People in this generation are different from the previous generation of practitioners. In the past, when practitioners entered the temple, the first thing they did was request the precepts. But now, people come in wanting to learn how to develop mindfulness and wisdom right away. The starting points are different. Nowadays when people listening to a sermon on morality, they become frustrated, thinking, “I already know this,” yet they don’t practice it. They only know it in theory. Thirty to forty years ago, when I entered the monastery, people would observe the precepts as their starting point. It was a good foundation.
Nowadays, many people aim to develop wisdom. Some rush ahead and directly wants to cultivate wisdom or observe the mind, hoping to attain the Noble Path quickly. But they overlook an essential lesson: morality. The first step is Sīla-sikkhā—training in morality. The second step is Citta-sikkhā—training in the mind, cultivating concentration (Samādhi) correctly. Only in the third step does Paññā-sikkhā—cultivating wisdom—come into play.
Once, when I was with Luangpu Thate, he remarked that some Buddhists in certain sects focus exclusively on wisdom. He was referring to Zen, which was introduced to Thailand in its early days through translated books and texts. When people read those books, they thought Zen was purely about cultivating wisdom, while neglecting morality and concentration. They would talk about emptiness, saying, “That is not to be grasped, this is not to be grasped,” and so on. Luang Pu said he saw the weakness in this approach—again, he was speaking of Zen as it was first introduced in Thailand, primarily through texts. He pointed out that the flaw was in neglecting morality and concentration.
Luangpu said that wisdom without precept and concentration is not correct. If someone just aim to develop wisdom, they could be over-confident in themselves. Like those who study texts too much, they could be over-confident and look down on others. So, when we study, we have to study according to the right sequence.
The term ‘sequence’ does not mean that you must observe a certain level of precepts for a specific number of years before practicing meditation, or that you must meditate for a certain number of years before developing wisdom. It is not like that. When we talk about sequence, we need to examine ourselves carefully. The purpose of observing the precepts is to normalize our mind. The precepts are essentially about maintaining normalcy. The mind of an ordinary person is not normal. It is often overwhelmed by greed, anger, delusion, distraction, and despair. The mind loses its balance and its natural state of normalcy. The mind, by its nature, is radiant, pure, and bright, but it becomes clouded because of the defilements that come and go. It is therefore not in its normal state. When our mind is not normal, we begin to think wrongly, speak wrongly, and act wrongly. We need to observe the precepts in order to bring our mind back to a state of normalcy.
The way to properly observe the precepts is to maintain mindfulness and keep the mind in check. When lust arises in the mind, we should be aware of it. When anger arises, we should be aware of it. When delusion arises, we should be aware of it. By being mindful and aware of these defilements frequently, lust, anger, and delusion will no longer dominate our minds. When lust, anger, and delusion cannot control our minds, we will not have evil thoughts. People think evil because their minds are dominated by defilements. For example, when we think of being angry, vengeful, or hateful toward others, when we think of harming others or even committing crimes, it all stems from defilements taking control of the mind and leading us to think wrongly. These wrong thoughts are called Micchā-sankappa.
“Having mindfulness to recognize what lies behind our thoughts,
in my point of view, is almost the true starting point of practice.
Practice is not just about sitting or walking meditation—
it begins with refining oneself through precepts,
being mindful of speech, actions, and livelihood,
ensuring that they are not driven by defilements.
From there, concentration naturally arises”
Therefore, if we maintain mindfulness to guard our minds, we start by ensuring our thoughts are correct. When any defilement arises, we are aware of it. When any defilement arises, we recognize it. When wrong thoughts, thoughts under the influence of defilements, arise, we are aware of them. As the defilements are recognized, they fade away, and our thoughts become pure and clear. Once our thoughts are correct and no longer under the control of defilements, our speech and actions will naturally be good.
