The Teachings of Ajahn Lee.

The Teachings of Ajahn Lee.

The parts of the body that ache, that are tense, painful, or sore—think of them as hoodlums or fools. As for the parts that are relaxed and comfortable, think of them as sages. 

Ask yourself: Do you want to live with sages or fools?

It’s not the case that the body will be painful in every part all at the same time. Sometimes our hand hurts, but our arm doesn’t hurt; our stomach aches, but our back doesn’t ache; our legs hurt, but our feet are fine; or our eyes hurt, but our head doesn’t hurt. 

When this is the case, we should choose to stay with the good parts. If we take up company with more and more good people, they’ll reach the point where they can drive out all the hoodlums. In the same way, when the mind is very still, the sense of comfort will become so great that we’ll forget about aches and pains.

The breath energy in the body is like a messenger. When we expand the breath—this is what’s meant by vicāra, or evaluation—mindfulness will spread throughout the body, as if it were going along an electric wire. 

Being mindful is like sending electricity along a wire; alertness is like the heat of the electricity that energizes us and wakes us up. 

When the body is energized, no pains will overcome it. In other words, we wake up the properties of earth, water, wind, and fire so that they get to work. The properties of the body will become strong and healthy, making the body feel comfortable and well. 

This is termed mahābhūta-rūpa. 

When this sense of mahābhūta-rūpa is nourished with breath and mindfulness in this way, it will grow and mature. The properties will grow quiet and mature, and become mahā-satipaṭṭhāna, the great frame of reference.

This is threshold concentration, or vicāra—spreading the breath.

In centering the mind, we have to put it on the middle path, cutting away all thoughts of past and future. As for worldly phenomena—gain and loss, status and disgrace, praise and censure, pleasure and pain—no matter how bad they may be or how fantastically good, we aren’t interested—because even when they really have been good, they’ve left us long ago; and as for the good lying ahead, it hasn’t reached us yet.

To feed on moods that are past is like eating things that other people have spit out. Things that other people have spit out, we shouldn’t gather up and eat. Whoever does so, the Buddha said, is like a hungry ghost. In other words, the mind is a slave to craving, which is like saliva. We don’t get to eat any food and so we sit swallowing nothing but saliva. The mind isn’t in the middle way. To think of the future is like licking the rim of tomorrow’s soup pot, which doesn’t yet have even a drop of soup. To think about the past is like licking the bottom of yesterday’s soup pot when there isn’t any left.

This is why the Buddha became disenchanted with past and future, because they’re so undependable. 

Sometimes they put us in a good mood, which is indulgence in pleasure. Sometimes they get us in a bad mood, which is indulgence in self-affliction. When you know that this sort of thing isn’t the path of the practice, don’t go near it. The Buddha thus taught us to shield the mind so that it’s quiet and still by developing concentration.

When a person likes to lick his or her preoccupations, if they’re bad, it’s really heavy. If they’re good preoccupations, it’s not so bad, but it’s still on the mundane level. For this reason, we’re taught to take our stance in the present. When the mind isn’t involved in the past or the future, it enters the noble path—and then we realize how meaningless the things of the past are: This is the essence of the knowledge of past lives. Old things come back and turn into new; new things come back and turn into old. Or as people say, the future becomes the past and the past becomes the future. When you can dispose with past and future, the mind becomes even more steadfast.

This is called right mindfulness. The mind develops strength of conviction (saddhā-balaṁ), i.e., your convictions become more settled in the truth of the present. 

Viriya-balaṁ: 

Your persistence becomes fearless. 

Sati-balaṁ: 

Mindfulness develops into great mindfulness. 

Samādhi-balaṁ: 

The mind becomes firm and unshaking. 

Paññā-balaṁ: 

Discernment becomes acute to the point where it can see the true nature of the khandhas, becoming dispassionate and letting go of the body and self so that the mind is released from the power of attachment. This, according to the wise, is knowledge of the end of mental fermentation.

To know where beings go and take birth is termed knowledge of death and rebirth. We become disenchanted with states of being. 

Once we know enough to feel disenchantment, our states of being and birth lessen. Our burdens and concerns lighten. The mind’s cycling through states of being slows down. 

Just like a wheel when we put thorns in the tire and place logs in the way: It slows down. 

When the mind turns more slowly, you can count the stages in its cycle. This is called knowing the moments of the mind. To know in this way is liberating insight. It’s awareness. 

To know past, future, and present is awareness.

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From Inner Strength & Parting Gifts: 

Talks by Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo, translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu.

https://www.dhammatalks.org/.../InnerStrength/Contents.html

PDF: 

https://www.dhammatalks.org/.../InnerStrength_181215.pdf