Paying homage to the buddha through various practices

On VisakhaBucha Day, we shall commit to upholding the precepts all day with determination to the Buddha (patiputti-puja). Today, we should also avoid worldly distractions, entertainment, and pleasures that make us lose awareness. So our minds will be able to find happiness in tranquility, which is another way of honoring the Buddha (patiputti-puja). At a higher level of honoring the buddha, this involves separating the physical from the abstract form. An even higher level is witnessing the Three Characteristics (tilakkhaṇa) in both physical and abstract forms. As we progress, the mind will naturally be on the path to attaining fruition and reaching Nirvana.

Separating the physical from the abstract forms is not difficult. However, historically, Buddhists seldom heard about these practices, as they were mainly taught within meditation communities and rarely to laypeople. Dhamma teachers used to teach in small, close-knit groups, but as these teachers passed away, the refined Dhamma capable of overcoming defilements (kilesa) gradually faded away. Luang Por witnesses that there are diverse groups among laypeople. One group is comparable to lotuses submerged in water—most laypeople are in this category. We let them be.

Some of us are akin to lotuses that are about to emerge from beneath the water’s surface. However, if we neglect to listen to refined Dhamma teachings and make a concerted effort to cleanse our defilements (kilesa), then we will waste this life. Having been born and discovering Buddhism without this determination is a significantly missed opportunity. Most people encounter Buddhism but cannot be considered so because they understand nothing about it. They can’t distinguish between the teachings of the Buddha and pre-existing beliefs in spirits, ghosts, and deities that coexisted before Buddhism arrived in our lands and have become intertwined with it.

For those of us who are like lotuses just beneath the water’s surface, we have the opportunity to delve into and engage deeply with refined Dhamma practices. By doing so, we can metaphorically rise above the water and bloom fully as lotuses. To achieve this aspiration, we must actively involve ourselves in Dhamma practices.

Our Dhamma practice is undertaken not for personal gain but as a way to honor the Buddha (patipatti-puja). Diligently upholding the Five Precepts is crucial. Among the various 227 precepts, 150 are disciplinary rules, and 75 are matters of etiquette. Thus, it is essential that we at least uphold the crucial precepts. For laypeople, these are the Five Precepts, and for monks, the Ten Precepts; they must be strictly upheld. Upholding these precepts is considered a practice that honors the Buddha (patiputti-puja).

We should also avoid worldly distractions, as the world is inherently chaotic. By keeping our minds aware and mindful of ourselves, the mind will possess samadhi, which can be considered a practice that honors the Buddha (patiputti-puja).

Once you can observe one state,
the others will naturally follow without much difficulty.

Cultivating samadhi isn’t just about sitting and breathing or practicing walking meditation. It’s about preventing our mind from wandering and settling the mind on a single object that brings happiness and comfort. When the mind remains attached to this single object, it doesn’t stray to pursue other objects. This leads to a calm mind, which then evolves into awareness. However, many people practice meditation and achieve a sense of calmness without developing awareness of their body and mind. They may superficially indulge in comfort and calmness. This type of samadhi is considered miccā samādhi and is ineffective.

Thus, if our mind is calm, then be aware of it and the current state as it is. For instance, if the mind is calm or scattered, then be aware that the mind is calm or scattered. When we possess mindfulness (Sati) and are mindful of the present state as it is, samadhi that is stable will automatically arise. We cannot forcefully order the mind to become stable because the mind is non-self (Anatta). We shall diligently cultivate our mindfulness (Sati) to be aware of various Dhamma states.

In the past, Luang Por used to be quick-tempered, easily irritated, and impatient. Luang Por couldn’t do things slowly and had to act swiftly, preferring to break rather than bend—an idiom from Chinese martial arts. Luang Por then practiced meditation, following Luang Pu Dune’s advice to observe my own mind. As a result, Luang Por saw that the mind would sometimes be angry and sometimes not, fluctuating between these states throughout the day. When anger arises, we shall become aware of it, and the mind will no longer be dominated by anger, becoming independent, outstandingly stable, and embodying the knowing, awakened, and joyful mind. When anger disappears and the non-angry mind arises, be aware that currently the mind is currently not angry. We shall be aware of the state of non-anger or anger when they arise. Non-anger is the absence of anger.

When we observe the current state of our mind as it is in the present moment, the mind will automatically stabilize. Thus, we shall both observe ourselves and the states of mind that frequently arise that we are capable of observing. Frequently observe these states of mind and use them as our object of meditation. As for other states of mind, those are supplementary. For instance, Luang Por used to be quick-tempered, and I observed this. As a result, Luang Por used anger and non-anger as my meditation objects. Luang Por is aware when the mind is angry and when it is not.

By practicing this, when other states of mind arise, mindfulness (Sati) will be able to recognize them as well as it has learned how to do so. If we can recognize one state of mind, then recognizing other states becomes easier. Thus, when practicing meditation, once we can observe one state, observing other states will naturally follow without much difficulty.

