Being Dharma Read online

  Thinking is only a matter of conceptualization and creation. If we are not fully aware, we start to believe it is a matter of wisdom. So we follow after it and end up with dissatisfaction and suffering. If it were really wisdom, would it bring any suffering?

  Still, this is something that can lead to wisdom, something that can cause us to see and to know. Don’t get the idea they are far apart. Wherever conceptualization exists, wisdom is there. Wherever there is the created, the uncreated is also there. The uncreated is freedom from conceptualization. The created is conceptualization.

  This is pointed out through many different methods by different teachers. In Zen, for example, they have their ways for imparting wisdom. You are asked a question, and when you answer, they beat you. Bam! They ask again, so you don’t answer this time, but they hit you again. “Hmm. . . . What’s really going on here? I might lose my life over this; how should I respond? What should I do?” These methods can bring about wisdom. What to do? Going forward is not right. Retreating is not right. Standing still and giving no answer is not right either. Whatever you try, you only get a beating. Some feeling comes about, and you start to seek more deeply for the answer. This is the method of Zen that I read about. It’s curious, isn’t it? It can really cause people to gain wisdom. However you answer or don’t answer, you are beaten. You lose all your ideas about what is right and wrong. You can’t move, you can’t stand still. What do you do? You come to the end of your tether, but still there is something more to go through. So the mind keeps on investigating to find a way. Their methods are pretty good, I think. It’s mysterious. But for us, it’s just a lot of thinking and guessing about the way things are. We know something, but what we know is only what someone else has said. So there will always be more things to ask about and learn, and there are always more doubts. The more things are explained, the further we are from understanding. Why is it like this? What is blocking us? This knowledge itself is blocking us.

  So you really need to search inwardly. When you keep looking, your understanding will become more subtle. This refined awareness will seem like something very good. But the Zen master doesn’t accept it. “Get rid of the subtle! I have no use for it!” And you get another beating. When the subtle still remains, you have to drive it out. You don’t know what to do, where to abide or to go, and you run out of options. It’s better just to throw it all away.

  It is taught that all of our thoughts and feelings are just the fantasy world of mental concoction. It is not real knowledge. It is the creation of fantasy, but we feel it is genuine knowledge. It is knowing without letting go. With real knowledge, one lets go.

  Samadhi has its difficulties. People can get sidetracked. “When I sit, I have so many experiences. I see lights. I see colors . . .” They really get caught up in all this. When they tell me about their samadhi, there’s not much I can say. It’s just more childish stuff. It really is like the child fascinated by the animals and asking endless questions. That’s what a child has to do, because it doesn’t know what things are. When it grows up it will know for itself and won’t have to ask anymore.

  When the factor of rapture arises in meditation, there is a happiness of mind that cannot be described; but one who has reached this will know it. Happiness arises, rapture, one-pointedness, discursiveness, and investigation. These five things come together at a single point. They have five distinct characteristics, but they are unified, and they are all experienced together. It’s like different fruits in a basket; although they are different, we see them together in one place. The factors of jhana (meditative absorption) come together and are experienced in the mind. To describe them is impossible—what is the joy like? how does bliss happen? what is discursiveness like?—but if they are developed and experienced, they fill the mind and you will know. At this point, practice is something different. Your meditation becomes different and even strange. It’s necessary to have mindfulness and clear comprehension. Don’t get confused about what is going on. It is only a mental experience, a mind moment, the nature of mind displaying its potential.

  Don’t have any doubt about these things that occur in practice. If it goes up into the air or is submerged under the ground, if it seems to be dying, never mind. Just look directly at what your state of mind is and abide with that awareness. That’s all. You will have your foundation right there. With mindfulness and clear comprehension, knowing yourself in all four postures of standing, walking, sitting, and lying down, you are not grasping at whatever appears in your field of experience. When you are constantly aware of all that occurs, whether there is attraction or aversion, happiness or displeasure, doubt or certainty, there is investigating and knowing, getting the essence of practice and experiencing the fruit. Don’t go fixating on the way things appear to be. Recognize whatever appears to the mind as merely so—merely a moment of sensation and awareness, something impermanent that arises and passes away. There is nothing more than that. There is no self or other, no essence, nothing that should be grasped.

  When body and mind are seen thus with wisdom, we are aware of all the old habits and patterns. Seeing the impermanence of mind and body, seeing the impermanence of the totality of all feelings of happiness and suffering, of love and hate, we realize there is only so much to them, they are merely what they are, and the mind turns. It turns away and becomes weary of it all. It becomes weary of mind and body, these things that appear and pass away and are unreliable. Wherever we may be, we see this. When the mind becomes weary, its only concern will be to find a way out. We no longer want to live as before because we see the imperfections and liabilities of the worldly way. We see the liability of this life we have been born into. With this perspective, wherever we go, we will see the facts of the impermanent, unsatisfactory, and selfless nature of phenomena, and there will be nothing we wish to get or grasp hold of. Sitting beneath a tree, we hear the teaching of the Buddha. Sitting atop a mountain, we hear the teaching of the Buddha. Sitting on a plain, we hear the teaching of the Buddha. We will see this world much more clearly. We will see body and mind more clearly. The realms of form and formlessness we will see more clearly. They become clearer in the light of impermanence, in the light of the unsatisfactory nature of things, in the light of the absence of a self.

