Dedication to the Practice: A Dhamma Talk by Ajahn Chah

Dedication to the Practice: A Dhamma Talk by Ajahn Chah

So I’ve told you a few brief stories about how I practised. I didn’t have a lot of knowledge. I didn’t study much. What I did study was this heart and mind of mine, and I learned in a natural way through experimentation, trial and error.

When I liked something, then I examined what was going on and where it would lead. Inevitably, it would drag me to some distant suffering. My practice was to observe myself. As understanding and insight deepened, gradually I came to know myself.

Practise with unflinching dedication! If you want to practise Dhamma, then please try not to think too much. If you’re meditating and you find yourself trying to force specific results, then it’s better to stop.

When your mind settles down to become peaceful and then you think, “That’s it! That’s it, isn’t it? Is this it?,” then stop. Take all your analytical and theoretical knowledge, wrap it up and store it away in a chest. And don’t drag it out for discussion or to teach. That’s not the type of knowledge that penetrates inside. They are different types of knowledge.

When the reality of something is seen, it’s not the same as the written descriptions. For example, let’s say we write down the word “sensual desire.” When sensual desire actually overwhelms the heart, it’s impossible that the written word can convey the same meaning as the reality.

It’s the same with “anger.” We can write the letters on a blackboard, but when we’re actually angry the experience is not the same. We can’t read those letters fast enough, and the heart is engulfed by rage.

This is an extremely important point. The theoretical teachings are accurate, but it’s essential to bring them into our hearts. It must be internalized. If the Dhamma isn’t brought into the heart, it’s not truly known. It’s not actually seen.

I was no different. I didn’t study extensively, but I did do enough to pass some of the exams on Buddhist theory. One day I had the opportunity to listen to a Dhamma talk from a meditation master. As I listened, some disrespectful thoughts came up. I didn’t know how to listen to a real Dhamma talk. I couldn’t figure out what this wandering meditation monk was talking about. He was teaching as though it was coming from his own direct experience, as if he was after the truth.

As time went on and I gained some firsthand experience in the practice, I saw for myself the truth of what that monk taught. I understood how to understand. Insight then followed in its wake.

Dhamma was taking root in my own heart and mind. It was a long, long time before I realized that everything that that wandering monk had taught came from what he’d seen for himself. The Dhamma he taught came directly from his own experience, not from a book. He spoke according to his understanding and insight. When I walked the path myself, I came across every detail he’d described and had to admit he was right. So I continued on.

Try to take every opportunity you can to put effort into Dhamma practice. Whether it’s peaceful or not, don’t worry about it at this point.

The highest priority is to set the wheels of practice in motion and create the causes for future liberation. If you’ve done the work, there’s no need to worry about the results. Don’t be anxious that you won’t gain results. Anxiety is not peaceful.

If however, you don’t do the work, how can you expect results? How can you ever hope to see? It’s the one who searches who discovers. It’s the one who eats who’s full. Everything around us lies to us.

Recognizing this even ten times is still pretty good. But the same old coot keeps telling us the same old lies and stories. If we know he’s lying, it’s not so bad, but it can be an exceedingly long time before we know. The old fellow comes and tries to hoodwink us with deception time and time again.

Practising Dhamma means upholding virtue, developing samádhi and cultivating wisdom in our hearts. Remember and reflect on the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha. Abandon absolutely everything without exception. Our own actions are the causes and conditions that will ripen in this very life. So strive on with sincerity.

Even if we have to sit in a chair to meditate, it’s still possible to focus our attention. In the beginning we don’t have to focus on many things—just our breath. If we prefer, we can mentally repeat the word “Buddha,” “Dhamma,” or “Sangha” in conjunction with each breath.

While focusing attention, resolve not to control the breath. If breathing seems laborious or uncomfortable, this indicates we’re not approaching it right. As long as we’re not yet at ease with the breath, it will seem too shallow or too deep, too subtle or too rough.

However, once we relax with our breath, finding it pleasant and comfortable, clearly aware of each inhalation and exhalation, then we’re getting the hang of it. If we’re not doing it properly, we will lose the breath. If this happens, then it’s better to stop for a moment and refocus the mindfulness.

If while meditating you get the urge to experience psychic phenomena or the mind becomes luminous and radiant or you have visions of celestial palaces and so on, there’s no need to fear. Simply be aware of whatever you’re experiencing, and continue on meditating.

Occasionally, after some time, the breath may appear to slow to a halt. The sensation of the breath seems to vanish and you become alarmed. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You only think your breathing has stopped. Actually the breath is still there, but it’s functioning on a much more subtle level than usual. With time the breath will return to normal by itself.

In the beginning, just concentrate on making the mind calm and peaceful. Whether sitting in a chair, riding in a car, taking a boat ride, or wherever you happen to be, you should be proficient enough in your meditation that you can enter a state of peace at will. When you get on a train and sit down, quickly bring your mind to a state of peace. Wherever you are, you can always sit.

This level of proficiency indicates that you’re becoming familiar with the path. You then investigate. Utilize the power of this peaceful mind to investigate what you experience.

At times it’s what you see; at times what you hear, smell, taste, feel with your body, or think and feel in your heart. Whatever sensory experience presents itself—like it or not—take that up for contemplation. Simply know what you are experiencing.

Don’t project meaning or interpretations onto those objects of sense awareness. If it’s good, just know that it’s good. If it’s bad, just know that it’s bad. This is conventional reality. Good or evil, it’s all impermanent, unsatisfying and not-self. It’s all undependable. None of it is worthy of being grasped or clung to. If you can maintain this practice of peace and inquiry, wisdom will automatically be generated.

Everything sensed and experienced then falls into these three pits of impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and not-self. This is vipassaná meditation. The mind is already peaceful, and whenever impure states of mind surface, throw them away into one of these three rubbish pits. This is the essence of vipassaná: discarding everything down into impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and not-self. Good, bad, horrible, or whatever, toss it down.

In a short time, understanding and insight will blossom forth in the midst of the three universal characteristics—feeble insight, that is. At this beginning stage the wisdom is still weak and feeble, but try to maintain this practice with consistency.

It’s difficult to put into words, but it’s like if somebody wanted to get to know me, they’d have to come and live here. Eventually, with daily contact, we would get to know each other.

Reference

Ajahn Chah. 2006. Meditation. Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society

As formatted and edited by Ajahn David Dale Holmes

Reprinted with the kind permission of the Abbot of Wat Pah Nanachat.
Copyright @ 2006 Sangha, Wat Pah Nanachat, Ampher Warin, Ubon Rajathani 34310, Thailand.

The Buddhist Publication Society is grateful to Ajahn Ñáóadhammo, the abbot of Wat Pah Nanachat, and Ajahn Kalyáóo, the abbot of Bodhivana monastery, for giving their kind permission to reprint these talks and thus make them available to a wider public, especially in Sri Lanka. For free publication only.

Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo September 10, 2018 at 9:56 AM · Coming Ashore

Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo
September 10, 2018 at 9:56 AM ·
Coming Ashore

June 28, 1959

The Dhamma is something that cleanses the mind so that it’s bright, clean, and happy. People differ in their temperaments: Some are crude, others intermediate, and others refined. This is why the Buddha elaborated on the Dhamma in various ways in line with the character of his listeners. In other words, he took short things and explained them until they were long. For example, sometimes he’d explain the rewards of generosity, sometimes the rewards of virtue, and sometimes the rewards of polishing the heart: what’s called meditation. But his real aim was to teach people to make their minds pure. Everything else was just elaboration.

Each of us human beings is like a person sitting in a boat in the middle of an ocean filled with wind, waves, and storms. Some people are floating so far out they can’t even see the shore. Some are bobbing up and down, so that sometimes they see the shore and sometimes they don’t. This stands for the people who are repeating buddho, buddho. Some people are floating closer to land, so that they can see the fish traps, the sailboats, and the green trees on shore. Some have struggled to swim closer to shore, but they still haven’t made it to land. As for the Buddha, he’s like a person standing on the shore, free from all the dangers of being at sea. He’s seen the dangers that people are subject to, which is why he has the great compassion to want to help us get out of the sea and safely on land. This is why he teaches us to practice generosity, virtue, and meditation, for these are the things that will pull us safely onto shore.

When we set our minds on practicing the Dhamma, we have to set our sights on the Dhamma’s true aim. Don’t go wandering off in other directions. You have to know which path is the wrong one, the dangerous one; and which one is the right one, the safe one. It’s like steering a ship across the ocean. The captain has to watch for the signals of the lighthouse. Or you can make a comparison with driving a car: The traffic police have their red, yellow, and green lights as traffic signals at the major intersections. If, when the signal has its red light on, you don’t stop, then if you keep on driving there’s bound to be danger, and you’re sure to get pulled over. If the green light is on but you don’t go, that’s wrong, too. This is why when you’re driving you have to understand the signals so that you’ll reach your destination safely.

It’s the same when you’re traveling to the Dhamma. You have to know the Buddha’s traffic signals. His red lights are his prohibitions, the things he doesn’t allow. Anyone who lets his or her boat or car go through the red light will have to meet with danger. So while we’re meditating here we have to make sure we don’t go through the red light of our defilements.

The Buddha compared our defilements to fire. The heat of our single sun can make the world as hot as it is. Think of how hot it would be if there were five or six suns. The defilements around each of our senses are like the heat of the sun. Cakkhuṁ ādittaṁ: The eye is a mass of fire. Sotaṁ ādittaṁ: The ear is a mass of flame. Ghānaṁ ādittaṁ: The nose is a mass of fire. Jivhā ādittā: The tongue is a mass of flame. Kāyo āditto: The body is a mass of fire. Mano āditto: The heart is a mass of flame. Don’t let these six masses of fire burn you. Normally the sensual desires arising around the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind are red masses of flame burning away at the heart. If, while we’re meditating, we stick our minds into these preoccupations, it’s like taking a burning match and sticking it into some kerosene or gasoline. For this reason, while you’re meditating, don’t stick your mind into the affairs of your family, your home, your belongings, or absolutely anybody or anything at all. This is the Buddha’s red light, where he tells you not to go.