For example, in Kasina meditation, specifically the fire Kasina, we observe the fire until we can see it even with our eyes closed or open. The mind then becomes unified, and the fire disappears, replaced by a bright, round circle. Once we have successfully practiced the fire Kasina and achieved the patibhaga-nimitta, we can expand or contract this circle. When expanded, it can feel as if we are like the sun or the moon, shining light far and wide. When contracted, the mind becomes the size of a pinpoint, but that light becomes very intense.

If we can master Kasina meditation up to this level, we can then practice and master Water Kasina meditation through observing the water without difficulty. Similarly, once we have mastered Water Kasina, mastering Wind and Earth Kasina meditations also becomes easier. Once we’ve mastered one Kasina meditation, the others come more easily. The process is analogous when observing states of mind. If we can observe one state of mind, then it becomes easy to observe others.

For example, once Luang Por could see the states of anger and non-anger in the mind, I was able to witness affections when it arose. This is because both affections and anger arise from the same place, the center of the chest, and are hadayavatthu.

Regarding the Hadayavatthu and Hadaya Rupa, modern versions of scriptures explain that it is located at the heart. Meditation practitioners who are deeply committed to their practice realize that abstract objects and defilements (kilesa) do not actually arise from the heart. Even with a prosthetic heart, abstract objects and defilements can still arise. In truth, they emerge from a neutral state of mind. “Hadaya” in “Hadayavatthu” refers to the center, not the heart. Even if we use a prosthetic heart, abstract objects and defilements (kilesa) can still arise. In truth, they emerge from neutral state of mind. “Hadaya” from “Hadayavatthu” refers to the center not the heart.

For example, in our meditation practice, we may witness anger arising from the center of our chest. If we fail to be aware of anger in time, then it escalates becoming intense and overwhelms us. We then fall under its power, thinking, speaking, and acting out of anger.

When we can recognize one state of mind, we can also perceive affections when they arise. We can witness those intense affections overwhelming us, influencing our thoughts, words, and actions. For instance, pursuing another woman while we already have a family stems from these affections. Once we recognize one state of mind, it becomes easy to recognize others. One commonly taught state of mind by various Dhamma teachers is delusion, or moha. Anger is the easiest state of mind to recognize, followed by affections, and unawareness (moha) is the hardest to recognize.

Many Dhamma teachers from various disciplines, possessing great mindfulness and wisdom, instructed us to practice any form of meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna). It can be anything. Some Dhamma teachers advised moving the hands, others suggested observing the rising and falling of the stomach, while others recommended focusing on the breath. The key is to be aware of the mind when it strays from the meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) object.

For instance, if we breathe in and recite “Bud” and out with “Dho,” at some point the mind will wander and think about other things. The mind then forgets to breathe and the recitation of “Bud Dho.” Even if we are skilled in this practice, the mind may momentarily forget, and then it realized, “Oh, I forgot to breathe and forgot to recite ‘Bud Dho.'” We then return to breathe and recite “Bud Dho.” After a while, the mind wanders and becomes unaware again. We shall gradually and repeatedly be aware when the mind wanders. We can consider ourselves advanced if we can recognize this unawareness during meditation practice because unawareness (Moha) is difficult to observe. If we can master this, recognizing other states of mind will become simple.

Thus, as many Dhamma teachers from various disciplines have mentioned, practice any form of meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna). However, some Dhamma teachers are very clear about this. Take Luang Por Teean, who clearly stated that the purpose of meditation practice (Kammaṭṭhāna) is not to make the mind still or empty. Luang Por Teean advised us to move our hands with mindfulness (Sati) to awaken mindfulness (Sati). Awakening mindfulness means becoming aware when we lack mindfulness and are unaware; this awareness allows the mind to awaken. Luang Por Teean’s teachings on meditation practice are effective, but we must apply them properly. Similarly, teachings from other disciplines are also effective if practiced and applied properly.

If we don’t know how to practice meditation properly, regardless of the meditation practice (Kammaṭṭhāna) path taken, it can ultimately leads to the same tranquility. However, if we can cultivate wisdom, we will see the same Dhamma, reach the same path and fruition, and perceive the same Nirvana. There are many methods, but sometimes the profound and deep teachings of past Dhamma teachers fade away. As Luang Por mentioned, these teachers would rarely teach Dhamma. They would only instruct advanced meditation practitioners who had progressed to a certain level. For novices, they would have them focus on practicing generosity and upholding the precepts (Sila). Thus, the valuable teachings sometimes fade away.

Luang Por studied under various Dhamma teachers, primarily from the forest temple discipline, but not exclusively, as I also studied from other disciplines. Initially, Luang Por followed venerable Luang Por Buddhadasa’s teachings. Luang Por first ordained under Luang Por Panña, focusing on Anapanasati meditation, which I had practiced since childhood but had not fully understood its deeper meanings beyond achieving tranquility. Later, through correct and proper meditation practice, Luang Por gained profound understanding.

