
Buddhists and the people of Tah Bor came to know about the keeping of the lay
precepts through his influence. Luang Dtee-a Tong In donated an orchard to
establish a monastery and named it 'Wat Ambavan' -- the Mango Grove Monastery --
which incorporated both their names: his wife's being 'Am' and his
'In'[dra]. Both eventually ordained as monk and white-robed nun for four
or five years. Later, he became ill with some disease that caused his body to
swell up and this confined him to bed.
Each year, Luang Dtee-a Tong In's
children would gather to make merit and offer gifts to enhance his recovery. It
so happened that they invited me to participate in the ceremony, even though I
had never set eyes on him before. At that time I had five Rains as a monk and he
had seven, making him senior to me by two years.
Luang Dtee-a Tong In told me that
his condition made him feel as if he were already dead. I replied, "when the
person's dead, that's good". He went on to say that he was not concerned about
anything, that he had set his heart solely on the Four Paths, Four Fruits and
One Nibbana [i.e. Enlightenment]. I told him that if such aspirations were still
present he certainly couldn't yet be dead, for dead men didn't have any desires.
At this he was taken aback and responded by asking, "If I'm not to have any
aspirations, what would you have me do?". I told him to meditate using
"Buddho" as his only object of attention. By this time, I noticed that
downstairs was already full of monks, so I quickly completed my part of the
ceremony and went down allowing the monks from other monasteries to carry on
with the proceedings.
(Normally, when he was feeling
well, he was very diligent with his daily devotions, doing much chanting and
reciting of Dhamma verses. It would take him a full seven days to complete a
round of his Pali recitations. When senior meditation teachers came to visit,
for example, Ven. Ajahn Mun and Ven. Ajahn Sao, he would go out to see them and
upon coming away would urge his wife and children to make merit with offerings
of gifts and food placed into the alms bowl. That was enough, he said, there was
no need to go overboard. Yet his daughter could progress with her meditation
practice very well.)
Early the following morning,
someone came to invite me to go and see Luang Dtee-a who had something that he
wanted to tell me. I said just to wait a few moments, for as soon as I had eaten
my meal I would be on my way. On arriving there, he swiftly related to me his
wonderful experience:
"Ajahn, I really had a strange
experience last night. The roosters normally crow 'cock-a-doodle-doo ...
', but last night it wasn't like that at all. Instead they said,
'your-mind-is-one-pointed' 'your-mind-is- one-pointed ...".[79]
(When the heart has only one object
and is one-pointed, (Citt'ekaggataa or ekaggataarama.na) sounds
can manifest in such a way.)
"Ajahn," he added, "before, the
gecko lizards always cried, 'geck-o geck-o', but last night they said
'you're-already-old' 'you're-already-old'."[80] (This becomes a Dhamma sermon for
when any sound impinges with a similar phonetic sound it can immediately become
a teaching instrument.) I reassured him that that was correct and that he should
now be determined to further develop his meditation by making the heart well
established and steady throughout the day and night. He should not allow any
distractedness or carelessness to arise and he would then be ready and prepared
for death.
Some days later a layman came to
request that I immediately go and see Luang Dtee-a, for he was about to disrobe.
I was shocked. What on earth could this be about? Why ever would he want to
disrobe, just as he was becoming proficient in meditation? I told the layman to
ask him to wait and not to disrobe right away, that as soon as my meal was
finished I would go and see him. His hut had two sets of balustrades and so when
I arrived there I opened the outer gate and entered, while one of the boys
helping to nurse him opened the next gate for me. His hearing my approach proved
enough to dispel all his misgivings, "as if they were plucked away".
Luang Dtee-a explained to me what
had happened. He said: "I related to my daughter all my various meditation
experiences, just as I had told them to you. Then it hit me -- Oh no! -- I am
guilty of the worst sort of offence by boasting of super-normal attainments to
her. I became so anxious and distressed by this that I thought I would have to
disrobe. But as soon as I heard the sound of your arrival, all that agitation
evaporated. So I won't be disrobing now."
I explained to Luang Dtee-a that it
certainly wasn't a case of claiming super-normal attainments, for he had not
acted from a desire for praise or gain or fame. He had spoken to exchange Dhamma
understanding and therefore there was no offence.
Later, I started to think back to
my meditation teachers, and became concerned about my long -- two year --
absence from them. So I took my leave of him and went off to Nakorn Panom to
visit Ven. Ajahn Sao.
Ven. Ajahn Sao generally did not
give formal Dhamma sermons and when he did, it would be more in the way of a
Dhamma consultation. My going to stay with him that year meant that there would
be another monk available to assist him. Ven. Ajahn Toom was already resident
there, so the two of us could contribute our energy in assisting Ven. Ajahn Sao
in teaching and instructing the lay community.
It was this year when I begged Ven.
Ajahn Sao to consent to have his photograph taken as a memento. At first he did
not want to, but I pleaded and gave him reasons so that eventually he did
acquiesce. I pointed out how essential it would be for his disciples and those
of future generations always to have an opportunity to 'focus' on him and pay
their respects. Previously, he would have had nothing to do with that sort of
thing, so this was indeed quite a unique happening. Even so, I was concerned
that he would change his mind and so I had to act quickly. I therefore crossed
over the River Mekong into Laos to bring back a photographer to take the
picture.
I was delighted at having been able
to photograph Ven. Ajahn Sao and I gave copies to Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi and
Phra Khru Siila-samban (who later was given the title Chao Khun
Dhamma-saaramunii). The photograph of Ven. Ajahn Sao that I arranged at this
time appears to have been the only one ever taken.
Ven. Ajahn Mun was much the same.
He always refused to allow photographs to be taken of him for mementos or
keepsakes. I had frequently beseeched him to do so but he would reply that the
money would be better spent 'buying some cakes for the dogs'. Yet when I
persisted with my pleas and pointed out my reasons, he finally relented. This
was to be for the benefit of the following generations who would now have a
picture of him to pay reverence and respect to.
After the Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn
Sao went wandering, ranging over on the other side of the River Mekong and going
to stay in the Som Poi Cave. This was the cave where he and Ven. Ajahn Mun had
gone off together when they first went forth in search of solitude. It was a
large cavern with a whole series of chambers and many interconnecting passages.
There was also a special cabinet for holding the Pali Scriptures, but it was
bare of books. I followed him there but by the time I arrived he had already
left, going on to stay in another cave.
This was the Tiger's Cave, which
was quite far away along torturously winding paths through circuitous,
labyrinthine double ranges of mountains.[81] A tigress had come and given birth
to her cubs below the cave where Ven. Ajahn Sao was living. That is why they
called it the Tiger's Cave. About forty meters above there was an elongated
cavern extending right through the mountain to the far side. The local villagers
said that it needed the lighting of five successive dtai-torches[82] before one emerged at the other end.
Ven. Ajahn Sao lived in the mouth
of this cave with a couple of monks and novices. There was also an old man who
had accompanied them so that he could attend on Ven. Ajahn Sao. This old man
used to light a fire at the entrance to the cave where he slept. In the middle
of one night, he heard a loud wailing sound but couldn't see anything when he
got up to look. This puzzled him, so at dawn he walked around to inspect the
spot from where the sound had come. He came across paw prints -- a tiger had
been standing there. It had probably wanted to enter the cave but on seeing a
person lying there had gone back.
Both sidewalls of this cave were
completely smooth making it look something like the interior of a railway
carriage. Water dripped down from stalactites into a pool deeper inside the cave
and the monks could collect this for drinking. There was no need to filter it
because it didn't contain any living creatures.[83] One monk took me in to survey the
inner reaches of the cave and our inspection lasted as long as it took half a
wax candle to burn down. It was really pleasant without any feeling of
oppressive stuffiness. The nearest village was about a kilometer away. I stayed
there with the Ven. Ajahn Sao for two nights before walking back.
I heard news that during World War
II, a company of Japanese soldiers had established a hidden camp inside these
caves. When the Americans received intelligence reports about this, they went in
and bombed the caves. A bomb landed on the cave entrance, sealing it off and
causing the many Japanese inside to perish. No one has ever gone and excavated
the site. How tragic that is -- we have so devalued and wasted human life.
As the Rains Retreat was
approaching, Ven. Ajahn Sao sent me to reside for the Rains at the village of
Nah Sai, while Ven. Ajahn Poo-mee went to stay near Nah Kee Rin Village. This
was in response to invitations from the lay devotees in both these places.
During this Rains Retreat my health was not at all good but I refused to become
discouraged or lax in my meditation exertions. I was so resolved that I would
willingly have sacrificed my life as an offering to the Triple Gem.
It made me reflect upon the threats
and hazards that might lie ahead for both me and for Buddhism overall. Would the
order of monks I belong to be able to continue throughout? There might be
political disorder, or perhaps enemy forces would invade the country. I might
end up conscripted into the army and if not that, then the nation could be
enslaved under foreign domination. How could I remain a monk under such
circumstances? Even if I could carry on, conditions wouldn't be conducive to the
practice of Dhamma and the monk's Rule. So what was I to do? Furthermore,
although we now have many competent meditation teachers, when old age, sickness
and death have taken their toll, who then will be guide and leader to the group
of monks on this path of Dhamma practice? The radiant light of the Lord Buddha's
Dhamma can only become increasingly dim'.
Such ponderings filled me with
sadness and depression, so that I felt sorry for both myself and the future
state of Buddhism. It seemed as if such a state of affairs was just around the
corner, just a couple of days away. The more I thought of it, the more lonely
and despondent I felt.
Having arrived at this junction, I
turned my thoughts to my present situation. The current state of national and
political affairs was still good and stable. Meditation Masters were still
present and I had already received much training and instruction from them.
Having such an opportunity I felt I must hurry and accelerate my meditation
practice. Eventually, I would be able to understand the Lord Buddha's teachings
and come to self-reliance. Whatever the future might then bring, whatever
obstacles might arise either for me personally or for the general state of
Buddhism, I wouldn't lose out.
As soon as I had come up with this
skilful approach, my heart became resolute and ardent in its meditation
exertion. During the Rains Retreat, although I could not actually sit in
meditation due to my illness and had to concentrate more on using walking
meditation as the main posture, it didn't affect my earnestness.
After the Rains Retreat came news
that Ven. Ajahn Singh's group together with Venerable Maha Pin had returned from
Ubon and had gone on to Khon Kaen. As I wished to go and pay my respects to both
of them, I took leave of Ven. Ajahn Sao and set out.
This was the same year that the
government issued a proclamation officially prohibiting spirit worship and other
animist and occult beliefs. It urged people instead to take refuge in the Triple
Gem. The provincial authorities had accordingly mobilized Ven. Ajahn Singh and
his group of monks to help in taming the demons and spirits. When I arrived, I
found that I too became somewhat involved in this.
I had organized the villagers of
Phra Kreur Village in the relocating of their monastery from the bank of the
village stream to a small rise in the fields on the edge of the Bahn A-ew Mong
Lake. Afterwards, Ven. Ajahn Maha Pin came to join me in spending the Rains
Retreat there. The other senior monks resident there for the Rains included Ven.
Ajahn Poo-mee, Ven. Ajahn Gong Mah, myself and Ven. Ajahn Maha Pin as the
head-monk.
Throughout this Rains Retreat, I
regularly helped Ven. Ajahn Maha Pin by taking on some teaching responsibilities
and sometimes receiving visitors. Every Observance Day[84] all the monks, novices and visiting
lay people would apply themselves to the development of their meditation as best
they could, in line with their individual abilities. One has to say that they
did achieve very satisfactory results. Some lay people meditated and came to see
many different and diverse things, so that they became absorbed in the
meditation and forgot all about their homes and families.
After the Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn
Poo-mee and his party of monks, together with me, took our leave of Ven. Ajahn
Maha Pin. We went off in search of seclusion in the direction of Jote Nong Bua
Bahn Village, in the district of Kantara-vichai (Koke Phra) of Mahasarakam
Province. At first we were invited to stay next to the school of Nong Waeng
Village. While there we could give some Dhamma talks and instruction to the
populace until the lay devotees from Jote Nong Bua Bahn Village came and
requested us to return to their village. Eventually the site at Nong Waeng
became a permanent monastery.
This time, when we returned to Jote
Nong Bua Bahn Village, we set ourselves up in some dense jungle by the side of
the Dtork Paen Lake. During this period, numerous people came for training in
meditation, including many white robed nuns and laymen keeping Eight Precepts.
Some of these people achieved quite astonishing results in their meditation.
They would sit in meditation in the monastery and know that back in the village
their children or grandchildren had been bickering and abusing each other. Those
who could meditate would succeed marvelously. There were also some who couldn't
meditate and only took the Precepts because that was what their friends had
done.
One day, one monk saw a vision when
he was meditating. It concerned a certain young nun who seemed to approach,
wishing to touch his feet.[85] I sent for the nun in question and
instructed her about the need to perceive the harm in all sensuality because it
was what would become a cause for suffering. I pointed out that physical form is
the basis for innumerable attachments. This eventually enabled the nun to accept
and understand the situation, yet she certainly must have wondered how I knew
about it.
At the approach of the Rains
Retreat, Ven. Ajahn Singh directed that I go and spend the Rains in Phon
District. Ven. Ajahn Poo-mee was to take over from where I was staying by Dtork
Paen Lake.
Venerable Gate, my elder brother,
came to stay with me during this Rains Retreat. The teaching and instruction of
lay people continued as normal, while my personal meditation practice and that
of the resident monks and novices kept up a steady pace. An extraordinary
incident did occur however, concerning a woman sorceress.[86] She had ten or more disciples and
she traveled around making a living by attending to the 'sick'. I advised her to
forsake her spirit-worship and to come and firmly establish herself in the
Triple Gem. Her belief in spirits, I pointed out, is based in wrong view and
lacks virtue and merit, whereas going for refuge to the Triple Gem really is
something of merit and wholesomeness. A person can then also be counted as a
devotee with right view in the Buddhist Teachings.
She replied that 'what she had was
good' and that when some spirit mediumistically possessed her, she could be
directed to find buried treasure or enabled to leap into a clump of thorny
bamboo without being gashed. I responded that that might be all very well for
believers, but spirits had never taught their devotees to abandon evil and
cultivate good, or to keep the Precepts. The only instructions they ever gave
were for the person to make them an offering of the head of a pig, or a chicken
or duck. After having prompted this animal sacrifice, they didn't even eat it.
One has to kill the animal oneself and offer it to the spirits and when they
don't come and eat it then one has to eat it oneself. The spirits will not have
to accept the responsibility and the evil consequences of such killing; it will
all come back on the one who kills.
In what way are these spirits
supposed to help us? After the Lord Buddha had finally passed away, he wasn't
reborn as a spirit. He bequeathed his Teachings that taught people to relinquish
evil and cultivate what is good, for that is both for their own benefit and for
the benefit of others. The Sangha conveys those Teachings to us all,
according to the path laid down by the Buddha. We have thus been able to know
what is wholesome or unwholesome, what is virtuous or harmful, right up to these
present times. The teaching of spirits is not like that.
The sorceress made up her mind and
agreed to abandon her spirit worship and dedicate herself to the Triple Gem.
That night, she put the teaching I had given her into practice and obtained
marvelous results. That is, before going to bed she chanted her devotions to the
Triple Gem and then sat in meditation. She then saw two spirit-children, a girl
and a boy. They were swinging on the handrail of the rice mill pounder, at the
bottom of the stairs leading up to her house.[87] They didn't say or do anything at
all. This vision was as vivid as if it were happening before her very eyes but
they were actually closed in meditation. She then became convinced that the
spirits could no longer come and take possession of her, and that the protecting
virtue and power of the Triple Gem was indeed great.
Her husband was also a medicine
man[88] and was so devoted to his own powers
that he refused to acknowledge and raise his hands in añjali to Buddhist
monks. Before entering a monastery he would raise high his foot instead.[89] (My apologies.) By strictly
following his teacher's rules, he did indeed become invulnerable. One could
slash or stab or hit him without being able to inflict any injury on him. That
same night however, he was unable to get to sleep. Whenever he started to doze
off, he would be startled awake and become fearful, as if something threatening
was near. Consequently in the morning he asked his wife whether she had received
anything 'special'[90] when she had gone to see the Ajahn
because he hadn't been able to sleep all night long. His wife confirmed that the
Ajahn had indeed given her something 'special' and that she would take
her husband to see him too. Finally, both these old folk gave up their sorcery
and took refuge in the Triple Gem.
Such were the events of that Rains
Retreat.
The forest meditation monks who
were disciples of the Ven. Ajahn Mun had never ventured near the province of
Nakorn Rajasima (Korat). They had heard reports that the people there were
fierce and cruel and had therefore always held back through concern that it
wouldn't be safe. Then Somdet Phra Maha Virawong, when he still had the
ecclesiastical rank of Phra Dhammapamok, requested Ven. Ajahn Singh and Ven.
Ajahn Maha Pin to go there.
Police Major Luang Charn Nikom,
commander of the second company of the Korat town police force, found
inspiration and faith in the monks. He donated a plot of land on which to
establish a forest monastery beside the railhead at Korat.[91] In consequence, Ven. Ajahn Singh
called his disciples living in Khon Kaen to come down. I walked down with this
group of monks and we stayed in Luang Charn's orchard. I organized the monks in
building temporary shelters because Ven. Ajahn Singh was away in Bangkok and
hadn't yet returned. When he arrived, I went and helped Ven. Ajahn Maha Pin to
construct a place for the monks to stay in a cremation ground. This was the
second site and I ended up spending that year's Rains Retreat there. This became
(Wat Saddha'rahm).
Many senior monks were resident
there for that Rains Retreat: Ven. Ajahn Fan, Ven. Ajahn Poo-mee, Ven. Ajahn
Lou-ei, Ven. Ajahn Gong Mah and myself. Venerable Ajahn Maha Pin was the head
monk. Throughout this Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn Fan and I were responsible for
assisting Ven. Ajahn Maha Pin in receiving visitors and giving sermons and
instruction to the laity.
This was the first time that any
forest monasteries for meditation monks had been established in Korat. In fact,
two were set up in that one year. This was also the year when historic changes
took place in Thailand with the ending of the Absolute Monarchy and its
replacement by democracy.[92]
After the Rains Retreat I left with
a party of monks who were out seeking secluded places in the direction of Gra
Tok District and Ging Cheh. We came back through Gra Tok District again and I
supervised the building of a preliminary monastery at Dorn Dtee Klee with the
help of the District Officer, Khun Amnart. But before it could be completed, it
became necessary for me to return to spend the Rains Retreat in Tah Bor, in
Nongkhai Province. I afterwards heard that Ven. Ajahn Singh had sent Ven. Ajahn
Lee to spend the Rains Retreat at Gra Tok District in place of me.
The weather had been incredibly hot
when I was organizing the building of shelters and meditation huts at Wat Pah
Salawan in Korat. I don't like hot weather but I had gritted my teeth and
endured, persevering in my meditation without let up. I had trained my
mindfulness so well that there was stillness and calm throughout day and night.
Sometimes it would converge and enter the bhavanga and totally disappear
for many hours. This, however, is certainly not the way that allows wisdom to be
born.
I had been trying to correct this
tendency for a long time both by my own efforts and by asking others for help.
It had never previously succeeded but this time I found a way out for myself.
This was by being ready to apprehend the heart when it was right at the point of
convergence into bhavanga. At that moment the condition of awareness
becomes unmindful and there is the inclination towards indulgence in the
pleasure of the tranquillity and happiness. When mindfulness fades the mind will
converge into bhavanga. The thing to do is to apprehend it right at the
point when it is fading towards indulgence in that refined tranquillity. Catch
it there and swiftly set mindfulness on to a coarser object and focus and
examine it more externally.
The problem will be immediately
solved by not allowing the heart to converge towards that tranquillity and
pleasure. Putting it simply: forestall the heart's convergence and totally focus
one's examination on just one place, the physical body.
I had been subject to this state of
affairs since I first went off into the forests to meditate and it was only at
this time that I could cure myself. If one reckons it all up, that is more than
ten years of practice to come to such understanding. Even so, when sense objects
impinged on my mind it could still become agitated. What about those people who
have no experience of the heart's peace and happiness, how will they make out
when sense objects intrude?
I had some doubts about the
Dhamma-Vinaya thinking that:
'The purity of the Path, Fruit and
Nibbana -- which form the culmination and ultimate goal of Buddhism -- probably
can no longer be attained. All that is presumably left now is the level of
attainment to cessation, which is still a mundane state.' Nevertheless, I
still carried my meditation forward, despite the mind-bending hot weather.
One day, my mind converged in an
extraordinary way -- it totally converged[93] into bright radiance, being there
alone. There was a clear and precise clarity of knowing, illuminating
brilliantly that one point. When I turned to examine or focus on any theme or
aspect of Dhamma -- all my wavering and doubts about Dhamma-Vinaya seemed
to disappear. It was as if I had already reached the ultimate point of all
dhammas. I didn't, however, concern myself with that issue but fully
resolved to know how to cleanse the heart to complete purity. Having already
progressed as far as this, what was there to do now, how was I to proceed?
When I had the opportunity to ask
advice from Ven. Ajahn Singh, he recommended that I concentrate my contemplation
much more on the un-beautiful, loathsome aspects of the physical body.[94] He told me to focus there until I
could see its rotting away and decay and the final disintegration into the four
elements. I broke in with my misgivings: "Surely when the mind has already let
go of form [ruupa] and only name [naama] remains,
isn't going back to bodily form too coarse an object of contemplation?"
Well, at that point, he really made a loud noise, charging that already I was
boasting of reaching supernormal attainments.
The truth is that I had never --
right from the very beginning of my meditation practice -- been skilled in
examining the loathsomeness of the body. That's the truth. In my meditation
practice I had always gone straight to focussing on the heart. I had deduced
that because the defilements arise in the heart, if the heart doesn't venture
outwards into disturbance but remains well set in a peaceful state, all the
things of the world are left in their purity.
My interrupting by voicing these
doubts brought forth a very loud reaction from Ven. Ajahn Singh, such a response
showing the true expression of his character. So what was I to do? I stayed
quiet and kept my 'self-satisfied' feelings to myself, pondering the reasons why
his views didn't fit in with my own opinions. In this matter, it became obvious
that only Ven. Ajahn Mun remained for me to consult and depend on.
After a while, Ven. Ajahn Singh
softened his voice and he turned and asked me what I now thought.
I stood my ground and said that I
still didn't agree. I insisted, respectfully, that he shouldn't take the idea
that I had been bragging of supernormal attainments seriously. I genuinely
submitted my deep veneration for my teachers with a pure heart. The reason I had
come forward to open up my true feeling and express such an opinion was because
I was totally at a loss about the way to go on. I explained that this was the
first time that I had experienced such a condition of mind and that I didn't
know if it were right or wrong, or whether it needed rectification, or how to
proceed with it. I said, with due respect, that I didn't harbour any resentment
towards my teacher and that if he had any further suggestion as to skilful means
with which to resolve my uncertainties, then out of kindness and compassion, to
please throw it all at me.
Ven. Ajahn Singh then soothed and
comforted me, advising me to proceed slowly but surely, as that was the way if
things were to develop. Well, that day my heart certainly felt as if it had
totally lost everything upon which it could depend. It was as if all ties and
attachment to the group were gone. One of Ven. Ajahn Singh's wishes had been
that the group of monks not split up. He wanted us all to help each other in
spreading Buddhism in that province. However, I had long desired -- ever since I
had joined up with the others while staying in Khon Kaen -- to separate myself
and go off to seek some solitude. This was because I was well aware that my
meditation efforts and the necessary skilful techniques were still weak and
ineffective. I had continually tried to detach myself but always in ways that
would not give the impression to my teacher or companions that I didn't like
them. I had not however, succeeded in this. It was on this occasion, after the
Rains Retreat, that I got my chance.
It was during this Rains Retreat
that I readied myself to go and seek out Ven. Ajahn Mun in Chiang Mai Province.
Throughout this period I was developing my meditation with the same techniques
and methods that I had used while staying at Wat Pah Salawan, in Korat. Although
I firmly held Ven. Ajahn Mun in mind as the inspiration for my meditation
efforts, my heart didn't seem as refined as it once had been. After the end of
the Rains Retreat I mentioned to Ven. Ornsee (Sumedho, later Phra Khru
Silakan-sangvorn) my intention to go to Chiang Mai Province, following Ven.
Ajahn Mun. I asked him if he would like to go with me and that if he would, then
we should lay down certain principles:
1. There should be no grumbling
about hardships encountered along the way, for example, difficulties with the
journey, food, or shelter. If either of us were eventually to fall ill then we
would help each other to the best of our ability -- 'together to the end'.
2. If one of us became homesick for
family or friends -- for example, for our parents -- there should be no abetting
or helping the other to go back.
3. We must be resolved to face
death, wherever and however it came.
I told Ven. Ornsee that if he
accepted and agreed to abide by these three principles then he could go.
However, if he didn't feel able to follow them he certainly shouldn't even think
of going. Going against this would only be the cause for his later regret and
that might cause me anguish too.
He said that he was happy with the
arrangement and asked to go along. There was also a white robed layman (chee
pa-kao) who asked to travel with us.
We embarked from Vientiane[95] by motorized-boat, going upstream
towards Nakorn Luang Phra Bahng.[96] Sometimes we spent the night in
riverside villages and sometimes we camped out on river sand banks.[97] It took three nights and four days
to reach Nakorn Luang Phra Bahng. On the trip up, we admired the beautiful
natural scenery on both banks of the Mekong River. That, together with the
refreshing coolness of the local climate, aroused a sense of solitude and
isolation filling us with great happiness. This was enhanced by so few fellow
passengers -- and they had all gone to sleep. Only the skipper and some of his
deck hands were about.
The landscape, though empty of
villages, was encompassed with vast stretches of virgin jungle, with rocky
outcrops jutting out over the river. Occasionally animals such as monkeys and
langurs would make spectacular leaps as they playfully chased each other through
the trees. Whenever the boat came closer to the bank, they would all crowd
together in troops and gaze down, scrutinizing us. Nowadays, such scenes are
difficult to find but just recalling them still evokes in me a feeling of
solitude.
On arrival at Nakorn Luang Phra
Bahng we sought permission to stay at Wat Mai, the newly built monastery close
to the royal palace of the King. This is where they enshrine the Phra Bahng[98] -- so greatly revered and cherished
by the citizens of Nakorn Luang Phra Bahng. This also happened to be the day
when the Queen [of Laos] came to ceremonially dedicate the restored plinth of
the Phra Bahng. We therefore counted ourselves fortunate witnesses of these
customs and merit-making ceremonies of the citizens of Nakorn Luang Phra Bahng.
However, I won't go into further detail about them here.
After the celebrations were over,
we took leave of the abbot and went across to stay at Wat Nong Sa-gaaw. This was
situated on a high hill on the opposite bank of the Mekong River,[99] directly across from Nakorn Luang
Phra Bahng. We stayed there to await the boat that would take us upriver to the
district of Chiang Saen, in Chiang Rai Province of Thailand. After waiting there
for four nights we embarked again and the journey took another four nights. The
journey upriver to Chiang Saen was thus of equal length to the previous stretch
up from Vientiane. We rested in Chiang Saen for four or five nights before
setting out overland for Chiang Rai and Lampang.
In Lampang, we stayed in the garden
for visitors to Phra Bart Dtark Phah by the entranceway leading up to the
mountain shrine. The chee pa-kao accompanying us fell ill while we were
there. He had no fever but felt exhausted and weak, and his urine was thick and
reddish like water that has been used to rinse meat. We were far from any
doctors and so had to resort to the Lord Buddha's medicine[100] and depend on ourselves. So we told
him to drink his own urine, even though it appeared so clearly reddish. He drank
it straight after urination, while it was still warm. It worked wonders! Within
less than ten days he was back to normal. After his recovery, we set out walking
for about the first thirty-five kilometers and then continued sometimes on foot
and sometimes catching a vehicle[101] until we reached Lampoon and
finally Chiang Mai.
When we arrived at Wat Chedi Luang
in Chiang Mai, we enquired about Ven. Ajahn Mun but didn't find out much. Worse
than that, some of the monks there even referred to him with dismissive
contempt.[102]
May I ask here for the indulgence
of my readers for what I am about to relate concerns the risky encounters of a
monk's life. You may be able to find in it some sort of significance.[103] It makes me feel awkward and
embarrassed but to leave it out would make this autobiography incomplete.
Once, when we were stopping over at
Wat Chedi Luang in Chiang Mai, I felt very fit and healthy -- never before had
my health been so good. I assume it was because of the cool climate, which I
have always found agreeable. Anyway, I went and had my photograph taken as a
memento. Two days later I went back to the shop myself to collect the prints.
Just as I was picking up the photographs to examine them, a woman -- I'm not
sure what sort of person she was -- walked up behind me. She asked -- in a very
familiar manner -- for one of the photos and her suggestive behavior seemed
flirtatious and provocative. Hearing her speak in such a way gave me a fright,
for I had only just arrived in town and didn't know anyone. As soon as I had
looked and taken in the situation, I made a completely negative response and she
hid her face, turned away and fled.
Hearing such remarks and seeing
such behavior came as a very big Dhamma lesson. It made me reflect in a wider
way on my previous experiences with women for I had already encountered similar
behavior from women many times. Yet I had never shown any interest because I was
determined to live my life as a monk in the Dhamma-Vinaya of the Lord Buddha --
viewing women only as a danger to the brahmacariya holy life.[104] This latest incident then brought
up all the previous episodes that had arisen during my life.
For instance, there was once a
woman whom I respected as a pious person. She wasn't so young anymore, either. I
instructed her about meditation in the same way that I taught other people.
Later, she came and told me that whenever she came near to me it felt as if her
heart were relieved of its sadness. Sometimes, when a large group of monks came
to see me, she would still come and sit there with us for lengthy periods. At
that point I realized what she was up to. I tried to teach her to remedy this by
meditation, but without success. I then used more intimidating, forceful
language in an attempt to make her angry with me, but also to no avail. One day
around dusk she dashed up into my hut. She wouldn't heed anything I said to
forbid it and once up in my hut listlessly sat down and wouldn't speak. I called
for her relatives to come and pull her away and that made her furious.
In the morning, while I was walking
meditation, she strode straight towards me and stopped not far away. She started
screaming at me, saying: "Why do you teach meditation like this? You teach
people to go crazy! It doesn't matter who the meditation teacher is, none of
them will escape from lust". Then she turned her back and went away. It was a
sight that made me feel very uneasy. Her relatives took her to a hospital where
the doctor examined her and could find nothing wrong. From there she went to
live in a center for white-robed nuns with whom she already had close
connections. Three months went by and she returned to see me. She had by then
realized for herself the mistake and error she had made, and came to confess
that she had misconstrued the situation, having thought that I had some
magnetic charm[105] that had made her fall in love
with me. She then asked for my forgiveness and that was the end of the first
affair.
The second incident occurred a long
time later. I was giving guidance and teachings to lay Buddhists in various
places in the rural areas. It all came from a sense of kindness and good
intentions with sincere concern, and I managed to ignore any hardship that this
caused me personally. I would sometimes still be teaching late into the night --
I could manage to go on until midnight or even as late as three in the morning.
I particularly felt sympathy for
those young women present that were still without ties or obligations. I wanted
them to see the stress involved with their gender, to see that if they kept the
precept of chastity purely, after death they would be reborn in a higher realm;
or in a male body, for that would allow them to ordain as a novice or monk.[106] This rather naive and silly
opinion of mine was a general one towards all women, not for any individual in
particular.
It was this compassion that became
my charismatic charm without me being aware of it. To explain, I had become so
popular and respected by so many people that a lot of them -- women and men, old
and young -- came and ordained with me in the forest. Some of them obtained
wonderful results in their meditation, evident to themselves and the other
members of the group. Those people who couldn't meditate, however, would instead
find opportunity to increase their defilements.