The other signal is the green light, the Dhamma being explained. When the light is green, that’s a sign for you to go ahead. The green light here stands for the Dhamma you’ve already studied, as well as the Dhamma you’re training yourself in right now. When the light is green, then whether we’re fast or slow, we have to go. Don’t just loiter around and block the way, or the police will arrest you. In other words, when the Dhamma arises by way of our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind, we have to pursue that goodness.

The Dhamma is what pushes or pulls as to goodness and peace. The green light is the Dhamma arising in a heart that’s clean and pure. Right now, have our minds entered the quality of buddha? This is an important point. We have to be observant to see whether the affairs of our minds are heading toward the green light or toward the red light. If we’re not heading in the right direction, we have to turn ourselves around. It’s like picking flowers, washing them, and then putting them in a vase. We have to make sure there aren’t any worms or caterpillars eating away at them. Make the mind like a pure, blooming lotus in a vase. This qualifies as the quality of buddha. Or think of it in another way: The mind is cool and refreshed like a lotus blooming in the middle of a pond. It’s surrounded by nourishing water, cool and with an appealing scent. If you’re sitting here in the meditation hall without any hindrances in the mind, it’s like a lotus in the middle of a pond. This is also called the quality of buddha. This is called the radiant mind, or in simpler terms, the quality of inner worth. When the mind is saturated in inner worth like this, it’s happy and at ease.

The Dhamma is a preoccupation that gives the mind a sense of rapture, fullness, and ease. When it arises, we’re taught to develop it and cultivate it as much as possible. Keep the mind in this preoccupation until it attains a state of oneness: That’s the Dhamma. Whatever is good in the heart, we try to raise that goodness to a higher and higher level. Keep evaluating it, focusing your mindfulness on it at all times, to see how the mind enters into this state of goodness. This is called developing a foundation of mindfulness.

If you keep your mindfulness focused on a single path—as when you think buddho, buddho—without sending your mind off on other paths, the mind grows deeper and deeper into a state of inner worth. Just as when we walk along a path on the ground: If we keep walking back and forth on the same path, it’s bound to get worn smooth. The grasses and weeds will die away, and the path will get worn deeper into the ground, to the point where, when it rains, it becomes a watercourse, watering our crops, so that they grow abundant. We’ll be able to sell them for a living and grow rich, freed from poverty. This is why this quality of merit or inner worth is called noble wealth.

Things deep and refined tend to be high in quality. If the breath is refined, the mind refined, and mindfulness refined, then the brightness of our awareness will spread wider and wider, like the electric lights that spread their light throughout the capital. This is different from lantern light, which—if we want to see all around us—we have to carry and run around. When the mind is refined and the breath is refined, we’ll be able to know the breath energies throughout the world. We’ll see how things are going with all the elements. The heart will grow even broader, so that our foundation of mindfulness becomes the great frame of reference. The mind grows even deeper and cooler. More full and rapturous. Blooming and at ease. When the mind matures in this way, you’ve got noble wealth. You’re no longer poor.

Coolness is like water. Wherever the ground has water there are bound to be fish, crabs, crayfish, and shellfish, grasses and vegetables, all of which can be converted to wealth. The Buddha saw the fullness of this mind state, which is why he told the monks, “Don’t farm for a living. Don’t get involved in receiving gold and silver. Focus on doing only one thing—be intent on really practicing the Dhamma, making your minds into the single, unified path—and then whatever you want, you’ll be sure to get. This is because when the mind is full of virtue and Dhamma, you’ll always have wealth.”

This is the power that comes from making your goodness deep—like the Chao Phraya River, which is deeper and broader than any other river in Thailand. It’s full of everything—boats, rafts, motor boats, steamboats, big boats, little boats—so that travel and commerce are convenient. In the river will be fish, in the fields will be rice, melons, cucumbers, corn, wheat—all of these things will be within you. You’ll be wealthy in everything. If you don’t give rise to goodness, then no matter what, you won’t be wealthy. This is why the Buddha taught the monks, “Don’t be farmers or merchants. And don’t worry, you won’t be poor. Simply build up a lot of goodness in your hearts, and all forms of wealth will come flowing your way on their own.”

But we don’t really believe him. We believe our defilements instead, and so our minds keep sliding toward red masses of flame rather than to the clear mass of purity. This is why we’re taught, sukkaṁ bhāvetha paṇḍito, the wise person develops the clear Dhamma of purity.

All I’ve mentioned so far deals with the qualities of the Buddha and Dhamma.

The quality of the Saṅgha means making the mind go forward without sliding back. We keep putting our mind into good shape. For instance, when the eye sees something that isn’t good, our mind is in good shape. The ear hears something that isn’t good, yet our mind is in good shape. The nose smells an aroma that isn’t good, the tongue tastes a flavor that isn’t good, the body touches a tactile sensation that isn’t good, yet our mind is still in good shape. This is called supaṭipanno,practicing rightly. When we keep the mind straight on the right path, that’s called uju-paṭipanno, practicing straightforwardly. When we bring the mind to the level of insight meditation, attaining the transcendent, that’s ñāya-paṭipanno, practicing for the sake of knowledge. As for sāmīci-paṭipanno, practicing masterfully, that means making our goodness even better and better. For example, when defilement arises in the heart, we have to use the Dhamma to pen it in. Defilement is like a rabid dog running around in misery. Whoever it sees, it runs right up to bite indiscriminately, until eventually it gets killed or falls down dead on its own. In the same way, when our defilements arise we have to pen them in quickly and keep them under our thumb. Don’t bring them out to put them to use. Greed, anger, and delusion are intoxicants. When we’re intoxicated, our minds are in the dark. When we’re in the dark we stagger around, back and forth, dizzy and confused, not knowing what way to go, and as a result we never get to the destination we want.

The Buddha’s green light takes us to the clear light of the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Saṅgha. When we have these three gems and are sitting on the crystal throne of the seven forms of noble wealth, what suffering will we have? When we make our minds into Dhamma, the various defilements that lie fermenting in the heart will have to disappear. There will be nothing to spoil the heart. We’ll be able to escape from the sea.

Once we get on land we can have all kinds of fun, for there are a lot of things we never saw at sea. It’s like when we come into the mouth of the Chao Phraya River, where there are marsh trees and fresh green plants. We become enchanted and keep walking further inland to Sukhumvit Road. There we see bicycles and trucks and jeeps and pretty automobiles of different colors. This gets us even more excited, and some of us get smitten with what we see on land. In other words, we fall for the visions and signs that come in meditation. For instance, we may begin to remember previous lifetimes. If we remember bad things, we become sad. If we remember good things, we get happy. This turns into craving, the desire to be this or that, and some people get really deluded, thinking they actually are the things they see.

If our discernment isn’t strong enough, then whatever we see will turn into the corruptions of insight (vipassanūpakkilesa)—like people who get all excited the first time they see a car. They go running to the car, wanting to ride in it, wanting to drive it, but without looking right or left or stopping to take note of anything. They run right out into the middle of the road, get run over, and either die or break an arm or a leg. After all the trouble they went to in order to get out of the sea, they get deluded and put themselves in danger all over again.

Like the example that happened a few days ago. An old monk came into the monastery, so some lay people asked him where he was from and whom he wanted to meet. He told them, “You all don’t know a thing. Ajaan Lee used to be King Asoka, which is why he built Wat Asokaram. I’m King Pasenadi the Kosalan, his old friend. That’s why I’ve come to visit him today.” He had his student come in to inform me, and so I told the student, “Quick. Quick. Go back and tell him to go away. He’s absolutely forbidden to come in here.” Even this sort of thing can happen. This is called getting smitten with being on land, i.e., falling for the visions you see. That old monk probably had a few ideas of one sort or another arising in his mind, and so got carried away.

If you start seeing things when your discernment isn’t strong enough, it turns into a corruption of insight—as when a person gets excited at the sight of a car because he’s never seen one before. He wants to ride in it, to drive it, so without looking left or right he goes running toward it, right into the middle of the road. And so he gets run over by a car and killed, or else crippled with a broken leg. This, too, is a kind of delusion, a danger.

But if our discernment is strong enough, whatever we see will turn into noble treasures (ariya-dhana). If we see a forest of marsh tress, we can put them to use. We can cut them into firewood to use ourselves or sell in the market. If the land is a tangle of weeds, we can clear it and turn it into fields. If we don’t let it lie fallow, it’s sure to yield crops.

Falling for visions is also called “skewed perception.” The right way to act when you see a vision is to remember to evaluate it and then let it go in line with its true nature. Don’t latch onto what you see, because all things are inconstant. If you’re born poor, you suffer from your desire to be rich. If you’re born rich, you suffer in looking after your possessions, afraid that they’ll wear out, afraid that you’ll get cheated out of them, afraid that thieves will break in and steal them. There’s nothing certain or dependable at all. The same holds true with visions. So whatever you see, you have to let it go in line with its nature. Leave the trees in the forest, the grass in the meadows, and the rice in the fields. If you can do this, you can be at your ease, because you know what it’s like on land, what it’s like in the water, when to get in and when to get out. Once you’re skilled, you can travel on water or land, at ease in every way. You can go forward or back without any obstacles. This is called lokavidū, knowing the world. You can stay with what you know, but you’re not stuck on it. You can live in the ocean without drowning. You can live in the world without getting sunk in the world—like a lotus leaf in the water: The water doesn’t seep into the leaf at all.

Fabricated things belong to no one, have no one in charge. If you contemplate them and let go of them in line with their nature—in the same way that you put down a knife, without holding onto it—the mind will reach an important point: the level of the radiant mind.

…

The Heightened Mind: Dhamma Talks of Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo,translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu.

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RIGHT CONCENTRATION (Samma Samadhi) by Bhikkhu Bodhi

RIGHT CONCENTRATION (Samma Samadhi) by Bhikkhu Bodhi

The eighth factor of the path is right concentration, in Pali samma samadhi. Concentration represents an intensification of a mental factor present in every state of consciousness.

This factor, one-pointedness of mind (citt'ekaggata), has the function of unifying the other mental factors in the task of cognition. It is the factor responsible for the individuating aspect of consciousness, ensuring that every citta or act of mind remains centred on its object.

