On Sundays, the atmosphere for listening to Dhamma is a little calmer than on Saturdays. Saturdays tend to feel busy and chaotic, while Sundays are a little more peaceful.
The world is endlessly chaotic; that is its nature. If one understands it, one can live more comfortably and with some happiness. If one does not understand, life will be unhappy. The Dhamma concerning worldly conditions (Lokadhamma) is something one must understand. More detailed explanations can be found easily on the internet.
What people in the world desire is to obtain benefits and gains. Once they have gains, they still feel insecure, so they seek power, status, and office. Even with power, they still want followers to feel more secure. Wherever they go, they want to be praised and surrounded by many people. They regard this as the ultimate object of desire, thinking it is happiness. Such people do not understand the reality of the world.
Having gains and honors (lābha-sakkāra) is inevitably paired with the decline of gains. Having status, rank, and office is inevitably paired with the loss of status, the end of office. Receiving praise is inevitably paired with blame. Observe those in high positions: when they lose power, they are scolded and reviled. In our country, this can be seen clearly on social media. When someone appears to be rising in strength, people praise them greatly. Those who wish to criticize remain silent for the time being. But as soon as that person makes a mistake, those who once praised fall silent, while those who wish to revile speak out.
It is not enough for laypeople to study only the Dhamma leading to Nibbāna
The world is like this: there is happiness, and there is suffering. Therefore, worldly conditions (Lokadhamma) are not only on the good side. They are not only about prosperity. The counterpart of prosperity is decline. There are gains and benefits, but sometimes they are lost. Especially in this era, things can be lost very easily. We may keep money in the bank, and one day it is all gone, with no one taking responsibility. Decline can come shockingly in just seconds.
Look at some people who have rank and position. They compete, struggling to become the head of a department, undercutting one another. They think that once they achieve it, life will be good. But what good is there? Life becomes full of suspicion and fear. In this world there are always pairs: prosperity and decline. If we want to live happily in it, we must understand the truth of the world and not be too deluded by it.
The Dhamma the Buddha taught for living in the world is abundant. He did not teach only the way to Nibbāna. We, as laypeople, cannot study only the Dhamma that leads to Nibbāna; we must also know how to live well in the world. Worldly happiness is a kind of happiness the Buddha explained. Happiness from wealth gained righteously brings contentment. If gained unrighteously, it does not bring contentment but only fear and anxiety. The Buddha taught in detail how to acquire wealth: to seek it in the right way, to preserve it, to associate with good people, and to live in a manner appropriate to one’s means. He taught even about these worldly matters. We should not think that he only taught the practice leading to Nibbāna.
Observe carefully this important point. One thing the Buddha greatly emphasized is the company we keep. If we wish to be wealthy but associate with the corrupt, they will lead us to ruin and downfall. If we wish to keep precepts and practice Dhamma, but we associate with the corrupt, they will pull us in another direction. Therefore, in choosing companions, we must be discerning. This is very important. The kind of people we associate with is the kind of person we will become. So if we want our lives to prosper, to be what is called an auspicious life (maṅgala-jīvita), the first rule is: do not associate with the corrupt, those who do not know right from wrong, who would lead us to ruin. We must recognize this and choose our company well.
When I was a layperson, I did not have many friends. But the few I had were genuine. There were only two. They were friends who went to the temple together, studied Dhamma together, and encouraged one another not to be lazy. If one began to stray off course, the other would remind him: “You have been slacking a little lately.”
If we associate with virtuous companions (kalyāṇamitta), it is an auspicious life. If we associate with the corrupt, we decline. Therefore, choosing our companions is crucial. We do not need many friends. Having good friends is enough—even one or two will do. A large crowd does not necessarily serve our purpose. It can mean noise, messing around, and confusion, even when going to temples together, roaming from one temple to another, chasing after rumors that this place or that place is good. Whether it is truly good or not depends on oneself. If we make ourselves good, then it is good. If we make ourselves corrupt, then no matter what we do, it is still corrupt. Even if we bow down to an Arahant, we remain corrupt all the same.
If we understand the world and understand life, we can live in it with little suffering, little suffering. With little suffering, happiness feels abundant. We may not be very wealthy. As the Buddha said, the happiness of lay householders includes happiness from having wealth—not wealth obtained by robbery or extortion, but wealth gained honestly. It may not be great wealth, but enough to live on, enough to get by. A life that knows contentment. We have done our best, and this is what we have. Life is fulfilling. We did not cheat anyone. Those who embezzle public funds and betray the nation—observe them. They have no happiness. Their lives are defiled.