One day I had to go off on some
business and a nun came up and asked to accompany me on the journey. I wouldn't
allow it and set out. After this, the nun fell into a state of stupefied
confusion and wouldn't utter a word. Whenever anyone asked her something, her
only response would be a smile. When I returned after many days away and saw her
condition, I tried using forceful language to make her indignant and thereby
shake her out of her brooding fixation, but she just kept on smiling. I tried
using some Buddhist techniques to help bring her out of it but it was no use, so
I had someone take her back to stay with her relatives. At that time, it didn't
strike me as very significant and I just thought that these incidents arose
solely from sexual desire.
Afterwards, I continued to train
the local Buddhist laity in virtue and Dhamma with my efforts being founded on
kindness and motivated by a sincere wish for their welfare. I had to pass
through many similar minor incidents that might have endangered my following of
the brahmacariya. However I neither paid them much attention nor thought
anything untoward could happen; and I feel rather abashed about such incidents
so I'll ask not to go on about them.
However, I will say something about
an incident that was the most horrifying close call in my life of
brahmacariya. It happened back when I was newly ordained.
Sometimes, if I had spare time, I
would go with a boy,[107] usually in the evening to visit my
lay supporters. On one such evening, I went up into a house to call on one of
the lay supporters. She came out and closed the door behind us. That gave me
quite a fright. At that time, she was alone with her young child. Anyway, we
began conversing about various things in the way that people who have regard for
each other do. One thing she always seemed to ask me about was whether I wished
to disrobe.[108] Being both a straightforward sort
of person and naturally shy, I would always just say, "No", and quickly go on to
talk about religious topics.
This time was no different. She
asked the usual question but then continued to talk about her past. She spoke
about the time before her marriage when a monk had fallen in love with her but
they hadn't married. The marriage to her present husband was an arranged affair,
both families having thought it a good match. Their living together wasn't much
more than that and she didn't know how much longer they would last together. I
just sat listening, assuming that she was confiding in me like this because we
were close friends and that she had no ulterior motive.
Yet her behavior did seem strange
in the way she was gradually drawing herself closer to me, always edging in
closer and closer. Light from the dtai-torch began to flicker and was
about to go out so I told her to trim it, but she just smiled and did nothing. I
began to feel uneasy and felt the inner-heat from some desire that was arising,
mixed with a strong fear of wrongdoing and of being discovered. Even to this
day, I find that moment difficult to explain. It was as if I was totally
stupefied. As far as I could make out, she must have been feeling it as strongly
if not more so -- her facial expression seemed bereft of all mindfulness.
She couldn't stand it anymore and
went out to get some water to drink and splash on her face and then came back
into the room. This was repeated many times and on re-entering she would always
sit herself even closer to me. Meanwhile, my disquiet grew and I felt completely
befuddled. That made me irritable so I told her I was leaving to go back to the
monastery. However, it wasn't that easy for when I turned to get the boy who had
accompanied me he was sound asleep, slumped up against the wall. She pleaded
with me to stay the night there in the house and return to the monastery in the
morning. That increased my feeling of stupefaction together with an incredible
attack of bashfulness. I told her to wake up the boy and when I asked her a
second time, she complied.
When the boy was awake, we both
climbed down the house stairs. As I left I still felt befuddled and extremely
ashamed of myself. I was also afraid that my monastic brothers and teachers
would get to know what had happened. We arrived back at the monastery about
midnight but I lay sleepless right through till dawn, reflecting on what had
happened and why. I had somehow escaped those perilous circumstances in a
miraculous way.
That young woman stimulated all the
remembered incidents from the past that I've been relating here, a stranger who
asked for my photograph that day. She certainly gave me the equivalent of a
powerful sermon to which to listen. "Ah, so these are the wiles and ways of
women still lost in intoxication with the worldly realm of sensual desire."
Therefore, may I here again offer her my great thanks for her lesson? The
incident involving her was quite straightforward but the latter two affairs
happened because I overlooked the nature of worldly ways; or some might say it
was because of my naive foolishness. Yet I am willing to be an innocent
simpleton about that sort of thing, for that is why I was willing to forfeit
such a life and go forth as a monk. I went forth in the radical way of one truly
being willing to offer his life in homage to the Buddha's Teachings. If however,
I hadn't been such a simpleton, and if my merit and good karma hadn't been so
supportive, and if I had been reluctant to offer my life for Buddhism -- I would
probably have long ago become crows' bait.
Recollecting my escapes from such
frightening situations caused an immense feeling of exhilaration and
satisfaction to arise in my heart, so much so that my body was quivering for
days afterwards. Later, whenever I was to mention these episodes, those same
feelings would arise in me and such a reaction persisted for almost twenty
years.
I find it very embarrassing and I
don't want bluntly to declare that women pose a threat to the
brahmacariya -- after all, my mother was a woman and the Buddhist
Teachings under whose cool shade I take shelter is still primarily dependant on
the dedicated support of women. In the Buddha's time the laywoman, the Lady
Visakha, was widely renowned as one of the pre-eminent devotees
(Mahaa-upaasikaa) of the Buddha's Teaching. Nevertheless, when the Buddha
cautioned his close disciples to be circumspect about their life of
brahmacariya, for the most part he would warn them to remain vigilant
concerning the opposite sex.
Take for example, one of the final
sayings of the Lord Buddha. He was replying to Venerable Ananda's[109] questions about how a monk should
conduct himself with a woman after the Lord Buddha had finally passed away into
Nibbana: "Not to see or hear them is good and safe; while if there is contact
then don't become too close or chat with them; while if it becomes necessary to
speak with them make sure that you take care and restrain your mind."
For women who would train their
hearts to a purity that transcends all suffering, they should contemplate the
dangers of the opposite sex, the male, which forms their object of desire.
[110] By seeing the fault and harm in this they
will also come to dispassion. As with the Elder Upalava.n.na Bhikkhunii[111] who once declared something to the
effect that: "I have seen the harm of all sensual desires. Whenever sensual
desire besets someone's heart, it obscures and blinds them -- a father then
becomes capable even of sleeping with his own daughter."
To summarize, acute danger to the
brahmacariya holy life comes most seriously from worldly
sensuality. However, this can't exclusively be about one gender because all
humans and animals born into this realm of sensuality come to birth through both
sexes, through father and mother. Whatever we do therefore, there can be no
escape from contact with the opposite sex.
Any person wishing to go beyond all
sensuality must first pick out that very sensuality as something fundamental and
as an object of deliberation. This applies especially to the opposite sex who
makes up the material form on which one hangs the signs of sexual desire.
Lust and sexual desire are mental qualities that exist in everyone's heart and
when they arise one feels the need to fix on a physical form as a target and
object for grasping hold of. The physical form fixed upon is inclined in every
way to be able to respond to that lustful desire and passion. It can do this,
for example, through: bodily form, sexual characteristics, complexion, shape and
appearance, deportment, decorum and speech.
The opposite sex or any object
stimulating sensual pleasure can thus be turned into something that promotes the
conditions necessary for a person to discern the harm of all sensuality. We will
then see them as great facilitators in liberating ourselves from the sensual
realm.[112] If that wasn't the case, all the
Dhamma-vinaya, the Lord Buddha's ordinances and the way of practice of forest
meditation monks -- including all the various ways and faculties of wisdom --
would be totally worthless and of no benefit.
All people -- whether they are
ordained[113] or lay -- having been born into
this sensual realm are obliged to defy this sort of threat and danger. Even if
they don't possess the latest armaments there is always the weapon that their
parents fashioned for them (their fist),[114] their basic constitution, so that
they can handle it. The person who won't stand up and fight has totally wasted
the life to which he was born. However, the strategy and tactics employed by the
recluse and the layperson will differ, in that the recluse battles for
victory while the layperson battles against defeat. While the person
who does not try at all is already rotting away while still alive.
I have been discussing all this for
the benefit of those who are ordained and who must safeguard their
brahmacariya holy life. It is this that forms the basis for the future
continuity of the Lord Buddha's Teaching. While women may be the greatest danger
to the monk's holy life, they are also equally of the greatest benefit and good
to the Teaching. Women furnished the form from which the Lord Buddha and all the
Noble Disciples came to be born and they also offered the object of
contemplation through which was born their Dhamma realization.
When I think about those monks who
transgress the Discipline in the most offensive of ways, by involving themselves
in things that are regarded as worldly sensuality, namely sexual desire and
money.[115] What can one say about such monks
who are supposed to have already forsaken all that when they went forth to
ordain? Even a layperson, still completely immersed in the five strands of
worldly pleasure,[116] would be considered base and
sordid if they exhibited such behavior among morally principled people.
I have already led my readers away,
cutting through a forest of potent dangers until they must be tired out. So now
I'll return to the account of my search for Ven. Ajahn Mun.
We stayed at Wat Chedi Luang in
Chiang Mai town for two or three nights and then took leave of the abbot to
continue our journey in search of Ven. Ajahn Mun. After fruitless enquiries at
the various small monasteries where he had once stayed, we decided to make
absolutely sure and go farther afield beyond Thailand.
We crossed into Burma going via the
towns of Muang Hahng, Muang Dtuan, Mork Mai and Rahng Kruer, heading on up to
the Phah Hang Hoong Cliffs (Rang Roong) that are close to Muang Pan on the River
Salwin. But our hopes were disappointed, as there wasn't the slightest sign that
he had been that way. The cold weather then proved too much for us and after
spending two nights with the Palong hill tribes’ people we came down off the
mountains. Such cold -- right in the middle of the March and April Hot Season!
We were forced to huddle for warmth around a fire throughout the day and night.
What would it have been like in the actual Cold Season or during a particularly
cold year?
Ven. Ajahn Mun disappeared into the
jungle because of what occurred when the Ven. Chao Khun Phra
Upali-gunuupamahjahn (Siricando Chan) felt that he didn't have much longer to
live. Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upali' saw there was a need for a suitable senior monk
to take charge of Wat Chedi Luang and because of his already great respect for
Ven. Ajahn Mun he was inclined to hand over responsibility for the
administration of that monastery to him. Ven. Ajahn Mun preferred peace and
quiet. He did not wish to get involved in such matters but in order to respond
to Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upali's purpose, he did go and reside there for one Rains
Retreat. After the Retreat he took his leave and disappeared into the jungle.
Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upali' had already passed away in Bangkok during that same
Rains Retreat.
For the next two years there had
been no news of Ven. Ajahn Mun. That left the two of us, Ven. Ornsee and myself,
to seek him out and our wanderings through the forests and mountains were all
aimed at this. As long as we stayed within Thailand we felt at home with the
various hardships we always had to put up, but as soon as we crossed over the
frontier our frustrations and hardships increased a thousand fold. For example,
there were different cultural traditions and customs, and the language barrier.
Although we were all supposed to be
Buddhist,[117] the customs were sometimes very
different from what we were familiar with and sometimes they didn't seem even in
line with the Dhamma-Vinaya that the Lord Buddha had set down. It was
very trying and bothersome for us as we were their visitors and guests. This was
especially so when we were with the various hill tribe villages that were
particularly poor and undeveloped.
And the paths and trails! In some
places we were forced to follow the streams up into mountain valleys, otherwise
there were walks along the edge of precipices. On the descent from one such
climb I slipped on some rocks and fell, badly gashing my knees. I forced myself
to hobble on until we reached the village of Pong Pah Khaem on the Thai-Burmese
Border. We then went to stay in the Plong Cave where I could nurse my wounds and
recuperate for ten days.
While traveling in Burma[118] we had seen many admirable
features. The people there liked peace and quiet, and they were generous and
openhearted. There were no thieves or crooks, and no domestic animals -- no
poultry or pigs -- because they wouldn't kill animals. Their diet was basically
vegetables, seasoned with chili, salt, beans and sesame. Once in a long while
some dried fish would be brought up from Cambodia for them to sample. I later
heard that after the Second World War,[119] Field Marshall Por[120] compelled these people to raise
domestic animals that caused them much distress. I really appreciated their
sincere good will and religious faith, and their peaceful and orderly way of
life. We would hear no disturbing noise at night even though village houses
might adjoin the monastery's fence. It was just as if there was no village there
at all.
When the wound in my knee had
healed well enough for me to walk, the two of us set out across the mountains of
the Morn Ahng Kahng range (where Kahng means hoo-ang or the 'Demon
Possessed Mountain'). We trekked through them all day without reaching the hill
tribe village, for this mountain was indeed extremely high.[121] It had taken us until midday to
reach the summit and then the descent proved so steep that darkness overtook us
as we reached the mountain's foot.
We carried on walking and about
half way along the trail we heard the roar of a tiger not far away from us. I
was almost frightened to death by the idea of a tiger being so close but I
didn't let on to my friend -- he had been born and raised in an agriculturally
developed area and so didn't know the sound of a tiger. If I had told him, I
knew I would instantly draw him into my state of trepidation. Going beyond the
range of the tiger's roar we lost the trail and so were forced to find a place
to spend the night in the jungle. I was so afraid of the tiger that I lay
sleepless throughout the night. There was a heavy dew and it was extremely cold
yet my friend lay there snoring loudly all night. While I was terrified with the
thought that the tiger might hear him and we would be killed -- he blissfully
slept through it all.
At the crack of dawn we packed our
things, still soaking wet from the dew, and set off again. On the way, I told
him that the noise he had heard the previous evening that sounded like the
yelping of a dying dog was, in fact, a tiger. It was the roar a tiger makes just
after having consumed a full meal, expressing its high spirits.
We carried on walking and by around
eight o'clock in the morning we had reached a village where we could go on alms
round. After eating our meal we set off again and reached the Dtap Dtow Cave,
where we stayed for a time to recover our strength. Feeling refreshed, we then
resumed our journey, heading in the direction of Phrao District.
Next, something unbelievable
occurred -- yet it happened. On that day, after having our meal, we were leaving
the Dtap Dtow Cave when a barking-deer[122] darted out from beside two houses
and across our path. These houses had been built in the middle of an open grassy
field close to the gate of the cave-monastery. The barking deer then strolled
leisurely, almost lazily, in front of us but we didn't take any notice of it
thinking that this was its territory and we were just passing through.
We continued through the rest of
the village and were cutting across the fields to join the start of the main
trail, when more barking-deer appeared. A pair, male and female, that were among
the village herd of water buffalo, spotted us coming along and darted out in
front of us again, and again we paid them no notice. However, not long after
that we found that although we had started along the right footpath, we had
somehow wandered away from it. How was it possible that we could have mistaken
our way and ended up on an old neglected trail leading into a side valley?
For about ten hours we were forced
to pick our way along the rocky stream bed for the steep mountain slopes rising
on both sides forced the path down off the bank. As the climb progressed it
became so narrow and the jungle so thick that no sunlight could penetrate. We
didn't stop for rests, not even to have a drink of water. When exhaustion began
to set in, I proposed to my companion that we retrace our steps and pick up the
main path, but he would not agree.
I thought that the head of the
stream we were following must be the main drainage source for the surrounding,
more lightly forested ridges -- just like the streams back in my home region of
the Northeast. It certainly did not turn out like that for when we finally
reached the source, we found a sheer cliff face confronted us. There were tracks
of large deer and the wallowing holes of wild boar.
As there was no longer any path
forward we had to turn back and almost straightaway I mis-stepped on a rock and
fell so that it deeply gashed the sole of my foot. Night was approaching so I
used my shoulder-cloth[123] to bind the wound and we decided
to scale the steep side slopes that were mostly of scree. Well, it was quite a
scramble; for wherever one placed a foot it would slip and slide.
We reached the summit around seven
o'clock in the evening and saw a rather indistinct footpath winding its way
along the summit ridgeline. We were glad of the path because it probably meant
we were near a village. Suddenly nearby, "peep! peep!" -- a stag,
startled by the light of our candle lanterns,[124] had cried out and stamped the
ground in alarm. This startled us so much that my heart seemed to miss beats. On
recovering our composure we realized that, " Ah! It's only the sound of a deer".
Looking in the direction of the noise we could make out its white chest and knew
then that it was just a stag. Afterwards, it let out another cry and jumped down
from the ridge of the mountain and disappeared.
After seeing the flattened sleeping
place of this wild deer so close to the path, it became obvious that we were
still a long way from human habitation. As it was already late, we decided to
spend the night there and so we each arranged a place to our liking in the thick
grassy undergrowth. Yet all night long we were unable to get any sleep. The wind
was too strong to hang the mosquito nets from our krots, while on the
ground it wasn't just termites attacking us, for swarms of ants also came,
attracted by the blood from my wound and the sweat of our bodies. We had to wrap
cloths around our eyes to prevent the ants from getting in to drink from our
tears.
As soon as it was light, we rose
and looked back down on the way we had come. Far below we could see the paddy
fields as tiny squares. We oriented ourselves and estimated that if we continued
straight onwards along the present path, we would probably meet up again with
the trail that we had lost. So we cut across jungle and more open forest,
following our line of march. How my foot was hurting! Pushing on across the more
open, rocky, pebbly ground was almost unbearable but I gritted my teeth for we
had to press on, as we were still a long way from any village. After quite some
time, we did indeed strike the hoped for trail.
Walking along the trail, we
eventually reached a village not much before nine o'clock in the morning. We
arrived with feelings of some relief and could slip our requisites from our
shoulders[125] by the side of a landing stage of
a stream, beside the houses.
A moment or two later someone came
out to see us and we related the whole course of events. We thought to ask
straight out for something to eat but were afraid this was something
blameworthy. So instead we tried to explain indirectly by mentioning that we had
not yet eaten anything and that as I had an injured foot going on alms round
wouldn't be possible. If we were to wait there, would we be able to obtain
anything to eat? She said we would and as she went back into the house we
assumed that she would bring some food for us to eat. We both therefore went to
bathe ourselves in the stream.
When I had finished washing the
pain in my foot grew so excruciating that I couldn't walk on it at all. During
the previous night it hadn't been at all painful and even that morning's walk
had been bearable, so why should it now suddenly hurt so much that I couldn't
even stand up? Venerable Ornsee, my companion through all this suffering, felt
faint and dizzy and couldn't stand up himself. All we could do was to wait for
her to bring us something to eat -- but there was no sign of that.
Hunger and fatigue now surged in on
us. Fortunately I had some herbal medicine for dizziness with me in my shoulder
bag and so was able to attend to Venerable Ornsee, but it was well after ten
o'clock in the morning before he could get up. I suggested then that he go and
ask what was happening. He only managed to find two young boys minding the house
and discovered that all the adults had gone to work in the jungle. This village
had only two houses and everyone made their living by cutting the young banana
leaves and drying and smoothing them for sale as 'cheroot' or 'cigarette
papers'.
When Venerable Ornsee informed me
of the situation, I had him go and bring the two boys to see me and I asked them
if they would exchange cooked rice for some matches -- we had no other
possessions. Each of us had a couple of boxes of matches, and in exchange we got
two baskets of sticky rice, two dishes of chili and fermented Soya bean paste
with two small bunches of steamed vegetables.[126] We had our meal and how good it
tasted!
After the meal was over the pain in
my foot grew much worse, so much so that my whole leg was inflamed and
throbbing. I endured this until just after three o'clock in the afternoon, when
we moved on. I hobbled along for about three kilometers before we reached
another village where we stayed for eleven nights. We rested and recovered our
strength and I was able to attend to my wound. From there we climbed over a
Karen settled mountain, coming down into the district of Phrao in Chiang Mai, at
Manora Village (Look San).
That evening we received some good
news. Someone came and told us that Ven. Ajahn Mun was staying in the Pah
Mi-ang[127] of Maer Pung and that Ven. Ajahn
Sahn was at the entrance to the trail going up to Khork Kham Cave. We were
delighted and thought that this time our aspirations would be fulfilled. After
the meal, we gathered our things and set out, arriving just as night was falling
at the Khork Kham Cave where Ven. Ajahn Sahn was staying. We spent the night
with him, discussing Dhamma and talking about this and that as was suitable. The
next morning after the meal, he put us on the right path and Venerable Ornsee
and I took our leave and set off.
We arrived at Ven. Ajahn Mun's
place at about four o'clock in the afternoon. He was engaged in walking
meditation but when he saw us coming he immediately recognized us and called out
our names. He halted his walking meditation and went over to sit in his
hermitage. We began to slip our things down from our shoulders and place them on
the ground outside, but he wouldn't have it and insisted that we put them on the
veranda of his hermitage. Doing so, we entered and bowed our respects to him.
Ven. Ajahn Mun opened by enquiring
after our well-being. I then respectfully explained to him: "the reason it's
become necessary for me to seek the Venerable Ajahn out this time, is that I
need your help in sorting out my meditation. I have already learnt a lot from
others in our group, but I'm convinced that the Venerable Ajahn is the
only one who can resolve it all for me."
I then proceeded to detail my
meditation practice and experiences to him, starting from my very first
endeavors right up to those experiences that I had related to Ven. Ajahn Singh
in Korat. This led him to describe how he had previously instructed his
disciples, in effect suggesting how I should assess the group of disciples whom
he had taught:
"Any monk who follows my way of
practice until he becomes skilled and firmly established in it, should progress
well and will at least hold his own and succeed. If a monk doesn't proceed along
this way, he won't last long and will eventually regress or disrobe. Even for
myself, should I be burdened with many responsibilities and involvements with
the group of monks, then my meditation development can't be consistently
developed. My focused investigation into the body wouldn't be refined, nor would
the heart become clear and lucid."
"In your investigating, never
allow the mind to desert the body for anywhere else. Whether or not it appears
to be clearing and becoming more lucid, don't retreat from fixing your
investigation there. You can examine the body's loathsomeness, or view it as
made up from elements, or examine it to see it as aggregates, or by way of the
Three Characteristics.[128] Any of these methods can be used. But you
really must fix your investigations within these, including all the four bodily
postures. Yet this isn't to say that after looking you can stop with that --
regardless of whether it is seen clearly or not, just continue with the
investigation. When any of these aspects are fully and lucidly seen in one's
heart, all other exterior things will clearly manifest there
too."
He also told me not to allow the
mind to enter the bhavanga.
As soon as Ven. Ajahn Mun had
finished speaking, I made a resolution in my heart: From that moment I would
start again and learn a new way of practice. Right or wrong, I would follow his
instructions and let him be the only one to guide me and make the final
decisions.
One can say that from that day
forward, my mindfulness was solely directed towards investigating the body.
Throughout the day and night, I was now viewing it as loathsome, as made up of
the four elements and as a mass of suffering. I intensified my practice without
let up or negligence for six months -- (I stayed there for the Rains Retreat) --
without wearying of it. As a consequence my heart received calmness and peace
and a new understanding arose:
All things of this world are
merely the four elements. But we make assumptions (sammati) about them and then
go and fall into delusion about our own suppositions. That is why there has to
be so much trouble and distress with all these things.
This new understanding gave great
solidity and firmness to my heart, which was very different from how it had
been. I became confident that I was now going along the right path but did not
inform Ven. Ajahn Mun about this because the firm belief in my new understanding
convinced me that I could do that any time.
The weather was so extremely cold
that year that we had to sleep by the side of a fire. Although I got a splinter
of wood in my hand, no blood flowed because it was so cold. After the Rains
Retreat, Ven. Ajahn Mun went down to stay near the village of Toong Ma-khao. The
two of us, Venerable Ornsee (now Phra Khru Silakan') and myself, stayed on up
there but we swapped places. I went down to stay where Ven. Ajahn Mun and Ven.
Ornsee had spent the Retreat, while Ven. Ornsee came up to my place on the
mountain.
In the middle of one night a tiger
approached and sat watching over Ven. Ornsee, who was lying asleep beside the
fire. When the fire died down and he began to feel cold he stood up to stoke it
up again, at which point the tiger growled and sprang off into the jungle. Being
born among the fields he wasn't familiar with the sounds of the jungle tiger and
I didn't enlighten him, being concerned that he would become frightened.
Sometime later Ven. Ajahn Mun sent
a letter telling us to come down to see him. We went to help him with some task
for ten days and -- what happened? Ah! All my meditation schemes that had seemed
so lucid and obvious before were no longer so clear. I was now seeing 'people'
as the 'people' that arise from conventional suppositions.
When the task was completed, Ven.
Ajahn Waen and I requested permission from Ven. Ajahn Mun to go off wandering in
search of solitude again. Venerable Ornsee stayed behind to attend on Ven. Ajahn
Mun. We set off on our journey and after about twelve kilometers[129] turned off into the forest for
some seclusion.
During the night I heard the roar
of a tiger from a nearby mountaintop and this helped to concentrate my mind in
seclusion. I called up the virtues and qualities of the Lord Buddha as my
meditation object[130] and from this arose knowledge of a
strange and marvelous nature, in different ways never imagined or experienced
before. We stayed there for two nights before continuing on to meet with Ven.
Ajahn Sahn in the district of Phrao. I didn't stay long with him however because
of my yearning for solitude. So, taking leave of him, I climbed up the mountain
to where the Moo-ser hill tribes lived and continued with my meditation
exertions there for nine days.
I thought that by going to live
with the Moo-ser and not having a language in common,[131] I would be able totally to commit
myself to meditation practice. I knew quite well that they were generous-hearted
so that they would certainly give me enough food to eat.
I exerted myself in meditation to
the extreme limit of my ability, until a misguided and distorted view
(Vipallaasa) arose:
'There is no Lord Buddha, no
Sangha. There is only the Dhamma. This is because the Lord Buddha or, in other
words, the 'Prince Siddhatthakumaara' only became the Lord Buddha through
knowing the Dhamma. Even the Lord Buddha himself was only ruupa-dhamma and
naama-dhamma.[132] The Sangha is the same, for they all,
whether enlightened noble disciples or unenlightened ordinary disciples, are
sustained by Dhamma. Their physical form is but ruupa-dhamma and
naama-dhamma'.
This was my rock certain opinion. I
was absolutely convinced it was true.
But I did review what the
Authorized Version had to say about it and found, well, that they didn't agree
with my opinions. I was unable to settle these two conflicting views and they
continually disputed with each other over many days. It was certainly a good
thing that I was unwilling to throw out the conventional wisdom, for if I had,
the results would have created quite a song and dance.[133]
As it happened, Ven. Ajahn Sahn
sent someone to invite me to come down to receive some offerings and gifts from
the lay people. I was in two minds whether or not I should go. However, I then
remembered the state of my lower robe. I had already been using it for three
years and it might not last through the next Rains Retreat, so I decided to go.
Accepting his invitation, I went to renew my robes so that my requisites would
be complete and I could then return. On going down they offered me all the
things I required and that distorted view seemed completely to disappear of
itself.
When I had finished cutting, sewing
and dyeing the robe, I again went up the mountain. But this time I didn't return
to my original spot but went on to the Moo-ser hill tribe village of Poo Phayah.
On my arrival, they were more than glad to see me and kindly came together to
make a hut for my stay. First though -- Ah! -- My hopes that the language
barrier would probably stop anyone coming to bother me were soon dashed.
When I first arrived, I stayed in
one of their abandoned houses. These people had never seen forest tudong
monks before and the whole village turned out, from the youngest to the oldest,
to stare at me. They gawked from far and near, some coming so close as almost to
tread on my toes. As one onlooker went, another one came to replace him and it
went on from midday until around four in the afternoon. They stood there
gawking, and then sat there gawking, then lay down gawking at me. They were
dirty and smelled. It was all too much for me and made me feel quite dizzy.
The villagers made me a path for
walking meditation. Yet I only had to go out on it for them all to throng after
me, so that I ended with a long line behind me strung out the length of the
path. This was more than I could handle, so I went inside and sat again.
Meanwhile, they continued parading in groups along the path thinking it all
great fun.
Afterwards, I was able to come to
an understanding with their 'Chief' (Poo Phayah, or district headman). We agreed
that trailing behind me wasn't proper and that if they wanted to make merit then
whenever they saw me out doing walking meditation they should 'peu' (join
their hands in the gesture of respect). That would certainly be meritorious.
From then on, whenever they saw me going out to do walking meditation, they
would all approach and standing together in a line 'peu'. Anyone missing
would be called out to come and join the group.
On reflection, one couldn't help
feeling sympathetic towards these forest people, who, though living far from
material civilization, were so honest and upright. In those days no one had come
up to assist and teach them for decades, and -- unless some serious crime had
been committed -- no government officials would ever show their faces up there.
They were self-governing and strictly trusted and relied on their 'Chief'. Those
bad characters who were troublemakers and stubbornly ignored their Chief's
admonition, were expelled from the village by the Chief. If the perpetrator
refused to go, the villagers would all move away from him. You can be assured
that nothing like stealing and thievery existed.
Whenever I was walking through
these mountain ranges and saw one or two isolated houses, I could immediately
surmise that I wouldn't be able to stay with so few people.[134] The hill tribes in this region
lacked sufficient rice after two successively bad harvests. There were twelve
houses in the village where I was staying but only three of them had enough rice
to eat. Yet they all had such a lot of faith. When I came on alms round only
three people would come out to put food into my bowl, but each one gave so much
that it was sufficient for me to eat.
Sometime later the Chief came to
see me and explained that everyone had faith and wished to offer food on my alms
round, but they were embarrassed because they had no rice to give.[135] They had to eat boiled yams and
tubers[136] instead of rice. I felt sorry for
them and since I rather liked steamed yams myself, I told him so. I said that
that was why I was able to come up to live with them -- if I hadn't liked them,
I wouldn't have come. Once they all knew about this, they dug up wild yams to
steam and offer into my bowl, which was consequently filled everyday. They also
were delighted with the idea, laughing and smiling, their faces lit up in an
endearing way. They did though, remain apprehensive that I wouldn't be able to
eat their yams and so they followed me back to my hut to see for themselves.
Having received their gifts I was determined to show my appreciation by letting
them see me eat them.
That year the rice crop had been
sown but poor rainfall had caused the seedlings to shrivel and turn a pale
yellow. The villagers built my hut ten days before the beginning of the Rains
Retreat and when it was completed, astonishingly, the rain started to pour down.
They were all overjoyed, absolutely delighted to think that it was the result of
the merit they had made in building a 'monastery' for me to stay in. The rice
was transformed by the rain into a lush green, splendid crop. Their rice fields
that year produced so much that they couldn't use it all and some of them were
even able to sell the surplus.
Apparently no monks had previously
spent the Rains Retreat with the Moo-ser hill tribes’ people, so that I may
possibly have been the first monk in Thailand to do so.
When they had completed the
construction of my hut, I recalled that in the 'Life of the Buddha', Venerable
Phra Siddhattha had been thirty-five years old when his strivings had come to
fruition in his Awakening. That year, I too would be thirty-five years old,
(having gone forth as a monk when I was entering my twenty-second year). I
therefore resolved that I would offer my strivings in meditation during that
year to pay homage to the Enlightenment of the Lord Buddha:
'I will wholeheartedly accept
whatever way my meditation practice leads, even if my life should be lost
because of it. May this life of mine be offered, as one would offer a lotus
flower, in worship of him.'
Having made this resolution, I
applied myself to my meditation throughout the Rains Retreat. Yet it didn't seem
to be progressing and remained firmly as it was before. To bring it up to the
level of my resolution, I decided to put myself through a trial by fasting for
five days.
The Moo-ser had never seen such a
thing and were afraid I would die. They came and pleaded with me to partake of
food as usual, but I refused and continued for the full five days in accordance
with my pledge. They took it in turns surreptitiously to come and watch over me.
If I closed my door to sit in meditation inside the room they would call out and
ask me to reply, and only when I answered would they leave.