At any given moment the mind must be cognizant of something -- a sight, a sound, a smell, a taste, a touch, or a mental object. The factor of one-pointedness unifies the mind and its other concomitants in the task of cognizing the object, while it simultaneously exercises the function of centring all the constituents of the cognitive act on the object.

One-pointedness of mind explains the fact that in any act of consciousness there is a central point of focus, towards which the entire objective datum points from its outer peripheries to its inner nucleus.

However, samadhi is only a particular kind of one-pointedness; it is not equivalent to one-pointedness in its entirety. A gourmet sitting down to a meal, an assassin about to slay his victim, a soldier on the battlefield -- these all act with a concentrated mind, but their concentration cannot be characterized as samadhi.

Samadhi is exclusively wholesome one-pointedness, the concentration in a wholesome state of mind. Even then its range is still narrower: it does not signify every form of wholesome concentration, but only the intensified concentration that results from a deliberate attempt to raise the mind to a higher, more purified level of awareness.

The commentaries define samadhi as the centring of the mind and mental factors rightly and evenly on an object. Samadhi, as wholesome concentration, collects together the ordinarily dispersed and dissipated stream of mental states to induce an inner unification.
The two salient features of a concentrated mind are unbroken attentiveness to an object and the consequent tranquillity of the mental functions, qualities which distinguish it from the unconcentrated mind.

The mind untrained in concentration moves in a scattered manner which the Buddha compares to the flapping about of a fish taken from the water and thrown onto dry land. It cannot stay fixed but rushes from idea to idea, from thought to thought, without inner control. Such a distracted mind is also a deluded mind.

Overwhelmed by worries and concerns, a constant prey to the defilements, it sees things only in fragments, distorted by the ripples of random thoughts.
But the mind that has been trained in concentration, in contrast, can remain focused on its object without distraction. This freedom from distraction further induces a softness and serenity which make the mind an effective instrument for penetration. Like a lake unruffled by any breeze, the concentrated mind is a faithful reflector that mirrors whatever is placed before it exactly as it is.

The Development of Concentration

Concentration can be developed through either of two methods -- either as the goal of a system of practice directed expressly towards the attainment of deep concentration at the level of absorption or as the incidental accompaniment of the path intended to generate insight. The former method is called the development of serenity (samatha-bhavana), the second the development of insight (vipassana-bhavana).

Both paths share certain preliminary requirements. For both, moral discipline must be purified, the various impediments must be severed, the meditator must seek out suitable instruction (preferrably from a personal teacher), and must resort to a dwelling conducive to practice. Once these preliminaries have been dispensed with, the meditator on the path of serenity has to obtain an object of meditation, something to be used as a focal point for developing concentration.[1]

If the meditator has a qualified teacher, the teacher will probably assign him an object judged to be appropriate for his temperament. If he doesn't have a teacher, he will have to select an object himself, perhaps after some experimentation. The meditation manuals collect the subjects of serenity meditation into a set of forty, called "places of work" (kammatthana) since they are the places where the meditator does the work of practice. The forty may be listed as follows:

ten kasinas
ten unattractive objects (dasa asubha)
ten recollections (dasa anussatiyo)
four sublime states (cattaro brahmavihara)
four immaterial states (cattaro aruppa)
one perception (eka sanna)
one analysis (eka vavatthana).

The kasinas are devices representing certain primordial qualities. Four represent the primary elements -- the earth, water, fire, and air kasinas; four represent colours -- the blue, yellow, red, and white kasinas; the other two are the light and the space kasinas. Each kasina is a concrete object representative of the universal quality it signifies. Thus an earth kasina would be a circular disk filled with clay. To develop concentration on the earth kasina the meditator sets the disk in front of him, fixes his gaze on it, and contemplates "earth, earth." A similar method is used for the other kasinas, with appropriate changes to fit the case.

The ten "unattractive objects" are corpses in different stages of decomposition. This subject appears similar to the contemplation of bodily decay in the mindfulness of the body, and in fact in olden times the cremation ground was recommended as the most appropriate place for both. But the two meditations differ in emphasis. In the mindfulness exercise stress falls on the application of reflective thought, the sight of the decaying corpse serving as a stimulus for consideration of one's own eventual death and disintegration. In this exercise the use of reflective thought is discouraged. The stress instead falls on one-pointed mental fixation on the object, the less thought the better.
The ten recollections form a miscellaneous collection. The first three are devotional meditations on the qualities of the Triple Gem -- the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha; they use as their basis standard formulas that have come down in the Suttas. The next three recollections also rely on ancient formulas: the meditations on morality, generosity, and the potential for divine-like qualities in oneself. Then come mindfulness of death, the contemplation of the unattractive nature of the body, mindfulness of breathing, and lastly, the recollection of peace, a discursive meditation on Nibbana.

The four sublime states or "divine abodes" are the outwardly directed social attitudes -- lovingkindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity -- developed into universal radiations which are gradually extended in range until they encompass all living beings. The four immaterial states are the objective bases for certain deep levels of absorption: the base of infinite space, the base of infinite consciousness, the base of nothingness, and the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception. These become accessible as objects only to those who are already adept in concentration. The "one perception" is the perception of the repulsiveness of food, a discursive topic intended to reduce attachment to the pleasures of the palate. The "one analysis" is the contemplation of the body in terms of the four primary elements, already discussed in the chapter on right mindfulness.
When such a variety of meditation subjects is presented, the aspiring meditator without a teacher might be perplexed as to which to choose. The manuals divide the forty subjects according to their suitability for different personality types. Thus the unattractive objects and the contemplation of the parts of the body are judged to be most suitable for a lustful type, the meditation on loving kindness to be best for a hating type, the meditation on the qualities of the Triple Gem to be most effective for a devotional type, etc.

But for practical purposes the beginner in meditation can generally be advised to start with a simple subject that helps reduce discursive thinking. Mental distraction caused by restlessness and scattered thoughts is a common problem faced by persons of all different character types; thus a meditator of any temperament can benefit from a subject which promotes a slowing down and stilling of the thought process. The subject generally recommended for its effectiveness in clearing the mind of stray thoughts is mindfulness of breathing, which can therefore be suggested as the subject most suitable for beginners as well as veterans seeking a direct approach to deep concentration. Once the mind settles down and one's thought patterns become easier to notice, one might then make use of other subjects to deal with special problems that arise: the meditation on loving kindness may be used to counteract anger and ill will, mindfulness of the bodily parts to weaken sensual lust, the recollection of the Buddha to inspire faith and devotion, the meditation on death to arouse a sense of urgency. The ability to select the subject appropriate to the situation requires skill, but this skill evolves through practice, often through simple trial-and-error experimentation.

The Stages of Concentration

Concentration is not attained all at once but develops in stages. To enable our exposition to cover all the stages of concentration, we will consider the case of a meditator who follows the entire path of serenity meditation from start to finish, and who will make much faster progress than the typical meditator is likely to make.

After receiving his meditation subject from a teacher, or selecting it on his own, the meditator retires to a quiet place. There he assumes the correct meditation posture -- the legs crossed comfortably, the upper part of the body held straight and erect, hands placed one above the other on the lap, the head kept steady, the mouth and eyes closed (unless a kasina or other visual object is used), the breath flowing naturally and regularly through the nostrils. He then focuses his mind on the object and tries to keep it there, fixed and alert. If the mind strays, he notices this quickly, catches it, and brings it back gently but firmly to the object, doing this over and over as often as is necessary. This initial stage is called preliminary concentration (parikkamma-samadhi) and the object the preliminary sign (parikkamma-nimitta).

Once the initial excitement subsides and the mind begins to settle into the practice, the five hindrances are likely to arise, bubbling up from the depths. Sometimes they appear as thoughts, sometimes as images, sometimes as obsessive emotions: surges of desire, anger and resentment, heaviness of mind, agitation, doubts. The hindrances pose a formidable barrier, but with patience and sustained effort they can be overcome. To conquer them the meditator will have to be adroit. At times, when a particular hindrance becomes strong, he may have to lay aside his primary subject of meditation and take up another subject expressly opposed to the hindrance. At other times he will have to persist with his primary subject despite the bumps along the road, bringing his mind back to it again and again.

As he goes on striving along the path of concentration, his exertion activates five mental factors which come to his aid. These factors are intermittently present in ordinary undirected consciousness, but there they lack a unifying bond and thus do not play any special role. However, when activated by the work of meditation, these five factors pick up power, link up with one another, and steer the mind towards samadhi, which they will govern as the "jhana factors," the factors of absorption (jhananga). Stated in their usual order the five are: initial application of mind (vitakka), sustained application of mind (vicara), rapture (piti), happiness (sukha), and one-pointedness (ekaggata).
Initial application of mind does the work of directing the mind to the object. It takes the mind, lifts it up, and drives it into the object the way one drives a nail through a block of wood. This done, sustained application of mind anchors the mind on the object, keeping it there through its function of examination. To clarify the difference between these two factors, initial application is compared to the striking of a bell, sustained application to the bell's reverberations. Rapture, the third factor, is the delight and joy that accompany a favourable interest in the object, while happiness, the fourth factor, is the pleasant feeling that accompanies successful concentration. Since rapture and happiness share similar qualities they tend to be confused with each other, but the two are not identical. The difference between them is illustrated by comparing rapture to the joy of a weary desert-farer who sees an oasis in the distance, happiness to his pleasure when drinking from the pond and resting in the shade. The fifth and final factor of absorption is one-pointedness, which has the pivotal function of unifying the mind on the object.[2]

When concentration is developed, these five factors spring up and counteract the five hindrances. Each absorption factor opposes a particular hindrance. Initial application of mind, through its work of lifting the mind up to the object, counters dullness and drowsiness. Sustained application, by anchoring the mind on the object, drives away doubt. Rapture shuts out ill will, happiness excludes restlessness and worry, and one-pointedness counters sensual desire, the most alluring inducement to distraction. Thus, with the strengthening of the absorption factors, the hindrances fade out and subside. They are not yet eradicated -- eradication can only be effected by wisdom, the third division of the path -- but they have been reduced to a state of quiescence where they cannot disrupt the forward movement of concentration.