This process and sequence are not something I said on my own. If we examine the Eightfold Path (Magga), it follows the sequence as I mentioned. The first step is right view (Sammā-diṭṭhi). We must have the correct theory to guide us. We must understand why we are practicing the Dhamma—not to become wealthy, beautiful, or skilled, but to overcome suffering. To be free from suffering, we must understand suffering, understand the cause of suffering, understand the cessation of suffering, and understand the path that leads to the cessation of suffering. This understanding, at the beginning, is theoretical—it is the correct guiding theory.
Sammā-diṭṭhi (Right View). The word Ditthi is from Pali, and in Sanskrit, it corresponds to the word Dṛṣṭi, which means ‘theory.’ In Thai, the word Ditthi is used to mean something else, while the word Dṛṣṭi (theory) has a different meaning. Essentially, it means having the correct theory or guidance. We must understand that we practice the Dhamma to be free from suffering, not for other purposes. It is not for wealth, not to avoid sickness, or to gain something else. The goal is to be free from suffering. Who is the one who suffers? It is our mind. Sometimes, our body might not even be sick yet, but the mind suffers first. Why? Because of thoughts. When bad thoughts arise, the mind becomes restless and troubled.
Therefore, if we are to practice the Dhamma, once we understand the guiding theory, we must also think correctly. We must avoid wrong thinking, as thoughts are the starting point for all other mistakes. Some people realize that their thoughts are the root cause of wrong speech and actions. Wrong speech and actions, or bad thoughts, lead to suffering in the mind. Therefore, they try to stop thinking altogether, but that is not the method in Buddhism. The mind has the nature to think, reflect, and create. We cannot command it to stop thinking, stop reflecting, or stop creating. It is Anatta (non-self); we cannot control it. Instead, we need to be mindful. When the mind thinks, we should be aware of it immediately. Why are we thinking this way? What is behind our thoughts? Are they wholesome or unwholesome? Are we thinking out of greed, anger, or delusion? We should be mindful and aware of what lies behind our thoughts.
When we are mindful and aware, defilements cannot dominate our minds or thoughts. There will be no evil intentions arising. When there are no evil intentions, our speech and actions will also be free from evil. Therefore, the completion of Sammā-saṅkappa (Right Intention) is when we have mindfulness to recognize what lies behind our thoughts. The full development of Sammā-saṅkappa leads to the perfection of Sammā-vācā (Right Speech), Sammā-kammanta (Right Action), and Sammā-ājīva (Right Livelihood). So, if we are aware of our own mind, understanding why we are thinking the way we are, and we do not follow the power of defilements, our speech will not be driven by defilements, and our actions and livelihood will not be influenced by defilements. This is the sequential order of the Noble Path.
When we maintain mindfulness and are aware of our thoughts, there will be no evil intentions, no wrong speech, and no wrong actions. We will not live a deceitful, dishonest, or fraudulent life. This practice will help diminish the unwholesome qualities that we may have, while encouraging the arising of wholesome qualities. The wholesome qualities that we already possess will grow and develop. Therefore, from Sammā-diṭṭhi (Right View), Sammā-saṅkappa (Right Intention), Sammā-vācā (Right Speech), Sammā-kammanta (Right Action), and Sammā-ājīva (Right Livelihood), all of these factors will support and lead to the perfection of Sammā-vāyāma (Right Effort).
Sammā-vāyāma, or Right Effort, consists of four aspects, the first one is the effort to abandon unwholesome qualities that have already arisen. The second one is the effort to prevent new unwholesome qualities from arising. The third one is the effort to cultivate wholesome qualities that have not yet arisen. And the fourth one is the effort to further develop and perfect the wholesome qualities that have already arisen. These four types of effort constitute Right Effort in the Noble Path. Any effort outside of these, such as working hard solely for material gain, is unrelated to Right Effort in the Noble Path.
Therefore, we must understand the true meaning of effort. The Buddha specifically taught ‘Right Effort’ (Sammā-vāyāma), which is the effort to abandon unwholesome states, prevent new unwholesome states from arising, cultivate wholesome states that have not yet arisen, and further develop existing wholesome states. Only this is considered Right Effort. Simply being diligent in making a living or working hard for worldly success does not qualify as Right Effort. True Right Effort stems from having the correct guiding theory—understanding that if we cultivate ourselves through precepts (Sīla), concentration (Samādhi), and wisdom (Paññā), then one day, our mind will be free from suffering.