Actually, fasting is not the
pathway to Enlightenment. The Lord Buddha had already tried this method and
subsequently said that it was more like self-mortification.[137] All my meditation teachers had
repeated that. Having already tried it for myself, I knew that it was merely a
technique for tormenting the body, without leading to the arising of the wisdom
to explore Dhamma and sharpen one's understanding. I had fasted as a test of my
will power, to see which was stronger -- my attachment to life or my faith in
the Dhamma qualities that I had already seen. When I had come to the truth
within my own heart about this, I returned to eating as before. Yet I didn't
take any rice for the first four or five days, eating just steamed yams and
taro.[138] When the Moo-ser saw that I was
taking food again they were all delighted.
During the Rains Retreat, some
visions (nimit') arose in my meditation pointing to the strength and
firmness of my meditation procedures. This brought me great satisfaction and
contentment.
The Moo-ser would rejoice and boast
that: "Your being with us is very good. Our hill-rice fields have produced a
bumper harvest; some people will even be able to sell cattle" -- (they graze
them but don't use them as beasts of burden) -- "which they have never managed
to do before." (Usually raising pigs for sale provided the regular family
income.) "Dried chili-peppers are another income source for us, but apart from
these items we have no other means of making money. This year we have more than
enough money and can put some aside. You came and taught us not to gamble and
play pai, too-ah and be-er,[139] so we have stopped. Previously,
groups of townspeople would come up and dupe us into gambling with them, but now
we've accepted your teachings and don't play any more."
At the end of the Rains Retreat,
the Chief personally came to offer a tort phah pah[140] from himself and gave a length of
white cloth for robe material.
I had to bid farewell to the
Moo-ser people so that I could go down to pay my respects to Ven. Ajahn Mun who
was at the village of Toong Ma-khao, in the district of Maer Pung. They were all
much grieved at my departure and began crying and pleading with me to return. I
was still undecided so I told them I would first see what my Ajahn had to say.
Perhaps I would then come back.
When I reached Ven. Ajahn Mun and
related to him all what had happened while I had been living with the Moo-ser,
he was pleased and suggested that we went back there. For the return trip all
three of us -- Ven. Ajahn Mun, Venerable Ornsee and I -- went in a group
together. However, when it came time to start climbing, Venerable Ornsee became
ill so we told him to wait down below to recuperate first.
Returning to stay with the Moo-ser
people this time made me feel somewhat uneasy because they were now more
intimately acquainted with me than with Ven. Ajahn Mun. Moreover, Ven. Ajahn Mun
found it difficult to adjust to cold weather. Coming up into the colder
atmosphere had affected his health so badly that it appeared that he could
probably not stay on. But through his strength of mind and fighting spirit, he
was able to overcome this and spend the whole of the Rains Retreat there.
This time around, my meditation
went very well because besides being able to use my own techniques, I now also
had those of the Ven. Ajahn and I was able to learn from him all the time. Close
to the start of the Rains Retreat the Ven. Ajahn sent me down to bring Ven.
Ornsee back up to be with us. I was away for five nights and that left the Ven.
Ajahn by himself. It was during this period of solitude that he strove in his
meditation with absolute and fearless determination and achieved outstanding
results. His illness also completely disappeared at the same time.
During this Rains Retreat period
the three of us were all resolute in our meditation practice, each of us
striving to the limit of our individual ability. We were all so attuned to each
other that any happenings -- whether concerning external things or connected
with the understanding of Dhamma -- that occurred to one of us, would seem to be
known to all. It was during this Rains Retreat that Ven. Ajahn Mun foretold how
long his life would last and this subsequently proved to be accurate.
Sometimes, he would bring forward
the visions and 'knowledge' that had spontaneously arisen within his meditation
as predictions about various things concerning certain of his disciples. Yet he
would add that one must not blindly believe all such things, for they could be
wrong. As for me, I maintained a balanced mind concerning the things he said
about me because I understood that such things were very much an individual
affair, each case being different. They should not be the ultimate aim and
purpose of one who truly practices meditation. That should be rather the total
eradication of the defilements.
This Rains Retreat saw Ven. Ajahn
Mun teach us using 'canny' and shrewd means, as well as his various subtle and
skilful techniques. I had never seen him do anything like this before. I
immediately carried out his teachings in every respect and so quickly that he
once exclaimed to no one in particular, that: "This Venerable Tate is hasty and
impetuous!".[141]
Ven. Ajahn Mun frankly opened up
his true character to us and I can only count my great good fortune to have been
under the guidance of a Meditation Master who taught in such a way. I think it
would be difficult to find any other times when he could train his disciples in
this way. The appropriate conditions of the people involved, the place and the
time could never again be quite so conducive. Although he might have given his
blessing and encouragement for me to become an heir to his Dhamma, I have never
been heedless and complacently accepted it. I always held that what is true
remains true, whatever one might say. One can't go beyond the true state of
things.
During this Rains Retreat I came
across a tribe of forest people who were known as the Yellow Leaf
Spirits.[142] They themselves resented this name
and asked that it not be used for they said that they too were afraid of
spirits and it was better to call them 'forest people'.
The Moo-ser people said that
although they had lived in that place for over fifty years, they had never seen
this tribe come near them. They were considered a tribe of 'ancient' Thais, and
their language and accent sounded very similar to what I had heard when talking
with the people from the towns of Yong and Ruang, located to the north of Chiang
Dtoong.[143] These townspeople had migrated
southwards and settled down in Chiang Mai Province. They had made their living
as wicker-workers, weaving trays[144] known as kern trays
(because they are the handiwork of the Kern Tribe). They had told me
about these forest people, relating how originally the tribe had consisted of
about sixty but smallpox had later killed some of them. At that time, only about
thirty men and women remained. I can offer here some brief, collected notes
about their way of life:
Their existence didn't rely on any permanent settlement.
They cut a few small tree trunks to act as posts, and then covered those with
branches, leaves and whatever they could find. It was enough to sleep in and
find some shelter from rain and dew. Sometimes they would sleep in caves or
under rock overhangs or trees. The base of a tree sufficed for them even if it
offered only a little shelter.
These forest people had no clothing
except a few items that they had solicited for covering their nakedness when
they entered a village.[145] They lived together in groups and
were afraid of spirits and tigers. Once they were in their shelters, other
people rarely noticed them. If by chance they were seen, the women folk had to
run away and if they weren't fast enough they would drop to the ground and roll
away. Any men of the tribe would immediately come out with their spears to
fight. (I think this all happened because of the women's lack of clothes.) They
believed it was so inauspicious for a woman to see a stranger that it would end
with her being eaten by a tiger.
The tribe would stay for a long
time wherever there was a plentiful food supply but once the food ran out they
would migrate elsewhere. That is why they were known as the Yellow Leaf Spirits,
for when the leaves covering their shelters turned yellow they would move on.
Their food and
diet were based on animal
meat, wild forest yams and tubers, and honey from wild beehives. They wouldn't
eat certain species of animals -- snakes for example -- and meat had to be
cooked or roasted in the fire before it could be eaten.[146] Rice or wheat did not make up
their staple food unlike ordinary people. If they collected honey, they would
first mix it with rotted wood pulp or earth to give it some solidity before
eating it.
They lit their fires by striking a
piece of iron against a stone -- (what we call the 'hunter's flint') --
otherwise, they would rub two sticks together. I gave them a box of matches but
they were afraid to use them because of the sudden ignition and hissing flare
when struck.
Their way of
hunting used spears, the
ends of which were poisoned (with toxic sap).[147] These forest people would
stealthily follow any animal tracks they had observed until they saw the animal
lying down for its day-rest. Then they would stalk in closer and hurl their
spears directly at it. If the animal they sighted was still foraging for food,
they would stealthily find cover and creep in as close as possible before
sending their spears arching up through the air to fall on their prey.
They said that within a range of
twenty to thirty meters, they could be sure of their meal. A superficial
penetration of the spear meant they could eat the meat but if it went in more
than one inch all the meat would become contaminated by the poison and be
rendered inedible.
They once came and offered us some
of their meat. It had an offensive, rank smell arising from the smoke where it
had been roasted. They put it in the fork of some tree branches about ten meters
away and its rank and putrid smell almost kept us awake the whole night. Ven.
Ajahn Mun told the Moo-ser to take it and try boiling it, but nearly half of it
proved to be dirt and so it couldn't be eaten.
Their tradition and
customs were based in the
forest and they never really left it. The only time people ever caught sight of
them was when they ventured out to ask for clothing, rice, salt or iron for
their flints. The ancestors of this tribe, as I understand it, were probably
fugitives[148] who had long ago fled from their
lords and masters into the jungle. We may deduce this from their taboo against
crossing any open areas or cultivated fields. No matter how wide the fields or
how difficult the route around, they would avoid and bypass any signs of
habitation or agriculture -- even though nobody had actually forbidden them from
crossing. This shows how the tribal elders had led them away from going into
open areas, being afraid that someone would spot and take them.
This also applies to what I've
already said about the women -- that if they should catch sight of any stranger
a tiger would eat them. When the men came in to ask for rice, wheat or yams and
taro, they would immediately eat everything without leaving any. I told them to
take some back to share with their women folk. However, they replied that they
couldn't do such a thing, for if the women ate such foods they would become
addicted to the taste and be spoilt.
Whenever they came among the
Moo-ser their behavior betrayed their inherent fear of strangers, especially of
important people or officials. They walked slowly and cautiously, always wary
and alert in a quite pitiful way. However, when they entered the jungle they
became so swift and agile that following them was difficult for the eye. All one
would see and hear were the stirring and rustling of the leaves.
Their marriage
customs gave individual
freedom to both the women and the men. For example, as elsewhere, it was common
that when a man had good luck and was prospering through successfully bringing
in meat and food, any woman attracted to him would go and stay with him and
become his partner. I forgot to ask whether there was any dowry involved. The
raising of children was the sole responsibility of the woman.
They had come to see me sometimes.
I then had an opportunity to question them about many aspects of their lifestyle
and so was able to develop a good understanding about them. Whenever I saw these
forest people, I felt sympathy and pity because they were also of the same Thai
tribe. I could understand every word of their conversation and their physical
features were the same as ours in every way. The thought arose deep down in me
to find some way to help them to become established in some stable livelihood,
or at least to assist them to reach the subsistence level of the Moo-ser and the
other hill tribes up in the mountains. If they were willing to receive
assistance, I intended to inform the appropriate Government authorities so that
they could bring in aid such as tools and supplies -- including everything all
the way to seedlings and seeds.
When they later came to see me, I
sounded them out: "What do you think of the rice, the maize, the taro, the chili
and the salt that you have been given to eat? Was it delicious?". "Yes," they
replied, "it was all very tasty". "So," I continued, "if that is the case, why
don't you come and make a settlement like these Moo-ser people. You could then
plant rice and taro for your own consumption -- wouldn't that be good?".
That was as far as I got, for they
immediately started to protest that they were a forest people and that they
couldn't do such a thing. If they did 'the ground would be turned upside
down'. (This is an old fashioned expression indicating absolute opposition
and disagreement. Their meaning being that such an idea was impossible. If it
were to come to pass then the underside of the earth would be flipped over on to
the top.) When I heard these objections, all my aid plans and projects ceased
right there.
What a shame. Although these people
were endowed with priceless humanity, they were unable to take full advantage of
it because of their birth in an unsuitable environment. More to be pitied though
are some of the people born in an affluent and pleasant environment. They have
everything, including education opportunities, yet heedlessly lose themselves
through indulgence in pleasures that are without real substance. Meanwhile time
consumes their life so that it isn't used for anything worthwhile. There are so
many people like this.
In this Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn
Mun not only foretold various things but also spoke of the responsibility he
would have to shoulder concerning the group of Kammatthaana forest monks.
He spoke of establishing a meditation monastery in the Chiang Mai area and asked
if I had any suggestions to offer. I was delighted to hear that he was thinking
of resuming responsibility for our group. So I remarked that the people of the
Northeast of Thailand were more suited to Dhamma practice than the people of
other regions. This was especially so, I pointed out, in this Northern region
where the results had been minimal.
"Look," I said, "Venerable Ajahn
has been in this region for seven or eight years now but who has left their home
to follow you and the way of practice? Those who do follow you are all, without
exception, your old disciples from the Northeast. At this very moment the people
there, both monks and lay people -- including Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi -- are
always yearning for you. Everyone pleaded with me to come and invite Ven. Ajahn
to return to the Northeast. They are happy to make all the necessary travel
arrangements and said that all I had to do was to tell them what was required."
Ven. Ajahn Mun then recalled a
mountain range towards Nah Kaer District of Sakhon Nakorn Province that would
certainly make a good and suitable place to stay. He favored those sorts of
mountains and so declared that it would be the place for us all to go. But he
also said that it would have to be my job to act as 'doorkeeper' for him. If
someone came to visit him whom I considered unsuitable, he told me that I was
not to allow them in to see him.
After the Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn
Mun went down to the district of Phrao again. (Where, my friends later explained
to me, he had also mentioned his plans to the group of monks there.) For our
part, Ven. Ornsee and I had requested permission to remain in that area to
continue our meditation efforts to our heart's content. Not many days later Ven.
Ajahn Mun returned, bringing Ven. Ajahn Sahn, Ven. Ajahn Waen and Ven. Ajahn
Khao up to see us. He mentioned again about establishing a meditation monastery
for the group and I maintained my previous opinion that I didn't agree with it
being set up in the North. Nevertheless, if Ven. Ajahn did go ahead and
establish something in this region, after three years I would come and
wholeheartedly help. Ven. Ajahn Mun and his group stayed with us for two nights
before departing, with Ven. Ajahn Sahn, Ven. Ajahn Waen and Ven. Ajahn Khao
returning to Phrao. Meanwhile, Ven. Ajahn Mun and Ven. Manoo went off towards
Maer Sai District of Chiang Rai Province, where they eventually spent the coming
Rains Retreat.
Venerable Ornsee and I remained
meditating in that place until everybody had gone, then we also went our
separate ways. Ven. Ornsee staying on there while I went over to another
mountain.
What I am about to relate makes me
feel quite embarrassed but it will put even greater shame on the defilements.
What was it? Well, it happened when I left Ven. Ornsee and went off to stay
alone. One day I heard a tiger roar and became so terrified by its noise that I
began to tremble and shake so much that I couldn't sleep and my meditation
wouldn't settle down at all. Some local people helped to chase it away by firing
threatening shots with their guns and by hurling firebrands at it. It fled for a
moment but then came back again. In the early morning, when the villagers were
going out to work in the fields, they would sometimes spot the tiger crouching
in the jungle ahead of them. They would then run away -- although I never heard
that it had done any harm to anyone.
No matter how I tried to sit in
meditation, it just didn't seem to come together. At that point I was still
unaware that it was all to do with my fear of the tiger. My whole body would be
soaked in sweat. "Hey!", I thought, "what's all this about then? I'm cold and
yet I'm still sweating". I tried removing the blanket wrapped around me and saw
that I was still trembling. I felt exhausted with not being able to progress
with my meditation. Then I thought of lying down to rest a little and refresh
myself, ready for future efforts. At that very moment, I heard the tiger roar
out and my whole body started shivering and shaking, as if I had a malarial
fever. It was then I realized that this was all due to my fear of the tiger's
roar.
I sat up and established
mindfulness, settling the mind in stillness on a single object and ready to
sacrifice my life. Hadn't I already accepted death? Wasn't that the reason for
my coming to live here? Aren't tiger and human both a fabrication of the same
four elements? After death, won't both end in the same condition? Who eats whom
-- who is the one who dies and who is the one that doesn't die? When I was
willing to relinquish and investigate in this dauntless, single-minded way, I
could no longer hear the noise of the tiger.
Whenever I afterwards heard the
tiger's roar, my mind remained quite unconcerned. I now saw it just as air
reverberating from a material form, causing sound. Ever since childhood, I had
had a natural tendency to be easily upset, being of a rather nervous
disposition. The sound of the tiger had brought up some past conditioning that
had caused my unconscious fear.
It is these latent
defilements[149] lying submerged in the depths of
the heart that are so extremely difficult to dispose of. To conquer the
defilements is absolutely impossible without a willingness to relinquish one's
attachment and grasping for these conditioned things. There has to be an
exchange of things wholly devoid of value for the taste of the deathless -- that
is only found within the heart. Although Venerable Shariputra, the right-hand
disciple of the Lord Buddha, could abandon these things when he became an
arahant, his character traits[150] remained -- unlike the Fully
Enlightened Buddha.[151]
During this period, when I was
fearlessly pressing forward with my practice, something disagreeable came up as
a meditation vision. It's something that should be revealed to my readers so
that some of the shameful tendencies of the defilements can be exposed.
Recognition of the harm of this type of defilement might then perhaps serve as a
caution for their future restraint.
The image that appeared was that of
a middle-aged woman, someone whom I well remembered from about five or six years
previously. She had then been a lay supporter of mine, full of faith and sincere
intentions. I considered her a good person, a person of Dhamma, courteous and
refined, someone suitable for me to be associated with and a fine example of a
genuine upaasikaa[152] of the Buddhist Teachings. Her
physical appearance was rather ordinary, or so it seemed to me. Apart from that,
I had never given her much thought except recalling her kind support to me as a
monk -- for a monk lives dependent on others.
When the image appeared in my
meditation, she seemed to be sitting close to me on my right, in a rather
familiar way. There then arose in my heart a spontaneous feeling as if the two
of us had been living closely together for what seemed like decades. Yet there
was no lust or desire involved in it. This shocked me. I withdrew from
meditation and examined my heart but I couldn't detect any feelings of
attachment towards her. Furthermore, I hadn't given her a moment's thought over
the previous five or six years. Why then should I have such a vision?
After a more thorough
investigation, I came to understand the nature of the latent defilement of
sensuality (kaama-kilesaanusaya). This lies deeply submerged in the
'ocean bed', beyond the reach and understanding of the negligent person.
-- A person possessing wisdom but
lacking faith, energy and dauntless perseverance, will be incapable of searching
out and confronting it.
-- A person possessing faith,
energy, and dauntless perseverance but lacking wisdom will still be incapable of
eliminating it.
-- A person possessing faith,
energy and dauntless perseverance together with wisdom; and someone who develops
meditation by steadily cultivating those virtuous qualities without lapses will
be able totally to eliminate the latent tendencies.
I then proceeded to reflect further
about those meditator’s who had successfully achieved all the absorptions[153] yet could still be deceived and
fall down badly because of the defilements of sensuality and lust. They take the
sort of vision that I have just mentioned as genuine, as truly signifying that
they had been husband and wife in a previous life.[154] This leads to the arising of
tenderness and affection, sexual excitement and desire that develop, as is their
wont into the searching out of that 'vision'. There is then a meeting and a
frank telling of what should not be revealed. The twin live wires already run
side by side and if some metal object comes too close it has to be attracted and
pulled in. They make contact and that is why it's possible for so many
meditator’s, particularly monks -- sometimes they have even been senior Teachers
-- to fall into the abyss. On seeing such a vision, instead of being alarmed and
seeing it as a threat and danger -- and therefore arming themselves for victory
over it -- they submit and ally themselves with it. What a waste!
The Lord Buddha recounted how human
beings and animals born into this world, one and all, have been mothers and
fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives. They have all been relatives
to one another -- in one or another birth. Perhaps even the poultry and pork
that we eat might be the flesh of our father or mother from a previous birth. We
still have defilements and so are liable to die and take birth, to die and be
born through countless lives. Yet what sort of case is it when a seductive
vision arises just once, and one is lured away and goes after it?
Well, now that we have already
exposed and shamed Mara,[155] the defilements, I would like to
relate another instance. This concerns an attractive young woman. She and her
parents and relatives held me in deep regard and I tried to help by advising and
instructing her in morality and virtue. I particularly wanted her to see the
hazard inherent in the feminine condition and to keep to the brahmacariya
precepts all her life. Yet events didn't turn out that way for instead she went
and lost her virginity in a very unfortunate way. When she came to her senses,
she was overwhelmed by tearful remorse. I happened to hear about this and felt a
deep weariness with all such gullibility and credulousness. Afterwards, she both
respected me and felt ashamed before me. All I could think of was: 'how could
things have come to this pass?'. Looking at her, I felt that although her form
might appear human, her mind-state was that of an animal. The more I thought
about it, the more it made me feel sick and tired about her and the whole matter
-- almost to the point of nausea. This state of mind persisted for many years
afterwards and that nauseous feeling would arise whenever I recalled the
incident. There was such a strong feeling of weariness -- I had never felt
anything quite so deeply before -- yet it certainly was not the correct
way of practice. However, that had all happened in the past.
Afterwards, I came to reflect on
the harm of sensuality, pondering the extent of its fierce severity. When it
arises in the underlying personality of anyone it can vent its power and devour
its victim. This may happen regardless of whether the person has moral
principles or is delinquent, or whether they are seasoned meditator’s who have
reached the highest levels of absorption. The only exceptions being the Lord
Buddha and the arahants. Sensuality is totally lacking kindness or
consideration, being like a tiger pouncing on a defenseless puppy and
cold-bloodedly consuming it.
This made me feel a lot more
sensitive and open towards that young woman. She had always had wholesome
intentions, had hoped to be good yet passion can be so very destructive. It
pounces without caring who its victim is. It is this sensual desire that must
bear so much of the blame and is unforgivable. This increased my sympathy and
compassion for her.
Those who are still sunk in the
depths of the flood of sensual desires must come to birth in the sensual realm.
This sensual realm or sphere is a place to develop spiritual virtues.[156] For those who want to progress in
the way of the heart it is the field of battle where one can fight for victory.
While for miscreants, it can become their graveyard.
The sensual realm or plane of
existence is endowed with a full complement of natural resources, and all the
outer and the inner ones are complete. Persons of wisdom can take advantage of
this in whatever way they want. If there are no trees in the forest, where will
one go to find herbal medicines? If there are no doctors then such medicines
remain useless. If there are medicine and doctor, but the sick patient refuses
treatment or will not take the prescription, they cannot cure their illness.
Those who see any 'worth'[157] in the sphere of sensuality and
engross themselves in its array of sensual delights are called 'worthies of
sensuality'.[158] Those whom the poison of
sensuality has infected and are aware of its virulence are called 'handicapped
by sensuality' (Kaama-tote). Those who have totally relinquished all
sensuality are called 'freed from sensuality'.[159]
Returning to where I had stayed
before, I exchanged places with Ven. Ornsee. It was then that I really did have
quite an encounter with a tiger. One night a tiger came and pounced on and began
to eat a water buffalo close by my hut. I tried to drive it away by striking a
bamboo[160] and shouting loudly but the tiger
would have none of it. It refused to let go of its prey and succeeded in
dragging it away to eat. This time I was not afraid but I didn't dare leave my
hut and go over to aid the water buffalo in case the tiger decided to gobble up
a man too.
As the two of us had spent enough
time meditating in that place, we moved on to other Moo-ser villages scattered
along those mountains. After we had spent some time introducing them to Dhamma
and inspiring them with faith, we returned down to the district of Phrao. Then
we looked around the region of Chiang Dao before returning to Maer Dtaeng
District.
The small forest monastery at Pong
Village was where Ven. Ajahn Mun had once stayed for the Rains Retreat. Ven.
Chao Khun Phra Upaaliigu.nuupamaacaariya (Chan Siricando) had also spent some
time there. The lay people of this village were quite clever and had a
reasonably good understanding of Dhamma. That year's Rains saw five of us
staying there: Ven. Ajahn Boon-tham, Venerable Kheung, a monk from Loei Province
(whose name I can't recall), Ven. Ajahn Chorp and myself. I was the head monk
and so had to choose suitably skilful means to use in my Dhamma talks to the
group so that they would gain a solid basis for their future individual Dhamma
practice.
In this group it was Ven. Ajahn
Chorp who was the strictest in his dhuta.nga[161] practices. While including all the
monks gathered for that Rains Retreat it would be difficult to find a better
group of Dhamma companions (Kalyaa.na-mitta). I gave a Dhamma talk almost
every night and throughout the instruction my companions would willingly listen
with calm and attentive minds. Afterwards, I would give them an opportunity to
bring up any questions or problems and to air whatever views they had. Besides
Ven. Ajahn Chorp, Ven. Kheung was particularly gifted in the faculty of knowing
another person's mind (Parassa ceto-pariyañaa.na). If something was
preoccupying anyone's mind or if someone had committed any breach of the
monastic Rule, one of these two monks would detect it.
In our group, the monk whom I felt
most sorry for was Ven. Ajahn Boon-tham (from Surin Province). He had been a
monk for many years but still couldn't meditate very well. Ven. Ajahn Chorp and
Venerable Kheung were able to follow everything he was thinking and doing which
concerned matters in which he certainly shouldn't have been indulging. Whenever
his companions cautioned him about it, he would readily admit his faults and
would even humbly bow to them even though they were his juniors. His feelings of
inadequacy and shame in front of the group went with his having missed meeting
Ven. Ajahn Mun -- although he had once been a disciple of Ven. Ajahn Singh. He
really wanted to hear a sermon by Ven. Ajahn Mun and believed that he was
already knowledgeable enough instantly to understand and gain insight into
Dhamma. I was continually warning him not to be presumptuous and to be careful
when he did come to meet and listen to Ven. Ajahn Mun's Dhamma talk. His
overconfidence might make him unreceptive and cause him to feel negative towards
the Venerable Ajahn.
After the Rains Retreat was over,
Ven. Ajahn Mun returned to visit us again and Ven. Ajahn Boon-tham was able to
listen to a Dhamma talk. That was all it took, for regrettably it had the
opposite effect to what he had expected and he became dissatisfied with the
methods of training offered by Ven. Ajahn Mun. Later, perhaps because he felt so
let down, he deserted the group and went off wandering alone. However, he met
with misfortune and contracted cerebral malaria. Ven. Ajahn Ree-an found him and
helped to bear him back to Chiang Mai where he died in the hospital, without any
relatives or disciples being around to help nurse him.
After staying to receive teachings
from Ven. Ajahn Mun for a suitable length of time, Venerable Kheung and I took
our leave to go off in search of solitude and secluded places by following the
Maer Dtaeng River upstream. We stayed in a secluded spot near a mountain area of
tea plantations. I left Venerable Kheung to watch over our belongings in an
abandoned monastery at the foot of the mountain, while I climbed the ridge to
find a suitable place to stay above. It happened that a young woman came
strolling by flirting with some local young men. Venerable Kheung saw this and
he too became intensely excited. When I came back down from my place on the
mountain and saw the state he was in I tried to counsel him and recommended
various ways he could use to still the emotion -- but without success.
I had had an intimation of such a
possibility ever since he had first come to stay with me. At that time, he had
told me about a vision that he had experienced while staying with Ven. Ajahn Mun
in Maer Suay District. He said that hearing about me had inspired him so much
that he wished to meet me. He had then had a vision:
'A road appeared that led straight
from him to where I was. He made a trouble-free journey along the road that
ended right at the foot of the stairs leading to my hut. He then seemed to catch
hold of the stairs and started climbing -- they seemed extremely high -- up to
me. After bowing to me three times, I offered him a complete set of robes but he
refused to accept them.'
It seemed that circumstances were
beginning to fit in with his vision. I also felt as if our sympathetic
association had reached its limit. That morning during the meal, he had lost his
temper with me over some insignificant issue. By the evening, he had come to see
me and admitted his fault. He related his experience of the previous evening
when lust had overcome him at seeing the flirtatious young woman. His meditation
throughout the following night had not been successful and he came to take his
leave and go off wandering alone.
About three months later, we met
again and I encouraged him to make a fresh start with his meditation: "If you
have enough determination, it's still possible for you to succeed. Please, just
have done with it and start afresh".
Nevertheless, he wouldn't accept
this advice and afterwards I learnt with great regret that he had disrobed. He
was a strong-willed individual and did nothing in half measures, but he was also
very opinionated and even Ven. Ajahn Mun's Dhamma talks didn't always convince
him. He had once been a 'tough guy' back in his home village before ordaining
and leaving without any real goal in mind. He originally came from Nam Gam
Village in the district of Taht Panom.
The Six Higher Psychic
Powers[162] -- one example being 'knowing the
minds of other beings' -- are not something common to every person. They will
not necessarily arise in the practice of everyone who meditates. With some
people no matter how refined their mind becomes no higher powers will
arise. While other people meditate and when the mind converges into
momentary or access concentration (kha.nika- or
upacaara-samaadhi) these powers develop.
Venerable Kheung was adept at
training his mind to enter tranquility and he could remain in such a calm state
all day and night. While walking around in seemingly quite an ordinary way, in
his mind he would feel as if he were walking on air. While at other times he
might feel as if he had penetrated into the interior of the earth. Although Ven.
Kheung's mind didn't withdraw from concentration he lacked the wisdom to
investigate the Three Characteristics.[163] His powers were therefore only of
the mundane sort, arising out of mundane absorption.[164] Let alone Ven. Kheung, just
consider Venerable Devadatta[165] who had been able to consult with
Prince Ajaatasatthu by flying in through the palace window -- that is until his
abilities failed.
Nong Doo was a Mon[166] village. The monks of the village
seemed quite strict with their keeping of the monastic Rule. However the
villagers also said that their abbot was supernaturally quite powerful.
Whenever the villagers went to a
festival or fair he would consecrate and empower some sesame seed oil and give
it to them to drink and rub on their bodies. This would make them invulnerable
to stabs and blows. When they went to neighboring village fairs, the other
village folk would have to watch out for them very carefully. The villagers from
Nong Doo were confident in their Abbot-teacher's power and so started to
consider themselves superior, without fear of anyone else. The nearby villages
gathered together, laid out a plan and arming themselves to the teeth came en
masse to invest Nong Doo Village, intent on taking their revenge by wiping
it out. When the resident men folk there realized what was happening, they had
taken to their heels and hid themselves in the jungle to save their skins.
The Abbot-teacher was already
eighty years old when he was converted from such practices by the teachings of a
wandering meditation monk who stayed at his monastery. Remarkably, he was able
to gain some insight into the truth of the Dhamma teachings of the Lord Buddha.
He then felt such faith in the meditation monk that he could give up his
conceited opinions and offer himself as a disciple of the younger monk.
Later, the whole monastery
supported by the lay people, decided to change over to become part of the
Dhammayut' community. Somdet Phra Maha Virawong (Pim), when he was still
Phra Ñaanadilok and acting abbot of Wat Chedi Luang in Chiang Mai, requested
that I become the first abbot of the re-established Wat Nong Doo with Ven. Palat
Tong-sook as deputy abbot. It was during this Rains Retreat that Ven. Mahaa Kan
learnt to give his first sermon and taught Dhamma studies.
I instructed the lay community
during this Rains Retreat. This inspired their faith so much that on the Quarter
Moon Days they came to the monastery to observe the Eight Precepts in
unprecedented numbers. Whole households would lock up the house and come to
observe the Eight Precepts and spend the night in the monastery.
Traditionally, Mon young women were
not expected to observe the Eight Precepts. For the young men it was the
opposite. When the young men disrobed after their temporary ordination, they
would unfailingly continue to go every week to the monastery and keep the Eight
Precepts. These people were really exemplary; for despite they’re far from easy
living conditions they were extremely devout. I also taught them to establish
themselves steadfastly in the Three Refuges[167] and to abandon their wrong views
and beliefs in spirit-worship. Many agreed to this and willingly renounced their
Mon spirit worship and came to request the Three Refuges instead. Unfortunately,
after the Rains Retreat I had to leave them and travel back to the Northeast so
things had to be suspended there.
Being a millionaire or a pauper
does not stand in the way of gaining the Noble Treasure of one endowed with
faith and wisdom. This is why this Noble Treasure surpasses all other wealth.