At the same time that the hindrances are being overpowered by the jhana factors inwardly, on the side of the object too certain changes are taking place. The original object of concentration, the preliminary sign, is a gross physical object; in the case of a kasina, it is a disk representing the chosen element or colour, in the case of mindfulness of breathing the touch sensation of the breath, etc. But with the strengthening of concentration the original object gives rise to another object called the "learning sign" (uggaha-nimitta). For a kasina this will be a mental image of the disk seen as clearly in the mind as the original object was with the eyes; for the breath it will be a reflex image arisen from the touch sensation of the air currents moving around the nostrils.

When the learning sign appears, the meditator leaves off the preliminary sign and fixes his attention on the new object. In due time still another object will emerge out of the learning sign. This object, called the "counterpart sign" (patibhaga-nimitta), is a purified mental image many times brighter and clearer than the learning sign. The learning sign is compared to the moon seen behind a cloud, the counterpart sign to the moon freed from the cloud. Simultaneously with the appearance of the counterpart sign, the five absorption factors suppress the five hindrances, and the mind enters the stage of concentration called upacara-samadhi, "access concentration." Here, in access concentration, the mind is drawing close to absorption. It has entered the "neighbourhood" (a possible meaning of upacara) of absorption, but more work is still needed for it to become fully immersed in the object, the defining mark of absorption.

With further practice the factors of concentration gain in strength and bring the mind to absorption (appana-samadhi). Like access concentration, absorption takes the counterpart sign as object. The two stages of concentration are differentiated neither by the absence of the hindrances nor by the counterpart sign as object; these are common to both. What differentiates them is the strength of the jhana factors. In access concentration the jhana factors are present, but they lack strength and steadiness. Thus the mind in this stage is compared to a child who has just learned to walk: he takes a few steps, falls down, gets up, walks some more, and again falls down. But the mind in absorption is like a man who wants to walk: he just gets up and walks straight ahead without hesitation.
Concentration in the stage of absorption is divided into eight levels, each marked by greater depth, purity, and subtlety than its predecessor. The first four form a set called the four jhanas, a word best left untranslated for lack of a suitable equivalent, though it can be loosely rendered "meditative absorption."[3] The second four also form a set, the four immaterial states (aruppa). The eight have to be attained in progressive order, the achievement of any later level being dependent on the mastery of the immediately preceding level.

The four jhanas make up the usual textual definition of right concentration. Thus the Buddha says:
And what, monks, is right concentration? Herein, secluded from sense pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, a monk enters and dwells in the first jhana, which is accompanied by initial and sustained application of mind and filled with rapture and happiness born of seclusion.
Then, with the subsiding of initial and sustained application of mind, by gaining inner confidence and mental unification, he enters and dwells in the second jhana, which is free from initial and sustained application but is filled with rapture and happiness born of concentration.

With the fading out of rapture, he dwells in equanimity, mindful and clearly comprehending; and he experiences in his own person that bliss of which the noble ones say: "Happily lives he who is equanimous and mindful" -- thus he enters and dwells in the third jhana.
With the abandoning of pleasure and pain and with the previous disappearance of joy and grief, he enters and dwells in the fourth jhana, which has neither-pleasure-nor-pain and purity of mindfulness due to equanimity.

This, monks, is right concentration.[4]

The jhanas are distinguished by way of their component factors. The first jhana is constituted by the original set of five absorption factors: initial application, sustained application, rapture, happiness, and one-pointedness. After attaining the first jhana the meditator is advised to master it. On the one hand he should not fall into complacency over his achievement and neglect sustained practice; on the other, he should not become over-confident and rush ahead to attain the next jhana. To master the jhana he should enter it repeatedly and perfect his skill in it, until he can attain it, remain in it, emerge from it, and review it without any trouble or difficulty.

After mastering the first jhana, the meditator then considers that his attainment has certain defects. Though the jhana is certainly far superior to ordinary sense consciousness, more peaceful and blissful, it still stands close to sense consciousness and is not far removed from the hindrances. Moreover, two of its factors, initial application and sustained application, appear in time to be rather coarse, not as refined as the other factors. Then the meditator renews his practice of concentration intent on overcoming initial and sustained application. When his faculties mature, these two factors subside and he enters the second jhana. This jhana contains only three component factors: rapture, happiness, and one-pointedness. It also contains a multiplicity of other constituents, the most prominent of which is confidence of mind.

In the second jhana the mind becomes more tranquil and more thoroughly unified, but when mastered even this state seems gross, as it includes rapture, an exhilarating factor that inclines to excitation. So the meditator sets out again on his course of training, this time resolved on overcoming rapture. When rapture fades out, he enters the third jhana. Here there are only two absorption factors, happiness and one-pointedness, while some other auxiliary states come into ascendency, most notably mindfulness, clear comprehension, and equanimity. But still, the meditator sees, this attainment is defective in that it contains the feeling of happiness, which is gross compared to neutral feeling, feeling that is neither pleasant not painful. Thus he strives to get beyond even the sublime happiness of the third jhana. When he succeeds, he enters the fourth jhana, which is defined by two factors -- one-pointedness and neutral feeling -- and has a special purity of mindfulness due to the high level of equanimity.

Beyond the four jhanas lie the four immaterial states, levels of absorption in which the mind transcends even the subtlest perception of visualized images still sometimes persisting in the jhanas. The immaterial states are attained, not by refining mental factors as are the jhanas, but by refining objects, by replacing a relatively gross object with a subtler one. The four attainments are named after their respective objects: the base of infinite space, the base of infinite consciousness, the base of nothingness, and the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception.[5] These states represent levels of concentration so subtle and remote as to elude clear verbal explanation. The last of the four stands at the apex of mental concentration; it is the absolute, maximum degree of unification possible for consciousness. But even so, these absorptions reached by the path of serenity meditation, as exalted as they are, still lack the wisdom of insight, and so are not yet sufficient for gaining deliverance.
The kinds of concentration discussed so far arise by fixing the mind upon a single object to the exclusion of other objects. But apart from these there is another kind of concentration which does not depend upon restricting the range of awareness. This is called "momentary concentration" (khanika-samadhi). To develop momentary concentration the meditator does not deliberately attempt to exclude the multiplicity of phenomena from his field of attention. Instead, he simply directs mindfulness to the changing states of mind and body, noting any phenomenon that presents itself; the task is to maintain a continuous awareness of whatever enters the range of perception, clinging to nothing. As he goes on with his noting, concentration becomes stronger moment after moment until it becomes established one-pointedly on the constantly changing stream of events. Despite the change in the object, the mental unification remains steady, and in time acquires a force capable of suppressing the hindrances to a degree equal to that of access concentration. This fluid, mobile concentration is developed by the practice of the four foundations of mindfulness, taken up along the path of insight; when sufficiently strong it issues in the breakthrough to the last stage of the path, the arising of wisdom.

Notes
1. In what follows I have to restrict myself to a brief overview. For a full exposition, see Vism., Chapters III-XI.
2. See Vism. IV, 88-109.
3. Some common renderings such as "trance," "musing," etc., are altogether misleading and should be discarded.
4. DN 22; Word of the Buddha, pp. 80-81.
5. In Pali: akasanancayatana, vinnanancayatana, akincannayatana, n'eva-sanna-nasannayatana.

Source: https://www.vipassana.com/resources/8fp7.php

Discourses of the Ancient Nuns (Bhikkhuni Samyutta)

Discourses of the Ancient Nuns  (Bhikkhuni Samyutta)