Once we understand the theory, we must put it into practice. Practice begins with being mindful of our own thoughts—what lies behind them? If we can recognize this, our thoughts will become pure, our speech will be pure, our actions will be pure, and even our livelihood will be honest and free from deceit or harm. As a result, unwholesome qualities that once existed will gradually fade away, new unwholesome qualities will not arise, wholesome qualities that were absent will emerge, and those already present will continue to grow and flourish.
Therefore, having mindfulness to recognize what lies behind our thoughts, in my point of view, is almost the true starting point of practice. Practice is not just about sitting or walking meditation—it begins with refining oneself through precepts, being mindful of speech, actions, and livelihood, ensuring that they are not driven by defilements. From there, concentration naturally arises. When the mind is in a normal, undisturbed state—not pushed and pulled by defilements like a dog scalded by hot water—it becomes calm on its own. It’s not difficult at all.
Precepts are not a small matter
Therefore, precepts support concentration. If our precepts are not well-maintained, concentration will inevitably deteriorate. Why? Because when morality is lacking, the mind becomes restless and agitated. Take Devadatta as an example—his concentration was initially very strong. When he first ordained, he was not an insignificant person; he had accumulated great merit and spiritual power. If he had none, he wouldn’t have been able to stand as a rival to Prince Siddhartha. But despite his merits, he was extremely jealous. He had a craving for power and harbored evil intentions, plotting to harm the Buddha and take control of the Sangha. His desire to be a spiritual leader rivaling the Buddha led him to commit grave misdeeds. He manipulated Prince Ajātasattu into killing his own father to seize the throne, thinking that once the prince held power, he could control the kingdom and use that influence to eliminate the Buddha.
Great wrongdoing came from someone who was once skilled. His strong concentration (Samādhi) gradually deteriorated, though it declined slowly because of his vast merit (Pāramī). It took a long time for him to completely fall, to lose all his power, influence, and followers. By the time he had lost everything and realized his mistakes, he was already old. Devadatta, who once desired everything, ultimately lost everything. When he finally repented, he wanted to seek forgiveness from the Buddha. His past merits had sustained him for a time, preventing the immediate consequences of his evil deeds. However, in the end, karma bore its fruit. He committed two of the five heinous crimes (Anantarika kamma): creating a schism in the Sangha and causing the Buddha to bleed. These unwholesome deeds sealed his fate. From being a person of great concentration and intelligence, he deteriorated and ultimately found himself destined for the lower realms (Apāya)
Therefore, precepts are not a small matter. If our precepts are compromised, we should not talk about Samadhi. If there is no proper Samadhi, we should not talk about developing wisdom—it cannot be done. So, the important point is that our precepts will be good if we continuously know and understand what lies behind our thoughts. Are we thinking because of wholesome or unwholesome intentions? We must observe carefully. For example, sometimes things seem difficult to discern, like when people invite us to cast a main Buddha image, or construct stupas. Is this good? Yes, it is good. Is it meritorious? Yes, it is. But is it truly a wholesome action? Not necessarily. It is meritorious, but it might not be entirely wholesome.
If we do not observe our mind carefully, like when we build something and then make a wish to become rich, there is greed involved. The merit we accumulate will not be pure. This merit is not complete because it lacks mindfulness—it does not allow us to be aware of our own mind. It also lacks wisdom because we do not have the correct guiding theory. We practice the Dhamma, observing the precepts, practicing concentration, and developing wisdom, in order to be free from suffering, not to become rich or to be beautiful. Therefore, when we donate and make wishes for things like wealth or beauty, we still gain merit, but it is limited. Deep down, it is mixed with craving and desire (Lobha).