There is happiness from using wealth, happiness from wealth gained honestly. When wealth is used properly, in proportion to our means, there is happiness. There is happiness from being debt-free. Today we are constantly urged to take on debt—national debt and household debt. In some countries, the national and household debt exceed the nation’s entire annual income. Where is the happiness in that? Whatever is earned goes only to pay interest. In some countries, seeing this is pitiable. They once lived self-sufficiently, within their means. Not rich, but not starving. Then came the wish to prosper quickly, so they borrowed. In the end, they could not repay, and the businesses pledged as collateral were seized. The whole country was taken, becoming an economic colony without even realizing it—because they did not know their limits. That is on the national level.
At the household level it is the same. If debt is unnecessary, do not take it on. If you must take on debt, it should be manageable. Borrow for business or trade, to create income that can repay the debt and support living. That is acceptable. But borrowing only to indulge, swiping cards endlessly—such lives are wretched. Our society lacks morality and restraint. Some groups of civil servants, for example, are deeply in debt. Then one day they announce they will not repay. It is a disgrace. When we see such examples, we should be humble. Those in debt are not happy. Those without debt are happy. The Buddha taught the happiness of lay householders: happiness from having wealth, happiness from using wealth, and happiness from being debt-free.
Another happiness for lay householders is living blamelessly, with conduct that brings no harm to oneself, to others, to society, or to the nation. Some lack this entirely. Those whose behavior damages the community will never be happy. Sometimes they are deceived, used as tools, end up in prison, or killed in quarrels, while those who deceived them remain untroubled, floating free.
To live in the world, one must know it, one must understand it. If we live in the world with a peaceful mind, content with our circumstances, then when we take up moral precepts and meditation, there will be no worry. Some are in debt from soccer betting, with loan sharks threatening their lives. They flee to practice in monasteries, hiding within the grounds. Can their minds be at peace? Their minds cannot be at peace. They live in fear of when they will be killed. Therefore, living a clean and blameless life is essential. It brings happiness. When we reflect and see no faults, no breaches of morality, or even when we may not see ourselves clearly but good friends or teachers affirm our goodness, then our minds become peaceful and content.
First conduct yourself well in the world,
then practice in earnest
If we live cleanly and blamelessly, when we sit to practice the mind will gather easily. With just a few breaths, the mind is collected. If we train well, then when we wish for the mind to gather, it gathers instantly. But if our minds are defiled, filled with bad thoughts and suspicion, fearing exposure, then no matter how long we sit, the mind will not collect. Meditation will not succeed. Therefore, as laypeople living in the world, we must live wisely.
Study the Dhamma the Buddha taught for living in the world. These teachings are included in the Navakovāda [novice training manual]. Read them. Newly ordained monks, especially those who will disrobe after one rains retreat, are required to study the Navakovāda in order to use this Dhamma when they return to lay life. As for deeper meditation practice, that is another level.
Whether we are about to sit in meditation, walk meditation, practice Dhamma, or approach our teachers, if we are unblemished, the mind will be courageous. If we have no worries, no debts, no political rivals, life is calm. Some people have fame and power, yet wherever they go they fear being shot. It is dangerous and there is no happiness. If we live without faults, keep precepts well each day, and regularly sit and walk in meditation, then when we approach our teachers the mind is bold and unafraid. With good virtue, courage arises. If we have studied enough Dhamma to know the right principles, courage arises. If we practice and see results step by step, courage arises.
Therefore, conduct yourself well in the world first, then practice in earnest. When I was a layperson, I can say I never cheated anyone, not even the smallest amount. I would not take what was offered. For a period I worked at TOT as staff to the director. Business people came offering this and that. I did not accept. If I accepted, I would be indebted to them, and later they would demand favors.
Keep yourself clean. Keep precepts. Practice every day. When going to pay respects to the teachers, the mind is heartened and unshaken. Go with a full heart and report the practice: “Venerable teachers instructed me to practice like this. I have practiced like this and obtained these results. Is this right or not? If it is not right, please tell me. I may have made mistakes I cannot see. If it is right, please assign a higher meditation subject so I can progress further.” I spoke like this whenever I approached my teachers. Almost every time they said, “What you are doing is right. Continue.” Only rarely, when I was truly stuck, did the teachers need to step in and correct me.
