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216 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
One evening after a talk he received a question from a dignified English lady who had spent many years studying the complex cybernetics of the mind according to the eighty-nine classes of consciousness in the Buddhist abhidharma psychology texts.
External dangers are not as frightening as the dangers within: What are the elements of this inner danger?
Wind. Things come at the senses, causing compulsion, lust, anger, and ignorance to arise, destroying what is good in us. Normally, we see the wind only as that which blows the leaves about, not seeing the wind of our senses, which, unwatched, can cause the storms of desire.
Fire. Our temple may never have been struck by fire, but greed, hatred, and delusion burn us constantly. Lust and aversion cause us to speak and do wrong; delusion leads us to see good as bad, bad as good, the ugly as beautiful, the valueless as valuable. But one who does not meditate does not see this and is overcome by these fires.
Water. Here the danger is the flood of defilement in our hearts submerging our true nature.
Thieves. The real thieves do not exist outside us. Our monastery has seen thieves only once in twenty years, but inwardly the five gangs of attachment, the aggregates, are ever robbing, beating, and destroying us. What are these five aggregates?
1. Body. It is a prey to illness and pain; when it does not accord with our wishes, we have grief and sorrow. Not understanding the natural aging and decay of the body, we suffer. We feel attraction or repulsion toward the bodies of others and are robbed of true peace.
2. Feelings. When pain and pleasure arise, we forget that they are impermanent, suffering, not self; we identify with our emotions and are thus tortured by our wrong understanding.
3. Memories and perceptions. Identifying with what we recognize and remember gives rise to greed, hatred, and delusion. Our wrong understanding becomes habitual, stored in the subconscious.
4. Volitions and other elements of mind. Not understanding the nature of mental states, we react, and thoughts and feelings, likes and dislikes, happiness and sorrow arise. Forgetting that they are impermanent, suffering, and selfless, we cling to them.
5. Consciousness. We grasp that which knows the other aggregates. We think, "I know, I am, I feel," and are bound by this illusion of self, of separation.
The Buddha taught that those who wish to know must realize the truth for themselves. Then it makes no difference whether others criticize or praise you - whatever they say, you will be undisturbed. If a person has no trust in himself, when someone calls him bad, he will feel he is bad accordingly. What a waste of time! If people call you bad, just examine yourself. If they are not correct, just ignore them; if they are correct, learn from them. In either case, why get angry?
At times, we may feel that thinking is suffering, like a thief robbing us of the present. What can we do to stop it? In the day, it is light; at night, it is dark. Is this itself suffering? Only if we compare the way things are now with other situations we have known and wish it were otherwise. Ultimately things are just as they are - only our comparisons cause us to suffer.
You see this mind at work - do you consider it to be you or yours? "I don't know if it's me or mine," you answer, "but it's certainly out of control." It is just like a monkey jumping about senselessly. It goes upstairs, gets bored, runs back downstairs, gets tired of that, goes to a movie, gets bored again, has good food or poor food, gets bored with that too. Its behavior is driven not by dispassion but by different forms of aversion and fear.
You have to learn control. Stop caring for the monkey - care for the truth of life instead. See the real nature of the mind: impermanent, unsatisfactory, empty. Learn to be its master; chain it down if you must. Do not just follow it, let it wear itself out and die.
Why is sugar sweet and water tasteless? It is just their nature. So too with thinking and stillness, pain and pleasure - it is wrong understanding to want thinking to cease. Sometimes there is thought, sometimes stillness. We must see that both are by nature impermanent, unsatisfactory, not a cause for lasting happiness. But if we continue to worry and think further, "I am suffering, I want to stop thinking," this wrong understanding only complicates things.
Just as the presence of a thief prevents negligence with our possessions, so the reminder of the hindrances should prevent negligence in our concentration.
Daily life at Wat Ba Pong, as at most forest monasteries, begins at 3:00 A.M. with group chanting and meditation until just before dawn. At dawn monks walk barefoot two to eight miles to collect alms food at various nearby villages.
Good meditation temples are increasingly hard to find. For most monks, Buddhism is a lot of study without real practice. Everywhere, there is more interest in cutting down forests and building new temples than in developing the mind. In earlier times, this was not the case - meditation teachers lived with nature and did not try to build anything. Now, offering buildings is the religious activity that most interests lay people. So be it. But we must know the purpose of having a monastery. The monk's own practice is 80 to 90 percent of his job, and the remainder of his time can be spent benefiting the public. Even then, those who teach the public should be ones who are in control of themselves and thus capable of helping others, not caught up with their own burdens.
The practice here is not really that difficult, although some people do not like to do it. In the early days of Wat Ba Pong, there was no electricity, no large meeting hall or dining room. Now that we have them, we have to take care of them; conveniences always give rise to complications.
If you do not give up your likes and dislikes, you are not really making an effort. Not to let go means you seek peace where there is none.
Achaan Chah has been unusually tolerant of the comings and goings of his Western disciples. Traditionally, a new forest monk will spend at least five rain retreats with his first teacher before beginning his ascetic wanderings. Achaan Chah stresses discipline as a major part of his practice - working precisely and carefully with the monks' rules and learning to surrender to the monastic style and to the way of the community. But somehow Western monks, like favored children, have been allowed more than the traditional space to travel in order to visit other teachers. Usually when someone does leave, there is no fuss and not much memory.