In the past, in the Mon chronicles, there was a son of King Rajathirat, named Phor Lao Keng Thao, which is a peculiar name that sounds like a Thai name. Phor Lao Keng Thao was angry with his father because his father had a concubine and neglected his mother, causing her pain and suffering. He was angry. One day, when he went to pay respects to his father, his father’s concubine was also present. As the prince, he was supposed to pay respects to the queen consort, since she held a higher position, but he refused to do so. When his father, King Rajathirat, told him to bow, Phor Lao Keng Thao became even angrier. In his rage, he bit off one of his fingers and still bowed, but with only nine fingers, not ten, due to his stubbornness. His pride was so strong that he became enraged. King Rajathirat, seeing his son’s violent temper, decided to have him executed.
As Phor Lao Keng Thao was being taken away for execution, he asked for a moment to pray to Phra Mawdaw, a Buddha image that still exists today at the Shwemawdaw pagoda in Hongsawadi. He went to pray and placed his crown as an offering because he would no longer need it. He made a vow, wishing to be reborn as the son of a Burmese king and to one day destroy Hongsawadi. This merit led him to be reborn as the son of King Fran Mangkong, a king of Ava, and in the end, he went to war with his father. See, although he made merit, his heart was tainted by anger. Therefore, the merit was not pure.
So, when we make merit, it should be done with genuine selflessness. We must be aware of what is behind our thoughts. For example, if we want to cast a Buddha statue, or do any other kind of offering, we should question our motivation. If our intention is to offer these things as an homage to the Buddha, this is good because it is done for the Buddha’s benefit, not for our own gain. Such acts bring much merit. However, if we do these things with the intention of gaining something for ourselves—whether it be wealth, recognition, or other desires—the merit we accumulate will be limited. This is because we are not acting with mindfulness to observe our own mental state, nor are we using wisdom. We may think that worldly possessions, such as money or wealth, are significant, but in reality, they are not. Even with vast amounts of wealth, we can only use some of it. Even if we have million dollars to buy food per day, we can only eat 1 or 2 plates per meal. So, these things are not the essence or the core of life.
Therefore, we must be mindful of what is behind our thoughts. Once we understand this, our speech will naturally become good, our actions will naturally improve, and our way of life will gradually get better. For example, some people raise shrimp or fish on a farm for sale. In doing so, they have to kill animals. However, when they listen to Dhamma, they start training themselves. They begin to feel compassion for the fish and shrimp, feeding them with a kind heart. But as they grow larger, they know they must eventually be killed. Similarly, some people raise dairy cows or pigs. When a cow becomes old and stops producing milk, it loses its value, and they must sell it for slaughter. This is the reality of raising livestock for profit. While we may care for them during their productive years, we must also face the fact that their lives will come to an end once they no longer serve the intended purpose.
The mind that is accustomed to the Dhamma practiced, and aware of its defilements, it becomes gentler. It sees a fish and feels compassion, it sees a cow and feels the same. As compassion arises in the heart, one begins to think about how to change their way of life, their livelihood, to be less harmful to these innocent creatures. When the mind becomes aware of its defilements, they start to diminish, and the mind is no longer controlled by them. Compassion and kindness arise. Once compassion and kindness emerge, we will gradually think about changing our occupation to one that does not cause harm. We may not become as wealthy as before, but there will be happiness in our hearts, and we will not have to lament later.
If our thoughts are dominated by defilements,
then our speech and actions will also be governed by defilements
If we become accustomed to killing animals, it’s certainly not a good practice. I once met a man whose wife passed away when she was still young. He had three children, and he loved them dearly. He never remarried and devoted himself to raising his children while also raising chickens and other animals. Every day, his friends would come over, and he would kill a chicken to prepare for drinking and eating together. They would sit and enjoy drinks, play traditional music like the “siok” (a kind of stringed instrument), and the “flute” or “pipe” as part of their socializing. This man lived this way, raising his children well, sending them to school, and taking care of them. However, every single day, he would kill one chicken for his gatherings. He had many chickens, and it became a daily routine for him to kill one and cook it for his friends.