When you meditate, keep knowing your own mind,
and any meditation object will do

When practicing Anapanasati, we shall be aware of the breath, feeling it as we breathe in and out. If the mind wanders and forgets this awareness, then we shall mindfully recognize that the mind has wandered. The moment mindfulness (Sati) realizes the mind has wandered, the knower mind arises, and we witness the body breathing while the mind is the observer.

Before studying with Luang Por Teean, Luang Por was involved in the forest temple discipline from a young age. However, Luang Por only learned to achieve tranquility and didn’t grasp the core teachings of the Dhamma teachers, only managing to practice Anapanasati to calm the mind. Luang Por would perceive and witness various elements, but wasn’t sure if they were genuine, as they couldn’t be verified. Anything unverifiable should not be believed immediately; it should initially be set aside. Whether it’s true or not is not important, as verification wastes time and isn’t necessary. The most crucial aspect is to have mindfulness (Sati) and awareness of the body and mind in the present.

When Luang Por visited various Dhamma teachers from the forest temple discipline, they taught me to observe my own mind. Even when reciting “Bud Dho”, it wasn’t just to recite “Bud Dho” for the sake of it or to calm the mind. They taught it at a deeper level, applying “Bud Dho” for awareness. Some Dhamma teachers, like Luang Pu Boon Chan from Tham Pha Phueng (Bee Cliff Cave), were very clear in their instructions to recite, “Bud Dho Jai Ruu (Bud Dho the mind knows), Bud Dho Ruu Jai (Bud Dho knows the mind)”. Luang Pu Boon Chan emphasizes that when reciting “Bud Dho”, we shall witness that it ultimately comes down to the mind.

Other Dhamma teachers taught that “Bud Dho” represents the knower, the awakened, and the joyful one. You might ask what the knower, awakened, and joyful one is? It is us when our mind is aware, mindful, and stable.

When Luang Por studied under Dhamma teachers from previous generations, they taught the concept of “the knower.” Every temple Luang Por visited, Dhamma Teachers emphasized this term, “the knower”. “Bud Dho,” as they explained, is the mind itself. The mind, in turn, is the knower. In these modern times, the essence of the Dhamma seems to have waned, reducing the practice of reciting “Bud Dho” to mere repetition aimed at making the mind to be still. This Indeed serves its purpose well in Samatha meditation, which aims to attain stillness of mind.

However, when practicing “Bud Dho” from Luang Pu Boon Chan’s teachings, if we recite “Bud Dho” – in which our mind is aware of both itself and of “Bud Dho” – and we are aware that “Bud Dho” is an object that the mind perceives, then we will attain the true essence of “Bud Dho”. The true essence of “Bud Dho” isn’t just a word, “Bud Dho” is our mind itself.

When Luang Pho studied under Luang Pu Thet, he taught these principles, but with specific terminology as “chit” (the mind) and “jai” (the heart). “Chit,” he said, is the one who thinks, imagines, fabricates, and embellishes. “Jai ” is the knower, the awakened, and the joyful one. By practicing, the mind (chit) ultimately elevates to become the heart (jai) — the knower, the awakened, and the joyful one. The mind thinks and fabricates, but if we are aware of these fabrications, the mind will be liberated from them and transcend to become the heart.

Luang Pu Dune also taught, “No matter how much you think, you won’t truly know. Stop thinking, then you will know. But, we are still dependent on thinking”.

The term “know” refers to the knower mind as it will arise. As we “know”, the knower mind arises. If we are caught up in our thoughts, then we only have the thinker mind. However, if we are aware that the mind is thinking, the thinking mind ceases, and the knower mind arises. Thus, Luang Pu Dune did not teach us to stop thinking.

Luang Por, recognizing that the mind is the knower, once made a mistake by trying to observe the mind, tried to prevent the mind from thinking. Luang Pu told me, “That’s incorrect. The mind is the one that thinks, imagines, fabricates, and embellishes; preventing the mind from doing so is ineffective. Gradually be aware and observe your own mind”

Luang Por found that if the mind is unaware and wanders, the knower mind will not arise. However, if we know that the mind is unaware and wanders, then the knower mind will arise. This is why Luang Pu Dune said, “No matter how much you think, you won’t truly know. Stop thinking, then you will know. But we are still dependent on thinking” Unfortunately, later generations of students often forgot the third part of this teaching, only remembering, “No matter how much you think, you won’t truly know. Stop thinking, then you will know,” and leaving it at that. As a result of this omission, the teachings of Dhamma teachers have waned.

In an attempt to follow this incomplete teaching, they try not to think. This is another form of fabrication called anenjābhisaṅkhāra This approach proves ineffective as it distort the true nature of the mind.