Most of the time when problems arose in practice, I used observation, with wise attention (yoniso manasikāra). Observe continuously: is what I am doing correct or not? If not, where is it wrong? Use observation with wise attention. Do not make it up or decide by preference. Judge right and wrong in practice by the Dhamma as taught in the Tipiṭaka. So if our practice does not accord with the Tipiṭaka, immediately look at ourselves. Where is it wrong? It must be wrong. Do not think the Tipiṭaka is wrong or incomplete and must be edited.
If we have the eyes and ears to perceive aura, we would know at once: those who tamper with the Tipiṭaka are pitch black, utterly dark, every one of them. To use modern phrasing so it sounds less frightening: some people’s aura seems good; some are completely dark. Look at those who meddle with the Tipiṭaka: pitch black. Avīci, the great hell, awaits.
As we practice, observe whether what we are doing accords with the teachings in the Tipiṭaka or not. The simple, the simplest way to see is this: are the unwholesome states decreasing? Do unwholesome states arise with greater difficulty? If so, that is good. It shows development. Do wholesome states arise often? Do they arise more and more frequently, flourishing? This is how we measure the progress of practice, by defilements (kilesa) and by wholesome states.
Measure yourself in this way. There is no need to measure by other things. Do not go asking others, “How is my mind? How is my mind?” Look at yourself. In practice, are wholesome or unwholesome states flourishing? Just this is enough. Simple. All of us can see for ourselves. Have you noticed how sometimes defilements are plentiful? That is the point when decline is happening.
When decline comes, there are two kinds of people. Some, when in decline, give up completely. Others, though in decline, endure and keep practicing. If it can decline, it can also develop. In real practice no one only develops without decline. It is always rising and falling. Through this the mind gains wisdom, seeing rightly that the mind is not self, not ours. If it were self, ours, we would command it: “Only develop. Only be happy. Only be good.” But it cannot be commanded. Sometimes in practice it develops. Then, even while we continue to practice, it declines. Do not be discouraged. If it develops and then declines, that is good, not bad. Simply know so.
The mind is wholesome, know that it is wholesome, that is good. The mind is unwholesome, know that it is unwholesome, that also is good. It is not that wholesome is good and unwholesome is bad. To think that way is mistaken. The mind is wholesome, know it as wholesome, good. The mind is unwholesome, know it as unwholesome, good also. What matters is whether we know ourselves or not. So when in practice the mind declines, knowing that it has declined is already good. For example, if in this period unwholesome states arise often, restlessness, lust, anger, we recognize this. “Oh, now unwholesome states are many, the mind is unwholesome.” To know so, as the Buddha said, is good, not bad.
At the point where we know unwholesomeness, we keep observing it. See how long it lasts. Keep watching. Unwholesomeness does not endure. The mind is greedy, does greed endure? Reflect on your life. How much greed have you already gone through? For example, you long for a new mobile phone. Once you get it, the interest fades. Greed just shifts to something else. Or desiring a certain person, once obtained, after a while the feeling cools. It is not as thrilling as in the beginning. Feelings in the mind change all the time.
Measure progress and decline by wholesome and unwholesome states
If we have mindfulness and wisdom, we keep reading the mind. When unwholesome states arise, know them as unwholesome without fear. Know them with equanimity. Unwholesome states too are impermanent. When anger arises, is anger permanent? It is not permanent. Anger comes only when we think of what provokes it. If we do not think of that, anger does not arise.
Some people are to be pitied. Their child dies. If a parent dies, they feel a little sad, as it seems natural for the old to die. But when a child dies, it shakes them, grief overwhelms them. They feel life will never be happy again. Or when abandoned by a lover, they think, “The bird in my heart will never sing again.” They sink into sorrow. But as days and time pass, it fades. Just a few days ago, a friend of mine came to see me. Last year his child died, and he was stricken with grief. I told him, “Hey, it is temporary. It will pass.” This year he came again, no longer sorrowful. The grief was gone. See? Even grief, which is rooted in aversion, does not endure. Do not be startled by it.