Before leaving the North I went to
pay my respects to Ven. Ajahn Mun. He had spent the Rains Retreat at Wat Chedi
Luang in Chiang Mai, at the request of Somdet Phra Maha Virawong. I again took
the opportunity to invite him to return to the Northeast, having already
submitted one invitation before the Retreat had started. He remarked that he had
also received a letter of invitation from Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi. In fact, I
had been the one who had written to Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi suggesting that
such an invitation be sent. I had done this after sounding out Ven. Ajahn Mun
and sensing that there was a chance that he might be willing to return. When I
enquired again about his going back, he said that he would go at the right time.
I then respectfully informed him of
my own plans to go back and took leave of him. I explained that I had already
been in the Northern region for quite a long time and felt that however things
might turn out, I would be able to take care of myself. After writing another
letter to Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi explaining the situation, I set out.
This time they arranged for a boy
to accompany me on my journey, but Ven. Ornsee stayed behind with Ven. Ajahn
Mun. When I reached Tah Bor, in Nongkhai Province, I was determined that the
group of monks there be trained to be rigorous and conscientious in their
practice. However, after attempting this for around three or four years the
results were only about 30 or 40 per cent of what they could have been. Later
they seemed even less.
I therefore turned more to
integrating the study aspects into the practice. Together with that, I also led
all the monks in the daily chanting, and afterwards we would practice the
rhythmic styles of both mokot-sangyok and roy-gaaw chanting. We
would regularly finish by chanting the Patimokkha Rule and by that I was able to
produce many expert chanters. The benefits became so obvious that I have
continued this way of practice right up to the present.
After I had stayed two Rains
Retreats in Wat Araññavaasee -- from 1941 to 1942 -- I led the lay supporters to
build a small monastery on the western side of Glahng Yai Village. It is now a
permanent monastery and has continued to have resident monks and novices through
each Rains Retreat. They have now named it Wat Nirodha-rangsee.
It was during this period that Ven.
Chao Khun Dhammachedi began to take a greater interest in meditation practice
and in Venerable Ajahn Mun. In truth, when Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi was still
a novice -- before he had gone off to Bangkok to study -- he had been a disciple
of Ven. Ajahn Sao and Ven. Ajahn Mun. At that time, however, he had shown no
interest in the way of practice.
I think it was probably at the time
of the boundary-stone laying ceremony at Wat Bodhisomphorn[168] that he became more closely
acquainted with the two venerable Ajahns. They so aroused his interest that he
was always questioning me about their way of practice and about their character
and qualities. He would sometimes ask me to give him a sermon based on what I
had heard from the two Ajahns. When I recounted such teaching, he would silently
listen with great attention and respect.
Afterwards, Ven. Chao Khun
Dhammachedi sent Ven. Ajahn Oon Dhammadharo to Chiang Mai to invite Ven. Ajahn
Mun to return but without success. Ven. Ajahn Oon reported to Ven. Ajahn Mun
about his vegetarian practices and this eventually led to quarrelling and
discord in the group. Ven. Ajahn Mun said that none of the arahants had
ever quarreled over food and excrement, so why were those present now doing so.
Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi had to go to Bangkok on Sangha affairs and when they
were completed he carried on to Chiang Mai and made the invitation himself. Ven.
Ajahn Mun said: "Hey, what's this, you've come with the 'big letter'". (Meaning
that he was making the invitation in person.)
I remained at Wat Araññavaasee in
Tah Bor for a period approaching nine years. This was a record for my ordained
life until then. I had never taken any interest in building work because I
considered it interference and not the task of a recluse. Thinking that one
ordained should rather concentrate all his energies on the duties of a recluse.
When I arrived in Wat Araññavaasee
I realized that all the dwelling places there were an inheritance from the
previous generation of senior monks. They had constructed them and
we all lived in them. I then reflected on those clauses in the monastic
Rule where permission is given to repair any existing dwelling places. This led
me to feel rather ashamed of myself, for I seemed to have been so busy making
use of these resources and merely monitoring this heritage from the previous
Teachers.
This was when I began to guide the
lay supporters in building projects and I've continued right up to the present
day. However, at no point have I gone out and solicited donations for this work.
I have always been extremely sensitive about this -- if the resources were
available the work went forward, if they weren't then we simply stopped the
work. I never allowed myself to become bound to any project so that if it
couldn't be finished or was under funded I could easily abandon it without any
feelings of attachment. While I was at Wat Araññavaasee I directed the lay
supporters in the construction of two new huts, a large study hall and many
other smaller structures.
Before this extended period at Wat
Araññavaasee, I can't remember ever staying anywhere longer than three Rains
Retreats. It may have been due to the long period of my stay or perhaps for some
other reason that my neurological disorder recurred. However I still forced
myself to endure it so that those who wanted to study and practice there were
given a good opportunity.
In 1946, Venerable Gate (my elder
brother) came to spend the Rains Retreat with us. He died during the Retreat
from appendicitis. He had been ordained for fourteen years and was forty-eight
years old. Since his ordination -- (he was the next eldest to me) -- we had
never before stayed together for a Rains Retreat. It now seems that our coming
together was not a good omen.
When he came, I wasn't giving many
sermons to the lay devotees and instead had them meditating quietly on their
own. My neurological disorder had grown so much worse that after I took the
Dhamma seat to give a sermon, I had no idea what I was talking about -- but I
could still speak all right. When I finished my sermon, I would ask the
listening lay people what I had been speaking about and whether it had made
sense. They answered that they could understand it very well. It was just as it
had always been.
One day I had a dream in which
Venerable Gate and I were walking on tudong together through the jungle.
We came to a stream and started following the streambed. The water wasn't very
deep, only reaching our waists, yet it didn't appear to wet our robes. I noticed
how fresh the water looked and felt like scooping it up in my hands to rinse my
mouth out. When I did take a mouthful, I gargled with it and then spat it out --
and all my teeth came out with the water! Waking up, I thought that it had
really happened. I had to feel in my mouth before I knew it was only a dream.
I had never really believed in the
absolute truth of dreams.[169] I thought that dreams occurred
through our not attending to the activities of the mind, so that it dithers when
we fall asleep and then trails after its preoccupations. If we were to take care
of the heart then there would be no dreaming. If however we did dream, we would
be aware of the dreaming though we couldn't get up because the body remained
still. When the body was able to move again and could get up, the mind would no
longer be asleep. Dreaming would occur when the heart wasn't asleep but was
vacillating and dithering.
When I refused to believe in the
dream, a vision appeared to my inner sight (in the heart). As I've mentioned
above, I became ill about four or five days before the full moon of the tenth
lunar month, [around September]. It was the time of the traditional festival of
Khao Boon Salahk-pat,[170] and I was feeling so unwell that I
couldn't stand up without vomiting. I lay down with closed eyes and when I
opened them again I found myself gazing at the sky with clouds passing across
the sun. It hurt my eyes and I vomited.
It happened to be an Observance Day
but I couldn't manage to go and give a sermon so instead they invited Venerable
Gate. He gave a sermon for one and a half hours. The people listening were quite
amazed at this, not expecting him to be able to do so much. The next morning my
nervous disorder seemed to have cleared up and I was invited away to a meeting.
At around eleven o'clock in the
morning, someone came to tell me that Venerable Gate had stomach pains and so I
returned to the monastery. When I arrived, all I could do was look at him, for
we had no medicines and I didn't know what else to do. More than ten years
before he had been ill with similar symptoms. Sometimes, if medicine were
available, he would take it and get better, while at other times it seemed to
clear up even without medicines. He had once been ill for five days and nights
at Nah Seedah Village (our home village) without being able to lie down or eat.
The illness had then cleared up after he had used his finger to remove three or
four small lumps -- I don't know what they were -- from his anus.
In those days modern-style
doctoring had yet to spread widely. If one's stomach was painful, one found some
stomachache pills to swallow. We didn't know anything about the appendix. If the
stomach pains came from food poisoning or from fermentation and flatulence, they
would clear up. If they came from appendicitis they wouldn't, and countless
people died of it. This time Venerable Gate really did have appendicitis -- and
we had no medicine.
The pain was almost beyond bearing
so that he was tossing about but I never heard him cry out. Finally, he managed
to get out a few words. He said that he certainly wouldn't be able to carry on
in that way. He thought that trying some walking meditation might help so he
asked us to assist him up to the meditation path where he took about four or
five steps before collapsing. The monks and novices who were attending him saw
his condition and brought him back to lie down where he had been before.
At that time I had begun to feel so
weak after caring for him for such an extended period that I had asked leave
from everyone to go and rest. A novice then came to call me with news that
Venerable Gate had become very weak and fainted. I rushed to see and found that
he was lying there without speaking. Coming closer I reminded him of Dhamma and
asked if he could hear what I was saying. He replied that he could and this
continued until about eight o'clock that night, when he died.
Venerable Gate had been a person of
great endurance in times of both sickness and health. It wasn't just the one
illness either, for he had also suffered from appendicitis, kidney stones and
malaria. Even when his appendix became infected for many days, he neither
complained nor troubled anyone. He would quietly lie there alone. If he were
able to eat, he would eat, and if he couldn't he would just continue quietly to
lie there. He had always eaten only a small amount and had never been fussy
about food. Once he had managed on plain rice and salt for more than ten days.
All the meditation teachers had praised his great qualities of endurance.
After I had arranged his funeral
and finished the Rains Retreat of 1947, my mother also passed away. That year
had seen the whole village and town come down with infected sores and ulcers and
this included my mother who had an ulcer on her shin. Those who were affected
had gone for treatment and were all cured except my mother. I fetched the
particular medicines that should have been effective in treating her but the
problem didn't clear up. The flesh started festering and was suppurating so much
that it fell away exposing the bone. There was no pain however.
While my mother was ill in Nah
Seedah Village, Glahng Yai Subdistrict of Nongkhai, I had spent the Rains
Retreat in Tah Bor District of Nongkhai Province. The block that had made me so
incredulous about the validity of my dream abruptly cleared up. The morning
after dreaming that all my teeth had fallen out I felt certain that I would have
some traveling to do that day. I returned from my alms round and saw someone
waiting for me with news that my mother's condition had seriously deteriorated.
Those who mark dreams down as
unbelievable, useless affairs -- well, they can think what they want. But I
accept them with 100 percent certainty. If one dreams that one's teeth fall out
then it definitely means that one's father or mother or one of one's brothers or
sisters is very ill or has died. It might otherwise relate to a very close
friend or acquaintance.
I nursed my mother as much as I
could with both spiritual medicine[171] and with medication but her body
was already extremely aged. She was eighty-two years old. Whatever medicine we
brought no longer seemed to help for she could no longer take it and her
condition continued to deteriorate. This went on until things could no longer
hold together and just as an old brown leaf falls, she withered away and sank.
Nevertheless, I ministered to her heart and mind, supporting her mindfulness and
settling her in full tranquility right up to the final moment, when little
breath remained.
I thus fulfilled the obligations
necessary for an ideal son. When her condition had still been stable, she had
always thought of me as an adviser. She would consult me if she wanted for
anything or if she had any problems, and would adopt any opinion I offered. When
she was unwell, I had supported her mindfulness so that sometimes she wouldn't
need to take any other medicine. She had often recovered through her trust and
faith in my teaching. It was the same when she was approaching death and perhaps
it was due to this that the wound in her leg was not painful.
I had experienced a vision of this
mountain while staying in Wat Araññavasee, Tah Bor but it was still very
different from my expectations. For a start it was hardly credible as a place of
solitude, for it was just a small hill in the middle of fields, with villages
clustered all around its base. However, it was amazing how anyone who went there
for meditation practice -- whether monk, novice or villager -- would achieve
remarkable results. These would be great or small depending on the basic ability
of the person.
The strangest case was that of one
old man, more than seventy years old, who with his penchant for drinking liquor
all day had been left so destitute that he was dependent on the villagers. They
would hire him at fifty baht a month to attend on the resident monks, but
he wasn't very willing. When I was there, he found such faith that it was no
longer necessary to hire him to do the job. Such a wonderful vision had arisen
in his meditation that he gave up all alcohol and was even able to take on the
Eight Precepts on Observance days. The villagers became so impressed with him
that he could go into any house or shop and receive a free meal. This made him
even more aware of the benefits of his practice and he continued his attendance
on the monks.
Even stranger was the case of a
mute person of Tah Chalaep who was also forced to be dependent on the village. I
had taught him by sign language to observe the Eight Precepts on the Observance
Day and to meditate. This eventually became so wonderfully meaningful to him
that he taught other people by sign language to see the harm of drinking
alcohol. While meditating at home his mind would become so bright that he was
able to view me in the monastery. I've recently heard that this person is alive
and has built a monastery by himself, invited monks to stay there and attends on
them himself.
For myself, things were also
amazing. I was searching out Dhamma that I never could have conceived of, and
comprehending Dhamma that I had never known before. The ways and means of the
practice were clarified in precise detail, so that I felt confident enough to
compose my first book: Illuminating the Way of Calm and Insight.
Following my original plans, I
continued practicing there for two Rains Retreats. After the end of the second
Rains Retreat came news of Ven. Ajahn Mun's illness and I left, full of
appreciation for the virtues of this small hill. I went to attend on Ven. Ajahn
Mun through his last illness until his passing away. After his cremation had
been completed, I never found an opportunity to return to Khao Noi even though
the people there had offered me such outstanding support. I sent other monks to
go in my place because my own plans were still uncertain.
After the cremation ceremony for
Ven. Ajahn Mun was over, I pondered on the situation of our group of meditation
monks. Until then, we had only been a small group and among people in general
still not well known. We had had backing and support from some highly placed
elders. For example, Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upaaliigu.nuupamaacaariya (Chan
Siricando) had always come up to assist us. He had taken it upon himself to deal
with any issue involving Sangha affairs that affected us. When he died, it was
Somdet Phra Maha Virawong (Tisso Oo-an) who looked after this. After he died,
Ven. Ajahn Mun Bhuuridatta Thera was already well known and widely respected
among the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Then, Ven. Ajahn Mun himself passed away and
the group seemed to be left alone.
The senior ecclesiastical elders
neither knew many monks of our group nor did they seem likely to take on
obligations about us. Later, in fact, monks who were disciples of Ven. Ajahn Mun
did steadily become more widely known. (However, at that time I didn't
anticipate that some of our remaining senior monks were to become such respected
elders of outstanding ability. Therefore, my concerns were probably not very
well thought out.)
Such concerns caused me to travel
to Bangkok, for should the right occasion present itself; I would be able to
construct some bridges with the elders of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. I could
listen to their rulings and strategies and get to know their opinions about our
group. I set out and stayed at Wat Bahn Jik in Udorn. Then I came to stay with
Ven. Ajahn Orn Ñaa.nasiri at Wat Tip'rat' in Udorn. He was obviously under the
impression that I was deserting our group and going off alone. I had to explain
all the facts before he understood my intentions. During the next Rains Retreat
I heard that he had gone off to spend the Retreat in Khao Yoi Cave in Phetburi
Province, so I'm not sure what interpretation he had put on my words.
When I reached Bangkok I had the
chance to go and pay my respects to many ecclesiastical elders and could learn
the attitude of each towards our group of meditation monks. This allowed me to
feel quite confident towards the group's position and my own.
I wanted to go and look over some
of the famous places of meditation practice, for example, those of Rahtburi and
Phetburi. I therefore travelled around those places, requesting permission to
stay a while and learn from each, before eventually reaching Songkla Province.
At that time, Ven. Khun
Siri-tejodom (Ampan) -- who had once been a district officer and then had stayed
with me -- had gone down to Phuket and Phang-nga where he had been spreading
Dhamma and the way of practice. He had later been joined in this propagating by
Ven. Mahaa Pin Jalito[172] (Ven. Phra Khru Virotdhammajahn)
who was a native of Nakorn Patom. However, he did not belong to our group. Their
activities had overexcited the people so much -- it was causing rifts and
factional troubles -- that the situation was getting out of control. Ven. Mahaa
Pin Jalito could no longer handle things and had no group support, so when he
heard that I was in Songkla he came and appealed for my group to go and help
clear up the situation there.
To most people of that time, the
island of Phuket was regarded as an isolated place abundant in valuable natural
resources and full of millionaires. Other than the business community, most
islanders weren't considered to know very much about the outside world. In fact,
this was about 30 percent accurate because communications were indeed still
difficult. One mainly crossed to the island by boat but I remember that my own
first visit was by plane. We took off from Songkla and landed in Phuket itself.
The only passengers on that trip were one layperson and we two monks; its return
flight had only one solitary passenger.
At that time only a few laborers
had come down from the Northeast of Thailand to stay, although the locals feared
them as if they were somehow monsters or tigers. This originated in various
rumors about Northeasterners, how 'they were brutal and cruel, catching, killing
and eating children'.
I had been on the island for a year
before all the Northeaster laborers started heading there. They arrived walking
in file along the road and became an object of intense interest to the
townspeople. Meanwhile, people out on the town's outskirts or in the countryside
who saw them coming would flee to the shelter of their homes. Anyone out in the
forest ducked and hid themselves in the trees. I didn't witness this with my own
eyes but they reported it to me later.
The prosperity of any single region
of Thailand didn't seem to me to diverge by more than 5 per cent from any of the
others.[173] As the Thai saying has it: 'If
we have a lot we can expend a lot, if we have little we can expend a
little'. The saddest aspect of the Phuket people was the desire of the poor
to present themselves on the same level as the rich. That wasn't so good.
When I first went to stay on Phuket
Island, it caused no excitement but it did bring me some painful encounters. I'm
referring to what happened about ten days before the start of the Rains Retreat.
A party of people together with a group of local monks schemed together to
prevent our residing there. They tried various ways to frustrate us: setting
fire to our huts, poisoning our food, throwing stones at us and forbidding the
people to give us alms food. When we were out on alms round, they would
sometimes head straight towards us on a collision course.
As we were the visitors in their
territory, we tried to be as conciliatory as possible. We went to see their head
and pleaded to be allowed at least to spend the coming Rains Retreat there, for
it was already so close. But he wouldn't permit this and further accused us of
being vagrant monks. He adamantly rejected whatever explanations and reasons I
put forward, until finally he let out that it was really his superiors who would
not allow us to stay. (This referred to his superiors in Bangkok.) I therefore
told him quite frankly that although he might have his superiors, I also had
mine. Afterwards, I learnt that he had set down this serious challenge: if
Dhammayut' Nikaya[174] monks were able to spend the
Rains Retreat in Phuket and Phang-nga, he would "put on trousers". So you
can see how disturbing it was.
The end result of these events came
when our lay devotees eventually did succeed in arranging places for us to spend
the Rains Retreat. Fifteen monks and novices had accompanied me that year,
which, with those who had been with me before, made eighteen in all. We divided
ourselves between three locations: Dta-gooa Toong, Tai Muang[175] and Koke Kloi, which was where I
was staying.
It was during this Rains Retreat
that we were not only subjected to buffeting from 'surface waves' but were also
affected by pressure from undercurrents. I refer here to other monks of our own
Dhammayut' group who started clamoring against us. They accused us of:
'not keeping the disciplinary Rule'; 'that our practice was outside what the
scriptural authorities set down'; 'that we didn't observe the Patimokkha Sangha
duties inside an official Uposatha Hall'.
These monks apparently said that
anyone who wanted to be enlightened should, "go over to Ajahn Tate!". (This
discouraging sarcasm was probably directed at their own disciples who had come
over to follow me. In the South, outside the Rains Retreat, monks who were
willing to stay and take care of the monastery were difficult to find.) If that
were their true opinion, then it wouldn't be strange for newly ordained,
ignorant monks. However I did also understand and sympathize with those other
monks who were more senior and learned, because they only knew about study and
had no experience of the way of practice. My circumstances had allowed me the
opportunity to practice regularly from the first year of my ordination.
The dispute about whether or not we
were going to be allowed to stay for the Rains Retreat in that area wasn't yet
finished with. I found out that they had sent a report to the Religious Affairs
Department, which accused us of being 'vagrant monks come to disturb and sow
discord among the populace'. An order was issued that details from our monk's
identification papers[176] be noted so that a future
investigation into the truth of these claims could be made.
The Chief Education Officer of the
Province,[177] however, didn't dare come himself
and instead sent the local District Education Officer to take the details. I
asked to see his official authorization and when he couldn't produce it, I
refused his inspection. I then gave him a thorough and detailed explanation of
the proper procedures for Sangha Affairs. When he went away, I still had
no idea how they would react to this but later I found that the Ecclesiastical
Regional Head Monk had afterwards sent a strongly worded letter of instruction
and admonishment to both the Provincial Head Monk and the Provincial Governor.
I've related here only a part of
what I experienced during my first year's stay in Phang-nga Province. If I were
to go into everything, I fear the reader would get bored with such trifling
matters. On being born into this world, it becomes inevitable that there will be
obstacles to achieving one's goal. Whoever it is, whatever their task, whether
it is done for good or ill, decline or progress, it will all depend on their
circumspection and perseverance, on their finding out the causes of the
situation and thereby clearing them up. Otherwise, there can never be success.
As one moves forward this will bring confidence and determination in dealing
with such hurdles, and this, in turn, speeds up one's realization.
With reference to the Dhammayut'
Nikaya monks. They always seemed to be faced with obstacles wherever they
went and whatever they did. However, they were usually successful in their
objectives. Here I would like to quote the fable[178] about the fox and the lamb:
'The fox accused the lamb: "Hey,
you! Why have you muddied my drinking water by walking through it?"
The lamb: "Please Sir, I didn't
muddy your water, I crossed downstream from you."
The fox: "Huh! You may not have
muddied my water but your father certainly caused me a lot of trouble."
And with that he pounced on the
lamb and ate it up.
"Eva.m" -- "The End".
After the Rains Retreat was over,
we started building a wooden hut for the abbot, but it wasn't completed at that
time.
That Chinese New Year, Madame Loei
Woon, the wife of Luang Anuphat Phuket-gahn who was proprietor of the Chao Fah
Mine, invited us to go to Phuket. There were four of us, Ven. Mahaa Pin Jalito
and myself, with two novices. Any suitable opportunity that presented itself was
used for searching out and setting up a place for us to stay. Leaving Ven. Mahaa
Pin Jalito to organize and finish the building work, I returned to Koke Kloi
where I had spent the previous Rains Retreat. We stayed in Phuket for the Rains
Retreat.
There were four monks and a novice
staying for that Rains Retreat and the monastery was situated at the foot of
Dtoh Se Mountain, beside the Provincial Town Hall. At first, our dwellings were
made from nipa palm,[179] with a tiny room just big enough
to set up a krot with its mosquito net. The exception was the abbot's hut
that was a little bigger. They were situated in a dense area of lalang
grass up on the slopes of Dtoh Se Mountain, below the Phuket Provincial
Courthouse.
Madame Kae had bought those four
rai[180] of land from Nai Borworn, the ore
dealer, for one thousand baht. Previously it had been a coconut
plantation belonging to one of the rich old families but had long since fallen
into neglect. Nai Borworn had then bought it to mine for ore but as he hadn't
found anything, had sold it to Madame Kae. As the area that Madame Kae bought
was too small, I arranged for another four rai to be acquired for another
four thousand baht. This was the aforementioned dense tract of lalang
grass and it was home to a variety of wild animals, including tiger,
panther, stag, barking deer, wild boar and monkeys.
We made little huts in clearings
just big enough to sweep around, with narrow paths connecting them. One night,
when I opened my hut to go and meet with the others, a tiger noisily jumped away
into the forest. Sometimes while we were sitting together having a hot evening
drink, we could almost see the perpetrator of the roaring and scratching sound
in the nearby trees. In broad daylight the tiger would come and pounce on dogs
and cats and eat them up. It was fortunate that it didn't go on the rampage --
the tiger kept to its own affairs and we humans did the same. The people of
Phuket could not even identify the typical tiger's sounds, but I had been much
in the jungle and knew all its voices.
We stayed together in Phuket for
fifteen years, never returning to spend the Rains Retreat in Phang-nga. However,
the monks of our group throughout the three provinces of Phang-nga, Phuket and
Krabee came under my leadership.
We all lived as one monastic
community, with the same rules and way of practice. A monk or novice from any of
our monasteries who was in need of something essential would receive help from
those who had things to share and spare. Work at one monastery found everyone
else ready and willing to lend a hand in a spirit of harmony.
Donations that came to be offered
would be collected and assigned for the maintenance of this or that monastery,
while donations given to individuals would be held in a central fund. Being a
Preceptor,[181] I put all the donations offered to
me personally into the central fund -- notwithstanding the objections I received
from some quarters.[182] We never worried about not having
our own money and the lay supporters conscientiously looked after all our needs.
Whatever we lacked would be carefully supplied -- even train tickets were
offered when we had to travel. Since my ordination I have never come across such
excellent care and attention. I will therefore take this opportunity to thank
the people there, especially of Phang-nga and Phuket, for all their help and
support.
During the time I was resident on
Phuket Island, I was always trying to establish and encourage virtue in both
myself and among people in general. I maintained contact with all the local
administrative head monks and they always responded with generous support
towards our group. Any work or business that arose would often bring them in for
mutual consultations and we always understood each other very well.
At the entry to the Rains Retreat,
I led my group of monks to present each senior elder with offerings of respect.
This took place every year without fail and was quite unlike what had happened
when we were in Phang-nga. News even came from Phang-nga that it was only Ven.
Mahaa Pin Jalito that they disliked, and that they didn't mind our group. I
think this arose because of Ven. Mahaa Pin Jalito's brusque and outspoken manner
of speaking when his listeners provoked him. One really should not take such
people so seriously. A Northeaster dialect proverb asserts that: 'anyone
endorsing such a person, won't have a spoon to sip his soup'.
We tried our best to train the lay
devotees so that they would know the customs and traditions of Buddhism, making
ourselves a model for them to see. We instructed them about keeping the Uposatha
Eight Precepts -- not just during the Rains Retreat but outside it too. We
supported and strengthened the grounding that they had received from previous
monks and then trained them in developing meditation every night. The results of
this then became clearly visible to each individual, depending on the strength
of their faith and dedication to the practice.
Another development was the
increasing stream of our group of monks from the Northeast coming down to stay
with me. The local youths were also regularly finding enough faith to ordain.
Those people in the South who admired and appreciated the way of practice came
to be trained in the Dhammayut' Community in greater numbers. We expanded
into Krabee Province, and with Phang- nga and Phuket there were eleven
monasteries where we could spend the Rains Retreat. All together, this meant
that in an average year there would be more than one hundred monks resident in
these monasteries. This was more than the total monks and novices of Muang
District in Phuket at that time, and twice the number that had been there when I
had first arrived.
As our numbers increased, I
organized the teaching of a regular General Dhamma Studies Course in each
monastery. We would all come together at examination time and the first year we
went to Wat Maha-that in Nakorn See-dhammaraht Province. In the following years
we asked permission to hold the examinations in Wat Chareon Samana-kit in Phuket
itself. Each year, those who were examined in all three grades never numbered
less than sixty. They passed with good marks too.
Eventually, Mahamakut Monastic
College upgraded our status to that of a 'level two centre'. I saw the benefit
to Buddhism's function in having both study and practice
--pariyatti and pa.tipatti-- going along together. This has been the
approach that I have followed up to today.
We stayed there struggling against
various obstacles throughout fifteen years. It was accomplished for the sake of
continuing the Buddhist way for the benefit of both the individual and the
community overall. It also fulfilled the wishes of the lay supporters of Phuket
and Phang-nga who had been so kind and generous to us. At least they could
become genuinely acquainted with the monks of the Dhammayut' Group and the
disciples of Ven. Ajahn Mun Bhuuridatta. In fact, the Dhammayut' Group had gone
to Phuket many times intent on establishing itself there, but it had never been
successful. One doesn't need to ask whether Ven. Ajahn Mun was well known there,
for even his disciples had never managed to penetrate as far as Phuket. Our
group had been able to build an established monastery there for the first time
in both the history of the Dhammayut' Group and of Phuket. We felt proud of our
accomplishments there in repaying the debt that we owed to the people of Phuket
and Phang-nga -- who had never made any claims on us.
My apprehensions -- those that I
expressed in Section 26.1 about the administration of our group -- seemed to be
coming true. It concerned my making contact with the senior elders in Bangkok
before I had gone south, and when, on moving south, I had become acquainted with
all the senior monks on the way to my stay on the island of Phuket.
Phuket was renowned as a place that
brought great wealth to anyone who went to stay there. They made accusations
even against me, saying that I was incredibly rich -- of course this was
completely untrue. Although I had been in Phuket for fifteen years, I didn't
have anything because every penny offered to me, or to any of the monks, went
into a central fund that was then all used for building. But in any case, not
many dwelling places were built there. In the ten years since I came to the
Northeast a much greater number have been completed, together with an Uposatha
Hall and a two-story study hall.
I don't mention this matter out of
any disdain for the people of Phuket and Phang-nga, thinking to answer their
doubts about my supposed wealth. They had taken such good care of us -- as I've
already mentioned, they are unequalled anywhere -- but the building of
monasteries wasn't popular with them. In fact, such a view was good in its own
way for if a monastery were to be built in an overly grand and luxurious style,
it would then become a burden and worry when one was away.
I departed Phuket Island without
any worries, although I did sympathize with the villagers there who had looked
after us so well. On departure, I left more than one hundred thousand
baht for Ven. Phra Khru Sathidabuññaarakkh' (Boon) who had been building
an Uposatha Hall for four or five years, and this allowed it to be finished in
record time. The site of this Uposatha Hall was on a mountain slope that had to
be leveled first. I don't think that any of the other monks of Phuket and
Phang-nga could have hoped to have finished such a building within only four or
five years. It is quite a record.
The senior elders in Bangkok and
the lay devotees in general took a much greater interest in us when they saw how
our groups were settling on Phuket Island. However, I remained unmoved by all
this extra attention. I've already explained how encountering obstacles had
become quite an ordinary event for me because I had to overcome so many before.
At that time, Wat Mahaa
Dhaatu-yuvaraajarangsarit' in Bangkok had begun to popularize the Burmese
meditation technique of [awareness of the] 'rising and falling'.[183] Although they widely publicized
their technique, they never ventured out into the jungle, remaining in the
villages and monasteries. Many people made their grade in the technique, some of
them so much so that they became unaware of how inflexible they were.
At the same time, Wat
Raajapraditth', Wat Bovoranives and other monasteries initiated a group. It was
formed from the disciples of Ven. Ajahn Mun Bhuuridatta Thera. They had been
practicing for more than fifty years but had never publicized themselves. When
one group uses publicity and the other doesn't, it follows that both groups will
become well known. 'Becoming well known without a lot of noise'[184] happened in this way:
In 1951, the Ecclesiastical
Regional Governor (Dhammayut' Nikaya) invited Ven. Ajahn Singh Khantayaagamo to
go and teach meditation to the Buddhists of Phetburi Province. On the fifth of
December 1952, he requested that Ven. Ajahn Singh' be given the title of Ven.
Phra Khru Ñaa.navisitth'. He also asked that a title be given to me but this
didn't come about because I wasn't head of a monastery that had been officially
recognized by the Sangha Act.
On the thirtieth of May 1953, they
appointed me a Preceptor (Upajjhaaya) and simultaneously Ecclesiastical
Head Monk (Chao Kana Amphere, Dhammayut' Nikaya) of the districts of
Phang-nga -Phuket -Krabee.
On the fifth of December 1955, I
received the title[185] of Phra Khru Nirodharangsee.
On the sixteenth of June 1956, I
became the Acting Ecclesiastical Provincial Governor (Dhammayut' Nikaya) of
Phang-nga -Phuket -Krabee Provinces. I also held the office of Director of
Dhamma Studies for these three provinces.
On the fifth of December 1957, I
received the title of the ordinary level, the insight category,[186] of Phra
Rajanirodharangsee-kampiira'paññaajarn'. At the same time, Ven. Ajahn Singh
Khantayaagamo received the title Phra Ñaanavisitth'samiddhiviiraajaarn' and Ven.