Thus, Luang Pu Dune’s teachings consist of all three sentences: “No matter how much you think, you won’t truly know. Stop thinking, then you will know. But we are still dependent on thinking.” The phrase “But we are still dependent on thinking” means to allow the mind to think naturally. The moment the mind gets lost in thoughts and possesses mindfulness (Sati) and are aware that the mind is thinking, the thinking mind ceases and the knower mind arises.

We do not need to maintain the knower mind as the mind will think again. When the mind thinks again, we shall become aware again, and the knower mind will arise once more. Don’t prevent the mind from thinking because if we do so, then the mind will get stuck to the 3rd type of fabrication called anenjābhisaṅkhāra.

There are 3 types of Fabrications: 1) Puññābhisaṅkhāra: These are meritorious and virtuous fabrications 2) Apuññābhisaṅkhāra: These are evil fabrications and 3) Anenjābhisaṅkhāra: This type involves the attempt to not fabricate. Thus, if we try to prevent the mind from thinking, we are essentially trying to avoid fabrications. The root of this is ignorance (avijjā). So, we should not prohibit the mind from thinking. Instead, when the mind thinks, we shall mindfully recognize, “Oh, the mind is unaware and lost in thought”. When we know that the mind is lost in thought, the wandered mind ceases, and the knower mind arises. We shall practice this frequently.

Therefore, if we understand the principles of meditation practice, it is no longer difficult. It becomes difficult because we have never really heard or learned about Dhamma teachings on meditation practice. It’s like wanting to attain Nirvana, struggling desperately to find a way. There is no way to find it by themselves. There are only two kinds of people who can find the path to Nirvana by themselves: a Sammasambuddha (someone who discovers the path to enlightenment independently, without relying on teachings from previous Buddhas) and a Paccekabuddha (someone who attains awakening independently and does not teach the Dhamma to others). If one is not one of these two kinds of people, then one cannot find the path to Nirvana by themselves.

We belong to a group called “Anupuddha”. “Anu” does not mean small; Anupuddha refers to those who follow the path of the Buddha. Thus, we learn and practice meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) daily to honor the Buddha. As disciples of the Buddha, we shall uphold precepts, train our minds to not be entangled with worldly matters, and cultivate our minds to be the “knower,” “awakened,” and “joyful” mind as an offering to and a way of honoring the Buddha. As Luang Por mentioned, each discipline has its own methods, but once the key is grasped, they all lead to the same path.

For instance, when observing the rising and falling of the stomach, if the mind sinks down to the stomach, then it’s considered an object fixation. This can immediately lead to Ārāmaṇūpaniṣān, not the knower mind. In this state there’s no knower mind at all, there’s only the presence of fixation, not awareness. However, when the mind sinks into the stomach and we are aware of this, the knower mind arises. The knower mind is the opposite of the unaware mind. When the mind flows to the stomach, this means that the mind wanders to the stomach and it’s unaware. Similarly, when we recite “Bud Dho” or move our hands in rhythms from Luang Pho Tien’s discipline and the mind wanders into thoughts, this signifies an unaware mind.

Thus, we shall practice meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) in whatever method suits us best. Each approach has its merits; none is significantly better or worse than one another. What’s crucial is to grasp the principles well. When practicing meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna), we shall be aware of our minds. Therefore, any meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) method that we choose to practice will be effective ass all meditation practices are akin to bait for catching a fish. The goal is the fish, which is the mind. Any type of bait works if the mind is attracted to it. If we are a fish that is attracted to ‘Bud Dho,’ then we use ‘Bud Dho’ recitation as bait. If our mind likes ‘Bud Dho’, then we are that metaphorical fish that likes ‘Bud Dho.’

If our mind is attracted to being aware of the breath, then we use the breath as bait, luring the fish – the mind, to be aware of the breath. Then, if the mind sinks down to the breath and we are mindful and aware, then the mind will spring up and transform into the knower mind as well. However, If the mind does not spring up and sinks down into the breath, then it is considered Ārāmaṇūpaniṣān, which is just a type of samadhi that merely offers tranquility. However, by being aware of where the mind wanders—whether to the breath, hands, feet, or stomach, the mind then will spring up and transform into the knower, awakened and joyful mind.

Honor the Buddha even further by cultivating wisdom

Once we possess the knower mind, we then continue practicing meditation with even greater dedication to honor the Buddha. Nowadays, there are still a fair amount of individuals able to achieve calmness in the mind. Forty to fifty years ago, countless people successfully practiced and achieved this but in this day and age, fewer people are able to do so and let’s not even mention achieving a stable, knower and awakened mind. In the past, Luang Por studied under Dhamma Teachers who mentioned the term “the knower”. This refers to individuals that are aware of their mind when practicing meditation and eventually attain the knower mind. With the knower mind, they then further cultivate wisdom.