Translated from the Pali by Bhikkhu Bodhi

Bodhi Leaves No: 143

The growing interest in women's spirituality has led to a renewed focus upon the Therigatha, the Verses of the Elder Nuns, as the oldest existing testament to the feminine experience of Buddhism.
Despite this recent attention to the Therigatha, however, it seems that all but a few scholarly commentators have overlooked a short chapter in the Samyutta Nikaya that serves as an important supplement to the larger work.
This is the Bhikkhuni-samyutta, Chapter 5 of the Sagathavaggásamyutta, the Connected Discourses with Verses, Volume I of the Samyutta Nikaya.
The Bhikkhuni-samyutta is a compilation of ten short suttas in mixed prose and verse, with a total of thirty-seven verses. Though several of these verses have parallels in the Therigatha (mentioned in the notes), a significant number don't, and often the variations in roughly parallel versions are themselves of intrinsic interest.
At least one nun in the Bhikkhuni-samyutta, Vajira, does not appear in the Therigatha, while the case of another nun, Sela, is problematic. A comparison between the two collections also brings to light some noteworthy differences in the ascription of authorship; in one case — that of the three Cala sisters — a three-way shuffling of ascriptions occurs. Such differences can be readily understood once we realize that the texts were originally transmitted orally for several centuries and thus were contingent on less durable factors than paper and ink.
Since the Samyutta Nikaya and the Therigatha were evidently transmitted by different lines of reciters, it was only too easy for verses to break off from their original narrative setting and merge with a different background story connecting them to a different author.
The antiquity of this collection is attested to by the fact that it has a counterpart in the Chinese translation of the Sanskrit Samyuktagama, which probably belonged to the Sarvastivada school. Anesaki's The Four Buddhist Agamas in Chinese gives a breakdown of the Chinese equivalent of the Bhikkhuni-samyutta, and though the order of suttas is different, the ten titles are almost identical, except that the Pali Sela Sutta is there entitled Viri (or Vira). This is strong evidence that the entire chapter had taken shape before the Pali and Sarvastivada schools went their separate ways.
All the ten suttas are constructed according to the same pattern, a direct confrontation between Mara the Evil One, the Lord of Sensuality, and an individual nun. This structure perhaps accounts for the placement of the Bhikkhuni-samyutta immediately after the Marásamyutta, in which the Evil One is shown trying to distract the Buddha and the monks.
In each sutta of our collection a nun goes off by herself to pass the day in solitary meditation. Then Mara approaches her with a challenge — a provocative question or a taunt — intending to make her fall away from concentration.
What Mara has failed to realize is that each of these nuns is an arahant and has seen so deeply into the truth of the Dhamma that she is utterly inaccessible to his wiles. Far from being flustered by Mara's challenge, the nun promptly guesses the identity of her adversary and overturns his challenge with a sharp reply.
Once Mara realizes that his number has been called he has no choice but to vanish on the spot, "sad and disappointed."
In a dialogue that brings together the Lord of Sensuality with a solitary nun one might expect each of Mara's overtures to be aimed at sexual seduction. This, however, is so only in several suttas. The actual themes of the discourses vary and expose us to a broad range of perspectives on the attitudes and insights of the renunciant life.
The contrast between the allurement and misery of sensual pleasures is the theme of § § 1, 4, and 5. In §1, Mara does not himself attempt to seduce the nun but only urges her to enjoy sense pleasures before her time runs out; in §4 he assumes the guise of a handsome youth who lavishes his seductive charms on the beautiful Vijaya; and in §5 he almost threatens to rape the nun Uppalavanna, who had actually been raped soon after her ordination by an infatuated youth. In all three cases the nuns sharply rebuke Mara with verses that reveal their utter indifference to his solicitations.
In §3, Mara approaches Kisagotami, the heroine of the well-known parable of the mustard seed, trying to arouse her maternal instincts to beget another son. His challenge thus touches on sensuality only indirectly. His primary appeal is aimed at awakening the feminine desire for children.
Mara's dialogue with Soma (§2) voices the ancient Indian prejudice that women are endowed with "mere two-fingered wisdom" (an obscure expression that tries the ingenuity of the commentators), and thus cannot attain Nibbana, a goal reserved for males. Soma's rejoinder is a forceful reminder that enlightenment does not depend on gender but on the mind's capacity for concentration and wisdom, qualities accessible to any human being who earnestly seeks to penetrate the truth.
In § §6, 7, and 8 we meet the three Cala sisters, the younger sisters of the Venerable Sariputta. From these three nuns Mara tries to elicit, respectively, an affirmation of birth (i.e., of life in general), of rebirth in the heavenly realms, and of heretical views.
In each case the nun replies with appropriate verses exposing the dangers in birth, in the entire triple world, and in the systems of the non-Buddhist thinkers.
The last two suttas are philosophical masterpieces, compressing into a few tight stanzas insights of enormous depth and wide implications. Full appreciation of their richness and power would require extensive acquaintance with the whole corpus of early Buddhist texts, particularly the Samyutta Nikaya chapters on dependent origination (No. 12) and the five aggregates (No. 22).
In §9, Mara challenges Sela with a question on the origins of personal existence. She replies with a masterly poem that condenses the whole teaching of dependent origination into three four-line stanzas, adorned with an illuminating simile.
In §10 he poses a similar problem to Vajira, who answers with a stunning exposition of the teaching of non-self, illustrating the composite nature of personal identity with the simile of the chariot. This simile was popularized by the famous Milindapañha, but Vajira's simpler version has an incisive edge that is blunted by the bombastic tone of the later work.
Though set against a mythological background in an ancient world whose customs and norms seem so remote from our own, these poems of the nuns of old still speak to us today through their sheer simplicity and uncompromising honesty.
They need no ornamentation or artifice to convey their message but startle us with the clarity of unadorned truth. Emerging from the depths of indubitable personal realization, crackling with insight, they point unwaveringly toward the rugged path of renunciation and wisdom that leads to the end of suffering.
The present translation is based primarily upon the Burmese script Chatthasangayana edition of the Samyutta Nikaya (Be), though I also consulted the Sinhala script Buddha Jayanti edition (Ce) and the PTS's Roman script edition (Ee). Numbers in square brackets are the page numbers of the PTS edition.
*
Discourses of the Ancient Nuns Bhikkhuni-samyutta (Samyutta Nikaya, Book V)
1. Alavika
[128] Thus have I heard. On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling at Savatthi in Jeta's Grove, Anathapindika's Park.
Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Alavika dressed and, taking bowl and robe, entered Savatthi for alms.1 When she had walked for alms in Savatthi and had returned from her alms round, after her meal she went to the Blind Men's Grove seeking seclusion.2
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Alavika, desiring to make her fall away from seclusion, approached her and addressed her in verse:
1. "There is no escape in the world, So what will you do with seclusion? Enjoy the delights of sensual pleasure: Don't be remorseful later!"
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Alavika: "Now who is it that recited the verse — a human being or a non-human being?" Then it occurred to her: "This is Mara the Evil One, who has recited the verse desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in me, desiring to make me fall away from seclusion."
Then the bhikkhuni Alavika, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
2. "There is an escape in the world Which I have closely touched with wisdom. O Evil One, kinsman of the negligent, You do not know that state.3
3. Sensual pleasures are like sword stakes; The aggregates, their chopping block. What you call sensual delight Has become for me non-delight."4 [129]
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Alavika knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
2. Soma
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Soma dressed and, taking bowl and robe, entered Savatthi for alms.5 When she had walked for alms in Savatthi and had returned from her alms round, after her meal she went to the Blind Men's Grove for the day's abiding. Having plunged into the Blind Men's Grove, she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Soma, desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse:
4. "That state so hard to achieve Which is to be attained by the seers, Can't be attained by a woman With her two-fingered wisdom."6
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Soma: "Now who is this that recited the verse — a human being or a non-human being?" Then it occurred to her: "This is Mara the Evil One, who has recited the verse desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in me, desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Soma, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
5. "What does womanhood matter at all When the mind is concentrated well, When knowledge flows on steadily As one sees correctly into Dhamma.7
6. One to whom it might occur, 'I'm a woman' or 'I'm a man' Or 'I'm anything at all' — Is fit for Mara to address."8
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Soma knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
3. Gotami
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Kisagotami dressed and, taking bowl and robe, entered Savatthi for alms.9 When she had walked for alms in Savatthi and had returned from her alms round, [130] after her meal she went to the Blind Men's Grove for the day's abiding. Having plunged into the Blind Men's Grove, she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Kisagotami, desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse:
7. "Why now, when your son is dead, Do you sit alone with tearful face? Having entered the woods all alone, Are you on the lookout for a man?"
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Kisagotami: "Now who is this that recited the verse — a human being or a non-human being?" Then it occurred to her: "This is Mara the Evil One, who has recited the verse desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in me, desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Kisagotami, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
8."I've gotten past the death of sons; With this, the search for men has ended. I do not sorrow, I do not weep, Nor do I fear you, friend.10
9. Darkness has been sundered. Having conquered the army of Death, I dwell without defiling taints. 10. Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Kisagotami knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
4. Vijaya
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Vijaya dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.12
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Vijaya,
desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse: [131]
10. "You are so young and beautiful, And I too am in the bloom of youth. Come, noble lady, let us rejoice With the music of a fivefold ensemble."
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Vijaya: "Now who is this...? This is Mara the Evil One... desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Vijaya, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
11. "Forms and sounds, tastes and odors, Tactile objects that delight the mind: I offer them right back to you, For I, O Mara, do not need them.
12. I am repelled and humiliated By this foul, putrid body, Subject to break up, fragile: I've uprooted sensual craving.
13. As to those beings who fare amidst form, And those who abide in the formless, And those peaceful attainments too: Everywhere darkness has been destroyed."13
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing "The bhikkhuni Vijaya knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
5. Uppalavanna
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Uppalavanna dressed... she stood at the foot of a sala tree in full flower.14
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Uppalavanna, desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse:
14. "Having gone to a sala tree with flowering top, You stand at its foot all alone, bhikkhuni. There is none whose beauty can rival your own: Foolish girl, have you no fear of rogues?"15
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Uppalavanna: [132] "Now who is this...? This is Mara the Evil One... desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Uppalavanna, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
15. "Though a hundred thousand rogues Just like you might come here, I stir not a hair, I feel no terror; Even alone, Mara, I don't fear you.16
16. I can make myself disappear Or I can enter inside your belly. I can stand between your eyebrows Yet you won't catch a glimpse of me.
17. I am the master of my own mind, The bases of power are well developed; I am freed from every kind of bondage, Therefore I don't fear you, friend."17
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Uppalavanna knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
6. Cala
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Cala dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.18
Then Mara the Evil One approached the bhikkhuni Cala and said to her: "What don't you approve of, bhikkhuni?"
"I don't approve of birth, friend."
18. "Why don't you approve of birth? Once born, one enjoys sensual pleasures. Who now has persuaded you of this: 'Bhikkhuni, don't approve of birth'?" 19. "For one who is born there is death; Once born, one encounters sufferings — Bondage, murder, affliction — Hence one shouldn't approve of birth.
20. The Buddha has taught the Dhamma, The transcendence of birth; For the abandoning of all suffering He has settled me in the truth. [133]
21. As to those beings who fare amidst form, And those who abide in the formless — Not having understood cessation, They come again to re-becoming."19
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Cala knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
7. Upacala
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Upacala dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.
Then Mara the Evil One approached the bhikkhuni Upacala and said to her: "Where do you wish to be reborn, bhikkhuni?"
"I do not wish to be reborn anywhere, friend."
22. "There are Tavatimsa and Yama devas, And devatas of the Tusita realm, Devas who take delight in creating, And devas who exercise control. Direct your mind there And you'll experience delight."20
22. "There are Tavatimsa and Yama devas, And devatas of the Tusita realm, Devas who take delight in creating, And devas who exercise control. They are still bound by sensual bondage, They come again under Mara's control.
24.  All the world is on fire, All the world is burning, All the world is ablaze, All the world is quaking.
25. That which does not quake or blaze, That to which worldlings do not resort,
26. Where there is no place for Mara: That is where my mind delights."
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Upacala knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
8. Sisupacala
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Sisupacala dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.
Then Mara the Evil One approached the bhikkhuni Sisupacala and said to her: "Whose creed do you approve of, bhikkhuni?"
"I don't approve of anyone's creed, friend."
26. "Under whom have you shaved your head? You do appear to be a recluse, Yet you don't approve of any creed, So why wander as if bewildered?"21
27. "Outside here the followers of creeds Place their confidence in views. I don't approve of their teachings; They are not skilled in the Dhamma. [134]
28. But there is a scion of the Sakyan clan, The Enlightened One, without an equal, Conqueror of all, Mara's subduer, Who everywhere is undefeated.
29. Everywhere freed and unattached, The One with Vision who sees all, Who attained the end of all kamma, Released in the extinction of acquisitions: That Blessed One is my Teacher; His is the teaching I approve."22
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Sisupacala knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
9. Sela
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Sela dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.23
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Sela, desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse:
30. "By whom has this puppet been created? Where is the maker of the puppet? Where has the puppet arisen? Where does the puppet cease?"24
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Sela: "Now who is this...? This is Mara the Evil One... desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Sela, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
31. "This puppet is not made by itself, Nor is this misery made by another. It has come to be dependent on a cause, When the cause dissolves then it will cease.
32. As when a seed is sown in a field It grows depending on a pair of factors: It requires both the soil's nutrients And a steady supply of moisture.
33. Just so the aggregates and elements, And these six bases of sensory contact, Have come to be dependent on a cause; When the cause dissolves they will cease."25
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Sela knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.
10. Vajira
Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Vajira dressed and, taking bowl and robe, entered Savatthi for alms.26 When she had walked for alms in Savatthi [135] and had returned from her alms round, after her meal she went to the Blind Men's Grove for the day's abiding. Having plunged into the Blind Men's Grove, she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.
Then Mara the Evil One, desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in the bhikkhuni Vajira, desiring to make her fall away from concentration, approached her and addressed her in verse:
"By whom has this being been created? Where is the maker of the being? Where has the being arisen? Where does the being cease?"
Then it occurred to the bhikkhuni Vajira: "Now who is this that recited the verse — a human being or a non-human being?" Then it occurred to her: "This is Mara the Evil One, who has recited the verse desiring to arouse fear, trepidation, and terror in me, desiring to make me fall away from concentration."
Then the bhikkhuni Vajira, having understood, "This is Mara the Evil One," replied to him in verses:
35. "Why now do you assume 'a being'? Mara, have you grasped a view? This is a heap of sheer constructions: Here no being is found.
36. Just as, with an assemblage of parts, The word 'chariot' is used, So, when the aggregates are present, There's the convention 'a being.'
37. It's only suffering that comes to be, Suffering that stands and falls away. Nothing but suffering comes to be, Nothing but suffering ceases."27
Then Mara the Evil One, realizing, "The bhikkhuni Vajira knows me," sad and disappointed, disappeared right there.