He also had another habit: whenever he saw ants marching in a line, he can’t stand it. Do you know why? It’s because the ants line up, marching like monks going on their alms rounds, walking in rows together. He couldn’t stand it and would crush them. Especially the black ants, which he liked the most. He was not afraid to crush the black ants, as they don’t bite. He would wipe them out, rubbing his fingers over them all in one go. It felt satisfying and fun to him. He didn’t think much about it; he didn’t consider that they had lives. He would do this throughout his life. He had no other harmful behaviors, just this—hurting small creatures like ants.
He grew old, and his daughter built a small meditation hall in their house. The house was large, and she invited monks to stay there periodically. When his father became very ill, he went to the hospital. While lying in the clean, pristine hospital room, he would groan in pain and ring the bell, calling for nurses, his children, or grandchildren. He complained, saying that black ants had climbed up on his bed, marching in a line. He asked them to kill all the ants. Even in his final moments, his mind was still consumed by that old habit. The habit of being accustomed to harming and killing creatures had become so ingrained that it was with him even at the end of his life.
When he was about to die, his mind started to experience certain visions. In the process of dying, the body’s sensations fade first, and only the mind remains active. He saw a tunnel and was moving through it, and at the end of the tunnel, he saw a chicken. At that moment, a teacher of his, a monk, was present. His children and grandchildren were chanting and praying, not knowing what was happening in his mind, but the monk, who was there, could see what was happening. The monk realized that the man was about to become a chicken, given the nature of his last vision. The teacher and others began to dedicate their merits and prayers to help guide him. In the end, his mind shifted, and he was able to transcend the animal realm, being born into a better existence, the realm of the Asuras. This story, I didn’t know it on my own, but that monk told me.
The daughter, who was diligent in her practice, would often chant and meditate, dedicating the merits to her father. She would also involve her son, encouraging him to join in as they prayed for their grandfather. After completing their prayers, they sincerely wished that their father (the grandfather) would receive the benefits of their merit. However, after the dedication, an unbearable smell filled the house, causing them to panic. They realized that perhaps they should not call their father to accept the merits. The daughter, feeling concern for her father, quickly adjusted her mind and prayed that her father would not have to come and endure hardship. She re-dedicated the merit, sending it to him instead so that would not burden him. Her love for her father was deep, and she did not want him to suffer in any way. Therefore, we must be careful and mindful of our minds. A mind that is defiled will lead to a lower realm (Dukkati), while a pure and clear mind will lead to better realm (Sukkhati).
Therefore, when we are mindful and observant of our own mind, it all starts from the thoughts themselves. If our thoughts are dominated by defilements, then our speech and actions will also be governed by defilements. As in the case of the person who thinks it’s okay to kill his own chicken that he raised, believing it’s his own and he is not harming others, he forgets that harming an animal, even one he raised, still results in suffering for that creature. Thinking of killing, or even crushing an ant, may not seem like a crime in a worldly sense, but it still accumulates unwholesome karma. Doing this out of ignorance (Moha) and harming others reflects a mind influenced by delusion. It is an example of Vihingsāvittaka—thinking to harm others driven by ignorance, without understanding the laws of karma, without knowing right from wrong.
So, we must observe our own minds. Our minds think of this and that—are they thinking under the influence of desire (Rāga)? Are they thinking under the influence of anger (Dosa)? Are they thinking under the influence of delusion (Moha)? Delusion, as in the example I just mentioned, was present when he killed chickens and felt that it was not a big deal, as it was not against the law. That was harming living beings out of ignorance, out of Moha.