Nowadays, very few individuals can truly be considered “the knower.” Many who practice meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) often remain unaware and getting attached on a single object, clinging to calmness, and becoming trapped in comfort and pleasure. This prevents genuine progress in cultivating wisdom. True wisdom cultivation requires a stable, knower, awakened, and joyful mind that mindfully perceives the physical form with a stable mind. Wisdom will then arise and we will witness that the physical form is not our true self. When we listen to Luang Por’s teachings, our mind can easily become the knower mind because, being close to Luang Por, we dare not be unaware, as we will get reprimanded.

Thus, when we are close to Luang Por, the mind becomes attentive, alert, and easily aware. Once our mind is in this heightened state, we shall reflect down on the body. Rather than letting the mind sink down to the body, we simply acknowledge its presence. Try to reflect the body’s presence without fixating on it as fixation makes it too intense. Reflecting just means being aware of the body’s existence and its movements. Do we see that our body moves? Sometimes it breathes in and out, shifts left and right, and moves the hands and head.

We shall gradually be aware of this. Our mind is simply the observer. Eventually, we will perceive that this body is not our true self. It is merely a composition of elements that the mind perceives. See? The cultivation of wisdom, which involves distinguishing between the physical and abstract forms, is not challenging. With a genuinely stable mind, distinguishing between these forms becomes easy. However, if the mind lacks stability, attempting to differentiate between physical and abstract forms becomes exhausting and can lead us astray.

Be aware. Yes, like that. Do we see that the body is sitting? Do we notice its breathing? Can we recognize that the body is the object being perceived? Can we discern that the body and mind are distinct entities? Do we perceive that the body is not our true self? Initially, we will be able to distinguish the body and mind as separate and then, we will proceed to perceive that the body is not our true self. Through gradual awareness like this, we will eventually begin to cleanse the wrong perception that identifies the body as our true self.

Similarly with the same method, with a stable mind, we reflect on our feelings (vedana). After sitting for a long time, we experience suffering in the body—aches and soreness. When this arises, instead of immediately moving, we shall first be aware that suffering has permeated the body. Suffering itself is not the body. It, too, is something perceived, not the mind, and certainly not our true self. As we become adept at observation, we continue to observe further. We observe our virtuous and evil fabrications. We observe whether our mind is imbued with greed or free from it, with anger or without, whether we are unaware or aware.

Keep observing continuously, and we will witness that greed, anger, and delusion (moha) are objects that the mind perceives. Greed, anger, and delusion are not the mind, nor are they our true self. After we cultivate wisdom for a while, the mind will scatter and wander. We then return to be aware of our body. We shall comfortably easefully practice meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna). Whether we achieve tranquility, it doesn’t matter. If the mind wanders or forgets the meditation practice (Kammaṭṭhāna) and fixates on the meditation object, then shall be aware. Keep practicing easefully, and the knower mind will arise again.

Once the knower mind arises, we then proceed to cultivate wisdom. Lead our mindfulness (Sati) to reflect on the body, observing that the body is distinct from the mind and not our true self. Similarly, lead Mindfulness (Sati) to be aware of feelings (vedana) in the body, recognizing they are separate entities, not the body, mind, nor our true self. Mindfulness (Sati) should also be aware of the sensations of pleasure, pain, and neutrality in the mind, understanding these as distinct from the body and not our true self; they are perceived by the mind. We shall be aware of wholesome and unwholesome states that arise in the mind, perceiving that they too are objects known by the mind, not the mind itself nor our true self.

If we observe up to this point but the mind lacks strength, then we return to cultivate calmness and set aside the cultivation of wisdom for the time being. Engage in any meditation practice (Kammaṭṭhāna) to allow the mind to stay on a single object, allowing it to regain strength. Once the mind possesses strength, upgrade it by being aware of when it becomes unaware or wanders. Through this awareness, the mind will stabilize and we can resume cultivating wisdom.

At a certain point, we will recognize that the physical form is the body, feelings (vedana) are thoughts (sankhara), and virtuous or unwholesome fabrications are distinct from the mind and not our true self. Memory, including the ability to recall and understand meanings, is not the mind nor true self. Can we notice that sometimes we can remember, and sometimes we cannot; it is beyond our control. Memory is also an object that is known, and not our true self.

Through repeated meditation practice, we will come to witness that our mind alternates between being the knower and the thinker. Both roles are impermanent. When the knower aspect of the mind is not influenced by distorted perceptions (sanna vipallasa) or distorted thoughts (citta vipallasa)—meaning the mind is not tainted by 1) Mistaken perception that it is our true self, nor 2) Mistaken thoughts identifying it as our true self (citta vipallasa) — , there will be no misperception that the mind is our true self.