So, when the mind is filled with desire, do not be startled, just know it. See whether desire endures or not. When greed arises, does it endure? When anger arises, does it endure? When jealousy arises, does it endure? For example, if we are angry, hating someone so much that we want to harm them, anger feels intense. Then, while driving, if a car suddenly cuts in front of us or a pedestrian crosses unexpectedly, we are startled and quickly brake. In that moment we forget the one we hated. At that moment the mind is no longer angry. Anger comes only when we keep thinking of that person or dwell on unpleasant memories.
We love because we think of pleasing memories. Some people even vow to love each other “until the end of time.” If someone says this to you, know at once it is a lie. When we love someone it is because we keep thinking of them. As long as we think of them, love remains. But when thoughts change—when we must work, write software, or focus on tasks—love disappears. Love does not endure. Desire does not endure. Greed, anger, delusion, restlessness, sadness, none of these endure. Do not be startled. When defilements (kilesa) arise, just know that they have arisen. That is enough. Defilements will then become our teachers.
Defilements are teachers. Defilements are teachers. They teach us much. They show that they arise and then cease, revealing the Three Characteristics just as wholesome states do. They also teach us that when we let them dominate the mind, we commit unwholesome deeds and what follows is suffering. The pain of wrongdoing becomes life’s lesson. Some learn from it and stop repeating their mistakes. Others do not learn and keep falling into the same errors. Those who see that an action is wrong and stop, they grow wiser. Those who do not learn, even when old and crushed by suffering, still cannot let go of their defilements. Their lives remain without peace.
We have many examples. Defilements teach us that whenever we follow them, suffering without end will follow. Wholesome states are also teachers, but they are gentle. Defilements are strict teachers, not cruel, but stern and serious, punishing us when we neglect their lesson. Wholesome states are like kind teachers. They give homework. If we do it, they rejoice. If we do not, they remain neutral. Defilements are like strict teachers. They give homework, and if we do not do it, they punish immediately. Therefore, do not hate defilements. Learn from them. When wholesome states arise, know them. When they cease, know that too. When unwholesome states arise, know them. When they cease, know that as well. Keep observing. By this we can measure our own progress.
At first it may take a long time to realize when defilements have taken hold of the mind. Later, as mindfulness (sati) sharpens, concentration strengthens, and wisdom (paññā) develops with right understanding, recognition becomes faster. When defilements arise, even briefly, sati knows at once, and wisdom cuts them off. Sati is the one that knows what arises. Wisdom is the one that cuts defilements. For example, when anger arises, if sati sees it immediately, the mind stands firm, wisdom arises, and defilements are cut off. Understand this clearly: it is wisdom that cuts defilements, not us. The mind itself does not cut defilements. Wisdom cuts them. Distinguish this well. Sati knows the arising of phenomena, physical and mental. We cannot command sati to know, nor order the mind to be aware. But through practice, sati becomes quicker and quicker, and so it knows faster.
When we practice, we can easily observe our own progress. On February 6, 1982, when I first visited Luang Pu Dune, he taught me, “Practice is not difficult; it is difficult only for those who do not practice. You have read many books; from now on, read your own mind.” I then tried to observe my mind and eventually discerned that the mind and the object [that which is known] are separate. Initially, the knowing mind would detach from the object only briefly before merging back at the center of the chest. I observed this for several days, up to seven days, until the mind released the object it was clinging to. It would remain detached for a few minutes before merging again, becoming dominated by the object.
I kept on observing it patiently, without trying to fix or pull the mind away from anything. If you forcefully pull it away, it can be done using the power of samādhi, but Luang Pu instructed me to simply observe. So, I did not pull it away. When the mind was dominated by defilements or overwhelmed by mental fabrications, I just kept knowing it, observing it continuously. Five days later, the mind detached again. Notice how the time spent submerged in the object became shorter, and when the mind detached this time, it stayed detached for longer. As I continued practicing, the process became faster. When the mind clung to an object, the moment sati knew so, the mind detached immediately. From then on, the mind remained stable and radiant, rarely merging with the object. Occasionally, it would merge again, but with practice, this became less frequent.
We keep practicing until the mind and the object are like water and oil. Imagine a container of water with oil poured into it—the water and oil coexist but do not mix. Similarly, the mind stays with the object but does not merge with it; they remain distinct. This requires consistent practice. At this stage, it is not about attaining liberation; it is about training the mind. Eventually, the practice reaches the point of letting go: letting go of both the water and the oil, letting go of both the mind and the object. When that happens, there are no longer any burdens on the heart. The mind becomes free, peaceful, and at ease.