Therefore, the key point is to observe our minds. Our minds think all day long—we cannot stop them—but why do they think? Observe carefully, especially when thoughts arise that involve interactions with others. How do we interact with others? Through speech, through physical actions—whether by striking someone out of anger or touching someone with affection. What is behind these actions? Take monks as an example. Laypeople come, and sometimes a monk may place a hand on their head in blessing. But what is behind that action? If an unvirtuous monk sees a young woman and touches her, then behind that action is desire (Rāga), which is certainly wrong. However, if he places a hand on a man’s head or gives blessings equally to women without inappropriate contact, then such actions come from merit and wholesome intention, arising from loving-kindness (Mettā).
Observe carefully—when we hug a dog or a cat, what is behind our intention to pick it up? Is it Mettā) or Rāga? Almost 100% of the time, it is Rāga. Just picking up a cat—who here keeps cats? Raise your hands. Many people keep them. In this temple, there are quite a few. People often abandon cats here, and the monks have to feed them and take them for vaccinations. Monks take care of cats, and the cats, in turn, become prey for snakes and monitor lizards. Their chances of survival are slim. So, do not abandon your cats or dogs in this temple—they rarely survive. There are many carnivorous animals here.
When we pick up a cat, our mind goes, “Oh, so cute, so adorable!”—this is Rāga. When we see a child, even if they are not our own, but they look adorable, we pick them up—Rāga arises. There is attachment and affection. Observe carefully. No matter what we do, even in small things—take setting down a plate of food, for example. Suppose we are a waiter. We see one table where the customers seem kind, and we think they might give a good tip. So, we place the plate down gently. But for another table, where the customer seems unpleasant, we dislike them and slam the plate down. Why do we place one plate gently and another forcefully? What is behind it? Our mind is already wrong from the level of Mano-kamma (mental action). It has unwholesome thoughts. So, observe carefully.
When we continually recognize the defilements in our mind,
the defilements will weaken, and wholesome qualities will grow
If we can observe our own mind, practicing Dhamma will not be difficult. Our sīla (moral conduct) will naturally become refined, and our Kilesa (defilements) will gradually be reduced. Kusala (wholesome qualities) will grow. Do not think this is a small matter. The ability to be aware of what lies behind our thoughts allows the rest of the Noble Path to develop. When our speech, actions, and livelihood become pure and untainted, unwholesome states that once existed will cease, new unwholesome states will not arise, and wholesome states will flourish. This is Sammā-vāyāma (right effort). As our awareness of what drives our thoughts, words, and actions improves, our Sati (mindfulness) will also strengthen. When Sammā-vāyāma becomes complete, Sammā-sati (right mindfulness) will also be perfected.
For example, if a defilement arises and we recognize it immediately, we are no longer fully controlled by it. If we fail to notice it, our mind becomes entirely unwholesome, and we act under the power of defilements. However, if we have mindfulness, we will become quicker at recognizing them. At first, we may take a long time to realize we were lost in defilements. Later, we will recognize them sooner. Initially, we might have to be deeply angry before noticing, but with practice, we will see even when the slightest irritation arises. This is how mindfulness develops. When we continually recognize the defilements in our mind, the defilements will weaken, and wholesome qualities will grow. The first of these wholesome qualities is mindfulness itself. As mindfulness strengthens, Sīla (precepts) and Samādhi (concentration) will naturally follow. Eventually, we will recognize both defilements and wholesome states the moment they arise. This is the practice of Cittānupassanā satipaṭṭhāna—the contemplation of the mind. When our mind contains defilements, we know it. When our mind is free from defilements, we know it.
When we continuously do the mindfulness practice (Satipaṭṭhāna), our mind will gradually gain strength, becoming more and more powerful. Eventually, it will gather and settle, leading to refined Sammā-samādhi (right concentration). By having mindfulness to see phenomena, to witness the arising and ceasing of defilements, the mind momentarily attains concentration (Samādhi). As this process continues and accumulates, the mind gains strength and eventually enters Appanā-samādhi—deep absorption concentration, known as Jhāna. If, in this lifetime, one has never entered Jhāna, there is no need to worry. If mindfulness and precepts are properly established, the mind will naturally enter right concentration (Sammā-samādhi). The Buddha defined Sammā-samādhi in terms of Jhāna, not momentary concentration (Khaṇika-samādhi) or access concentration (Upacāra-samādhi).