The knower mind itself arises and ceases, alternating roles between being the knower and the thinker. At times, the mind functions as the knower; at other times, it observes form, listens to sounds, smells scents, tastes flavors, and senses physical contact. The mind intermittently acts as the knower. When it’s not in this role, it can be unaware and lost in thoughts, or fixate on a meditation (Kammaṭṭhāna) object.

We will witness that that the knower mind itself, like forms (rupa), feelings (vedana), perceptions (sanna), and thoughts (sankhara), is also subject to impermanence (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and non-self (anatta). The mind that arises and ceases through the six senses: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind is known as vinnana. Vinnana in turn, is the mind itself, which perceives objects through these six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind). We can witness that the knower mind arises through the mind (mano-vinnana) and resides within the mind itself. This knower mind eventually ceases, giving way to the arising of the mind that observes forms. However, the mind that observes form also arises and ceases, allowing the knower mind to manifest once more. Subsequently, the mind transitions into becoming the one that listens to sounds, before once again cease and become the knower mind.

The point where the mind returns to being the knower mind requires diligent practice to achieve proficiency. Generally, people do not possess this knower mind; instead, they often become unaware while observing sights. When not lost in sight, they may become unaware when listening to sounds. There is no presence of the knower mind that interferes between these unaware states. Thus, the mind remains continuously unaware—wandering through the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

Because the mind is unaware and possess delusion (moha), wisdom cannot arise. Another term for moha, signifying the absence of wisdom, is avidya. Lung Por forgot the vocab for a moment there demonstrating that perception (sanna) itself is impermanent Again, delusion (moha) is the absence of wisdom.

Honoring the Buddha through practice

If we follow this path as taught by the Buddha, we should do so without seeking personal gain. We walk this path with deep reverence and unwavering faith in the Buddha. We uphold the precepts (Sila) as an offering to the Buddha. We cultivate samadhi to calm the mind, unentangling it from worldly desires, as an offering to the Buddha. We strive to stabilize the mind as an offering to the Buddha. We discern and separate physical and abstract forms, elements and khandas, as an offering to the Buddha. When we develop wisdom and perceive the Three Characteristics (Tilakkhana) in all physical and abstract forms, including the knower mind itself, consider it a practice to honor the Buddha.

Practicing in homage to the Buddha (patipatti-puja) offers greater benefits than material offerings (amisa-puja). There are two types of homage. Amisa-puja involves offering flowers and praying through incense, and candles to monks, which are indeed virtuous. However, offering food to monks for their sustenance can be considered either amisa-puja or patipatti-puja depending on our wisdom. If our wisdom is limited, then material offering to monks remains akin to amisa-puja. However, if our wisdom is profound and we understand that material offerings serve to diminish and abandon our own defilements (kilesa), then this is considered patipatti-puja.

Thus, when two people perform the same action—one with delusion (moha) and the other with wisdom—the merit they accumulate differs vastly. The merit of a person with wisdom is significantly greater.

The merit of a person without wisdom may lead to a good rebirth and experience happiness. However, when we make merit in conjunction with mindfulness (sati) and wisdom, aiming to diminish and abandon defilements (kilesa), and do so in homage to the Buddha without seeking personal gain, we engage in patipatti-puja. This is the cultivation and refination of ourselves.

For instance, offering a single spoonful of rice into a monk’s alms bowl illustrates this disparity in merit. The person with wisdom will continue to be reborn in favorable, happy realms, while the other has the potential to transcend the world and break free from the cycle of samsara.

Therefore, any action or merit performed with mindfulness (sati) and wisdom carries great merit. Merit accompanied by wisdom far surpasses merit without it, which is comparatively small.

Thus, when engaging in acts of merit, it is crucial to approach them correctly—not with the aim of becoming number one, superior or above others. Such motivations reflect a limited understanding of Buddhism. Instead, our actions and merit making should be guided by the intention to abandon and diminish ego (atta) and self, to follow the path of the Buddha.

The Buddha sacrificed everything to achieve Buddhahood. In the past, Luang Por pondered why the Buddha amassed so many virtues (Pāramitās) over many lifetimes but did not attain Buddhahood until his final life as Prince Vessantara. Prince Vessantara’s path to perfection seemed centered on acts of giving and not so much of other acts, which raised the question: why did his giving make his virtues (Pāramitās) complete? The key lay in how Prince Vessantara gave with genuine understanding and method. Many of us give with an expectation of receiving something in return, even if it’s just a merit certificate, which is good not to say it’s bad. However, Prince Vessantara’s giving was truly sacrificial.

Prince Vessantara was determined that if anyone asked for his life, body, heart, or eyes, he would give them immediately without hesitation. He had that much courage, but no one had yet asked for those things. That changed when someone asked for the city’s prized elephant, a significant symbol. Despite the inevitable consequences, he courageously gave it away and was subsequently exiled. While traveling by carriage, people asked for his carriage and horses, and he gave them away too, continuing on foot. Eventually, an old brahmin named Jujaka asked for his children, and he gave them away. This is difficult for people of our generation to understand. How could he give away his children? Children have their own lives. Or his wife, how could he give her away? His wife and children are people; how could he give them away?