Notes
Key to Abbreviations:
AN — Anguttara Nikaya
Be — Burmese script edition (Sixth Council)
BL — Buddhist Legends (trans. of DhpA)
Ce — Sinhala script edition (Buddha Jayanti) DhpA — Dhammapada Atthakatha
Ee — European edition (PTS)
EV II — Elders' Verses II (trans. of Thi)
SN — Samyutta Nikaya
SA — Samyutta Nikaya Atthakatha
ST — Samyutta Nikaya Tika
Thi — Therigatha ThiA— Therigatha Atthakatha (Ee) Vism — Visuddhimagga

1. Thi does not ascribe any verses to a bhikkhuni named Alavika, but two of the verses in this sutta are to be found among Sela's verses: v.1 = Thi 57 and v.3 = Thi 58. ThiA 64 confirms the identity of the two bhikkhunis, explaining that Sela was called Alavika because she was the daughter of the king of Alavaka. She heard the Buddha preach and became a lay follower. Later she took ordination as a nun and attained arahantship.
2. SA: Bhikkhus and bhikkhunis went there for seclusion. It was about three kilometers south of Savatthi and was protected by royal guards.
3. Strangely, this verse, the appropriate response to Mara's taunt, is not found in Thi. SA: The escape (nissarana) is Nibbana. With wisdom (pañña): with reviewing knowledge. ST: The intention is: "How much more, then, with the knowledge of the path and fruit?"
4. In pada b, khandhasam should be resolved khandha esam. SA glosses khandha tesam. See EV II, n.58.
5. ThiA 66 identifies her as the daughter of King Bimbisara's chaplain. The three verses here are also at Thi 60-62, also ascribed to Soma.
6. SA: That state (thana): arahantship. With her two-fingered wisdom (dvangulapaññaya): with limited wisdom (parittapaññaya); or else this is said of women because they cut the thread while holding the cotton ball between two fingers. ST and ThiA 67 offer a different explanation: "From childhood on they are always determining whether the rice is cooked by pressing the grains in the pot between two fingers. Therefore, because of the feebleness of their wisdom (acquired with two fingers), they are said to have 'two-fingered wisdom.'" It should be noted that it is Mara the Evil One who voices this ancient bias.
7. SA: When knowledge flows on steadily (ñanamhi vattamanamhi): while the knowledge of the attainment of fruition is occurring (phalasamapattiñane pavattamane). As one sees correctly into Dhamma (samma dhammam vipassato): seeing into the Dhamma of the four truths, or into the five aggregates which form the object of insight in the preliminary phase of practice.
SA explains in terms of the knowledge of fruition attainment because Soma, being already an arahant, would have been dwelling in the concentration of fruition.
8. One entertains such thoughts on account of craving, conceit, and views.
9. SA recapitulates the popular story of her search for the mustard seeds to bring her dead son back to life, told in greater detail at DhpA II 270-75; see BL 2:257-60. Her verses at Thi 213-23 do not correspond to the verses here.
10. Padas ab read: Accantam mataputtamhi/Purisa etadantika. A pun seems to be intended between two senses of being "past the death of sons." I translate in accordance with the paraphrase of SA: "I have 'gotten past the death of sons' as one for whom the death of a son is over and done with. Now I will never again undergo the death of a son... The ending of the death of sons is itself the ending of men. Now it is impossible for me to seek a man."
11. SA elaborates: "The delight of craving has been destroyed for me in regard to all the aggregates, sense bases, elements, kinds of becoming, modes of origin, destinations, stations, and abodes. The mass of ignorance has been broken up by knowledge."
12. ThiA 159 explains that in lay life she had been a friend of Khema, the chief consort of King Bimbisara. When she heard that Khema had gone forth under the Buddha, she visited her and was so inspired by their conversation that she too decided to take ordination. Khema became her preceptor. Her verses are at Thi 169-74. While the verses here are not among them, interestingly vv. 10 and 12 (with minor differences) are found among Khema's verses, Thi 139 and 140.
13. SA: Pada a refers to the form realm, pada b to the formless realm, and pada c to the eight mundane meditative attainments. By the mention of the two higher realms, the sensory realm is also implied. Hence in pada d she says, "everywhere the darkness of ignorance has been dispelled."
14. She was the foremost among the bhikkhunis in the exercise of supernormal powers (iddhi), to which she testifies in her verses below. Vv.14-17 correspond to Thi 230-33, but with significant differences. Thi 234 is identical with v.3, here ascribed to Alavika.
15. Pada c: Na c'atthi te dutiya vannadhatu. I translate freely in accordance with the gloss of SA: "There is no second beauty element like your beauty element; there is no other bhikkhuni similar to you." A pun on the bhikkhuni's name is probably intended. Ee includes an additional pada between padas c and d of the other eds., which seems a scribal error, as it is identical with pada b of the next verse, where it belongs.
16. SA explains padas ab as if they meant: "Though a hundred thousand rogues might come here, they would be treated just like you in that they would get no intimacy or affection." I translate, however, in accordance with the apparent sense, which also can claim support from ThiA's gloss on Thi 231.
17. The iddhipada, "bases of power," are the supporting conditions for the exercise of the iddhi or supernormal powers described in the previous verse.
18. Cala, Upacala, and Sisupacala — whose verses are at § §6-8 respectively — were the younger sisters of Sariputta, in descending order of age. Their verses are found at Thi 182-88, 189-95, and 196-203. However, not only is the correspondence between the two collections fragmentary, but the ascriptions of authorship also differ. Cala's v.19 corresponds to Thi 191, and v.20 is reflected obscurely in Thi 192, both of which are there ascribed to Upacala. Upacala's vv.22-25 correspond to Thi 197, 198, 200, and 201, there ascribed to Sisupacala. And Sisupacala's vv.26-28 correspond to Thi 183-85, but there are ascribed to Cala.
19. On padas ab, see n.13.
20. This verse alludes to five of the six sense-sphere heavens. Only the lowest plane, the heaven of the Four Great Kings, is not mentioned.
21. Pasanda, in pada c, refers to the "heretical" systems outside the Buddha's dispensation. I render it, inadequately, as "creed." SA explains the word derivation by way of "folk etymology": "They are called pasanda because they lay out a snare (Be: pasam denti; Ce: pasam oddenti); the meaning is that they throw out the snare of views among the minds of beings. But the Buddha's dispensation frees one from the snare, so it is not called pasanda; the pasanda are found only outside the dispensation." SED defines pasanda as "a heretic... anyone who falsely assumes the characteristics of an orthodox Hindu, a Jaina, a Buddhist, etc.; a false doctrine, heresy."
22. SA explains vimutto upadhisankhaye in pada d thus: "He is released into Nibbana, known as the extinction of acquisitions, as object."
23. There is no way to determine whether this bhikkhuni is identical with Alavika; see n.1. The verses do not appear in Thi.
24. SA: Both puppet (bimba) here, and misery (agha) at v.31b, refer to individual existence (or: the body; attabhava), in the latter case because individual existence is a foundation for suffering.
25. One key to the interpretation of Sela's reply is the Bhava Sutta (AN I 223-24), where it is stated that for beings hemmed in by ignorance and fettered by craving, kamma is the field, consciousness the seed, and craving the moisture, for the production of future re-becoming. The cause (hetu), then, would be the kammically constructive consciousness accompanied by ignorance and craving. When that dissolves through the elimination of ignorance and craving, there is no establishing of consciousness in a new existence, and thus no production of aggregates, elements, and bases in a future life. See too in this connection SN 12:38-40 and SN 22:54, which also shed light on these verses.
26. SA provides no personal identification, and no verses in her name have come down in Thi.
27. The simile of the chariot is elaborated at Milindapañha 27-28, which quotes the previous verse. Visuddhimagga 18:28 also quotes these two verses to confirm that "there is no being apart from name-and-form."
In v.37 suffering signifies the inherent unsatisfactoriness of the five aggregates (pañcakkhandhadukkha), which is identical with the heap of sheer constructions (suddhasankharapuñja) in v.36c. For clarification, see the lines from the famous Kaccanagotta Sutta (SN 12:15): "This world, Kaccana, is for the most part shackled by engagement, clinging, and adherence. But this one (with right view) does not become engaged and cling through that engagement and clinging, mental standpoint, adherence, underlying tendency; he does not take a stand about 'my self.' He has no perplexity or doubt that what arises is only suffering arising; what ceases is only suffering ceasing. His knowledge about this is independent of others. It is in this way, Kaccana, that there is right view."