Ajahn Lee Dhammadharo was made Phra Suddhidhammarangsii-kampira' medhaajarn'.
On the twentieth of August 1964, I
was made full Ecclesiastical Governor of those three provinces.
On the twenty-eighth of November
1965, I asked to resign from both my administrative governing positions and
remained with just an honorary rank.
This may have been the first time
-- except for the Chao Khun Vipassanaa Koson Thera of Wat Phasee-chareon -- that
meditation monks received such royal ecclesiastical rank. Before this there had
only been the designation without anybody truly taking it on. This can be seen
where important elder's names are listed and the appellation
araññavaasee[187] is appended.
From that time onward, a steady
stream of senior meditation Ajahns of the lineage of Ven. Ajahn Mun were to
receive ecclesiastical titles. I would, in fact, prefer that these titles were
not given to our group of meditating monks because they don't seem appropriate.
I once sent a private letter to the senior elders opposing this practice,
especially when it concerned the disciples of Ven. Ajahn Mun Bhuuridatta Thera.
I had also challenged it when I met them face-to-face and I referred to what I
considered was the appropriate way to go. I had compared it to hanging jewellery
around the neck of a monkey -- it wouldn't mean anything to the monkey. Still,
this is only my personal opinion -- although some monkeys decorated in such a
way might even suggest that they were humans. However, the final result was that
the elders requested that this practice of giving ecclesiastical titles should
go forward for the benefit of the administration of the Sangha as a whole.
We have all been born into this
vast world with its privileges and freedoms. Yet whatever our condition or
status, every one of us is liable to be encircled by the
worldly-dhammas.[188] It will all depend on whether we
are willing to submit to their dominance in our heart. We might also be able to
turn the worldly-dhammas to some use. Before, when the monks, or anyone
for that matter, saw me coming they thought that I was a rustic old monk
(Luang Dtah) out of the forest. Actually, I preferred it when people
considered me in such a way. Yet as soon as I had position and rank I could go
anywhere, and anyone seeing me would greet me with my title and an invitation.
Contacting people about assistance for some project or other was made even
easier. The receiving of such rank and title adds to one's obligations and
burden; therefore I don't think such honors are at all suitable for those monks
who wish for peace and solitude in the forest.
During the first few years on
Phuket Island, things had gone well and my health had been fairly good, but in
later years I had become increasingly sensitive to the climate. This followed
the normal course of my 'wanderlust symptoms', for wherever I stayed, my health
wouldn't remain sound for more than three years. In my heart, I had never
intended to stay permanently in Phuket, and I had said as much to my fellow
monks and the lay people when I had first gone there. Still, I ended up staying
there for all of fifteen years because of the earnest requests from senior monks
and the lay people.
By 1964, it was time to bid a
sympathetic farewell to the tearful people of Phang-nga -Phuket-Krabee,
bequeathing to the Southern people all the various monasteries that we had
established through our effort of mind and body, and through their contributions
and material resources. I also left them my ecclesiastical titles and honors.
May all the people of the South who
were so kind and supportive of us, may they all, without exception, find only
happiness and success, and be blessed with ever growing station, prosperity,
long life, health and complete contentment.
May all the monasteries there
develop and grow for the benefit of all.
Leaving Phuket Island and being
freed of all those burdens, I was determined to follow my old inclinations
towards solitude and peace. When visiting Ven. Ajahn Fan in Phannah Nikom
District, I went on farther to see his monastery in the Khahm Cave. I was
delighted with it and asked his permission to spend one Rains Retreat there.
Although the monastery didn't extend over a great area and the mountain wasn't
so high,[189] the climate and atmosphere were
excellent.
Ven. Ajahn Fan had been
conscientious, and at the end of each Rains Retreat he had led the villagers in
extending the track up the mountain until it had almost reached the top. The
villagers actually enjoyed helping with the work, and if called by Ven. Ajahn
Fan they would drop whatever they were engaged with to go and help. All feelings
of exhaustion from the long climb up to his monastery would disappear with a
revitalizing rest of five or six minutes. The atmosphere there was such that it
more than compensated for the energy expended in climbing up.
Some homebound people say that:
"There's no need to go looking for the right place or climate for everything
depends on the conditions within oneself. Making peace and solitude within
oneself is all that has to be done".
Yet this is not true because all
four supporting conditions (sappaaya) give real energy to the
Dhamma practice. Unless we become like the domesticated pig of the village,
changing our abode means varying the atmosphere and our disposition too. The
domesticated pig and the wild boar are very different animals -- even their food
and behavior stand out in stark contrast.[190]
During that Rains Retreat I could
give full energy to my practice because all the lay devotees and monks had
already been well trained by Ven. Ajahn Fan. I therefore was not hampered by
having to train them again. Such a steady and uninterrupted development of the
practice allows realizations and strategies, directly applicable to oneself, to
arise in quite wonderful ways. I didn't need to sit and close my eyes, for
meditation was always developing wherever I happened to be. Whatever I took up
for examination, whether it was myself, other people, or even the landscape and
scenery, it would all bring Dhamma discernment. Past memories and concerns --
whether they were of worldly desires or not (ittarom or anittarom)
-- were taken up solely with a view towards developing disenchantment with them
all.
After the Rains Retreat, Ven. Ajahn
Khao led a group of his disciples up to visit us for a time. He was also pleased
with the place, and even asked me to take over his monastery at Wat Tam Klong
Paen so that he could come and stay there himself. But I had already unloaded
myself of such burdens and didn't want any more.
Shortly after that, I was invited
to attend a funeral in Udorn-thani, and so was able to travel on to visit Wat
Tam Klong Paen for the first time. However, I didn't like the air there. (It was
then situated behind the cave.) I left Udorn-thani after the ceremony was over
and went to stay at Wat Pah Phra Sathit, in Srii Chiang Mai District with Ven.
Ajahn Boo-a Pha Paññaabhaaso. (At the time of writing he has the title Phra Khru
Paññaavisuddhi.) I then took a boat with Ven. Kam Pan and we went to seek
solitude at Hin Mark Peng.
Hin Mark Peng was well known among
the people of those parts for its extreme cold. They had a saying: "If you
don't have a blanket, don't go and sleep at Hin Mark Peng". It's the coldest
spot in that entire region during the Cool Season. It was a place haunted by
fierce spirits and wild animals such as tigers and bears.
About forty years previously,
anyone passing by boat would remain deadly silent and not even dare look up.[191] Fears like this led it to become a
place of isolation and solitude, without anyone daring to go near. Such
isolation always attracted forest meditation monks so that they could put the
quality of their renunciation to the test. Any forest monk able to stay there
considered it a sign of the steadfastness and confidence of his practice, while
his Dhamma companions saw him as truly courageous in renunciation.
It also became a place of
significance for the law enforcement officers. As the surrounding population
started to expand, the wild animals were forced out and gradually disappeared.
Smugglers and cattle rustlers then used it as a place for sending contraband
across the river. Whenever any water buffalo or cattle went missing, or if news
came of smuggling activities, government officers and those who had lost their
things would gather there to wait in ambush to recover their property and catch
the culprits. Eventually, such a bad reputation also tarnished the neighboring
villages of Koke Soo-ak, Phra Baht and Hooay Hat.
Whenever the old people who were
custodians of the local history got together, they would always tend to tell
about the future of Hin Mark Peng: "Kings from three cities would come to
develop a flourishing Hin Mark Peng". This arose because of those three great
rocks lined up together on the bank of the Mekong River. (In fact, they all
merge into one mass but from far away it looks as if there are three rocks.) The
northern rock (that is the one upstream) would belong to Luang Phra Bahng, the
middle rock to Bangkok and the southern rock to Vientiane.
Listening to this made me laugh,
for whoever would come and build anything worthwhile in such a place! The jungle
there was impenetrable. It was home to wild animals that were still to be found
there more than forty years later -- towards the end of 1964 -- when I first
came to check out the place. I both saw and heard the barking deer and
partridges, while to my delight overgrown monkeys appeared leaping from branch
to branch.
This kind of air and landscape were
rare so I was delighted to have discovered such a place. I therefore resolved to
come with Ven. Kum Pan and spend the Rains Retreat there. I thought that I would
be able to cease all building work and avoid taking on any further commitments.
Other people might equate that with confused thinking, but in my heart I truly
knew my position: I had already accomplished much building work. I had not
inconsiderably ministered to the group of monks and lay devotees. In the future
it was better that I cease with all that and focus all my efforts on the
practice -- readying myself for death. I had reached an age when one couldn't be
sure when death would come.
I therefore spoke with Ven. Kum Pan
about staying with him and taking a restful break. This meant all construction
work and such things would be left totally to him, although I would be happy to
advise on Dhamma practice. He not only agreed but was happy with this
arrangement. He said that finding the material resources to start building was
beyond his ability, but that if funds became available he would accept all
responsibilities. I told him that something might possibly turn up; however, I
would not go out looking for anything. We would accept anything offered and if
no one brought things, well, that was all right too.
After the Rains Retreat, Nahng Dtim
(of a car spare parts shop) in Vientiane, Por Lee, Maer Pao (Pha) of Koke Soo-ak
Village with Nai Prasop-phon, Khun Nitisahn and relatives (from Udorn-thani)
resolved to come and build us each a hut. Each hut cost about five thousand
baht. (All the huts built here have been built in the Thai Style.)[192] Nahng Nuay built one kuti
in memory of Nahng Boowa- thaew Malai-kong at a cost of ten thousand
baht.[193]
In 1966 lay people from Bangkok
came to visit by boat. The location and surroundings so impressed them that they
helped to raise funds to renovate and to build a large wooden Study Sala
(Sala Karn Parien). It was built in the Thai style with two floors, the
lower story having a veranda on three sides surfaced with concrete. The area of
the top floor was seventeen meters by eleven meters, while that of the ground
floor was nineteen and a half by sixteen meters. It was all finished on the
twentieth of July 1967 at a cost of more than eighty thousand baht. The
actual labor came mostly from the monks and novices themselves. Ven. Kum Pan was
suffering from some eye disease and left for treatment and never returned.
In the same year, the Bangkok
devotees sponsored the building of two more huts, while Nai Sakchai and his
relatives from Pangkhone market, of Pangkhone District in Sakhon Nakorn Province
offered another. Each cost about seven thousand baht while monastery
funds were used to build another four toilets.
In 1968, a reinforced concrete
rainwater storage tank was built behind the Study Sala.[194] It was eleven meters by three
meters with a depth of a hundred and eighty centimeters. It cost fifteen
thousand baht.
In 1969, a two-story kuti was built
on the bank of the Mekong River. ... Another hut was built. ... In 1970, a hut
was built. ... And when a storm blew a tree down onto the western veranda of the
large Study Sala the authorities repaired this at a cost of twenty thousand
baht. This year also saw the building of a reinforced concrete rainwater
tank in the nuns' quarters with dimensions of three by six by two meters. ...
Another reinforced concrete rainwater tank of similar dimensions ... and the
area in front of the large study hall was paved. ... After the Rains Retreat,
thirty student monks from Korat came to receive meditation training for five
days.
In 1971, another hut was built ...
together with another six toilets for the nuns' quarters and two more for
visitors and a place for visitors to stay ... also a reinforced concrete rain
water tank in front of the Uposatha Hall ... costing thirty thousand
baht. These projects were all sponsored through the monastery's funds.
I fell ill around the fifth of July
1971, just before the entry to the Rains Retreat. At first it was influenza with
a bronchial infection -- to which I am susceptible. They sent for the doctor at
the local tobacco estate, but I did not improve. Dr. Tawinsree Amornkraisarakit
-- lady doctor and assistant director of the Nongkhai Provincial Hospital --
with Khun Tawan, the provincial economics officer, brought a car to take me for
treatment in Nongkhai Provincial Hospital. The doctor treated me for five days
but my condition didn't improve. An x-ray showed lung congestion, pleurisy and
pneumonia, with an area of infection. Khun Dtoo Khovinta therefore sent a
telegram about the situation to Prof. Udom Posakrisna in Bangkok.
When Prof. Udom learned about this,
he invited me to go to Bangkok where he would await me at Siriraj Hospital. The
lack of specialist care and equipment in Nongkhai required my travelling to
Bangkok. Thao Kae Kim Kai and Dr. Somsak, the director of Nongkhai Provincial
Hospital, put me on the plane so that they could take me to Siriraj Hospital. I
was a patient there under the specialist care of Prof. Udom with Dr. Thira
Limsila in regular attendance on me.
I received excellent care and
attention from all the doctors. They used suction to bring up a large amount of
fluid from the lungs, and during the first week my condition steadily improved.
By the second week however, I was beginning to have allergic reactions to the
drugs, and then other complications set in. Perhaps this had something to do
with an idiosyncratic unease when staying in large buildings.
As my hospitalization extended so
my condition deteriorated until my breathing became quite shallow and my voice
was reduced to an almost inaudible whisper. The doctors would draw a lot of
fluid from my lungs and the condition would ease a little bit, but my general
feeling of weakness did not improve. I therefore asked the doctors to allow me
to leave the hospital, but they requested that I stay longer. I was not able to
do this, and so asked to be discharged from the hospital on the fifteen of
August 1971.
This was the period when I became
disenchanted with and saw the irksomeness of the body: 'this lump of a body
that had brought illness and trouble to me and others. Of what use was the tiny
amount of food, all that I was able to swallow each day? Better not to eat at
all today.'
I told Mrs. Kantharat' Sapying, who
brought me food every day, please not to bring the food in, for I had decided
not to eat anymore. She wept and went to find Dr. Chavadee Rattapong. Dr.
Chavadee sent for Dr. Rote Suwanasutth' because Prof. Udom's duties had taken
him out to the provinces. I explained to the doctor about my condition, and how
I didn't feel well in such large buildings. Dr. Rote therefore gave me
permission to leave, and arranged a car to take me to stay at Mrs. Kantharat's
house for three days. Before I left Dr. Banyat Paritnyanon' came to examine me
and gave some advice on my treatment.
Dr. Rote and Dr. Chavadee kept in
close contact, bringing me medicine every day, and my condition gradually
improved. Examining within myself I realized that I wasn't going to die quite
yet -- although to other people it might have appeared otherwise. Some
fortunetellers were even predicting that I would certainly die within five days.
When Prof. Ouay Ketusingh' came to visit me, I asked his opinion about returning
to my monastery. He answered by saying the quicker I could return the better.
This was a pleasant surprise since I had already resolved that if I were going
to die, it would be better and more fitting for me, as a true monk, to die in
the monastery.
Thao Kae Kim Kai hired a special
plane to take me back, and it filled up with the monks and lay devotees helping
to see me on my way. We arrived at the airfield in Nongkhai at almost midday.
The Mekong River had just burst its banks and because of the flooding we had to
request help from the N.P.K. (The Mekong River Marine Patrol) who were kind
enough to lend us a boat from Kong Nang Village. This took us to Wat Hin Mark
Peng where we arrived at five o'clock in the evening.
Dr. Chavadee had accompanied me and
taken care of me all the way back to the monastery, and then stayed on to treat
me for another five or six days. When she saw that I was out of danger and
improving she traveled back to Bangkok.
While I was ill, whether in
Nongkhai Provincial Hospital or in Siriraj Hospital, many monks, novices and lay
people -- some known to me and some unknown -- had come together to show me
extraordinary care and concern. This was evident from the throngs that came to
visit me every day while I was in Nongkhai Provincial Hospital. Even more so in
Siriraj Hospital where such great numbers came that the doctors had to forbid
visiting.
Some people who came to visit were
not allowed to see me, so they asked instead to be allowed to bow their respects
from outside my room. This was amazing. So many people came to visit when I was
ill, and yet I hardly knew anyone in Bangkok! Some people who had never seen me
before would come in and then burst into tears, even before they had time to bow
their respects.
I would therefore like to record
here the good will shown by everyone -- my appreciation for everyone's kindness
will always remain with me. This applies especially to those people who came to
visit and help care for me in Wat Hin Mark Peng. Some came back repeatedly, even
though traveling conditions during that time had become so difficult because of
the flooding. It meant journeying by long-tailed boat[195] because all the road links were
cut. This could sometimes take three or four hours so it really does deserve the
utmost appreciation.
As soon as I was back in the
monastery my general condition began steadily to improve. I had eminent and
respected visitors come to call on me. My Rains Retreat[196] however was curtailed because I
had not returned in time.
My illness at that time brought
great benefit to my meditation practice. When I arrived at Nongkhai Provincial
Hospital, my condition was deteriorating so much that I had immediately set
about preparing myself for death. I had resolved to let go, not grasping at
anything. I had instructed myself: "You must leave your body and disease in
the doctor's hands. Ready yourself for death; concentrate your heart; establish
potent mindfulness and investigate your heart to purify it completely".
After that my mind was calm and
peaceful without any disturbances.
When the doctors had come along and
asked how I felt I would answer that I was just fine. Thao Kae Kim Kai had come
and carried me off by plane to Bangkok, and I went along with it. I even went as
far as Siriraj Hospital, where the doctors had asked about my condition and I
had again said that I was 'as good as ever'. However, onlookers might have
thought the opposite. My extended stay in the hospital had its effect when I had
started to find it tiresome and the days and nights seemed to lengthen. I
therefore needed to bring back to mind my original resolution about not holding
back but being willing to let go of everything: "I've already relinquished
all that haven't I? Why then am I involving myself in that sort of thing? It's
all their affair. It has to follow its own course and schedule. My dying though,
is not involved with all that. We each must do our separate duties as best we
can."
My resolution towards letting go
then settled down in the stillness of the present-moment Dhamma
(paccuppanna-dhamma) until there was no feeling of what was day and
what was nighttime. There was only the brightness of the stilled heart, one with
itself. When I later came to examine the state of my body and mind, I realized
that it wasn't yet time for them to disintegrate and pass away. Nevertheless, if
I were to stay in the hospital, there would be continual encounters with
external sense impressions and their defusing would demand the constant
attention of my concentration and wisdom. No way! Better that I go back and
fight them on my own battleground -- (which was the monastery). That was why I
had returned to the monastery, as I have described above.
The year 1972 saw the start of the
construction of the Uposatha Hall. I will give a more detailed account of this
in a future section. At the same time we also built a meeting sala for
the nuns. It was a wooden two-story structure with concrete posts and an
asbestos roof, four meters by nine, with a four meter wide veranda on the ground
floor going all the way around. ... It cost a little over seventy thousand
baht ...
I had helped to relocate the old
school of Koke Soo-ak and Phra Bart villages so that it could be connected up to
the rear of the new building. This new structure had concrete posts and four
classrooms. It cost eighty thousand baht but hadn't been fully completed
through lack of funds. In 1974 I was able to continue the work by joining up the
old and new buildings and partitioning off an office for the head teacher.
Underneath I made a reinforced concrete rainwater tank of seven by six by two
meters.
At the time we were moving the
school I also went to set up another dwelling place for monks in the Wang Nam
Mork Forest. This was about six kilometers to the west of Wat Hin Mark Peng and
still had jungle with mountains, caves and streams. It was therefore ideal for
anyone intent on developing their meditation in solitude, and its natural
environment was also well worth preserving.
A layperson gave about three
rai of land in Lumpini District. When other donations increased the area
to eleven or twelve rai, another place for solitude and practice could be
set up. Wat Lumpini was the equal of Wang Nam Mork -- which I had just
established -- because streams skirted it on all four sides. It was aimed at
those who wished for more solitude, as Wat Hin Mark Peng was becoming less
peaceful.
From about 1974 there seems to have
been a steadily growing interest among the people of Bangkok and Central
Thailand in making contact with the various monasteries in the Northeast. Wat
Hin Mark Peng also became more involved in receiving visitors from Bangkok.
In 1975, Somdet Phra
Ñaa.nasangworn, the present Supreme Patriarch of Thailand, was supporting the
scheme of sending the foreign monks who had been ordained at Wat Bovoranives to
study Dhamma in many different parts of Thailand, and many came here to stay for
the Rains Retreat. They were all well committed to the practice.
My trip to foreign lands this time
received support and assistance from many parties who were concerned with
teaching Dhamma abroad. Besides, I wanted to go and visit both the Thai and
foreign monks living over there. They had gone to spread the Dhamma, and I
wanted to hearten and encourage them.
It struck me as amusing that,
although I was old and had recently been readying myself for death, I found
myself preparing to go abroad. Moreover, I didn't even know their language. In
fact this trip wasn't completely satisfactory for me as I always bear three
things in mind:
If one wants to go to any
particular place or region --
1. One should know their language.
2. One should know their customs
and traditions.
3. One should know about their
livelihood.
This is all concerned with proper
social discourse and communication with people. However, the lack of language
alone makes the other two points almost moot. Notwithstanding this, I still
received ample help with interpretation and liaison from those who were
knowledgeable about such things. This gave me such good understanding that the
language barriers fell away and almost ceased to be a problem.
I well knew that I was already very
old, already advanced in years. Going here and there no longer held any appeal
for me -- I had already traveled around quite widely -- and finding a place to
die like Wat Hin Mark Peng seemed ideal indeed. Then Maer Chee Chuang -- (from
Singapore, who through her faith in Buddhism became a nun, coming to spend the
Rains Retreat at Wat Hin Mark Peng) -- invited me to visit Singapore, Australia
and Indonesia.
She felt with my old age, and the
constant stream of visitors coming to see me in the monastery that I didn't have
enough time to rest. Furthermore, most of my visitors only seemed interested in
asking for lottery numbers.[197] If I were to go away, it might
give me some time to rest. I gave this some consideration and came to the
conclusion that, besides the problems with my language deficiency, my 'strange
face' might provoke the curiosity of the crowds over there. What sort of rest
would that be!
Of more important was that I should
clearly consider all possible contingencies. I was elderly and had come to be
considered quite a popular figure so that any mishap, or my illness or death,
might cause difficulties for other people. This would especially bring criticism
down on the one who had made the original invitation, that, "they had taken me
away but not looked after me". Even so, she kept up with her efforts aimed at
inviting me. These were bolstered when her elder brother -- who helped lead the
Buddhist Society in Perth, Western Australia -- sent a letter inviting me to go
and visit the Buddhists there.
After due consideration, I came to
the conclusion that this time there were three good reasons to accept the
invitation:
The first reason concerned the lack
of senior monks in Indonesia, which, with a population of more than a hundred
and thirty million, had ten million Buddhists living among Muslims and Hindus.
When someone mentioned this to me, it made me feel really compassionate towards
them all. I was also delighted to learn that they liked to meditate. (Every
religion in which there is worship of a deity, requires the devotee to sit in
peace of heart and focus on the divine being.)
The second reason arose because of
the many monks from Indonesia and Australia who had come to ordain with Somdet
Phra Ñaa.nasangworn -- the present Supreme Patriarch of Thailand -- in Wat
Bovoranives. Before the beginning of that year's Rains Retreat, the English-born
Ven. Dorn (Donald Riches) had taken tapes of my Dhamma talks and photographs to
show in Australia. Once he knew that I was going with a party to Australia, his
preparations to receive us caused some people to become quite excited at the
prospect. There was also a senior Thai monk, Ven. Phra Bunyarit' Pa.n.dito,
already living and teaching there. This monk had done much to propagate Buddhism
in Australia and had inspired many to come and ordain in Thailand.
The third reason came from my
reflection that, in the future, Buddhism would be spreading to many other
countries. It might come to be disseminated following the Christian
missionizing[198] model, where Thai monks might go
out and only spread the superficialities of Buddhism. Whereas if individuals
from the country concerned came to be ordained, they could be trained truly to
penetrate to the inner core of Buddhism. They could then spread the genuine
Teaching themselves for that's the only way to penetrate to the essential.
One Indonesian monk, Ven. Sudhammo,
who had been ordained at Wat Bovoranives under Somdet Phra Ñaa.nasangworn, had
then come to spend the preceding Rains Retreat (of 1976) at Wat Hin Mark Peng.
He was exactly the sort of monk who would be able to spread Buddhism -- and he
was in Indonesia, awaiting my visit there.
After considering all three reasons
for going, I made up my mind: 'In whatever way I can, may the remainder of
this life be dedicated to the advancement of Buddhism'. This decision
allowed me increasingly to see the possible value of my life, and caused me to
give up personal comfort for Buddhism.
I had, in fact, previously received
invitations from various individuals and groups in Bangkok to make a pilgrimage
to the Buddhist holy places in India. They offered to look after me and take
care of my needs in every way, but I had never accepted. To find the inspiration
to go, I had often tried to imagine what such a trip would be like, but my heart
always remained indifferent to the idea.
I reflected that India had been the
birthplace of Buddhism, and that although I may have missed the chance to be
born in time to meet the Lord Buddha, and the age when Buddhism was flourishing,
the Holy Places were still there. I should therefore go and pay my respects so
that I could gain inspiration, understanding and empathy -- yet my heart
remained indifferent to the idea. Perhaps this apathy arose from a previous
birth as I might have been born as a Buddhist monk in India when the Hindus were
suppressing the monks and the holy places.[199] Perhaps this had been so traumatic
an experience that it was deterring me from going to India in this life.
Whoever has the faith and
opportunity to go on pilgrimage to the Four Holy Places[200] will gain great merit. The Lord
Buddha spoke about this to Venerable Ananda: "These four holy places will be
a great source of merit for people after I have finally passed away".
I lack the merit to go there, so I
can only esteem and commend them. Anyhow, I would like to take this opportunity
to remark how indebted I feel towards the people of India because their soil was
the birthplace of Buddhism.
Before setting out for foreign
lands I went to stay at Air Force Lt. General Payom Yensootjai's garden abode
for monks in Dorn Muang. Every night, more and more people were attracted to
come and listen to Dhamma and sit in meditation. I feel that the present day
citizens of Bangkok,[201] City of Angels, are more aware of
their situation: 'Though born in a heavenly city, as the worldly description
has it, we remain very much human beings struggling and stuck in the 'rat race'
-- the common lot of human beings everywhere'. So perhaps we will want to
transform ourselves into true spiritual beings knowing that angels born in
heaven don't have the same opportunity for skilful and generous actions as we do
in this human realm. When such angels have exhausted their store of merit made
in their previous human life times, they return to birth in the human realm.
Sometimes even this is not certain and they may be born in the lower realms
(Apaaya). It is different for the Noble Disciple -- for instance, the
Stream-enterer[202] -- who after death is assured of
not being born into any woeful existence.
I am just an old monk and I was
born in a place with inadequate educational opportunities. On occasion, they
have invited me to give Dhamma instruction to highly educated people, and at
first I felt quite reticent and embarrassed about it. This does however fit in
with the Buddhist principles of not discriminating because of caste or class.
Assessment should be based on right
knowledge and good conduct. When a knowledgeable person turns to evil ways, he
or she is liable to cause more strife and trouble to the country than the
uninformed person who does the same thing. An ignoramus who doesn't do evil is
better than a learned man who uses his knowledge for evil means. People may have
only limited knowledge, but if they employ it in trying to develop goodness, it
will bring advancement to all -- from the immediate group right through to the
national level.
Such considerations gave me more
self-confidence about teaching, knowing that the more educated my listeners the
easier they should be able to understand. The Lord Buddha's Dhamma Teaching
points towards knowing the nature of things, and this can fit in with the latest
ideas of science.
Good scholars should only explore
and enquire for knowledge that is concerned with weighty, significant issues
that may lead to the enrichment of peoples' lives. They shouldn't be aiming for
knowledge to increase their social position or status. For instance, teachers
nowadays can educate their pupils to high levels so that they in turn may take
that knowledge and teach other teachers. On the other hand, there are bad pupils
who, spotting the teacher's trifling mistake or having a difference of opinions
with them, work to have their teacher dismissed. They use their teacher's
services, and then plot together to force him or her out, and even think it an
honorable and admirable thing to have done. This then becomes an era for the
development of corruption and wickedness and that can only lead to decline.
Our party included Ven. Steven,
Ven. Chai Charn, Dr. Chavadee and Maer Chee Chuang. We set out from Bangkok on
the seventh of November 1976, reaching Singapore the same day where a welcoming
party of devotees received us and showed us all of the city.
Singapore is a small island. It is
only thirty kilometers long by twenty-five kilometers wide and with slightly
more than three million people on the main and smaller surrounding islands it is
densely populated. They have therefore built blocks of flats of ten, twenty or
more floors to utilize all available space. Seeing all these high-rise apartment
buildings we might imagine all Singaporeans to be rich but in truth they are
just the same as in any other country of the world. There are quite ordinary
houses with tin roofs or even thatch, just as there are in our villages.
As long as all human beings have
defilements of greed, aversion and delusion, every sort of contrast and variety
will continue to exist. Although each country's government aims and strives to
attain equality, achieving it must remain impossible. I don't know of a single
country that has been successful. Regimes that employ communist ideology give
out propaganda that all their citizens are prosperous, trouble free and equal.
Why then should their people try to sneak away and escape from such a so-called
'promised land'? Why? Because our human defilements are too deeply
entrenched![203]
The Lord Buddha continually taught
about this, saying that one should have sympathy and pity for one's fellow
creatures, always wishing them well through mutual harmony. Everyone wishes
this. Yet when one comes to act on the principle, the defilements insidiously
veil and cover it up so that one forgets and falls once again for the old
delusions. ...
Singapore[204] had wide roads sufficient for its
traffic needs, and their drivers kept to the Highway Code -- they didn't drive
in a selfish way. There were no traffic policemen at the crossroad and
intersections, with traffic lights standing in their place. The roads were swept
clean, few people were milling about and the shops had plate glass frontages to
keep out the dust.
Besides the tall blocks of flats,
the ordinary houses were also all set out in a very orderly, pleasing fashion.
Between the houses and along the roadsides were shady trees -- all very pleasant
and worth seeing. When there was sufficient space between houses -- whether it
was in the central or outer suburbs -- they planted it as a public park,
sometimes big and sometimes small, where people could go to sit and relax. The
beaches were planted with trees and provided with proper car parking. They liked
to plant beautiful varieties of flowers all over the place. Their soil was good,
and their climate was blessed with frequent rain that kept their flowers and
bushes always green and flourishing.
Although Singapore might be a
small, heavily populated island, don't imagine that it lacks jungle. There were
conservation areas even in the midst of the city, for an awareness of their
scarce resources made them take especially good care of such things. Singapore
seemed higher above sea level than Bangkok, and therefore didn't flood so easily
and could be more easily kept clean. The inhabitants also conscientiously upheld
the laws and regulations.
Whatever the outer circumstances,
we shouldn't lose sight of our condition. Our birth was messy and then we
continually associate with both external and internal impurities. We bathe and
shower and in no time are dirty again. This only concludes with the corruption
and putrefaction of death. If these are the underlying conditions, where can we
find a place that is clean? It is only possible when all the individuals of a
group come together in mutual understanding about the truth. They can then help
each other -- according to their various responsibilities -- to uphold the
cleanliness. How can we each safeguard this inner cleanliness? Well, we can
start by watching over and securing the cleanliness in what is around us.
For any society to prosper and
flourish it requires these four conditions:
1. The land and terrain are
favorable to the people living there.
2. The leaders and government who
lay down the laws are just, being neither too slack nor too oppressive towards
the populace.
3. All the populace helps in
keeping and respecting the laws of the land.
4. The bureaucrats and officials
are just and honest.
A society enjoying all four
conditions will have full prosperity. A deficiency in one of them means that any
prosperity will remain incomplete.
It's out of the question that
Bangkok can be made as clean as Singapore because its location is not favorable.
It is sinking below sea level -- so don't let anyone pretend they can fix
Bangkok's problems, as is vacuously claimed in the newspapers. The best way is
that we uphold purity in our own lives and responsibilities. Please don't be so
negligent and selfish about your affairs. Hurling abuse at each other over
trivial mistakes tarnishes one's behavior and manners, forfeiting all culture
and refinement as if one were a completely ignorant person.