We shouldn’t use today’s standards to measure the standards of the past. In his time, a wife and children were considered possessions. We shouldn’t interpret their actions using modern standards. Prince Vessantara loves his wife and children but he had the courage to sacrifice them to seek liberation (moksha) and Nirvana, so he could help countless beings. It wasn’t just for his wife and children; he wanted to help everyone. His heart was that vast. He was willing to give up what he loved, not for personal gain, but to attain the Dhamma and help all beings. A heart, like his, willing to die for the Dhamma is an immense and boundless heart.

For us meditation practitioners, Dhamma teachers have told us that Nirvana lies on the side of death. When practicing meditation to the point of breaking through, transcending the samsara, that is the most intense suffering point. The suffering is so severe that it feels like continuing to meditate will certainly lead to death. If we haven’t trained our mind or reached the stage of the highest perfections (paramitas virtues), willing to sacrifice our life, then fear will cause us to retreat.

Prince Siddhartha, when he was about to attain enlightenment, faced the assault of demon (Mara). If Prince Siddhartha had harbored even the slightest fear of death, then his mind would have faltered and continued to remain under the demon’s (Mara) control. Yet, Prince Siddhartha had trained himself to sacrifice everything, even his life. Prince Siddhartha was willing to give up everything, and thus he attained supreme enlightenment.

Gradually practice meditation and we will realize that the virtue of generosity (dana parami) is far from trivial. It requires tremendous courage to consider offering one’s life. As we practice meditation, we will witness suffering. If we observe the body, then this suffering can feel overwhelmingly intense, almost as if we are on the brink of death. Similarly, when we observe the mind, it may seem as though it is on the verge of breaking or exploding.

At such critical junctures, even a hint of fear of death can cause the mind to retreat. This retreat halts our progress in cultivating wisdom and leaves us continued to be under the demon’s (Mara) control.

Before reaching such a profound level of meditation, it’s crucial to gradually build and refine our practice. This involves step-by-step reduction of selfishness. Initially, some traces of selfishness may remain, but we shall then be aware of ourselves. However, this doesn’t mean we should indiscriminately give away everything to anyone who asks. Luang Por would not do that because I am not like Prince Vessantara. I am merely a humble follower.

For instance, when we make merit, Luang Por often directs donations towards helping others. Most of the donations, if not necessary for immediate use, are given to hospitals. This year, for example, a significant portion has been donated to Siriraj Hospital, amounting to several million. Contributions to other places are ongoing as well.

However, Luang Por will not donate directly to individuals. When we assist someone directly, there can be an expectation for ongoing help and if we can’t, they may get upset with us. So, Luang Por avoided such situations and chose to donate to foundations or organizations instead.

Additionally, I rarely contribute to temple donations due to the teachings of Luang Pu Dune. According to him, monks’ primary responsibility is meditation practice, not the construction of temples. Laypeople, seeing the value and benefits of the monks’ practice, will come forward to build temples on their own.

We do not need to lead fundraising efforts for temple construction—it’s not our duty. Others may view it as a responsibility, but as a disciple of Luang Pu Dune, Luang Por follows his teachings. Luang Pu Dune taught us that it is not a monk’s duty to initiate temple construction .

When faithful laypeople approach Luang Pu Dune’s disciples with offers to donate land to be turned into a temple and ask for his disciples to reside there, the disciples often hesitate. They do not want to become the abbot

In this era, as soon as monks are ordained, many immediately desire to become abbots. Back then, no one wanted to take on that role; they preferred quiet meditation and avoided and did not wish to be an abbot. Luang Pu had to order them, “Alright, you go here, and you go there.” They would often protest, saying, “How can I go? I don’t know how to build a temple, I don’t know what to do, I can only practice meditation.” Luang Pu would respond, “Then just go and practice meditation. You don’t have to do anything else. Just practice meditation well and the laypeople will build the temple themselves.” This was the teaching passed down from our Dhamma teachers. Therefore, there was no competition to build temples.

Therefore, while monks may engage in fundraising efforts, Luang Por does not criticize them for it. They contribute in their own meaningful way, but personally, Luang Por do not prefer to engage in such activities. Instead, Luang Por chose to donate to hospitals and foundations. It’s not that they’re not good; they are good in their own way. They build temples which then become attractions. If we do something without self-interest, then this yields immense merits. Conversely, acts driven by greed or self-interest generate lesser merit. Even the same act, performed identically, can yield varying degrees of merit. As I mentioned earlier, even the act of giving alms can yield differing amounts of merit.