Copyright © Kandy; Buddhist Publication Society, (1997) BPS Online Edition © (2006) Digital Transcription Source: Access to Insight Dhamma Transcription Project

For free distribution. This work may be republished, reformatted, reprinted and redistributed in any medium. However, any such republication and redistribution is to be made available to the public on a free and unrestricted basis and translations and other derivative works are to be clearly marked as such.

SEARCHING SUTTAS, DOING DHAMMA - Piya Tan

SEARCHING SUTTAS, DOING DHAMMA

With a growing number of scholars who are experts in Pali, and with more and better translations of the Pali texts, we have today more people than ever, not just Buddhists, but anyone interested in Buddhism, who know the suttas much better than the modern monastics of the world.

My point is that it is not just a matter of reading and knowing the suttas, but “searching” and living the suttas, so that we walk the path of awakening.

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PROFESSIONALS

As in any written texts, even sacred text or scripture, they can be and often are misused by the clever and the cunning. This problem takes a rather insidious turn in local Buddhism. For many “professional” teachers, teaching the suttas seems to be merely an extension of their profession.

In other words, the fact that they have some kind of professionalism, academic qualification or social status is sufficient as qualification or entitlement to speak on the suttas or anything Buddhist.

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ANYONE WHO CAN SPEAK

Here is a real-life story. A Buddhist temple once invited a respectable professional because he seemed to have shown some interest in Buddhism. He spoke to a crowded hall of respectfully attentive audience. His talk, however, was highlighted by the belief in God and the eternity of the Soul!

Finally, a concerned Buddhist stood up and told the speaker that Buddhists neither subscribe to any God-idea nor believe in an eternal Soul. “Oh, I’m sorry,” at least he apologised, “but I am a Christian; I believe in God and the Soul!”

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LAUGH REFLEX

This is clearly embarrassing and plainly unwise. In some cases, we even have non-Buddhists who have been invited or accepted to run Buddhist social projects for years before anyone even suspected they were not Buddhists!

On a more insidious level, we should question ourselves how well we have understood, not to mention live and love, the suttas to speak so expertly on any of them, and to present them like some secular coffee-table subject to joke about.

Some local Buddhists, it seems, have reflexively laugh whenever they hear  Buddhism which is different from the way they think. Humour is sometimes defined as coping with the incongruous!

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FAKE TEACHINGS

When we are observant and concerned enough, we may wonder why some Sinhalese monks and their local followers speak of “transfer of merits,” as if good karma is some negotiable thing we can pass on to the dead (whether they can have it or not). No such teaching is found in any sutta. Perhaps, they wishfully equate this with “transfer of foreign currency” that have actually benefitted them since they came here.

Then, we righteously and loudly claim that we support LGBTQ rights, mainly because it is a “cool” thing to do: it gives us populist mileage; it attracts wealth. Are we then exploiting sex? Have we seriously examined or discussed the sutta teachings on sexuality, sexual identity and sexual morals?

Are monastics experts in these areas? Here’s a catch-22: if they do, why are they monastics?; if they don’t, why are they monastics?

The point is that monastics need not pretend to know everything; they must certainly know the Buddha Dhamma. What's the point of having a PhD or a lot of money when we cannot end suffering or reach the path in this life? Have we no faith in the the Dhamma?

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ENDING SUFFERING

Let me not mention the sinister misquoting of the suttas—fake quotes—to promote racist ideas, social intolerance and religious violence amongst some quarters of ethnic Buddhists. The point here is vital and simple: we need “interpretive competence.” We must constanty ask how do we apply the Dhamma to our life.

It is not a matter of coming up with a different meditation or a new way of teaching Dhamma. We must competently present the suttas—only for explaining “suffering” and “ending suffering,” as the Buddha declares in the Anurādha Sutta (S 22.86), SD 21.13. This we must do well--with our life, with our love.

FEEL THE DHAMMA

The emphasis here is not merely on the act of “reading” or even “studying” the suttas (though these may have their own merits). It is about diligently “searching the suttas.”

The suttas are unlike other religious texts where the FIAT lies in the words. When we see the words of the suttas, we are FREED from our self, from self-delusion. We can FEEL the Dhamma, directly know the Dhamma, we then really see the Buddha.

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BETTER HUMAN

The suttas are a vital record of the Buddha’s SELF-AWAKENING and those lives of the great saints of his time. These are an eye-opening adventure for us, with our eyes wide open to new and better possibilities of being human.

And when we CLOSE our eyes, we SEE more of our heart and FREE our own divine qualities of love, ruth, joy and peace. The message of the suttas is that the path has been cleared again by the Buddha. He urges us to go on our journey from here to that path of awakening, and on to time-free nirvana.

MASTERING DHAMMA

Like going on any long journey, we need to be properly equipped to search the suttas—we need to master, at least, love language and literature—so that we understand the significance and nuances of the texts, and live the Buddha-word in our lives.

A musician must be able to read notes or at least be diligent in practising on his musical instrument to be competent and skilful players. Even then, not every musician is able to present the full potential of a piece of music.

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GOOD MUSIC

Good music calls for more than just knowing how to play an instrument, or even playing a piece well. The experience is richer when we understand music theory, playing techniques, and the life behind the composition.

Then, our enjoyment of that music will be far richer and rewarding. This is not to say that a good musician must be disciplined and diligent in order to engage music at its deepest and highest levels.

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SUTTA BACKGROUND

So it is with reading the suttas. The more we know about these earliest records we have of the Buddha’s life and teachings, the better we appreciate them. The more we know about their social, cultural and political environment, about their literary and rhetorical texture, and about our own self-conscious reading of these living words, the more likely we are to enter into meaningful dialogue with the suttas, so that we can fully, creatively, and responsibly grasp and give their intended sense and significance.

We understand the text; we appreciate the context.

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DOING DHAMMA

“Doing Dhamma” is different from talking Buddhism. Buddhism is secondary to living the DHAMMA. Buddhism is our often less-than-human exploitation of the Buddha’s teachings. The Dhamma is our desire to learn and discover ourself; to train our mind; to brighten and free our heart; to see and walk the path of awakening. All this requires honesty, courage, diligence and competence.

The one purpose of the SUTTA DISCOVERY (SD) translations with its modern commentaries is, hopefully, to create awareness of the truth and beauty of the Dhamma and respond to them wholesomely. To do this, we need to cultivate insight and skill in relevant areas, and to experiment with interpretive reading strategies so that we understand the suttas, so that we live and love them.

This can be done alone, but it is more fruitful when done together with others, and with the friendly guidance of a facilitator who has well searched and is still joyfully searching the suttas

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The Power of Judgment by Thanissaro Bhikkhu

The Power of Judgment
by Thanissaro Bhikkhu 

When the Buddha told Ananda that the entirety of the practice lies in having an admirable friend, he wasn't saying something warm and reassuring about the compassion of others. He was pointing out three uncomfortable truths — about delusion and trust — that call for clear powers of judgment.

The first truth is that you can't really trust yourself to see through your delusion on your own. When you're deluded, you don't know you're deluded. You need some trustworthy outside help to point it out to you. This is why, when the Buddha advised the Kalamas to know for themselves, one of the things he told them to know for themselves was how wise people would judge their behavior.

When he advised his son, Rahula, to examine his own actions as he would his face in a mirror, he said that if Rahula saw that his actions had caused any harm, he should talk it over with a knowledgeable friend on the path. That way he could learn how to be open with others — and himself — about his mistakes, and at the same time tap into the knowledge that his friend had gained. He wouldn't have to keep reinventing the dharma wheel on his own.

So if you really want to become skillful in your thoughts, words, and deeds, you need a trustworthy friend or teacher to point out your blind spots. And because those spots are blindest around your unskillful habits, the primary duty of a trustworthy friend is to point out your faults — for only when you see your faults can you correct them; only when you correct them are you benefiting from your friend's compassion in pointing them out.

Regard him as one who points out treasure, the wise one who seeing your faults rebukes you. Stay with this sort of sage. For the one who stays with a sage of this sort, things get better, not worse. —

Dhp 76

In passing judgment on your faults, an admirable friend is like a trainer. Once, when a horse trainer came to see the Buddha, the Buddha asked him how he trained his horses. The trainer said that some horses responded to gentle training, others to harsh training, others required both harsh and gentle training, but if a horse didn't respond to either type of training, he'd kill the horse to maintain the reputation of his teachers' lineage. Then the trainer asked the Buddha how he trained his students, and the Buddha replied, "In the same way." Some students responded to gentle criticism, others to harsh criticism, others to a mixture of the two, but if a student didn't respond to either type of criticism, he'd kill the student. This shocked the horse trainer, but then the Buddha explained what he meant by "killing": He wouldn't train the student any further, which essentially killed the student's opportunity to grow in the practice.

So the first prerequisite in maintaining an admirable friend is being willing to take criticism, both gentle and harsh. This is why the Buddha told his disciples not to teach for money, for the person paying is the one who determines what's taught, and people rarely pay for the criticism they need to hear.

But even if the teacher is teaching for free, you run into the Buddha's second uncomfortable truth: You can't open your heart to just anyone. Our powers of judgment really do have power, and because that power can cause long-term help or harm, you have to take care in choosing your friend. Don't fall into the easy trap of being judgmental or non-judgmental — judgmental in trusting your knee-jerk likes or dislikes, non-judgmental in trusting that every dharma teacher would be equally beneficial as a guide. Instead, be judicious in choosing the person whose judgments you're going to take on as your own.