Luangpor measured my progress by observing defilements. There was a period when I was practicing, I went to pay respects to Luang Pu and said, “If I observe my mind and divide the defilements into four parts, I see that I have overcome two parts, and I am currently battling with another part.” My teacher replied, “Good, you are wise. You know your own defilements. That is true wisdom.” We can gauge our progress similarly. As we practice, we will come to know how much of our defilements remain. For example, you might observe that 80% of your defilements are still present, or perhaps 70%. Who here can see this in themselves? Raise your hand if you can. If you cannot see it yet, keep practicing—it takes more effort. A wise person knows these things for themselves through direct experience.
So, as we practice, we measure progress or decline through the rise of wholesome states and the fall of unwholesome states. If wholesome qualities increase and unwholesome qualities decrease, it means we are progressing. Conversely, if wholesome qualities decline and unwholesome qualities rise, it indicates we are regressing. For some, a decline is only temporary. They continue practicing, and progress returns—this time greater than before. Over time, progress becomes more consistent, and periods of decline become less severe. This process is gradual, like a curve with ups and downs. Practice does not follow a straight, upward trajectory. It rises and falls, but the overall trend moves upward. Some people, however, experience progress in their practice but then decline so deeply they stop altogether. Even monks can fall into this—practicing for years, feeling they have achieved nothing, and eventually giving up. This lack of perseverance reflects a lack of wisdom. Not gaining anything is often due to weak spiritual faculties. Giving up only worsens the situation, as it leads to indulging defilements more frequently. In the next life, the faculties will be even weaker, making progress more difficult. Therefore, perseverance and understanding the gradual nature of progress are essential for the path of practice.
One must be good in both worldly and spiritual ways
So, as we live in the world, we must understand it. The world has both progress and decline: gain and loss, fame and disrepute, praise and blame, happiness and suffering. Do not be swept away by these. When decline comes, do not be disheartened, it is the nature of the world. When progress comes, do not lose yourself in it, it will not last long before it fades. This is the nature of the world. If we can maintain this perspective, we will know how to live moderately and know how to associate with good people. This mindset removes worries from our practice, allowing us to practice with ease and peace of mind. When it is time to practice, we can do so without concerns holding us back.
If you are in debt to loan sharks, it is difficult to practice. Day after day, you keep hearing cracking sounds, looking left and right, wondering if they are coming to kill you. See, there is suffering because of debt. What the Buddha said, every word, is not wrong. It is really like that. But we do not really study the Buddha’s teachings. For laypeople, the Buddha offered countless teachings on how to live: how to treat parents and teachers, how to behave toward children, spouses, and friends, and even how to interact with workers and servants. He taught all of this. If we apply these teachings, our lives will become stable. We may not become exceedingly wealthy like the dishonest, but we will have nothing weighing on our minds and nothing to fear. When we practice, the mind will not gather in samādhi if it is afraid.
So, to truly live well, we need to balance both worldly and spiritual paths. Hoping to excel spiritually while completely neglecting the worldly side is not good. Some people abandon their families to pursue the spiritual life but end up constantly worrying about their loved ones while practicing. That will not yield results. However, there are those with remarkable determination, like Luangpu Khao. Luangpu Khao’s wife had an affair. He was furious and planned to kill the man. He even brought a knife and a sword, ready to strike him down. At the time, he was a captain overseeing a team of oxen drivers. He was not a weak person, but a leader with many subordinates. When he found out about his wife’s infidelity, he watched and waited, intending to kill. However, just as he was about to act, he thought, “If I kill him, I will create unwholesome karma for myself.” He immediately gave up the idea, put down his weapon, and decided to ordain as a monk. With unwavering determination, he left everything, his wife, his children, his wealth, and ordained and practiced with his life at stake. Because of his fiery temperament and courageous spirit, he excelled in his spiritual practice and achieved great strength in it.