I taught Dhamma and meditation
every night of the ten nights that our party remained in Singapore. The meetings
would not last more than three hours, with each night between twenty and thirty
Singaporeans coming for training.
This teaching of Dhamma was really
nothing more than a pointing out of the afflictions and flaws of the worldly
life. Anyone capable of seeing the harmful nature of the world can also see
Dhamma, because the world and Dhamma are interrelated and interconnected.
Whenever I explained Dhamma, the problems of the world always became highlighted
on every side. These problems are the same the world over and can be summarized
into three issues:
1. Problems concerning family and
livelihood.
2. Problems about looking for
inspiration.
3. Problems about overcoming and
transcending suffering.
It's not surprising that problems
of this first category should arise. When there is a world there must also be
world-shattering problems. If we fasten something ourselves, we must also be
able to untie it! Who else can do it? Unless that is, someone could help by
explaining the means of disentanglement.
The fish hooks itself because it
mis-takes the angler's camouflaged bait. It hungrily snaps it up but when
the hook catches there is no more eating, only pain and suffering. This is how
desire leads to suffering. I offer you this consideration: Make do
without. Once the hook catches, the more we struggle, the more we intensify
the pain. We then become full of remorse and feel sorry for ourselves because of
what we are suffering. Yet it all originated in our own fatal error. All we can
do is wait for the lucky fisherman to take us away for his evening meal.
With the second issue, as long as
we still have hopes and dreams we will have to struggle all the way, until every
exit has been tried and failed. The manner of the untrained heart is like that
of a newly caught wild animal. However much it might stamp and paw the ground,
provided that its bindings remain firm and unbroken, it will eventually tire and
become still, knowing when it is beaten. We human beings are much the same. When
our wishes don't find fulfillment in the object of affection, our heart's
contentment is stilled. That is how one knows where one's heart is going for
refuge. It is going out to find pleasure in external objects that are only able
to provide a superficial, false sort of happiness.
True happiness is that of the quiet
and serene mind, without struggle. This will be the experience of anyone who
discovers the point of true happiness. Their heart will continue to abide in
happiness irrespective of their posture or activity. Although anyone lacking
such realization won't be able to appreciate such a possibility -- it will be
totally beyond his or her comprehension.[205]
Concerning the third issue, I
taught them to review and go over the first two points until they perceived,
that apart from the stilled heart, every other kind of happiness was temporary
and false. I then instructed them to be diligent in cultivating and developing
that happiness, and to continue their analysis until they became skilled. When
adept, they would be able to abide as their heart wished, whatever conditions
they were subjected to, for with this accomplishment one may abide in freedom
either in happiness or pain.
From what I heard from the
Singaporeans, it seems that they are blessed with virtuous views and opinions.
They realized the peril of birth in this world, seeing that this existence is
unauthentic and full of deception. I had no idea that the people of Singapore
would be so knowledgeable about the basic principles of the Lord Buddha's
Teaching. ... When they received the genuine Buddhist Teaching, all their
previous beliefs seemed to disappear, so that only the essential Dhamma Truth
prevailed.
It was admirable how they showed
their joy and firm conviction in their understanding of Dhamma. Amazingly, some
people seemed instinctively to be keeping the Five Precepts, and practicing
samadhi meditation so that insight-knowledge could arise about themselves and
others.
We flew out of Singapore for
Australia on the seventeenth of November. Our point of entry was Perth and after
stopping over there, we carried on to Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. These were
all big cities where there was much interest in Buddhism. If there was a local
Buddhist society, they would invite me to teach Dhamma. Whether they were Thai,
Lao, Burmese, Sri Lankan or Caucasian, they all gave me an outstanding welcome.
All in our party wish to express our great appreciation for this help.
While I was in Perth, a
swami came to visit. By a swami I mean one ordained in Hinduism who wears
robes in colour and shape similar to a 'Tibetan monk'. He described himself as a
Hindu Lama. Hinduism has many sects, with many deities -- it allows one to
worship any of them, provided it's remembered that they all originate from one
deity. (That is the deity that was supposed to have created the world and who
has no material body.)
This swami had already been
ordained for forty-five years and was seventy-six years old. He was already
waiting for me in the reception room and when he saw me he immediately raised
his palms together in añjali and gave a friendly welcome. I reciprocated,
with words of greeting, and we established a friendly rapport, so that I could
ask about his religion and its particular way of practice. He said that he was a
head swami-lama who taught Hinduism and that his family was Hindu. He was a
devout and dedicated Hindu who had ordained while still a youngster, and had
once gone to find the Mahayana monks in Tibet.
Another swami came but he was an
ordinary layperson, and unlike the first one wasn't ordained. He was eighty-one
years old but his whole appearance was delightful -- his complexion and constant
smile made him look more like a sixty-one-year-old. He was already waiting for
me, and when I came in, he lifted his hands in añjali as the first swami
had done. He told me that as soon as he saw me he felt great
loving-kindness for me. (Our way of putting it would be that he had a
'feeling of great respect'.)
After words of welcome I first
asked about his religion, just as I had done with the first swami. I begged his
pardon[206] before making my enquiries, but he
said there was no need because our dhammas were equivalent. (What he meant by
this will now be explained.)
He said that he didn't adhere to
any religion because: "This world only has one deity". The Teachings of
every religion derive from the one deity -- (namely Brahma) -- and when
one's action was right and good, then one touched the original deity. He told me
that he had studied yoga in India with six different teachers, and that they had
taught him many techniques. Some examples he gave were the yoga postures,
fasting and controlling the breathing. (This shows that these techniques, which
had been in existence before the Lord Buddha's time, are still extant today.) He
possessed great knowledge and ability concerning Hinduism, and had given up
everything (-- he had no family). This was why the Hindu devotees referred to
him as swami.
Our discussions together were
harmonious and well-received by all -- Ven. Steven acted as interpreter -- and
as they were about to depart, they asked permission to bow at my feet for their
blessing and good fortune. (It seemed like they had elevated me like some
deity!) This caused me some embarrassment because they themselves were so aged,
worthy and virtuous. I therefore told them there was no need to bow for our
dhammas 'being equal' was already blessing enough. As they left, they kept
turning around to face me and making añjali repeatedly, clearly showing
their respect.
Although one swami was ordained and
the other wasn't, they explained their path to the deity in the same way for
they were both Hindus. I had asked them about their techniques for reaching the
deity and their response had been the same.
The first swami told me about
slowly repeating the mantra word 'Om' two or three times and evoking the
deity in the heart. He said: "By the heart recollecting the deity, it would
manifest as different images in the heart. The deity would then teach knowledge
about right and wrong[207] ... doing good and spurning evil
... sometimes there would be only a voice rather than an image".
(According to Buddhist principles
this would be ruupa-jhaana.[208] "One who sees Dhamma, sees
me"[209] ... Dhamma is the Great Teacher
continually pointing out the right way to proceed, and how to avoid going
wrong.)
"The deity would then disappear
leaving a state of emptiness, and this is reaching the Lord Nirandorn."[210]
(This is the aruupa-jhaana[211] that was the state cultivated by
the hermits A.laara and Uddaka, when Prince Siddhattha left the
palace to study with them. He eventually saw that because they were still
attached to those meditation states their way could not lead to the ending of
suffering.[212] "Puññapaapaani pahiyati"
... Only after abandoning both good and evil can one go beyond suffering, he
then left them to try the way of harsh asceticism [before finding the Middle
Way].)
The second, un-ordained swami
explained in much the same way, but he didn't refer to a mantra. Perhaps this
was a secret of his sect that he didn't want to reveal. However, I do think he
used a mantra in the same way as the first because they were of the same sect.
He simply said that when one reached the deity, it might manifest as various
images, or as a voice that would teach one. He did not speak about the emptiness
that remained after such visions and voices had disappeared, about having
reached the Lord Nirandorn.
Those of you who are engaged with
all the religions, are you finding this absorbing and enjoyable? What do I mean?
Well, I will try to explain and ask your indulgence for my ideas because I have
never had opportunity to research the scriptures of any religion other than
Buddhism.
They say that one needs a firm
faith that the deity exists, although they cannot see the deity's body. After
putting faith in the deity, one opens up to, or one inclines the heart to rest
in the deity, at which point the deity manifests for one to see. It is similar
to this in Mahayana Buddhism.
In Theravada or Hinyaya Buddhism,
the Lord Buddha does have a body, which is that of Prince Siddhartha of the
Sakyans. He went forth into the homeless life and with great exertion
comprehensively cleansed all impurities and defilements from the heart. He
realized Buddhahood through perfecting all the Dhamma virtues.
However it was not merely the body
of Phra Siddhartha that became the Lord Buddha. When one has faith and trust in
the virtuous qualities of the Lord Buddha, one can receive them into the heart,
or incline one's heart out to rest in those wholesome qualities until it becomes
fully and firmly established in one-pointed ness (ekaggataarama.na).
Various images or sounds can arise in such a state and according to the creed of
the formless deity, this state would be 'one with the deity', and it would
manifest to teach one.
The Buddhist Teaching would
maintain that such manifestations were images or visions -- nimitta --
arising out of meditation, and the sounds would be the clarifying voice of
Dhamma. Dhamma -- being itself without form -- would need to manifest in this
way to accommodate to people with bodies.
In summary, every religion or sect
teaches its adherents to abandon evil and do good, to receive the virtuous
qualities of its deity into their heart, or to give their heart to the deity.
The way to reach the deity is the same for each religion. However, when a
particular religion's devotees don't understand the truth, mistaken assumptions
can arise. They may think that because another religion practices in a different
way it is wrong and that only their way is correct. They propagandize and
criticize and stir things up so that they can become pre-eminent with an
increasing number of adherents. This is not what a Good Teacher with Dhamma
would have taught, and sages would view such ideas with a dubious eye. Those who
practice should find this relationship -- between meditative visions and coming
in touch with the deity -- as something worth investigating.
During my trip to Australia I was
not only able to teach Dhamma to anyone interested but could also exchange views
with other monks. This was especially so with Ven. Mahaa Samai who had been sent
out by Mahamakut Monastic College to take up residence at Wat Buddharangsee in
Sydney.
Although Ven. Mahaa Samai was
originally from Champahsak in Laos, he had gone to stay at Wat Sapatoom in
Bangkok while still a boy. He had received novice and Bhikkhu ordination and
passed his grade five Pali examinations from Mahamakut Monastic College, Wat
Bovoranives. In 1959 he went to teach general studies for a year in Wat
Bodhisomphorn, Udorn-thani and then volunteered to go and spread Dhamma in
Australia. He had been there for two years -- being part of the second party
that followed after Ven. Chao Khun Pariyat' -- and was the first monk to stay at
the new Wat Buddharangsee. At the time of writing [1976] he has been a monk for
thirteen years and is a courteous, model monk worthy of respect.
Ven. Mahaa Samai could be
considered a representative of the Thai Sangha who wished to spread Buddhism to
Australasia, for no Theravada monks had ever been resident there before. The
local people were basically Christian and this was to be the first Theravada
monastery with monks.
People today all over the world are
better educated, especially about a science that is based on investigating the
actual truth of things. Christianity teaches reliance on faith and disallows
critical analysis of the teachings of one's faith. This conflicts with modern
scientific principles, and a pope once even punished someone whose calculations
pointed to a spherical world system. Finally however, everyone -- including the
later popes -- has accepted and used that theory right up to today.
Buddhist Teaching gives complete
freedom to investigate anything -- even the Buddhist Teachings themselves. This
is because the principles on which Buddhism is based are far higher than those
of science. It doesn't just examine and analyze material things, but is able to
detect the underlying truth of mental phenomena. After penetrating through with
insight, the realized truth is used solely for the peace and benefit of oneself
and others, without causing harm to anyone. Some people can apply it so that
they are able to go beyond the world -- for example the Lord Buddha and the
arahants.
It's such a pity that although
modern people receive a superior education, most of them consider just finishing
their course work and securing a degree to be enough. It may not have even
crossed the minds of some people that the textbooks that formed the basis of
their course had originated in someone else's understanding -- which contained
more than they were able to read in their books. Their learning is not something
original to their own understanding because true knowledge can only come through
individual experience.
The Buddhist Teaching calls this
'paccatta.m' -- clearly seeing or knowing for oneself -- and it
arises from the strength of the cultivated mind that has attained to stillness
and calm, bringing insight and self-transformation. This is a genuine change
from one's old nature to the true condition that is in line with the Buddhist
Noble Truths.
Anyone aiming for clear insight
into the truth of Buddhism needs to combine learning with practice. One or
another alone is not enough. In this time of advanced education, it becomes
necessary for anyone propagating Buddhism to have trained themselves in both
ways. Any deficiency in this, and the results will not be as good as might have
been expected.
My further advice to Ven. Mahaa
Samai was that he should propagate the whole package. By this, I mean that
besides fully keeping the Patimokkha Rule -- the small size of the group
precluded study classes -- the other duties and practices should be maintained.
For instance, the dhutanga practices -- these include the going out on
alms round which should also help reduce kitchen expenditures.
The spreading of Buddhism needs
study together with practice so that it can put down roots that will endure.
Ven. Mahaa Samai and all the monks agreed with all my advice, and decided to
carry out such a plan in the future.
I suggested to Ven. Mahaa Samai
that there are three criticisms that are most common concerning the spreading of
Buddhism in other countries:
1. The monks taking advantage of the lay community by not working but only begging for things.
2. Theravada Sect monks, unlike the other
religions and sects, being 'selfish' and only concerned about themselves without
helping others in need or distress.
3. Theravada monks who, though they forbid
the killing of animals, still eat meat.
Anyone going out to spread Buddhism will be
certain to encounter these criticisms so I advised Ven. Mahaa Samai to prepare
suitable replies and explanations. He could then answer instantly any of these
criticisms.
An even more dangerous hazard is
that those who go to spread Buddhism are unfamiliar with the local ways and
customs. This may cause offence during interactions with the local residents and
can lead to discouragement and disillusionment, or it may cause one to forget
oneself and be lured away to join in the fun of 'going native'.
As we all know, the history of
Australia describes how it had been a wild place with its peoples undeveloped
... and how Britain had got rid of its convicts and gangsters by transporting
them there. ... Eventually the new people organized themselves and energetically
developed agriculture and then supplied raw materials to the expanding
industries of the world. ... Until it’s present prosperity was established. ...
Australia is endowed with many natural mineral resources and an enormous land
area, although its population is only thirteen million. ... They don't just sit
back enjoying their prosperity but try to develop it even further.
Let's turn to have a close look at
this Thai City of Angels of ours. If we go into town, we cannot see a
single 'angel' for its streets are crowded with loafers and layabouts. People
haven't 'developed', nor do they know what that means. They mistakenly think
that when something is finished there will be no need for any more work in the
future. Children are delighted when they become teenagers. It's only when they
become old that they realize it was just a stage on the way to old age.
Materials have to be removed and
lost from somewhere in order for them to be brought to construct the
well-planned and attractive city with its traffic system. It just shows how they
take things from here to improve things over there. We come to growth because of
food, and yet that involves destroying the lives of other animals and crops.
Going along our way, we are only concerned with getting to our destination and
have no thought that the base and origin from which we set forth is being left
far behind, step following step. Don't just look ahead with your 'front-facing
eyes' but also use wisdom to check behind. The truth that will free us from
careless delusions and bring us to the Noble Truths of the Lord Buddha's
Teachings can then be seen.
From Australia we went back to
Singapore and on the twenty-fourth of December 1976, continued on to Indonesia.
All the people I knew seemed to be there -- Ven. Chao Khun Suviirañaa.n', Ven.
Phra Khru Dhammadhornsombat', Ven. Sudhammo, Ven. Aggapaalo and Ven. Khemiyo.
They all had gathered to await me at Jakarta airport with members of the local
Buddhist Society. I had the opportunity to visit other places besides Jakarta,
for example Bandung, Jogjakarta, Mendut, Samarang, Surabaya and Bali.
I visited Buddhist Societies and
the Buddhist monasteries that our Dhammaduuta monks coming from Thailand
to spread Buddhism had established. Ven. Chao Khun Vidhoondhammaaporn' was the
head of the organization that had built monasteries that included Wat
Majjhimasaasanawong' that adjoined the Mendut Chedi, Wat Dhammapadiipaaraam' in
Badoo, Malang and Surabaya. I viewed each site with delight and noted that the
local Buddhists, women and men, young and old, would without fail come every
evening to chant their devotions. Afterwards there would be a sermon from a monk
who would then lead them in meditation.
Going around Indonesia I saw
venerable sites and objects that had the features of a syncretic religion. I
couldn't help but feel saddened by this and reflect on the situation in
Thailand. Who can deny the great value of memorials and venerable sites -- one
only has to look at Indonesia. All the monks and scriptures have disappeared, we
cannot even say when it happened, but anyhow their sacred sites remain for the
minority Buddhists.
My thoughts went back to Thailand
with its immense wealth of religious objects and sacred Buddhist sites, more
numerous even than in Indonesia. However many immense and amazing monuments
Indonesia may have, they can't compare with the beauty of our Shrines and
Uposatha Halls. Nowhere else in the world are there such inspiring and worthy
sites. I am absolutely convinced that if only the Thai people were to study and
come to a true understanding of Buddhism, their correct practice would make it
impossible for other sects and ideologies to overwhelm and obliterate Buddhism
from Thailand.
Ven. Chao Khun Suviirañaa.n', Ven.
Phra Khru Dhammadhornsombat' and Ven. Sudhammo were our guides throughout our
tour of Indonesia and they looked after us very well. Although Ven. Chao Khun
Vidhoondhammaaporn' was away in Bangkok, it became obvious to me how greatly
they respected him there, for even small children knew of him when his name was
mentioned. This gives me trust in his devotion the sacrifices he's made for the
Buddhist Teachings, which make him an important asset for Somdet Phra
Ñaa.nasangworn, the present Supreme Patriarch of Thailand.
Many centuries have passed since
the first Thai delegation of monks went to spread Buddhism overseas. This
present endeavor in Indonesia seems to me to be the most effective and fruitful
since Ven. Chao Khun Phra Upali of the Ayutthaya[213] period led a group of fifteen
monks to help re-establish Buddhism in Sri Lanka. ... It is a shame that there
are so few capable monks for they are a great boon to Buddhism and to the
international community, for nowadays they are much in demand. "When the
giver has something in demand, shouldn't he give it to those in need?" Or is
it that the Thai Sangha that numbers tens of thousands of monks is so
impoverished that it doesn't have anything to offer them!
At this time, some of the people of
Indonesia are finding inspiration again in Buddhism and ... totally dedicating
themselves to it. ... Even when the monks had been unable to visit, they had
formed themselves into Buddhist Societies, and they were all certain that the
Buddhist revival would continue into the future ... in accordance with a
five-hundred-year-old legend.
May all revered and worthy monks
spread their loving-kindness towards Indonesia, to reverence the Buddhist
religion and recollect the great compassion of the Lord Buddha.
After traveling around these
various countries -- Australia, Indonesia and going through Singapore three
times -- we arrived back in Bangkok on the 24th of January 1977. We had been
away for a little over two months. Although this may seem a short period, I
certainly found it to be much more valuable than I had expected.
Quite a few people in Singapore and
Australia had shown a genuine interest in studying Dhamma. This was most evident
in Indonesia where their enthusiasm and earnestness had grown even more
following the teaching I had been able to give. After going and witnessing this
for myself, I had to feel sympathetic towards them. Though they have few
teachers, they manage for the most part to continue with the practice.
I have written about these
teachings in Dhamma Questions and Answers from Abroad, while a more
detailed description of our journey is found in An Account of Traveling
Abroad. Anyone interested can read about it in these publications.[214]
The durian fruit[215] is thick skinned and has sharp
prickles to protect its inner flesh. Whoever wants to eat it must carefully turn
it around to find the seam between the segments and split it open along that
line. You have probably partaken of this choice fruit and know its delicious
flavor. What is there in this world that is impeccably good and right in its
every aspect? The art of knowing how to get at the good part of the durian fruit
is similar to wise people who know how to train themselves and practice so as to
develop flawless virtue.
Among human beings of every gender,
age group, race or tongue -- and this extends to the animal kingdom -- you
probably won't find even one who doesn't admit to desiring their own happiness
while abhorring suffering. It is because of these two conditions that all the
sentient beings of the world struggle to find a way out of their loathed
suffering and attain to the state of happiness that they desire.
This struggle sometimes becomes
apparent in the striving for development and progress. Although this development
may seem to be a logical advance, with proper inspection, one will find that it
is a very one-sided progress. The other side being a fall into degeneration and
retrogression. The experience of suffering is of enormous value on the road to
progress and development -- (it gives the impetus to increasing cleverness so
that one can survive). Yet at the same time, and in manifold ways, one brings
more turmoil and distress into the world.
I had never gone abroad before,
except when I had gone for morning alms round by boat, paddling across the River
Mekong to the Laotian city of Vientiane, and then returning to my monastery. Yet
here I was, with one foot in the grave, going away with people on an overseas
trip. I can't say that I saw anything worth getting excited about, other than
seeing how the people and animals live in each country. Conditions were
basically identical to what I already knew in Thailand and Laos, except the
minor differences arising from local preferences.
All countries are in agreement on
the one essential issue -- an abhorrence of suffering and the struggle to
overcome it. Thus the situation is that neither we nor any other creature wish
to suffer; yet we are born encircled by these two conditions. We therefore need
to reflect on how we should proceed with our lives regarding the three things
that I will explain below. Each of us must live in a right, moral, Dhamma way.
The results of misunderstanding this and going astray will not just entail
failure to achieve happiness for oneself and others, but will also multiply the
suffering and turmoil for both oneself and others.
Whether they are influential,
intelligent and knowledgeable, whether they are wealthy or poor, they all come
up with the same excuses when talking about the virtues of Dhamma and its moral
restraint. "I did it because of social pressure. It was what they expected of
me." Recognize the fact that society is corrupt, and start to question your
own role in it -- why shouldn't each of us be able to help in correcting things?
Why shouldn't we be able to counter the bad influences and develop a good and
beneficial society?
Family. Society. Livelihood. These
three things will advance smoothly in an orderly peaceful way if their
development accords with the Dhamma principles for lay people (the
Gihipa.tipatti),[216] as set down by the Lord Buddha. A
lack of harmonization will cause one's way of life to become worthless and it
will only bring conflict. It is Dhamma with virtue that guides the world to
happiness. The development of any nation, ideology or system -- whether it is of
material or administrative progress -- that is deficient in such Dhamma virtue
won't bring complete happiness to the heart. Dhamma requires that each person
withdraws from bad conduct and becomes fearful about initiating corrupt behavior
together. This is the true and supreme progress for the family, for society, for
the advancement of the standard of living and for the nation as a whole.
My journey was facilitated in every
way by the management -- especially Air Force Lt. General Choo and Khun Supharp
Sutthichot' -- and staff of Thai International Airways. ... They helped arrange
my passport and visas, and all along the way gave me exceptional assistance. ...
I must give a special mention to Khun Sutthiphon Kansut and his wife (Khun Dtik)
who arranged so much for us in Jakarta, with air tickets and accompanying me
safely to Singapore and later Indonesia. So my special thanks to everyone who
helped our party. ...
Approximately two months after our
return, the lay people in Singapore invited me to go back to see whether there
was a suitable site to build a monastery, as a center for teaching meditation. I
went, but although we looked at about ten different sites, none of them seemed
suitable. In one way this was a good thing, for if we had indeed built a
monastery, the taking care of it would have become an extra burden for me.
The bodily aggregate is the
endlessly turning wheel of birth and death.[217] The heart of one without training
must also spin with it, while anyone who has practiced will grow tired and weary
of the whole affair. My body had been like this when, in 1964, I had left our
group in Phuket. Even when I was sitting quietly, my voice had become so dried
out and hoarse that I could no longer speak.
It happened again when some newly
ordained monks -- (medical students[218] from Siriraj Hospital) -- came to
train under me. Straight after they had left, my old symptoms returned and I
came down with various minor complaints. My voice was left hoarse and weak, and
it has never been the same since. Dr. Rote invited me to go to Siriraj Hospital
in Bangkok for a general medical examination. The tests there found no
particular disease except the illness of old age -- this is the nature of the
cycle of birth and death. This is what befalls all bodily and mental phenomena
and only the circumstances will differ.
Thinking back over those
twenty-seven years that I have been in Wat Hin Mark Peng -- what a long time it
seems! If one were a layperson that would be more than enough time to establish
a comfortable position and standard of living. Being an elderly monk, I take
care of the monastery, which is the normal role for old monks everywhere. I can
no longer get around as I once could, and even if I were able to go, there is no
forest left for tudong wandering like in the old days. They have cut it
all down.
The number of devotees[219] also seems to be multiplying daily
and wherever I go, more 'children' appear -- born from the word rather than the
womb. They have trailed after me ever since 1978, when Air Force General Harin
Hongsakun invited me to go into the solitude of Orb Luang, Jormtong District of
Chiang Mai Province. A crowd of people trailed after me, and instead of being
able to cut down on food and bodily comforts, and get down to meditation --the
opposite occurred. They provided a banquet, with cushions and a luxurious bed on
which to sleep.
When the Four Requisites of
clothing, food, shelter and medicine become extravagant and overabundant, they
can become an obstacle to the development of the beginner's meditation. A very
wealthy and affluent monastery will tend towards dissension and disharmony, and
its Dhamma study will not progress, as it should. It is the same with the
everyday world where an excess of wealth and affluence can become a threat to
the whole community. The leaders and officials become corrupt and swindle the
public and government, plundering the country and dividing the spoils.
Contention arises among them when their vested interests don't agree. Any
influential merchant or citizen who gets in their way is killed and so countless
deaths occur. This is why the Lord Buddha said:
"Sakkaaro kaapurisa.m
hanti" -- "Power and
influence destroy men of inferior wisdom."
The longer one stays in the same
place, the more roots are put down. Lay devotees come to the monastery and
notice features that aren't quite perfect or beautiful enough, which inspires
them to build more permanent replacement structures that are more attractively
designed.
These beautiful buildings then need
looking after, for not to do so would be an offence against the monks'
Discipline. Need one ask who the caretaker is? It's this old monk of course.
Teaching and training all the monks and novices who come here how to sit, to lie
down, to eat, to go on alms round and all the various duties and obligations,
including study requirements -- this all falls on the shoulders of this old
monk. They give one the title of senior incumbent and that seems quite
fitting as one is truly encumbered. This though is unavoidable and one
has to do one's best with the situation until the end of one's life.
I called to mind my teachers and
the great masters of the past, the Lord Buddha being the prime example and how
they led and guided the Teaching. The thought arose that I too had managed, step
by step, to help guide this development along. My birth as a human being had not
been wasted. Furthermore, I had ordained as a Buddhist monk and had fulfilled my
obligations.
Whenever people paid respect or
made offerings to me, I always thought: 'what are they venerating? They and I
are identical -- in that we are all conglomerations of the elements of earth,
water, fire and air. They must at least be honoring the saffron robe which is
the emblem and banner of the arahants. Such faith sustains the religion, and
although conviction from within may be half-hearted, they have trust in what has
been passed down to them'.
I am fully aware of the immense
virtue and value of Buddhism. Since my going forth and ordination, it has
supported and nurtured me towards becoming a good and virtuous person. The
Teaching has never led me to commit the slightest immoral deed.
Yet even so, we are always
resisting and being recalcitrant towards it and continuing our evil ways. Our
dwelling and sleeping places, our sleeping mat, pillow, and mosquito net, the
food we eat -- everything we daily pick up and use here, the whole lot belongs
to the Buddha's Teaching. The medicines to treat any illness we might develop
belong to the faithful Buddhist devotees who selflessly donate them.
When we first ordain as monks we
are completely dependent on the saffron robe, the emblem of the Noble Ones,
which our Preceptor and Teachers bestow on us. (One's Preceptor and Teachers are
simply the representatives of the Buddhist Teachings because they have all,
without exception, taken refuge in the Triple Gem.) When one has received this
matchless apparel, the people bow their respects and support one with floods of
offerings. I have been able to survive to the present day because of this
Teaching. Buddhism has brought infinite and untold virtue and blessings to me
personally, and to all of us in the world.
Coming to live here, wherever I
have been before, I have always done whatever I could, provided my health was up
to it, to build a basis of solid durable constructions for Buddhism. Now that I
am old and don't have enough strength for building projects, lay devotees become
inspired to sponsor the constructions that will stand in for me in the future.
We have shared any resources that are left over out among other monasteries.
Yet I will never become a slave to
bricks, concrete and wood because I know that such materials are just external
things. Despite their beauty and stylish design, no matter how many millions
they cost, if we behave immorally they all become hollow and completely
meaningless.
The true core or heart of Buddhism
does not lie in material things, but in individual actions. This has been my
guiding principle. The going forth in ordination has been termed
nekkhamma or renunciation because it is the giving up of all forms of
sensuality. Having resolved to train oneself -- following the Noble Truth of the
Lord Buddha's Teaching -- to escape from all suffering, one should not then bury
oneself under a pile of bricks and mortar.
... These sorts of building
projects[220] tend to be the source of great
complications and difficulties and they mainly fail through lack of adequate
resources -- especially lack of moral virtue. Success makes one feel happy and
warm inside, whereas failure brings the tearing of hair and agitation. I never
allowed such feelings about my projects, and remained quite impartial and
unconcerned about whether or not they would succeed.
I think of every project as just a
part of the duties of the religion. The resources all come from the devotees for
I myself have no wealth. When the work is completed, it benefits Buddhism and
brings much merit to the lay devotees. There should be no need to solicit
contributions for that only brings annoyance so that people become fatigued with
the whole business. I was able to complete all the projects because of donations
that came in from all directions, including overseas contributions. Any
offerings -- such as Ka.thina and Sangha-daana -- towards Wat Hin Mark
Peng were kept specifically for that purpose, ... while any contributions given
to me and intended for my personal use -- from one baht to ten, a hundred
... to even millions -- I have channeled all into the various community projects
that I have already mentioned. Funds for this never seem to have dried up, and
there remains a strong interest in aiding my projects. ... I myself don't seem
to have retrogressed because of this and everything has gone smoothly.
Saadhu! Saadhu! Saadhu! [It is well!] Past merit seems to have
enabled me to be successful in this.
I have never gone out looking for
even a penny, but funds have rolled in from all directions. I've become
something like a 'central reserve bank' for those Buddhists who want
their funds directed to what will be most beneficial for Buddhism. ...
Administrating these funds can be difficult because of the lack of records. ...
But somehow I have smoothly managed them ... by allowing sufficient to
accumulate in a project-fund -- for Sala, Uposatha Hall etc. -- to complete the
work then totally clearing its account.
Any monk engaging in such
management needs to be absolutely sure of his ability and his incorruptibility,
otherwise he should not involve himself. If one goes against this principle, it
will damage the Buddhism that one respects so much, and will also lead to one's
own downfall. There are examples of this everywhere. This 'Capital
M'[-oney] can be quite deadly and has already destroyed many people.
Aiming solely for the benefit of
Buddhism and the common good, without taking selfish advantage will be of great
fruit, whereas undertaking anything for selfish motives will bring unfortunate
results. It will be very damaging if one tries to get something for oneself
while pursuing Buddhist projects. This is even more so for some 'monks'. After
involving themselves in building works, such projects seem to take them over,
and their inner spiritual work and discipline are all abandoned. They build
outwardly but fail to build their inner selves, and this leads to great decline.
It is now about sixty years since I
first saw the forest here and it was 1964 when I actually came to live here. I
have steadily developed it since that time and you can see the results with your
own eyes. The important point being that this all arose through the faith and
energy of my disciples, both monks and lay people, who contributed whatever they
could -- whether labor or money. There are more of them than I can ever hope to
mention.