  Whenever we humans hold on to things as being permanent and real, suffering comes immediately. But when we realize the truth of body and mind, suffering is not born. Without attachment, there is no way for suffering to take hold. In all situations, wisdom will arise. Even seeing a tree, wisdom arises through this contemplation. Seeing plants in the fields, seeing insects, wisdom arises. They all end up at the same point to become Dharma—the point of not being certain. This is the truth. They are things that are not permanent. In what way are they permanent? The only permanence or certainty is that, having arisen, they are transitory and unreliable. They cannot change into something that will not undergo transformation and then cease to be. That’s all. If you truly realize this, you have traveled your path to the end.

  According to the Buddhist way, if you think, I am better than others, this is not correct. I am worse than others, is still not correct. I am equal to others, is also not correct, because there is really no such thing as I. Uprooting the conceit that says, “I am,” you become the knower of the world, knowing clearly according to the truth. If your vision is true thus, then the mind is true, with complete knowledge of the actual way of things. The causes are cut off. With no causes, nothing is born.

  So the practice must proceed like that. The foundations one needs to develop when starting out are first, being an honest person, one who is straightforward; second, having fear of wrongdoing and being ashamed of bad actions; and third, having a humble mind, being of few wishes and easily contented. Those of few wishes, who are restrained in speech and actions, will know themselves and be free of distraction.

  These elements are the foundation, and when they are complete, there will only be virtue, meditative stability, and wisdom
in the mind. They will fill the mind, and there will be nothing else there. Such a mind will live wholly in morality, meditation, and wisdom.

  So we practitioners should not be heedless. These words are not often heard, yet this admonition applies to everything. Even when something is good, when you seem to be in the right, don’t be heedless. Don’t be heedless in regard to what is wrong, to what is good, or to happiness or suffering. The Buddha taught us not to be heedless about anything. Why? Because all these things are uncertain.

  Relate to your own mind in this way as well. If it becomes tranquil, don’t grasp that state. Just let it be. It’s a natural reaction to be gladdened by it, but just be aware of what is happening. Whether there are good or evil states, be aware of them.

  A teacher can explain the methods for training the mind, but it is only you who can do it for yourself. You can know everything in your own mind. Who else can know for you? If you rely on what is correct like this, you can reach the point of ease no matter where you are or what you are doing. But this means really practicing. Efforts that are not genuine or sincere will not help. Genuine practice is not something tiring because it is done by way of mind. If you have mindful awareness of yourself, you know what is going on. You know what is right and what is wrong, and you know the way to practice. There isn’t really a lot you need.

  Relating to your friends in Dharma, there are two things to consider, what are called in the vernacular the example and the essence. It is taught not to take the example, rather to take the essence. Ajahn Tongrat, a master of the last generation, was a case in point. People who weren’t smart could not get his Dharma, because they would only look at his example. His speech wasn’t restrained—this was his example. He would make requests of laypeople all the time, and when he scolded someone in the assembly, he would really lay into them. His example was like this, but in his essence, there was nothing—really nothing. It was merely speaking, and his speech was all Dharma. In truth, whatever he said was aimed at Dharma, but people didn’t have any idea what he was doing. His intention was to give Dharma, not to give harm, and no harm was done, no loss was incurred by anyone. But in his comings and goings, his words and actions, he did not seem to be restrained; his example was like this. Some monks tried to follow it, and the result was only their own undoing.

  When Ajahn Tongrat and his monks would go for alms, there was one house where the people were kind of stingy. They didn’t like to give food, but of course almost everyone in the village would at least offer a little rice, so they had to come up with some excuse, such as that they didn’t know the monks were coming. So when Ajahn Tongrat would get to their house, he would shout in a booming voice, “Hey! Is the rice cooked yet?” and wait in front of the house. Then the people would have no choice but to come out and put some rice in the monks’ alms bowls.

  The other monks would see Ajahn Tongrat do this every day, and later on one old fellow started doing it, too. Wherever he went on alms round, he would shout at every house, “Hey! Is the rice cooked yet?”

  This eventually came to Ajahn Tongrat’s attention. One day, in the assembly, he singled out this monk and scolded him for soliciting donations of food.

  “What do you mean, Ajahn?” asked the old guy in all innocence.

  “People are telling me that when you go for alms you are shouting out, ‘Hey, is the rice cooked yet?’ This is completely inappropriate for a bhikkhu.”

  Of course, the old monk thought he was doing the right thing, following his teacher’s example. But he didn’t know the reason Ajahn Tongrat displayed such behavior, and he didn’t have the same mind of detachment. The ajahn prodded the stingy laypeople out of the wish for them to develop generous hearts, not merely for the sake of filling his stomach.