One day, while on the mountain, Luangpu Khao looked down at the rice fields. He saw the rice plants, the ears of rice, and the grains forming. Once mature, the grains fell and became new rice plants, endlessly cycling. His mind reflected on this: just as rice seeds perpetuate the cycle, a mind still carrying the seed of ignorance (avijjā) continues the cycle of birth and death without end. At that moment, his mind turned inward and saw ignorance directly. When ignorance was completely severed, he attained liberation and became an exceptional teacher. See, in worldly life, he faced problems but had the courage to cut them off. If we cannot yet let go, we should work to resolve our issues without breaking the precepts or allowing the mind to become defiled by unwholesome actions. Live in the world skillfully, and it will become raw material, a resource that supports our practice.
Like me, living in the world. Before I could ordain, I was already 48 years old. The reason it took so long to ordain was because I had to take care of my parents. I still had work, I still had worldly responsibilities. When my mother passed away, my adoptive mother, adoptive parents… I had many siblings, my grandparents took them in to raise, so they became my adoptive parents. I became an only child, had to take care of them. Once the responsibilities lessened, I could then ordain. By the time I could ordain, I was 48. A 48-year-old person understands the world quite a bit already. I already knew how this world is. This world is subject to the eight worldly conditions (gain and loss, status and disrepute, praise and blame, pleasure and pain). But everything is simply impermanent. Having this kind of experience, deeply understanding it in my heart like this, when I ordained, my mind was resolute. I never thought of retreating.
In my fourth rains retreat [fourth vassa], I thought of Luangpu Rian. When I thought of him, I realized he was nearing the end of his life. I hurried to pay my respects to him. We discussed Dhamma, and I reported my practice to him. He shared his experiences, and he became filled with joy, his eyes welling up with tears. He stroked his robe and said, “I have fought through great hardships. Now I will die in the yellow robe.” He encouraged me, saying, “Follow my example, die in the yellow robe.” I replied, “Yes, sir.” I have never thought of turning back, not even once.
A mind that has learned much about the world sees the world as suffering. When it enters the path of Dhamma, it becomes resolute. So, if your life is difficult right now, do not be disheartened. Be patient and endure with sati and wisdom. These difficulties are resources for your practice. When we practice and come to deeply understand the world, if we were to go back to the world, we cannot go back, cannot go back down. It is like we were once stuck in a cesspool, covered head to toe with excrement and urine. Then we climbed out of the pit, took a shower, changed clothes. Then, if someone wants us to jump back into the pit, we will not do it. The mind is like that.
So, if we live in the world, we should learn to understand it clearly. This understanding becomes a resource and strength for our practice. When we know the worldly life thoroughly and see that there is nothing truly captivating about it, the mind naturally inclines toward the Dhamma. There is no need to abandon the world and ordain while still burdened with worldly responsibilities. Ordaining with a mind full of worries will not lead to real progress. Minds like that of Luangpu Khao, resolute and unwavering, are very rare.
That is enough of a talk for today. Next will be the session for reporting practice progress (homework). Some people ask why I do not require people to report in person. The truth is people listen to me from all over the world. Today, we even have someone reporting from Turkey. They do not have the same opportunities as you do. You have so many chances, but those far away do not. Let us give them an opportunity, they deserve some compassion.
Another thing, when I sit with my eyes closed during the reports, it is not because I am connecting to anyone’s mind to see anything. I am just tired and resting my eyes while listening. When they finish speaking, I open my eyes to respond. If I were to answer with my eyes closed, people might start calling it a miracle. So, know this, when I close my eyes, it is simply because I am old and talking for long periods makes me tired. It is not about performing any miracles. Do not go telling people that I see everything with my eyes closed.
Some women might secretly worry, thinking, “How can I report to Luangpor that I live simply and am not indulgent in sensual pleasures, but I have had five husbands?” Thoughts like this are overthinking. I would not care and would not even know. [said jokingly] Alright, moving on, number one. Better to rest my eyes, I am tired.
This is enough Dhamma for today. Go and practice. Live in the world, live skillfully. Practice so that it accords with Dhamma. Know what is the primary duty and what is the secondary duty. The primary duty is to lead oneself out of suffering. That is the main duty in saṃsāra. The secondary duty is to sustain one’s life, to rely on oneself, to accomplish our duties in the worldly way, and do so with sati and with neutrality toward pleasure and pain, toward progress and decline, toward gain, status, praise, and happiness. You must have neutrality. If there is no neutrality, the mind will sway. Therefore if you live in the world rightly, when you practice it will not be hard. If you live in the world wrongly, practicing is very hard. Please go and do your respective duties.
Wat Suan Santidham
11 August 2024