The Supreme Patriarch of Thailand
(the late Somdet Phra Vaasana Mahaathera) graciously came to officiate at the
ceremonial opening of the Mondop.[221] He was very pleased and officially
declared Wat Hin Mark Peng to be a 'Model Monastery' in the development field,
and gave me official recognition of this on the twenty-sixth of May 1982. This
marks quite an honor for the monastery.
I really hope that Wat Hin Mark
Peng may continue to be a place for monks to practice for the long-lasting
benefit of Buddhism. Therefore may all of you who have helped in the support of
Wat Hin Mark Peng be happy, long prosper and be firmly established in the noble
Buddhist Teaching.
I have been a monk now for
sixty-eight years and I have tried to practice only for the benefit of myself
and others, starting with myself and then carrying this further for the good of
others. By this I mean that I could go on tudong with great meditation
teachers, starting with my very first year as a monk. I was determined to
practice following the instruction of my Teachers, and as I had no other
responsibilities to occupy me I could apply myself fully to the task.
In later years, I was able to be
away from them and therefore had to accept many responsibilities. A group of
monks started following me and I had regularly to instruct the lay people. In
those days because there were so few forest meditation monks, when lay people
saw anyone with a following of monks they would immediately consider him an
'Ajahn' or Teacher and would trail after him. Even when it was like that I never
slackened with my meditation efforts, and even saw it as a stimulus to practice
even harder. This then became of benefit, both to myself and others.
To be truly of benefit to others
requires that one first be of benefit to oneself. One is then able to share what
one has with other people. If no one shows interest in receiving it, one hasn't
lost anything. This has been part of my practice ever since I was ordained.
On HM the King's birthday on the
fifth of December 1990, I received by his order the ecclesiastical title of Ven.
Phra Rajanirodharangsee Gambhiirapaññaavisit' Yatiga.nsasorn Bowornsanghaaraam
Araññavaasee. I have already described my feelings about such ecclesiastical
titles,[222] ... and I haven't changed my mind,
... but they explained to me that this was the way the king of Thailand always
showed his appreciation for the work and responsibilities of senior monks, ...
and when they increased their good works so their title would be elevated. I am
just a forest monk and I can only reflect on the gracious favor and offer my
blessing -- Anumodanaa! -- To HM the King.
We believe that having been born
together in this world we all owe each other mutual benefit and welfare.
Children are indebted to their parents and parents have new obligations towards
their children. Each remembers their debt to the other without any thought of
calling it in. The recalling to oneself of one's parental debt will, however,
enable one to repay it, according to one's perception of it -- for some this
will be great, for others small. One got into this form of debt by one's own
actions without coercion from anyone else, and so no one else can take it over.
People acknowledge their parental
debt in innumerable ways. They recall that from their first until their last
day, they had been and always would be cared for with love and devotion in every
way. For instance, they had to rely on mother and father in learning how to sit
up, to lie down, to stand up, to walk and to talk -- for everything. When their
parents became angry with them and smacked or caned them, the parents had also
held back somewhat, remembering, "This is my child". Sometimes they
couldn't bring themselves to do it.
There is a natural instinct in all
beings for parents to love their offspring, and this includes even the animals.
They love without thinking or knowing why, or what they can gain from it, and
the children respond in the same way. The bonding between animals however is
short-lived and only occurs while the offspring are still small, for with
maturity it is all lost. Human love and affection knows no end. It endures until
death and even beyond. The person who doesn't acknowledge the goodness and
beneficence of his parents, and who doesn't repay their kindness is base and
worse than an animal.
I'm going to boast a bit here: I
was born their son, but my ordination while still young prevented me from
providing my parents with the material support that everyone usually gives.
However my life as a monk allowed me to sustain and nourish their heart's
aspirations and good will, and that was what they appreciated beyond all else.
They could constantly call to mind that: "our own son is a monk!". No matter how
near or far away -- even a thousand kilometers distant -- they could still be
happy and content because their aspirations had been fulfilled.
When both my parents became older,
I returned to teach and fortify their faith until both decided to ordain and
wear white robes. (Of course they already had faith. I was able to encourage and
reinforce it so that they felt confident enough to ordain.) Their meditation
brought them many remarkable experiences that strengthened their faith even
more. I taught them about the path to happiness (Sugati) and both would
attentively listen to me as pupils listen to their teacher. They received all
the teaching with open hearts, not worrying that a 'child should be teaching his
parents'.
My father was a white robed chee
pa-kao for eleven years before his passing away, at the age of
seventy-seven. My mother was a white-robed nun for seventeen years, and died
after my father when she was eighty-two. I taught them right up to their final
moments, offering all the advice I possible could, and I really feel that I was
able completely to repay my debt to them. I had no other outstanding debts. I
organized funeral ceremonies suitable to their position and in accordance with
my being a monk.
Being ordained as a Buddhist monk
for so long has allowed me to see the changing condition of this aging body with
the transformations in the external world. I've seen so many things, both good
and bad, and it has greatly expanded my wisdom and knowledge. I don't feel that
I have wasted being born into the world with them. I consider that I have been
indebted to this world for I have taken its elements of earth, water, fire and
air to form a body. In maintaining it I have had to absorb and use the things of
the world, for absolutely nothing of it belongs to me. After death everything
must be left behind in this world.
Some people never consider such
issues and by that fall into unyieldingly grasping hold of things --
'everything is mine!'. Husband, wife, children and grandchildren,
household possessions -- 'they are all mine'. To the end, even when those
things disappear or are broken, they still retain their hold on them as
'mine'.
There is activity that we should
not perform; yet having been born it has to be undertaken. We have been born
with this self that is called 'conditioned'[223] and so, as a matter of course, we
must grow old, become ill and die. Not a single person wants it to be like that
-- becoming old and decrepit until one can no longer go anywhere. No one wants
to die, not to see their children and grandchildren's faces again. After death
those that remain, even if they are the children of the deceased, will not keep
the corpse at home for more than fifteen days, and most people will take it away
for cremation. There it is, the 'activity that we should not undertake'.
One respects them so highly and then throws them on the fire -- yet this has
become a necessary action. No one is going to keep the corpse at home.
The kamma[224] that should not be made
occurs after someone's death. It doesn't matter who it is, one's father, mother,
brothers, sisters or other relatives including one's respected Teachers, there
have to be funeral rites. This requires a lot more labor and material things
than at the time of birth, which succeeded with just the two -- mother and
father.
Funeral rites entail the feeding
and receiving of guests, lay people and monks, and the finding of offerings for
the monks. For those left behind who are not so well off this is no small
burden. When they don't have enough, they have to borrow from relatives and
friends, and so go further into debt. This sort of debt has absolutely no
advantage and brings only loss. Still, anyone who is practicing generosity will
treat it as a meritorious deed, which is a sort of profit for oneself.
However one takes it, it is still 'something that we should not
undertake' and yet, when those still living are confronted with this
situation they feel obligated.
Coming to birth and dying are not
the same for human beings of this world. In being born there is a sequence
dependant on the parents. Whoever is born before is called 'elder', and whoever
comes after is 'younger'. Dying is not like that. Whether one dies first or
later depends on the results of one's kamma, each according to his or her
own. Sometimes the younger dies before the elder or vice versa. After
death one doesn't necessarily have to go on to be reborn as siblings, for again
this depends on the results of kamma. One who has committed evil may be
born as a preta or fall into deepest hell, into avicii.[225] Those who have purified their
heart and transcended the mass of suffering will attain even to Nibbana. It all
depends.
I think that I have completely
repaid my debt to my parents who have passed away. ... I was their youngest son
and I've accomplished whatever duties were appropriate for a monk towards them
both. Both probably thought the same about this, and wouldn't have wanted to
call in any debt of mine, because it had all worked out as they wished.
Ajahn Kumdee Ree-o rahng, my eldest
brother, loved me very dearly, and I was sorry that he died when I was away
spending the Rains Retreat in Chantaburi Province. I was unable to arrange his
funeral in a way commensurate with his love for me. When my other elder brothers
and sisters were still alive, I was able to teach them about virtue and Dhamma,
each according to their temperament and potential, so that when they were about
to die, they had some refuge in the heart. They hadn't wasted their life, for on
meeting the Lord Buddha's Teachings they had practiced as much as they could,
according to their ability.
Mrs. Ahn Prahp-phahn, my eldest
sister and the second child, passed away in 1974 at the age of eighty-eight.
Mrs. Naen Chiang-tong, my elder
sister and the third child, passed away in 1978 at the age of ninety.
Mr. Plian Ree-o rahng, my elder
brother and the fourth child, passed away in 1972 at the age of eighty.
Mrs. Noo-an Glah Kaeng, my elder
sister and the fifth child, passed away in 1973 at the age of seventy-nine.
Ven. Phra Gate, my elder brother
and the sixth child, passed away in 1946 at the age of forty-eight with fourteen
years as a monk.
Mrs. Thoop Dee-man, my younger
sister, passed away on the sixteenth of May 1990 at the age of eight-six.
I made sure that all my brothers
and sisters received the complete and proper funeral that they would have
expected.[226] This was especially so with the
youngest, Mrs. Thoop Dee-man, who in the last part of her life came to receive
training with me as a white-robed nun at Wat Hin Mark Peng.
She seems to have secured good
results from her meditation practice that stood her in good stead when she
became very ill, in the final part of her life. Her children came and took her
away for hospital treatment in Sakhon Nakorn Province. They told me that her
mindfulness was good and she was aware right up to the final moments. She had
described what she was feeling to her children and grandchildren who were caring
for her: that her feet were becoming cold, that the coldness had reached her
calves, her knees and her chest. She mindfully concentrated on her chest and her
breathing became fainter and fainter and finally everything became still.
Now I have to depend on myself, for
all my relatives and Meditation Masters are no longer available. I will continue
to do good until no life remains because after death no one else can do either
good or evil for us.
This autobiography has now reached
my eighty-ninth year and I think I will finish with this much.
In November 1992, Venerable Ajahn
Tate again fell ill with a lung infection. Complications set in with symptoms of
heart disease and prostrate problems, and while treatment helped his health was
never as strong as before.
As described previously,[228] Venerable Ajahn Tate had always
found Wat Tam Khahm to be an especially good place for both his Dhamma practice
and his health. So in March 1993, he moved from Wat Hin Mark Peng to take up
residence at Wat Tam Khahm, in the mountains of Sakhon Nakorn Province. Ven.
Ajahn Kiem Sorayo was the abbot there and was very happy to welcome his
venerable guest.
Venerable Ajahn Tate's health then
gradually improved and he amazed everyone with his renewed vigor and appetite.
At his ninety-second birthday celebrations, he praised the local people of
Sakhon Nakorn as the most supportive and caring of all. He told them that he was
sorry not to have come to stay there when he was younger, when he could have
taught them more.
However, during May of 1994,
Venerable Ajahn Tate's condition again changed for the worse with deterioration
in his strength and appetite. A medical professor and his team came and
discovered a gall bladder obstruction -- from gall bladder stones or perhaps
from a growth. Despite Venerable Ajahn Tate's advanced age of ninety-two, they
tried their utmost to nurse him back to health so that he could continue his
teaching for another couple of years.
A few days before the start of the
Rains Retreat, Venerable Ajahn Tate spoke privately about his personal affairs.
He charged that if he should die his body should first be kept at Wat Tam Khahm
but that the cremation should take place at Wat Hin Mark Peng.[229] When his disciple took this
opportunity to ask how long his body should be kept, Venerable Ajahn Tate
replied that that should come from the general agreement of everyone involved.
Although Venerable Ajahn Tate was
obviously frail and in pain during most of the Rains Retreat of 1994, he never
complained or displayed any upset. He was a shining example of the good Dhamma
practitioner to those monks who were taking care of him.
On the morning of Saturday, 17
December 1994, after some liquidized food and his medicine, Ven. Ajahn Tate was,
as usual, taken around in his wheelchair for some 'mobile meditation'. (With his
infirmity, this had come to replace his normal walking meditation). After thirty
minutes he said he was tired and went back to bed. His body seemed somewhat
restless so his disciples played a tape of one of his own Dhamma talks on
meditation. He confirmed to the monks that, 'it was certainly necessary to set
(the mind) in neutrality'. Later in the day, after another 'wheel-around' he
agreed that he was tired and so was helped into bed. This was at nine o'clock in
the evening.
The attendant monk respectfully
suggested to the Venerable Ajahn that he should fix his attention on going to
sleep so that he could wake up rested and strong. He nodded in agreement and
almost immediately became still. His attendant noticed how easily he had gone to
sleep and knowing that he usually slept on his right side[230] the attendant called on another
monk to help turn him to that side, thinking that he could rest longer in that
position.
The monks massaged Venerable Ajahn
Tate's hands as he slept and noticed that he was very still without any movement
at all --abnormally so. (Some saliva was dribbling from his mouth but the monks’
thought that was because he had drunk so much herbal medicine.) The peaceful
look on his face meant that the monks attending did not have an inkling that the
Venerable Ajahn Tate had in fact already passed away.
An ending of such great dignity and
peace perfectly completes a life lived that way. His life had touched many,
many, people and this became manifest in the funeral and cremation rites. When
news spread about his passing, local monks and villagers immediately started
coming to pay their last respects. It was announced that HM the King of Thailand
would officially sponsor the funeral rites.
As Venerable Ajahn Tate had
previously ordered, his body was first kept at Wat Tam Khahm and then moved to
Wat Hin Mark Peng. This is a bigger monastery and so much more appropriate for
dealing with the funeral arrangements for the cremation was obviously to be a
national event.
The cremation of Venerable Ajahn
Tate took place on 8 January 1996. People from all over Thailand -- led by HM
the King and the royal family -- came to pay their final respects. Each region
where the Venerable Ajahn had stayed seemed to be represented -- even from
overseas -- so it was as if even in death he was still able to bring people
together. It is estimated that there were ten thousand monks present and many
hundreds of thousands of lay people. (The temporary car park was filled with up
to thirty thousand vehicles, including many small and large buses from all parts
of Thailand.) Yet even with such numbers, it was arranged in a fitting and
appropriate way and all accomplished through volunteer help and finance. (There
were free food stalls and refreshments, showing the spirit of generosity that is
so vital a part of the Lord Buddha's Teaching. Also half a million-memorial
books of Venerable Ajahn Tate's teachings were distributed to those present.)
The good weather allowed the
arrangements to proceed smoothly. HM the King honored Venerable Ajahn Tate with
royal sponsored funeral rites and the full panoply of ancient custom and ritual.
When all was ready, HM the King flew in by helicopter officially to lead the
making of offerings and light the cremation fire. The monks followed this,
filing past the coffin, then the dignitaries with all the ordinary people who
had supported Venerable Ajahn Tate for more than seventy years as a monk.
The actual cremation took place
later that night with a full moon shining down on the crematorium, lake and
fountain, specially built for the occasion. (The crematorium is an imposing
structure with traditional Thai tiered-roofs.) These remain as a landmark and
memorial to Venerable Ajahn Tate when devotees come to practice Dhamma and
remember his example.
The next morning, when the fire was
cooled, the bones and ashes of Venerable Ajahn Tate were reverently removed and
safeguarded as relics.
Thus ends the biography of
Venerable Ajahn Tate. It started in a remote village at the beginning of the
century and closed more than ninety years later surrounded by hundreds of
thousands of disciples, including the King of Thailand. Along the Way, Venerable
Ajahn Tate had continually taught and that continues in the practice he inspired
and the books and taped talks he left behind --including this book.
Anyone -- of any religion or none -- can appreciate the basic Buddhist guidelines for action and speech. There is no dogma hidden among these precepts for it is a plain and simple way of living without harming or hurting any creature. The other feature to bear in mind is that it is something that the individual accepts voluntarily. No one commands one to receive them. It is the individual's volition that changes a list of precepts into a way of living. The appreciation and mindfulness of one's actions and speech then become more subtle, which automatically leads on to meditation.
There are the basic Five Precepts and these become more refined with the Eight Precepts.
These Precepts can be received by simply saying:
"I undertake the training rule/precept ... "
1) to abstain from taking life.
2) to abstain from taking what is not given.
3) to abstain from sexual misconduct.
4) to abstain from false speech.
5) to abstain from intoxicants causing heedlessness."
or:
1) to abstain from taking life.
2) to abstain from taking what is not given.
3) to abstain from unchastity.
4) to abstain from false speech.
5) to abstain from intoxicants causing heedlessness.
6) to abstain from untimely eating.
7) to abstain from dancing, singing, music and unseemly shows, from wearing garlands, smartening with scents, and embellishment with unguents.
8) to abstain from the use of high and large luxurious couches."
"... In 1982 the compiler brought a copy of her book, Aajaaraa-phiwaht, (???) to show Venerable Ajahn Tate. It was the commemorative book for the royal opening of the chedi and museum of the late Ven. Ajahn Fan Aacaaro. On leafing through the book, he came across a sample of Ven. Ajahn Fan's handwriting using the dhamm' characters and asked whether the compiler of the book could understand them. When she admitted her ignorance, Venerable Ajahn Tate smiled and remarked that it was a shame that such knowledge was disappearing so fast, and that future generations would be completely ignorant of it. ... Just a few days later, Venerable Ajahn Tate kindly gave her the translation beautifully typed out. The original dhamm' characters and his translation appear below, together with his explanation: ..."
{image ommitted from this edition -- JB}
'Wise people are those that are able to prevent the arising of evil in their personality. There is a simile about a person planting a tree, a mango tree for example. The person steadily tends and cares for it, stopping any growth of parasitical creepers or pests because he is afraid that otherwise the tree will not flourish, and won't be fruitful. This is similar to the body of the wise person. It is natural for such a person to guard against wrong actions of body, speech and mind, so that they don't become the source for sadness and depression. Thus the Sakavati-Ajahn Teacher inquires into the first part of the Maatikaa which is "kusala dhamma ...". He translates correctly and adds more similes so that I come to understand.'
"I wrote down the Thai translation of this text so that my readers can compare and understand its meaning. This Dhamm' alphabet is fast becoming extinct because nobody studies it anymore. Except, that is, for those who were ordained sixty years ago and learnt it then. The Thai alphabet was then not so widespread and the monks had to learn the Dhamm' characters. We learnt from actually reading the palm leaf manuscripts rather than just learning the vowels and consonants.
The subject matter was always about the Buddha's Teachings. For instance, about generosity, morality and meditation; about the heavenly fruits of good deeds and the dreadful results in hell of bad deeds. After studying one or two manuscripts one could read them all.
In former days, in the time of Wiang-jan (Vientiane), the people still flourished and prospered with the Lord Buddha's Teachings. They studied using three alphabets: Dhamm', Korm, and 'Small Thai' (???).
They called them Dhamm' characters because they were only used for Dhamma, the Teachings of the Lord Buddha. An exception being those monks who disrobed after many years and used their knowledge to gain a living in astrology or herbal medicine. Otherwise, these characters were used to write down magic formula and spells. People then really held the Dhamm' characters to be sacred and supernaturally powerful. They considered them the very teaching of the Lord Buddha and it's true as they thought...
We only studied the Korm characters enough to know what they were about but did not write in them. If they were used in writing, again it was only for the Buddha's Teachings, the same as the Dhamm'. The Lesser ??? Thai script could be used for anything and is still used to this day in Vientiane, for that's where it originated but it has evolved a great deal since then. ..."
The Buddhist Order of monks
(bhikkhus) has an unbroken lineage of twenty-five centuries. In this world of
growth and decay there is often need for reform as standards decline. Such
reform historically has happened either through the king inviting knowledgeable
monks to come and teach the ignorant monks, or by an internal process.
In the chaos that followed the
destruction of the old Thai capital of Ayutthaya, the general standard of the
monk's understanding and conduct declined. When Crown Prince Monkut (later to
become King Rama IV) became a monk and learned the Pali language, he found that
there were great differences between what the texts described and what was
actually practiced. A group of monks gathered around him intent on trying to
follow more strictly the vinaya Discipline. When his son, King
Chulalongkorn (Rama V), ascended to the throne, he formally acknowledged this
reform group as the Dhammayut' (or Dhammayuttika) Nikaya. As this reform
movement spread in influence, it acted as a catalyst for general reform. So that
the majority grouping -- the Mahaa-Nikaya -- reformed itself and the whole
Community of monks became revitalized.
This book spans the time when this
reform movement was spreading, and shows how it also affected the tudong
monks out in the forests.
Details of building projects abbreviated in the main text (Section 30) are detailed here:
35.1 The Uposatha Hall of Wat Hin Mark Peng
Around 1966, Mr. Gong Pewsiri from Koke Soo-ak Village ... made a large Buddha-ruupa on the rocks facing the River Mekong ... using the local rock ... and organized it all himself for about one thousand baht. It was more than five metres high ... but wasn't particularly beautiful because the workers were just ordinary local artisans rather than expert craftsmen. ... several attempts at remodelling transformed that into what we have today. ... After it was finished we built a pavilion around it. ...
On the twenty-sixth of March, 1970, the monastery received a royal proclamation establishing its boundaries (visu.mgaama-siimaa). Seeing that Wat Hin Mark Peng had now been properly established according to the law,[233] I decided it was the right time to build an Uposatha Hall. Formal meetings of the monks could then convene according to the Discipline and that would be for the future growth of the Buddhist Teaching. The site of the large Buddha-ruupa seemed ideal, for if we were to build the Uposatha Hall around it we would have both a main Shrine Hall, and the main presiding Buddha-ruupa.
The foundation stone-laying ceremony took place on the twelfth of April 1972, with Somdet Phra Maha Virawong (Pim Dhammdharo) of Wat Sri Mahaa Dhaatu in Bangkaen, Bangkok heading the monks and Air force Lt. General Choo Suddhichot' leading the lay devotees.
They constructed this Uposatha Hall with tiered double roofs,[234] which are seven metres wide and twenty-one metres long, while the ceiling is nine metres above the floor. ... in all it cost about seven hundred thousand baht. The consecration ceremony ... took place between the fifth and seventh of April 1973.
In 1986 the baked clay tile roof was replaced and it was redecorated inside and out ... which cost more than four hundred and fifty thousand baht.
35.2 Wat Hin Mark Peng's Mondop
In 1972 I thought that this spot on the bank of the River Mekong would be an ideal site for building a mondop. It would be an artistic landmark for the Mekong River basin and have a Buddha-ruupa and Buddha relics. I also thought to myself that it could be a place to keep my bones ... and then other people would not have to trouble themselves about finding a place.
... In 1977 things started to happen with plans being drawn and the Fine Arts Department inspecting and improving the artistic design ... it has three stories and is thirty-six metres high, with each floor being thirteen metres square. ... and the total cost was finally about five million baht.
35.3 The Desarangsee Hall
... The original sala at Wat Hin Mark Peng was all wooden with some woven split bamboo sides and a tin roof. ... this was replaced by the Sala Desapradit' that was also made of wood. ... because of the number of visitors this gradually became too dilapidated and overcrowded so ... a new two-storied concrete sala was built, twenty-three metres wide by forty-four metres long ... and cost more than seven and a half million baht. They named it the Sala Desarangsee B.E. 2529. ...
35.4 Mural Wall Painting
... Paintings were commissioned in September 1987 ... On the central wall they portray scenes from the Lord Buddha's life ... the right-hand wall depicts aspects of Wat Hin Mark Peng ... the left-hand wall portrays Northeast regional customs and traditions ... They took twelve months to paint at a cost of six hundred and fifty thousand baht. ...
35.5 The Bell Tower
... A bell that cost sixty thousand baht was cast and hung in a tower which cost three hundred and fifty thousand baht. ...
35.6 Wat Hin Mark Peng's Library
... ...
35.7 The Drum Tower
... ...
35.8 Dwelling Places for the Monks
... Huts have been repaired and completely rebuilt ... large or small according to the circumstances ... usually in the Thai Style ... until there are now fifty-six huts or kutis for the monks and novices ... with thirty-seven in the nuns' quarters. The nuns' sala, the kitchens, toilets, washing facilities, a largish waterworks and electricity generators ... these are valued at not less than ten million baht. ...
35.9 The Monastery Perimeter Wall
... Since 1965, the monastery became ever more solidly established ... with its area also expanding through donations. In 1985 the local District Officer helped arrange official acknowledgement of this with land deeds from the Department of Land for two hundred and sixty-one rai ... It was the first place in that region to have legal claim to the land.
... seeing the expansion of the local villages and the already established nature of the monastery ... I thought it would be good to mark the boundaries clearly with a perimeter wall. ... the provincial Accelerated Rural Development prepared the site and it was built in 1986 at a cost of more than one and a half million baht.
After finishing all these building projects ... according to plan ... I thought it would be appropriate that everyone who had helped could come together and see the results ... and also take the opportunity to celebrate HM the King's Fifth Cycle Anniversary.[235] ... So on the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth of April 1987 many senior monks and lay people came together to honour HM the King, to admire the completed monastery and to celebrate my own eighty-fifth birthday. ...
I was able not only to establish Wat Hin Mark Peng on a solid foundation but the remaining resources were shared out ... among other deserving monasteries, schools and hospitals etc. ... To give some idea of this I will mention those projects that I can remember and have not yet described:
1. Wat Araññavaasee received an Uposatha Hall, a Dhamma Study Hall, two kutis, a perimeter wall and a concrete road. This cost more than nine million baht.
2. Wat Phra Buddhabaht-korkaeng (Wen Koom) ... Srii Chiang Mai District received buildings costing more than three and a half million baht.
3. Wat Pah Kut Ngiew ... Bahn Peur District ... more than two million baht.
4. Wat Phra Buddhabaht-Bua-bok ... Bahn Peur District ... more than three and a half million baht.
5. Wat Pah Desarangsee (Wang Nam Mork) ... Srii Chiang Mai District ... two and a half million baht.
6. Wat Bodhisomphorn ... in Udorn-thani where one million baht was donated.
7. The Phra Buddhabaht-Desarangsee-Vitayah School ... of Srii Chiang Mai District and the Glahng Yai Nirodharangsee School ... in Bahn Peur District received school buildings worth four million seven hundred thousand baht. The Ministry of Education acknowledged this aid to their school's programme by honouring me in 1987 and 1988 with their special award ... and likewise in 1989 from the National Committee for Primary Education ...
8. The Nirodharangsee-kampeepaññajahn Trust which is a scholarship fund for poor but well behaved, hard working and clever students in the province of Nongkhai. At present, it contains almost one million two-hundred thousand baht. There is also Nongkhai's Midday Meal Programme fund for pupils that stands at almost two and a half million baht. We are helping to provide a lunch time meal for pupils in six schools in the Bahn Mor - Phra Buddhabaht area and aim to give help province-wide.
9. The Tate Desarangsee Fund for caring for the monks and novices and the maintenance of the buildings of Wat Hin Mark Peng, which stands at five million seven hundred thousand baht.
Besides this, there are the following projects still being implemented:
1. A hospital ward for monks and novices at Khon Kaen University Medical School that has four million two hundred thousand baht allocated to it at present.
2. A hospital ward in the district hospital of Pa Tew in Chumporn Province that my devotees have named the Luang Poo Tate Desarangsee Eighty-eighth Year Memorial Building and to which they have contributed three million baht.
3. An Uposatha Hall at Wat Pah Nah Seedah ...
4. A crematorium for Wat Hin Mark ...
5. A water treatment plant for Wat Hin Mark ...
6. A Shrine Hall and guest kuti at Wat Hin Mark ...
Plans to build a Chedi-Museum are now nearing completion.
The words defined in this concise Glossary[236] are mostly either Pali, the language of the Theravada Buddhist scriptures, or Thai.
For Thai measurements, place names, titles etc., also see under that heading.
Aacariya-vat' (Thai-Pali): Acts of service by a junior monk or novice for his teacher (Ajahn), e.g. supplying drinking and washing water, cleaning his hut or kuti, washing his robes, etc. This is part of the monastic training laid down by the Buddha.
Ajahn (Thai): Teacher. A respectful title used for senior monks and one's meditation teacher. (Also more generally for university teachers, etc.) See Thai Titles.
Anattaa: 'Not-self', egolessness, one of the three characteristics of all existence. See Ti- lakkha.na.
Aniccaa: Impermanent, transient, one of the three characteristics of all existence. See Ti- lakkha.na.
Añjali: Raising the hands, palms together, as a gesture of respect. Grahp: (Thai) bowing from the kneeling position to show high respect.
Arahant: Worthy one; one who has attained Nibbana.
Asubha: Meditation on the unbeautiful, 'loathsome', usually ignored, side of the body. Used together with the three characteristics of existence as an antidote for infatuation. Also see Kamma.t.thana -- kaayagataasati.
Bhavanga: In Thai used to describe a trance-like meditative state; the mind's underlying resting place. Also see reference in separate glossary to 'Steps Along the Path'.
Bhikkhu: A Buddhist monk; an alms mendicant.
Brahmacariya: The Holy life; religious life; strict chastity.
Buddha: The Awakened One; Enlightened One; usually referring to Siddhattha Gotama after his Enlightenment.
Chedi (Thai); Cetiya (Pali): Stupa, pagoda, usually a cone shaped monument containing relics.
Chee-pah kao: One who wears white robes (rather than the yellow robes of monk or novice) and who lives the homeless life under the Eight Precepts. Also see Maer Chee.
Citta (Pali); jhit, jhit-jai (Thai): Mind; heart.
Dhamma: The Teachings (of the Buddha); the Truth; the Supramundane; virtue.
dhamma: Thing; phenomenon; nature; condition.
Dhammayut'( Nikaaya): One of the two Theravada 'sects' in Thailand. See Appendix C.
Dhaatu: An element; natural condition; earth, water, fire and wind or air. Dhaatu-khandha (Thai): the body. Taht (Thai): the elemental 'winds', 'humours', physiological processes, from a Thai traditional view point.
Dhutanga: See Tudong.
Dukkha: Suffering. See Noble Truths.
Ittarom (??? Thai); i.t.thaarama.na (Pali): Those four arom or objects that (as far as the world is concerned) are worth wishing for: material gains, rank, praise and pleasure.
Jhaana: Meditative absorption in a single object. Full concentration. Also see Nirodha- samaapatti.
Kamma (Pali); Karma (Sanskrit): Intention, volitional speech and action, which can be wholesome, unwholesome or neutral.
Kamma.t.thaana: (1) 'Working ground' or subject of meditation; the act of meditation. The subjects mentioned in this book are: AAnaapaana-sati: mindfulness of breathing. (Also see A. I. 30,41; Vism. 197); Buddhaanus-sati: recollection of the virtues and qualities of the Lord Buddha. (Also see A. VI, 10, 25; D.33; Vis. VII.) The Thai daily chanting also includes such a recollection; Kaayagataa-sati: mindfulness occupied with the body; contemplation on the 32 impure parts of the body.
Kamma.t.thaana: (2) This is also used as a general term describing the way of practice of meditation monks originating in the forests of N.E. Thailand.
Ka.thina: The annual robes-giving ceremony, offered sometime during the month following the Rains Retreat.
Khandha: Aggregate; category. Refers to each of the five components of human psycho-physical existence: body, feeling, perception, mental-formation, consciousness. For the unenlightened, these form the five groups of clinging for the identification of 'self'.
Kilesa: Defilements; impurities; impairments. These include: greed, hatred, delusion, conceit, wrong view, doubt or uncertainty, sloth, restlessness, shamelessness, lack of moral concern.
Krot (Thai): A large umbrella, usually hand-made from bamboo and cloth, used as a forest shelter by hanging a mosquito net from it.
Kuti (Thai-Pali): A monk's hut or simple shelter. (Often translated here as 'hut'.) However, it can also mean any dwelling place for monks or nuns so in the more established monasteries it might be quite a big structure.
Maer Chee (Thai): A nun in white robes who keeps either Eight or Ten Precepts. Also see: Chee- pah kao.