This, of course, sounds like a Catch-22: You need a good teacher to help develop your powers of judgment, but well-developed powers of judgment to recognize who a good teacher might be. And even though there's no foolproof way out of the catch — after all, you can master a foolproof way and still be a fool — there is a way if you're willing to learn from experience. And fortunately the Buddha advised on how to develop your powers of judgment so that you know what to look for along the way. In fact, his recommendations for how to choose an admirable friend are a preliminary exercise in discernment: learning how to develop judicious powers of judgment so that you, too, can become an admirable friend, first to yourself and then to the people around you.

The first step in being judicious is understanding what it means to judge in a helpful way. Think, not of a Supreme Court justice sitting on her bench, passing a final verdict of guilt or innocence, but of a piano teacher listening to you play. She's not passing a final verdict on your potential as a pianist.

Instead, she's judging a work in progress: listening to your intention for the performance, listening to your execution of that intention, and then deciding whether it works. If it doesn't, she has to figure out if the problem is with the intention or the execution, make helpful suggestions, and then let you try again. She keeps this up until she's satisfied with your performance. The important principle is that she never directs her judgments at you as a person. Instead she has to stay focused on your actions, to keep looking for better ways to raise them to higher and higher standards.

At the same time, you're learning from her how to judge your own playing: thinking more carefully about your intention, listening more carefully to your execution, developing higher standards for what works, and learning to think outside of the box for ways to improve. Most important of all, you're learning to focus your judgment on your performance, and not on yourself. This way — when there's less you invested in your habits — you're more willing to recognize unskillful habits and to drop them in favor of more skillful ones.

Of course, when you and your teacher are judging your improvement on a particular piece, it's part of a longer process of judging how well the relationship is working. She has to judge, over time, if you're benefiting from her guidance, and so do you. But again, neither of you is judging the worth of the other person. She's simply deciding — based on your progress — whether it's worth her while to continue taking you on as a student. You're judging the extent to which her recommendations are actually helping you perform more effectively. If either of you decides to terminate the relationship, it shouldn't be because she's a bad teacher or you're a bad student, but simply that she's not the teacher for you, or you're not the student for her.

In the same way, when you're evaluating a potential dharma teacher, remember that there's no Final Judgment in Buddhism. You want someone who will evaluate your actions as a work in progress, and you have to apply the same standard to him or her. And you're not trying to take on the superhuman role of evaluating that person's essential worth. You're simply judging whether his or her actions embody the kinds of skills you'd like to develop, and the types of mental qualities — which are also a kind of action — that you'd trust in a trainer or guide. After all, the only way we know anything about other people is through their actions, so that's as far as our judgments can fairly extend.

At the same time, though, because we're judging whether we want to internalize another person's standards, it's not unfair to pass judgment on what they're doing. It's for our own protection. And it's for the sake of our protection that the Buddha recommended looking for two qualities in a teacher: wisdom and integrity. To gauge these qualities, though, takes time and sensitivity, which is why the Buddha also advised that you be willing to spend time with the person, and try to be really observant of how that person acts.

Once, when King Pasenadi came to see the Buddha, a group of naked ascetics passed nearby. The king went over, got down on one knee, and offered them homage. Then he returned to the Buddha and asked, "Are those ascetics worthy of homage?" The Buddha replied that you could fairly answer that question only after having spent time with them, and only if you were really observant. The king praised the Buddha's caution, and added, "Those men are actually my spies. They're on the way back from having scouted out the enemy, and soon — after bathing and clothing themselves — they'll be back enjoying themselves with their wives." So you can't judge people just by first impressions. The appearance of wisdom is easy to fake. In the past, people were impressed by extreme austerities; at present, the ads for dharma books and retreats show that we're attracted to other surface criteria, but the principle is the same.

To save time and needless pain in the search, however, the Buddha noted four early warning signs indicating that potential teachers don't have the wisdom or integrity to merit your trust. The warning signs for untrustworthy wisdom are two. The first is when people show no gratitude for the help they've received — and this applies especially to help from their parents and teachers. People with no gratitude don't appreciate goodness, don't value the effort that goes into being helpful, and so will probably not put out that effort themselves. The second warning sign is that they don't hold to the principle of karma. They either deny that we have freedom of choice, or else teach that one person can clear away another person's bad karma from the past. People of this sort are unlikely to put forth the effort to be genuinely skillful, and so are untrustworthy guides.

Lack of integrity also has two warning signs. The first is when people feel no shame in telling a deliberate lie. As the Buddha once said, "There's no evil that such a person might not do." The second warning sign is when they don't conduct arguments in a fair and aboveboard manner: misrepresenting their opponents, pouncing on the other side's minor lapses, not acknowledging the valid points the other side has made. People of this sort, the Buddha said, aren't even worth talking to, much less taking on as teachers.

As for people who don't display these early warning signs, the Buddha gave advice on how to gauge wisdom and integrity in their actions over time. One question he'd have you ask yourself is whether a teacher's actions betray any of the greed, anger, or delusion that would inspire him to claim knowledge of something he didn't know, or to tell another person to do something that was not in that person's best interests. To test for a teacher's wisdom, the Buddha advised noticing how a potential teacher responds to questions about what's skillful and not, and how well he or she handles adversity. To test for integrity, you look for virtue in day-to-day activities, and purity in the teacher's dealings with others. Does this person make excuses for breaking the precepts, bringing them down to his level of behavior rather than lifting his behavior to theirs? Does he take unfair advantage of other people? If so, you'd better find another teacher.

This, however, is where the Buddha's third uncomfortable truth comes in: You can't be a fair judge of another person's integrity until you've developed some of your own. This is probably the most uncomfortable truth of all, for it requires that you accept responsibility for your judgments. If you want to test other people's potential for good guidance, you have to pass a few tests yourself. Again, it's like listening to a pianist. The better you are as a pianist, the better your ability to judge the other person's playing.

Fortunately, the Buddha also gave guidance on how to develop integrity, and it doesn't require that you start out innately good. All it requires is a measure of truthfulness and maturity: the realization that your actions make all the difference in your life, so you have to take care in how you act; the willingness to admit your mistakes, both to yourself and to others; and the willingness to learn from your mistakes so you don't keep repeating them. As the Buddha taught Rahula, before you act in thought, word, or deed, look at the results you expect from your action. If it's going to harm you or anyone else, don't do it. If you don't foresee any harm, go ahead and act. While you're acting, check to see if you're causing any unforeseen harm. If you are, stop. If not, continue until you're done. After you're done, look at the long-term results of your action. If it caused any harm, talk it over with someone else on the path, develop a sense of shame around the mistake, and resolve not to repeat it. If it caused no harm, take joy in the fact and keep on training.

As you train yourself in this way, you learn four important principles about exercising judgment in a healthy way. First, you're judging your actions, not yourself. If you can learn to separate your sense of self from your actions, you tend to be more willing to admit your mistakes to yourself, and less defensive when other people point them out to you. This principle also applies to the sense of shame the Buddha recommends you feel toward your mistakes. It's directed not at you, but at the action — the sort of shame felt by a person of high self-esteem who's realized she's done something beneath her and doesn't want to do it again. Shame of this sort is not debilitating. It simply helps you remember the lesson you've learned.

This relates to the second important principle about healthy judgment, that it requires mindfulness in the original meaning of the term: keeping something in mind. Mindfulness of this sort is essential in developing your judgment, for it helps you remember the lessons you've learned over time as to what works and what doesn't. Because we often try our best to forget our mistakes, we have to train our mindfulness repeatedly to remember the lessons we learned from those mistakes so that we don't have to keep learning them over and over again.

Sometimes you hear mindfulness defined as a non-judging state of mind, but that's not how the Buddha understood it. He often compared mindfulness to a gatekeeper in the way it helps you judge what should and shouldn't be done:

"Just as the royal frontier fortress has a gatekeeper — wise, experienced, intelligent — to keep out those he doesn't know and to let in those he does, for the protection of those within and to ward off those without; in the same way a disciple of the noble ones is mindful, highly meticulous, remembering & able to call to mind even things that were done & said long ago. With mindfulness as his gatekeeper, the disciple of the noble ones abandons what is unskillful, develops what is skillful, abandons what is blameworthy, develops what is blameless, and looks after himself with purity."

                                                                        —AN 7.36

So mindfulness actually plays an essential role in developing your powers of judgment.

As you keep trying to apply the lessons you've learned, you discover the third principle about healthy judgment: that the lessons you learn from your mistakes, if you act on them, really do make a difference. The present moment is not so arbitrarily new that lessons from yesterday are useless today. You may keep finding new subtleties in how to apply past lessons, but the general outlines of how suffering is caused and how it can be ended always remain the same.

The fourth principle is that you learn how to benefit from the judgments of others. When you've chosen a person to confide in, you want to be open to that person's criticisms, but you also want to put his or her suggestions for improvement to the test. As the Buddha told his aunt, Gotami, you can test genuine dharma by seeing the results it gives when put it into action. If it leads to such admirable qualities as being dispassionate, modest, content, energetic, and unburdensome, it's the genuine thing. The person who teaches you this dharma has passed at least that test for being a genuine friend. And you're learning more and more how to judge for yourself.

Some people might object that it's selfish to focus on finding friends you can benefit from, and inhumane to keep testing people to see if they fit the bill. But that's missing the point. The benefits that come from this sort of friendship don't end with you; and in testing your friend you're also testing yourself. As you assimilate the qualities of an admirable friend, you become the sort of person who can offer admirable friendship to others. Again, it's like practicing under a good piano teacher. As you improve as a pianist, you're not the only one who can enjoy your playing. The better you get, the more joy you bring to others. The better you understand the process of playing, the more effectively you can teach anyone who sincerely wants to learn from you. This is how teaching lineages of high caliber get established for the benefit of the world.

So when you look for an admirable friend, you're tapping into a long lineage of admirable friends, stretching back to the Buddha, and helping it to extend into the future. Joining this lineage may require accepting some uncomfortable truths, such as the need to learn from criticism and to take responsibility for your actions. But if you're up for the challenge, you learn to take this human power of judgment — which, when untrained, can so easily cause harm — and train it for the greater good.

©2011 Thanissaro Bhikkhu.



http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/thanissaro/power_of_judgment.html.