Merit tainted with defilements is not pure

Some laypeople seek to make merit and spread the word, going around asking for donations. Two people might fundraise however, the merit they generate can differ. For instance, one person may engage in fundraising because they want to gather a lot of money, increase their social circle, and enjoy the camaraderie and festivities of events like kathina or forest robe offerings. This motivation, driven by self-interest and seeking to gain friends results in lesser merit.

Another person might advocate for merit making, but their intention is purely to inform others so they have the opportunity to participate in merit making if they desire. That person is indifferent to whether others contribute or not; the goal is simply to inform others. This motivation results in greater merit because it is free from self-interest, not seeking personal gain or financial contributions from others. Regarding those who distribute donation envelopes, let’s be honest: are they genuinely motivated to inform people about the merit-making event, or is their primary concern the collection of money in those envelopes? Reflect on this deeply. Often, the latter is true. Consequently, the merit they gain is tainted with defilements (kilesa) and sin, impure and unclean. This issue is compounded when monks themselves initiate solicitation for donations, this is worse. It’s not their duty to construct structures.

At the temple, laypeople often approach with requests to contribute and initiate building projects, but Luang Por declined such offers. What we have is sufficient. Some offered land, but Luang Por declined, saying I don’t have the ability to take care of it. Some are very insistent, determined to make the offering. In these situations, Luang Por felt conflicted because it’s not right to hinder their intentions to make merit. To navigate this, Luang Por often suggested an alternative: rather than making an immediate offering, they could draft a will to donate their assets to the temple, not to me, after their passing. Many individuals find this suggestion acceptable and proceed to draft a will, ensuring that their house and land will be given to the temple in the future.

However, some of them might ask, “Why must it be that way?” I told them directly: Today they possess strong faith, but in the future, they might not and regret their donation. Merit gained under such conditions, accompanied by regret and a troubled mind results in very little merit, a flimsy kind of merit. If one passes away and is reborn with this type of merit, then they will be born with disabilities. Luang Por didn’t come up with this on my own; it’s written in the scriptures. That’s why Luang Por told them to include this to their will instead.

One advantage of making a will is that it can be revoked at any time. There’s no pressure or obligation that they must give it to the temple or to Luang Por. Many individuals approached Luang Por and expressed their desire to donate directly to me, but I refused. Instead, I advised them to make a will directing their donation to the temple. This will be the responsibility of future abbots, not mine. Having temple property is a hassle. Having the temple owning land and assets is complicated. The temple needs to consider the applications for the land and if the land is leased, tenants might refuse to leave after a long time, causing disputes and legal troubles.

So, Luang Por really doesn’t want any assets. Ideally, what Luang Por desires is for us all to keep practicing meditation. People even offer me cars, but Luang Por declined such offers because I already have one. The car Luang Por currently uses isn’t even mine; it belongs to and purchased by a layperson and is registered under a nun’s name, not by me. Luang Por also doesn’t have a personal driver; instead, I borrow someone else’s driver when necessary. Actually, things that are simple and straightforward, like the concept of “small is beautiful,” should be appreciated. Learn to live a simple life.

Some individuals complicate their lives by taking everything too seriously, which isn’t beneficial. Constant stress over minor issues isn’t healthy—it creates hardship in life and unease in the mind. Try to aim for a lighter and simpler life. Adopt a simple diet, live with ease, and approach tasks in a relaxed manner. Perfectionism can be exhausting. Some monks here are like that, very meticulous about everything but Luang Por’s training and guidance, they have improved. There’s one monk, once very strict, who sits over there. I told him, “Hey, take it easy, easy!” When you’re relaxed, the mind clears up, and practicing meditation becomes easier. Conversely when we’re stressed, we can’t afford to practice meditation.

In summary, today is Visakha Bucha Day. Hence, we shall pay homage to the Buddha through various practices. Candlelight processions with flowers, incense, and candles is considered amisa-puja (paying homage through material offerings). However, if we engage in these rituals while reflecting on the Buddha, then this becomes patiputti-puja (paying homage through various practices). Bringing flowers, incense, and candles as a means to pay homage and contemplate the Buddha’s virtues is also considered patiputti-puja , not just amisa-puja.

We shall aim for patiputti-puja practicing to reduce our defilements (kilesa) and to honor the Buddha. As we inhale and exhale, think of the Buddha. Whether we are standing, walking, sitting, or lying down, contemplate the Buddha and his exemplary virtues—his boundless compassion, purity, and wisdom.

Before becoming the Buddha, Prince Siddhartha Gautama demonstrated profound compassion, aspiring to help all beings. He possessed the wisdom to attain enlightenment all by himself and achieved purity through his own efforts. Contemplating these virtues regularly will strengthen our minds allowing us to cultivate samatha meditation. When our minds possess samatha (calmness) in this way and we think of the Buddha, then even if unexpected events happen such as our car overturns or we die today, we are sure to be reborn in a good realm. Even when we are flying, the plane can suddenly crash. So, we never really know.