  The different types of beings who come to the Dharma may be classified by the ease or difficulty with which they practice and gain realization. Previous accumulation of merit and the development of parami, the “spiritual perfections” that prepare one for enlightenment, isn’t really something we can have a competition in, the way we do to measure bodily strength and abilities. Some say, “I have good intentions. I want to develop, but I just can’t do it.” Well, you have to try to do it, push it along.

  For some, practice is difficult. There are obstructions and troubles in everything they do, and realization comes ever so slowly. It means they’ve created only a small store of parami in the past. So now, in the present, they have to create a lot of it. They can’t just give up and turn back. If a poor person thinks—OK, I’m poor, that’s how it is, so I needn’t try to work and change things—then he’s really in trouble. He’s got to think, I am poor, so I should work hard or at least work like others do. It’s the same here. If we practice a lot, work hard, and develop the path energetically, we can progress, too.

  Then there are those for whom practice is difficult, but realization comes fast. Their practice may even bring them close to death—they will have to struggle and fight—but they can realize the truth quickly. If they experience a lot of pain, it doesn’t matter. The pain will soon be gone.

  For the third type of person, practice is easy, but knowledge comes with difficulty. They don’t have much struggle or obstruction, and they can keep on practicing smoothly, but it takes a long time. Maybe not until the time of death will they see.

  With the fourth group, practice is pleasant and easy. Their path is one of happiness, and realization comes easily. There are people like this, too.

  Whatever the case, whether results come fast or slow, whether we seem to have a lot of ability or not very much, making efforts to practice virtue is always worthwhile. Whatever we do will not be lost. Virtue accomplished will undo nonvirtue; that which is correct will remove that which is wrong. At the present moment, the fruit may not have come, but later on it will. This is karma. When one karma is giving its result, another karma cannot. We are receiving the results of past actions now, not yet the results of the actions we do in the present. But nothing is lost. When one karma is finished, another will follow. So we do our practice now, and there will be benefit when the time is right.

  Lay Practice: Don’t Let the Monkey Burn Down Your House

  BUDDHISM TEACHES US TO make earnest efforts in the things we do, but our actions should not be mixed with desire. They should be performed with the aim of letting go and realizing nonattachment. We do what we need to do, but with letting go. The Buddha taught this.

  But this is tiring. There is no great enthusiasm for it. People in the world do whatever they do to get something—like the people who come to see you in your capacities as doctors and administrators. It’s because they want something. Generally, whatever is done is done because of a wish to get something, and attachment and clinging to things becomes a way of life. But we do our own work according to our responsibilities. If we act like this, doing work that is correct with right understanding, we can be at ease.

  When planting a tree, if you want to do it the right way and get fruit from it, how should you go about it in order to have a relaxed mind? You do that which is your responsibility. Getting hold of the sapling is your job; digging the hole is your job; planting it, fertilizing and watering it, and keeping the insects off it is your job. That’s it. Stop here. How fast or slow it grows isn’t your job. Let go of this part. You make the causes in planting and taking care of the tree, but you don’t think, When will it be fully grown? When will there be fruit? That isn’t your business, it’s the plant’s. If you think, I’ve watered it and all the rest, now how can I force it to grow faster? that won’t help. It isn’t your responsibility, but there’s a connection: if you’ve done your work properly, the tree is bound to grow according to nature. If you think like this, you will be OK. If you want it to grow in a day or two after all your hard work, that’s mistaken. There’s no happiness that way. Don’t think about it too much at this point.

  It’s a matter of making causes. If the causes are good, the result is bound to be good, because
all things are born of causes. We have our duties, so we do them to the full. But we act without attachment, taking care of our own responsibilities. If we try to take care of the tree’s responsibilities, we will get upset. The important thing is to make the causes good. Then the result will be good. If we think like this, there will be lightness of mind. Otherwise, we are doing the other’s work, watching the tree today, going back to watch it tomorrow, trying to see it grow.

  This is called right livelihood, but there are lots of ordinary things that will bother us. Insects pester the person taking care of the tree and upset him. When there are a lot of tasks and a lot of people, there can be many issues—friction between people and so forth—to trouble our minds when we are trying to do our best.

  This is normal. For example, blame and praise are paired judgments. Without criticism there is no praise, and without praise there is no criticism. We have to be able to contend with both. We should realize that these things are helping us, waking us. That’s all they are, wake-up calls. But we don’t see it like that. If someone disparages us, we are immediately angry and heavyhearted, and if we are praised, we give a sigh of contentment. It is like this, but we don’t realize that they’re a pair. We can do our work well now, but before we didn’t know how to do things right. One comes from the other. From knowing what is wrong, we come to know what is right. This is really very natural. If we have such understanding, then letting go will follow. This is something for all of you to make efforts at, to think about and practice.

  The Buddha taught that certain actions are good. But a few people will practice, while others have no interest or knowledge and behave in contrary ways. This might disturb you. You should just view it as the way things are in this world. It has to be like this. Now, when people criticize or slander us, we can’t bear it. Yet soon enough it will happen again. If there is praise, there will be blame; they are a pair. Understanding this, we come back to resolve them. We cannot have only one. That’s impossible. They occur continuously in this life; they are obstacles we must face.