Mahamakut Monastic College: A monk's university based at Wat Bovoranives in Bangkok, which is the central organizing authority for many official Dhamma courses and their examination.
Mahaa-nikaaya: The older and numerically larger of the two 'sects' of Thai Theravada Buddhism. See Appendix C.
Mondop: A large, usually square-sectioned monument or building.
Naama (-dhamma): Mind; name; mental factors; mentality. Also Ruupa-dhamma.
Ñaa.na: Knowledge; wisdom; insight.
Nekkhamma: Renunciation; letting go; giving up the world; self-denial. This term is always used in the Pali texts as an antonym to kaama, sensuality.
Nibbaana (Pali); Nirvana (Sanskrit): The extinction of the fires of greed, hatred and ignorance; the extinction of all defilements and suffering; Liberation; the Unconditioned.
Nikaya: A grouping or 'sect', which has developed in the Bhikkhu Sangha.
Nimit' (Thai); Nimitta (Pali): Mark, sign. An image or vision, which sometimes arises in meditation.
Nirodha-samaapatti: Highest state of concentration possible, where there is a temporary suspension of all consciousness and mental activity. (See the Po.t.thapaada Sutta (D.i.178); Vis. XXIII.) Also Saññaa-vedayita-nirodha.
Noble Truths (The Four): The briefest synthesis of the entire teachings of Buddhism: The Truth of: (1) Suffering (Dukkha); (2) the Cause, Origin or Source of Suffering (Samudaya); (3) the Cessation or Extinction of Suffering (Nirodha); (4) the Path, the Way, the Noble Eightfold Path (Magga).
Ordination; Upasampadaa (Pali), Boo-at (Thai): Going Forth; this is the assembled monk's formal acceptance of a candidate-monk into the Community. There is no taking of life- vows. This is therefore different from the Christian 'ordination'.
Pali: The language of the ancient texts of the Theravaada Canon.
Paaraajika: The four most serious offenses against the Monk's Discipline (the Vinaya Rule), which automatically causes the offender to fall from being a monk. They are: sexual intercourse, theft, murder and falsely claiming supernormal attainments.
Paaramii (Paaramitaa): 'Perfection'. Ten qualities leading to Buddha-hood: generosity, morality, renunciation, wisdom, energy, patience, honesty, determination, loving-kindness, and equanimity.
Paa.timokkha: The fundamental 227 rules observed by monks (bhikkhus). A single monk recites it with the whole Community (of monks) present, every lunar fortnight.
Pavaara.na: The annual formal assembly for bhikkhus that marks the end of the Rains Retreat; when each monk offers the others the opportunity to admonish him for any transgressions he may have committed.
Rains Retreat; Pansah (Thai); Vassa (Pali): The annual three month period during the monsoon season, -- from the full moon (usually) of July to the full moon (usually) of October -- when monks are restricted from travelling. It also is the measure of years for a monk or nun.
Ruupa(-dhamma): Matter; form; material; body; corporeality. See Naama-dhamma.
Sala (Thai): The usually quite large, open-sided hall used for general meetings or more specific functions.
Samaadhi: Concentration; one-pointedness of mind; the condition of mind when focussed, centred and still.
Sama.na: Recluse; holy one; a Buddhist monk; one following the Brahmacariya.
Sa.ngha: (lit: congregation) (1) Those Noble Ones forming the third of the Three Jewels; (2) the Order of monks.
Sa.nkhaara: Compounded things, conditioned things, formative factors, determinations.
Sappaaya: Favourable conditions (for meditation, etc.): suitable abode; suitable location; suitable speech; suitable person (as spiritual companion and teacher); suitable food; suitable climate; suitable posture.
Sati: Mindfulness; awareness; attentiveness.
Siila: Virtue; morality; moral conduct; a precept; training rule. See Appendix A.
Siima: The formally agreed and designated assembly place required for any formal meeting of the Community of monks. In Thailand they mark this area by boundary stones which usually encircle the Uposatha Hall.
Thai: The author's home language is the Northeastern dialect, which is very close to Laotian. As in English, where many root words come from Greek and Latin, Thai has many that come from Pali and Sanskrit -- especially in Buddhist terminology. Some of the following names and titles are therefore Thai-Pali.
-- Thai Measurements: Baht: The Thai currency. (25 baht are (1992) worth one US$); Sen: The old Thai unit of distance, equal to 40 metres; Rai: The old Thai unit of area, equal to 1600 sq. metres. (2.53 rai = one acre.)
-- Thai Place Names: villages are often named after a local feature of the landscape so: Bahn = Village; Dong = Rain Forest; Nakorn = City; Nah = Field; Nong = Swampy Lake; Phra Bart = Buddha-footprint; Poo = Mountain; Tam = Cave. (Over the years, with the increase in population some villages have become towns and then Districts and then even Provinces.)
-- Thai Titles: In Thailand, not using an honorific before the person's name is rude -- unless speaking to intimates or children. Hence the large number of 'titles'.
Ajahn (Thai); Acariya (Pali): Ven. Teacher; Meditation Master. (Also sometimes used as an honorific for school teachers, etc.); Khun (Thai): the equivalent of Mr., Mrs., or Ms.; Phra or Tahn: Venerable, generally used in addressing younger monks; Phra Thera: a senior monk of at least 10 years standing but usually much more; Luang Por (Ven. Father), Luang Poo (Ven. Grandfather): These are both general forms of address to highly venerated Elder monks; Luang Dtah is less respectful. It is often applied to a monk ordained late in life, perhaps after having a family.
Somdet; Chao Khun; Phra Khru: Officially awarded ecclesiastical titles. As one moves up the hierarchy, so one's title changes and another monk may then receive that same title. This can be confusing, therefore their Thai name is often appended in brackets to differentiate between holders of the same title.
Ti-lakkha.na: The 'three characteristics of existence' are Impermanency (aniccaa), Suffering (dukkha), and Not-self (anattaa).
Tudong (Thai); dhutanga (Pali): Often refers to the forest monk's way of life, his wandering through forests and living at the foot of trees. It more literally refers to the 'austere practices' that are 'means of shaking off or removing defilements'. Traditionally (Vism. 59- 83) there are thirteen of these: wearing refuse-rag robes; possessing only the three robes; eating only alms food; on alms round going from house to house; eating only one meal a day; eating only from one's alms bowl; refusing food that comes late; forest dweller's practice; living at the roots of trees; open-air dweller's practice; charnel-ground dweller's practice; any-bed user's practice; sitter's practice (of not lying down).
Uposatha: Observance Day. Also see Wan Phra.
Uposatha (Pali); Bot (Thai): In established monasteries there is usually a special Shrine Hall, often with the main Buddha-statue, where all formal Sangha observances are carried out. In forest monasteries more informal arrangements are allowed by the Discipline.
Vinaya: Monastic Discipline or Rule, which includes the core 227 Paatimokkha rules together with many other ordinances for the right living and harmony of the Community of monks.
Wan Phra: (Thai): The Observance Day (Quarter-moon Day) or 'Buddhist Sabbath' follows a lunar calender. The villagers of that time would also measure their year in lunar months and days. So, for example, rather than Monday, Tuesday, etc., they would refer to 'the second or third day of the waxing moon'. Also Uposatha.
Wat (Thai): A monastery or 'temple'.
Anything fashioned by conditions, whether physical or mental, is called a sa.nkhaara. All sa.nkhaaras are unsteady and inconstant (anicca.m) because they are continually moving and changing about. All sa.nkhaaras are incapable of maintaining a lasting oneness: This is why they are said to be stressful (dukkha.m). No sa.nkhaaras lie under anyone's control. They keep changing continually, and no one can prevent them from doing so, which is why they are said to be not-self (anattaa). All things, whether mental or physical, if they have these characteristics by nature, are said to be not-self. Even the quality of deathlessness -- which is a quality or phenomenon free from fashioning conditions, and which is the only thing in a state of lasting oneness -- is also said to be not-self, because it lies above and beyond everything else. No one can think it or pull it under his or her control. Only those of right view, whose conduct lies within the factors of the path, can enter in to see this natural quality and remove their attachments to all things -- including their attachment to the agent that goes about knowing those things. In the end, there is no agent attaining or getting anything. However natural phenomena behave, that is how they simply keep on behaving at all times.
When meditators practise correctly and have the discernment to see that quality (of deathlessness) as it really is, the result is that they can withdraw their attachments from all things -- including their attachment to the discernment that enters in to see the quality as it really is.
The practice of all things good and noble is to reach this very point.
Ven. Phra Ajahn Tate Desarangsee
[1] 7 # 5 4 [In the traditional Thai calendar: 7 = the seventh day (Saturday); 5 = the fifth lunar month; 4 = the fourth day of the waning moon -- JB]
[2] He finally received the ecclesiastical title of Phra Raja-nirodharangsee
[3] The Buddhist texts were traditionally inscribed in these characters which are of Indo-Cambodian root. See Appendix B.
[4] As opposed to the local Esan or Northeast regional dialect.
[5] A forest fruit abundant in the North-east of Thailand that could be eaten when there was no rice.
[6] See Appendix A.
[7] See Glossary. Thai Measurements.
[8] There are no obligatory life vows for Buddhist monks.
[9] Kamma.t.thaana monks. See Glossary.
[10] The nursery-rice fields are sown by 'broadcast-sowing' and the young seedlings therefore need to be separated and individually replanted in larger, prepared fields. This must all be done by hand with bent back, as each seedling is pushed into the half-flooded paddy fields.
[11] I.e. the basic diet.
[12] Rice planted on upland fields, which is a different strain from that planted in the flooded paddy fields.
[13] The skilled splitting of bamboo and whittling the strips to raffia thinness. Reaping would usually start at dawn, when the dampness keeps the bamboo strips pliable enough to be pulled tightly around the rice sheaf.
[14] The typical cart would have been two-wheeled, with a yoke for a pair of water buffalo. During ploughing, one water buffalo at a time would be used to pull the plough through the semi-flooded paddy-fields.
[15] Dukkha Sacca. The term dukkha (suffering) is not limited to painful experience but refers to the ultimate unsatisfactory nature and the general insecurity of all conditioned phenomena which, on account of their impermanence, are all liable to be unfulfilling. This needs great wisdom to see in its true profundity. See Glossary: Noble Truths.
[16] Folk belief spoke of charms, herbs, and magical tattoos that would 'armour' the skin against any weapon.
[17] Occult and magical things.
[18] Ordering others to kill any living creature is a breach of the monastic discipline and of basic Buddhist morality.
[19] Thailand even sent troops, late in 1918, to help the Allies.
[20] Venerable Ajahn Mun (1870--1949), through his impeccable example and skill in teaching others, was mainly responsible for revitalizing the forest tradition in modern Thailand. He taught and trained many disciples who became meditation masters in their own right. Through the purity of their practice and by pointing to the essence of the Buddha's Teachings, they were able to inspire people to cultivate the Buddhist Path throughout Thailand and later overseas. Nowadays, he is considered the 'Father' of the present N.E. Thailand meditation tradition.
[21] Wandering for seclusion through the forest. See Glossary.
[22] pra-kane (Thai): formally offering certain articles, mainly food or medicines, into the hands of the monk.
[23] Concentration. See Glossary.
[24] Walking along the paddy dyke paths.
[25] Huts used by the villagers when out working in their fields, usually just a very simple thatch and bamboo structure raised on posts.
[26] Wat is a monastery or 'temple'.
[27] Lit: the 'going forth', Pabbajaa (Pali); going-forth or 'novice-ordination'. Full 'bhikkhu ordination' requires a minimum age of 20 years.
[28] The Traibhum or Three Worlds, a cosmogony and commentary.
[29] Nak Dhamm'. It has three grades: Grade Three (Nak Dhamm' Dtree), Grade Two (Nak Dhamm' Toh), and the top Grade One (Nak Dhamm' Aek).
[30] See Glossary.
[31] 2467 BE.
[32] Siima. See Glossary.
[33] Upajjhaaya: The head monk who presides over the ordination ceremony.
[34] Kammavaacaariya: Another senior monk who recommends the ordination candidate's acceptance into the community of monks.
[35] The month of offering and sewing of robes immediately following the Rains Retreat.
[36] Pali is examined in nine grades. On passing grade three one is given the title Mahaa before one's name.
[37] In those days tudong was uncommon, and some saw it akin to undisciplined vagrancy. A monk's parents might be shocked and ashamed to discover that their son had left on tudong.
[38] Young boys would lodge with a monk, helping him with chores while receiving support and education. This enabled poor boys from villages without schools to come and live in the towns and it formed a route for them to go on to higher education.
[39] Lit: the twelfth [lunar] month.
[40] Probably meaning the making and repair of robes, krot, bowl-stand, etc.
[41] Daily Chanting and Recollection of the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha.
[42] The jungle at night is very dark and even darker during a storm.
[43] Kuti: (Normally) a very simple hut or dwelling for a monk or nun.
[44] See Appendix C.
[45] Venerable Ajahn Sao Kantasiilo (1860--1942) (pronounced 'Sow') was Venerable Ajahn Mun's original teacher, and together they were the 'Fathers' of the Thai forest meditation lineage.
[46] Sappaaya: See Glossary.
[47] Aegle marmelos: a medicinal, hard shelled fruit, about the size of an orange.
[48] Acariya-vat': these duties form part of the young monk's training. See Glossary.
[49] A title of respect for an elderly lady.
[50] On transferring to the other Nikaya, (Group or 'sect') the counting of seniority starts again. See Glossary and Appendix C.
[51] Saññaa-vipallaasa: delusional derangement.
[52] Paaraajika: meaning he would have to disrobe. See Glossary.
[53] I.e., he claimed enlightenment.
[54] Conditions can be exacerbated by the local jungle's heat and humidity.
[55] He had actually stopped breathing for quite a period, before recovering.
[56] An area of jungle outside the town, set aside for the cremating of dead bodies. Somewhere feared by the residents but favored as a place of solitude by tudong monks.
[57] Dhaatu (Pali) -- Taht (Thai): See Glossary.
[58] Pee (Thai) means a ghost or spirit, of which there are many varieties. The pee-um manifests as a suffocating feeling or a kind of nightmare, as if a ghost is sitting astride one's chest.
[59] Country folk inevitably hunted in the jungles and fished in the floods.
[60] Pogostemon patchouli: from which camphor-like crystal smelling salts are made.
[61] 'Subconsciousness'. See Glossary.
[62] Nirodha-samaapatti. See Glossary.
[63] Ayatana: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, touch and mind 'doors'.
[64] [Iddhi-]patiharn (Thai): psychic powers and such like.
[65] Before entering, the determination is made to withdraw after a certain length of time.
[66] Jhaana: full concentration on a single object. See Glossary.
[67] Saññaa-vedayita-nirodha (also called nirodha-samaapatti); magga, phala, nibbana; jhaana- samaapatti
[68] Lit: ghost or demon realms; i.e. those of blame and doubt. The previous paragraphs and hypothetical questions are phrased this way to forestall any criticism that the author, by even bringing up such profound subjects, might be seen as hinting about his own attainments.
[69] This lacuna appears in the original, probably meaning that it is better to go no further into the matter.
[70] Chee-pah kao: A layman who lives the homeless life under Eight Precepts, wearing white robes rather than the saffron robes of a monk or novice. See Appendix A.
[71] A folk belief that any sudden or extraordinary abundance was an omen of approaching death.
[72] Lit: dhaatu-khandha and aayatana.
[73] Luang Dtah: See Thai Titles in Glossary. Mun is a given name and this is not the same person as the famous meditation master.
[74] [sic] Master or Mister, not Venerable.
[75] In those days, monks who were able to live unharmed in remote, 'demon-infested' caves and jungles were held in superstitious awe.
[76] The traditional Pali phrases start with: "Araha.m sammaa sambuddho ... ".
[77] Monks who have committed a paaraajika offence are barred.
[78] There are no life vows for Buddhist monks. Badly practising monks, especially those who have broken the paaraajika offenses, can tarnish the whole Community. A monk guilty of such an offence --in this case, falsely claiming to be an arahant-- is automatically no longer considered a monk even though he may still be wearing robes.
[79] To Thai ears, the cock normally crows: "aek-ee-aek-aekkk". But Luang Dtee-a now heard: "jhit-jao- pen-aek," where aek means one.
[80] 'Dtook-gaer' is the Thai name for the gecko-lizard, and for its cry; 'dtoo-a -jow-gaer-laew' is its new message, where gaer means old.
[81] Described following a famous Thai literary mountain-maze.
[82] Dtai (Thai): the old style torch made from crumbly, rotten wood particles, compressed in an inflammable resin and bound in leaves in a long cylinder.
[83] According to the monk's discipline, water has to be filtered of all living creatures before use.
[84] Wan Phra: The Buddhist 'Sabbath', which falls on the full, new and quarter moons.
[85] This would break the monk's and nun's Precepts.
[86] Often employed in exorcising 'demon-possession'. The villagers still had many animist beliefs.
[87] In the days before motorized rice mills, each house would have a stamp mill. The 'mortar' would usually be a partially hollowed out tree trunk into which the unhusked rice would be fed by one person, while another person worked the pestle. This was pivoted on a long pole so that stepping with all one's weight on one end would lift the heavy pestle up at the other end. Stepping off, the pestle would fall on and pound the husks from the rice. Collecting water from the village well and pounding the rice were daily chores.
[88] An 'adept' initiated into some occult power. It could be concerned with medicines, black magic, hunting powers, or, in this case, invulnerability. It was believed that certain ritualistic rules secretly received from the teacher had to be strictly observed in order for the spells and 'gifts' to keep on working.
[89] I.e. reversing or inverting the normal act of respect. Feet are considered unmentionably low and contemptible in polite Thai society. The author adds his apologies in parentheses for even mentioning the matter!
[90] A power object, an amulet or charm.
[91] Wat Pah Salawan. The rail line had not then been extended to Udorn-thani and Nongkhai.
[92] A constitutional monarchal style of democracy.
[93] Lit: great convergence.
[94] Asubha. See Glossary.
[95] Nakorn Wiang-jan (Thai-Lao): then the French colonial capital of Laos.
[96] The ancient northern Lao capital, Nakorn Luang = Capital City.
[97] The River Mekong is a great river, but the volume of water rapidly declines after the Monsoon so that massive 'island' sand banks are exposed.
[98] A famous statue of the Buddha, after which the city is named.
[99] The river usually forms the border between Laos and Thailand except for this stretch, where both banks belong to Laos.
[100] The traditional medicines from the Buddha's time were often pickled in (cow's) urine.
[101] Buses or trains were rarely available.
[102] Probably the scholastic monks.
[103] As the author explains at the end of this section, this is aimed mainly at monks (and celibates) and should be understood in that context. The special Thai vocabulary for monks is sometimes used and this makes close translation difficult.
[104] Celibate life. See Glossary.
[105] Mahaa-niyom was originally the verse (gaathaa), 'mettaa-mahaa-niyom'. This then became an idiom, meaning that someone is attractive or charming, having charisma, perhaps by using an occult spell to make one desirable to others.
[106] Unfortunately, it is still very much the case that ordination for men is much more widely supported and therefore more easily accomplished.
[107] According to the monastic discipline, a monk or nun cannot be alone with the opposite sex and always needs a chaperon.
[108] There is a tradition in Thailand that every young man should ordain for a certain period --there are no life vows for a monk-- which shows his 'maturity', after that he may marry. Therefore monks, in some quarters, may be considered desirable future partners.
[109] Cousin of the Buddha and personal attendant, renowned for his memory of the Buddha's discourses.
[110] Ittarom. See Glossary.
[111] Fully-ordained Buddhist nun. This eminent disciple of the Buddha, Ayya Upalava.n.na, was an arahant and foremost in psychic powers amongst women.
[112] I.e. by not indulging in sensual pleasures but turning to examine their effect on the mind, one can transcend them. Thus there is neither indulgence, nor repression but the middle path of restraint and insight.
[113] Lit: of the samana (recluse, lit: 'the peaceful one' ) gender. (In Thai there are three genders: male, female and samana.)
[114] A Thai pun: to mould or fashion = pan; fist = kam-pan.
[115] According to the monastic Rule, monks are strictly prohibited from accepting money, gold and silver.
[116] Craving for and indulgence in pleasurable experience arising from the five senses.
[117] The Shan States and Burma are mainly Buddhist; many of the hill tribes are Buddhist(-animist).
[118] This area of Burma was home to many ethnic groups: Shan, Mon, Karen etc., and it was still under British colonial rule.
[119] Lit: the Japanese War.
[120] The familiar name of Piboon Songkram, who headed the Thai government at that time.
[121] One of the highest in Thailand, over 2,000 metres.
[122] Muntiacus muntjak are quite small in size, have a barking cry when alarmed, and are normally very shy.
[123] Ang-sa: (Thai) the long, narrow rectangular piece of yellow cloth, worn across the left shoulder beneath the monk's robe.
[124] An ordinary candle protected from the wind by a cylinder of cloth. Normally used by forest monks.
[125] Monks on tudong would carry a bag with bowl and spare robes over one shoulder while the other shoulder was balanced with a small bag and krot.
[126] Acacia insuavis (Leguminosae).
[127] Mi-ang is the fermented tea leaf, so this would be an area of tea bush plantation, quite high up in the mountains.
[128] Ti-lakkha.na: impermanence; suffering; not-self. See Glossary.
[129] Lit: 300 sen.
[130] Buddhaanussati: See Kamma.t.thaana: in Glossary.
[131] The different hilltribe groups have their own distinct languages, mostly quite different from Thai. In those days with no schools, most people would not be able to speak Thai.
[132] See Glossary. ('Body and mind-concomitants'.)
[133] Lit: "would have made for a lot of fun." A euphemistic way of saying that he might have become unbalanced.
[134] A monk depends on the generosity and goodwill of the lay people for his alms food. If there are many villagers, however poor, each will only be required to contribute a small portion. If there are too few families, unless specifically invited, a monk may feel reluctant to stay there so as not to impose on them.
[135] For Thais, rice is the staple at every meal. In Thai, 'to eat' literally is 'to eat rice'.
[136] Wild yams, taros and other potato-type tubers were widely found and eaten throughout Northern Thailand. In the North-east of Thailand, they were considered more a famine food, glutinous rice being very much the staple.
[137] Attakilamathaanuyoga. See (Sam. LVI. 11).
[138] Colocasia antiquorum Aroideae, the coco-yam or taro.
[139] Pai is a playing or gambling card; too-ah and be-er are gambling games using cowrie shells.
[140] Lit: 'to lay down forest cloth.' In the Lord Buddha's time, the monks would collect discarded cloth to wash and sew together into 'rag-robes'. Tort phah pah continues this tradition, sometimes by offering the cloth with a leafy branch resting on it, sometimes by actually laying out the cloth in the bushes where the monk would pass.
[141] Lit: 'hot-hearted', i.e. impatient for quick results.
[142] Pee dtong leeung: where pee is spirit or ghost; dtong is a large (banana) leaf; leeung is yellow. This tribe is also called the Marabi, an ethnic group of North Thailand.
[143] In the Shan States of Burma.
[144] Kan-dtok and kan-pahn: types of large raised trays on pedestals.
[145] Generally, Thais are very modest about such things.
[146] Unlike other parts of Thailand where snakes are sometimes eaten, and meat and fish may be only half-cooked or raw
[147] Of the sack- or upas-tree, Antiaris toxicaria (Urticaceae).
[148] Slaves were commonplace up until the late nineteenth century.
[149] Anusaya-kilesa: seven unwholesome latent defiling tendencies or inclinations of the mind: sensuality; grudge; speculative opinions; doubts; conceit; craving for continued existence; ignorance. Fear falls in the realm of the last three.
[150] Vaasanaa-nisai. He was praised by the Buddha as being foremost in wisdom and ability to expound on the Dhamma. (Although some other individual traits were also remarked upon.)
[151] Phra Sammaa Sambuddha Chao who has fulfilled all the Perfections (paaramii: See Glossary) and thereby perfected his whole character and transcended all personality traits.
[152] A laywoman devotee.
[153] Jhaana: there are eight levels of absorption concentration depending on the refinement of the meditation.
[154] Pubbe-senha-sannivaasa: a Pali-Thai word pointing to the power of remembering former births, specifically one's former partner.
[155] The leader and personification of evil forces.
[156] paaramii. See Glossary.
[157] khun (Thai). There are plays on words here difficult to convey in English.
[158] Kaama-khun (Thai); in Pali (kaama-gu.na) means 'the cords (or strands) of sensuality'. (See D.33; M.13, 26, 59, 66).
[159] Nekkhamma (Pali): renunciation. This term is always used in the Pali texts as antonym to kaama.
[160] A hollow section of large bamboo gives a deep resonant sound, often used in the villages for signalling, almost like a drum.
[161] Austere practices. See Tudong in Glossary.
[162] Abhiññaa: psychic powers; divine ear; reading the minds of others; remembering past lives; divine eye; knowledge of liberation of the mind.
[163] Ti-lakkha.na. See Glossary.
[164] Lokiiya-abhiññaa; lokiiya-jhaana: mundane psychic powers and absorption-concentration of the unenlightened being.
[165] A cousin of the Lord Buddha, who originally had mundane psychic powers but through jealousy and ambition eventually tried to kill the Buddha and subsequently lost them.
[166] An ancient, devoutly Buddhist people, once powerful in present day Burma and Thailand, now an ethnic minority group in both countries.
[167] Ti-sara.nagamana: Taking refuge in the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha.
[168] Now the main Dhammayut' monastery in the town of Udorn-thani.
[169] In Thailand, this is traditionally considered a very inauspicious dream.
[170] An annual ceremony where the villagers present offerings to the monks to make merit for the dead, while the distribution of the gifts is done by drawing lots.
[171] Dhamma-osot (Thai): To cure sickness through the practice of Dhamma, using the healing power of virtue and meditation.
[172] Not to be confused with the more famous Ajahn Mahaa Pin Paññaabalo mentioned earlier.
[173] The Northeast region is generally regarded as the poorest part of Thailand. It is also the driest and most infertile so that many people had to go off and work as laborers in the other regions of Thailand when there was no work in the fields.
[174] See Appendix C for background to this tension.
[175] This whole area was rich in tin deposits. Dta-gooa Toong means Field of Tin while Tai Muang means Behind the Mine.
[176] A monk's 'ordination' is registered and details entered in a small identification book. This is the equivalent of the ordinary Thai citizen's I.D. card.
[177] Historically, education had started in the local monastery. As the bureaucracy developed, so monastic affairs were subsumed under the Education Ministry.
[178] Aesop's Fables are taught in Thai elementary schools.
[179] nipa fruiticans.
[180] About two acres. See Glossary: Thai measurements.
[181] Upajjhaaya: is a senior monk who is certified to conduct ordinations, etc.
[182] I.e. some donors wanted it to be used specifically for Ven. Ajahn Tate's personal use, rather than for general use.
[183] Lit: "falling? -- rising?". This refers to concentrating on the abdominal movements from breathing.
[184] Thai idiom, meaning 'without advertising'. This development is significant because it shows the gradual acceptance by the central authorities of the Kammatthana Forest tradition.
[185] 'Phra Raja-tahn Samanasak', which is conferred by the king. See Thai Titles in Glossary.
[186] 'Phra Raja-tahn Samanasak Phra Raja-kana-sahman Fai Vipassanaa. Addressed as 'Chao Khun'.
[187] Where Arañña means 'forest'.
[188] Loka-dhamma: gain and loss; honour/prominence and dishonour/obscurity; happiness and misery; praise and blame. (Vis. XXII); cp. (A.VIII, 5).
[189] It is in the Poo Pahn range, with heights of over 300 metres.
[190] Wild boar were common in jungle monasteries until quite recent times. They have a reputation for dauntlessness, agility, toughness and the ability to eat virtually anything.
[191] Hin Mark Peng is the name for some huge rocks on the bank of the River Mekong.
[192] This refers to the traditional design, being raised off the ground on posts, with a high peaked, steeply angled roof (for better rain run-off during the monsoon season). 'Hut' is here the normal translation of kuti however this can be any sized dwelling for monks or nuns.
[193] This exemplifies the author's wish to show appreciation for such good works. As specific names and costs are not as meaningful for non-Thai readers, the author has given permission for future passages to be simplified which is indicated by ellipses ...
[194] Collecting water from the roof, mainly for drinking during the long, hot dry season.
[195] A long, low boat with an extended propeller shaft.
[196] I.e. the full specified three months were not completed.
[197] Thinking that he might have seen the future winning numbers in his meditation.
[198] Thailand has always been open to missionaries. The Thai king is Buddhist but protects all religions.
[199] Buddhism declined from being a major religion in India for many reasons: The Muslim invasions from the Northwest, the Hindu resurgence and a probable decline in Dhamma practice. The famous Buddhist 'temple' in Bodh' Gaya became a Hindu temple until this century, when a 'Buddhist revival' has led to its restoration.
[200] Place of the Buddha's Birth, Enlightenment, First Dhamma Teaching and Final Passing Away.
[201] Bangkok is the western name, in Thai it is 'Krung Thep' or City of Angels.
[202] People who have realized the first of the four stages of enlightenment.
[203] I.e. rather than the underlying problems being class and capital, they are greed, aversion and delusion.
[204] Compare with Bangkok!
[205] Lit: like playing the flute to a water buffalo. Like 'pearls before swine', perhaps.
[206] In accordance with Thai good manners.
[207] The ellipses in this paragraph are in the original.
[208] Meditative absorption on an object.
[209] Quoting some teachings of the Buddha.
[210] Nirandorn means 'eternity'.
[211] Meditative absorption on a non-material object
[212] When Prince Siddhattha Gotama went forth from his palace into the homeless life, these were his first teachers whom he then surpassed. See the Ariyapariyesena Sutta [M.I.163-166].
[213] The former capital of Siam between 1569-1767, when it was destroyed by invading Burmese forces.
[214] 'Pucchavipassana Dhamma Nai Dtang Pratate'; 'Prawat Cheewit Karn Pai Dtang Pratate'. No English translation is available. ??? include Thai titles ???
[215] Durio zibethinus (Malvaceae). The durian is generally highly prized and one of the most expensive fruits. There is a skill to splitting it open without spoiling the succulent fruit inside.
[216] This includes generosity, morality, right livelihood and meditation.
[217] Vatacakra (Thai); va.t.tacakka (Pali).
[218] Becoming monks for a short period.
[219] Lit: children and grandchildren.
[220] For more details see Appendix D.
[221] See Glossary.
[222] See Section 28.1.
[223] Sankhaara. See Glossary.
[224] Volitional action. See Glossary.
[225] The preta or realm of hungry ghosts; avicii is one of the most painful hells. But note that no realm is eternal for all are conditioned by one's deeds or kamma.
[226] See the following section for the venerable author's own passing and funeral.
[227] Based on "A Disciple's Notes" in a Thai language memorial publication: ???
[228] See Section 29 above.
[229] In Thailand, the bodies of important people will be preserved for a certain time to allow suitable arrangements to be prepared and for people to come and pay their last respects. Two of Venerable Ajahn Tate's prominent supporters had also already built a crematorium and chedi at Wat Hin Mark Peng.
[230] Recommended by the Buddha himself.
[231] This had been added by the translator for those unfamiliar with the Buddhist Precepts. They are mentioned throughout the text.
[232] Included as an addition at the back of the original Thai edition of the Autobiography.
[233] Thai Law has special regulations about such things.
[234] In the traditional Thai architectural style.
[235] In Thailand, one's birth-year accords with the name of an animal and a number. There are twelve animals in the cycle and ten numbers, which means both cycles come full circle at age 60. It is considered an especially significant birthday.
[236] Another Glossary specifically for Steps along the Path follows that work.
[237] Translated from the Thai by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.