For those who have yet to enter Jhāna, continuously cultivating mindfulness and being aware of your own defilements will gradually strengthen the mind. As the mind develops stability and clarity, it will eventually gather and settle spontaneously. This state, where the mind fully unifies, was referred to by the great teachers of the past, such as Venerable Ajahn Mun, as “Citta Ruam Yai”—the great unification of mind. It is the convergence of Sīla (moral conduct), Samādhi (concentration), and Paññā (wisdom). At the point where we have mindfulness and see phenomena—witnessing the arising and ceasing of defilements, we gain Sati (mindfulness), Samādhi (concentration), and Paññā (wisdom) simultaneously. As this accumulation continues, when the conditions are sufficient, the mind will unify in this great concentration on its own.
Once the mind becomes unified in the great concentration, the process of purifying defilements begins. Initially, we remove defilements through mindfulness, by knowing and observing them, or sometimes by using concentration. For example, if our mind is overcome with sensual desire, we contemplate the impurity of the body (Asubha). However, once we have perfected our moral conduct (Sīla), concentration (Samadhi), and wisdom (Paññā), and our mindfulness is complete, the mind will naturally become unified. This unity of mind will purify even the subtle defilements and destroy the fetters (Saṃyojana) that bind us to the cycle of birth and death in minor and major Bhava.
Therefore, the process is self-driven. No one can make the Noble Path happen for us. The Noble Path arises when our moral conduct, concentration, and wisdom are perfected. For these qualities to be perfected, the guiding principles must be correct. The purpose of practicing the Dhamma is not for anything else, but to free ourselves from suffering. To be free from suffering, we must understand. When defilements dominate the mind, they generate wrong thoughts, speech, and actions, leading to suffering. But if we continuously practice mindfulness, our mindfulness becomes stronger, and the mind gains power. It becomes firmly established, and wisdom arises. We begin to see that thing that arises must eventually ceases. Everything that arises, will eventually cease.
Originally, when we practice meditation, we wish for our mind to improve. But as we practice, at a certain point, we will realize that the mind is not ours; the self does not exist. This is the wisdom that arises. At that moment, the Noble Path (Ariya Magga) arises. The moral conduct (Sīla), concentration (Samadhi), and wisdom (Paññā) come together in a single moment, through the power of right concentration (Sammā samādhi), and they gather in the mind as a vessel. This mind must truly have right concentration in order to serve as a vessel that holds all the good qualities, the qualities of enlightenment, the 37 factors of awakening (Bodhipakkhiyadhamma). Although this list may seem long, if we practice as I have instructed, all of these qualities will arise on their own. They will naturally come together in the mind in one moment, powered by right concentration, and will purify the defilements. This process will happen four times, and the fourth time, ignorance of the Four Noble Truths (Ariyasaccas) will be destroyed. This is the path.
Therefore, from now on, make a firm commitment to practice. Constantly observe and understand your own mind. Be aware of what lies behind your thoughts, behind your speech, and behind your actions. By doing this frequently, you cultivate right effort (Sammā-vāyāma) within yourself, as well as right mindfulness (Sammā-sati). You will automatically build concentration (Samādhi) on your own, and eventually, the Noble Path will manifest. If your thoughts are wrong, your speech will be wrong, your actions will be wrong, and your life will be lived incorrectly. If there is no right effort, there is only defilements. There will be no purification of the mind. There will be no mindfulness, only delusion. There will be no concentration, only distraction. Therefore, if you practice correctly, your life will be peaceful and joyful.
Before giving a sermon, I would sit and reflect, asking myself, “What should I talk about today?” Sometimes, I would ask the question right in front of you: “Today, what should I speak about that would benefit all of you?” My mind would then tell me, “Today, I will speak about Sīla (moral conduct).” Therefore, Sīla arises when we are mindful of our thoughts. If our moral conduct is good, our speech and actions will naturally be good as well. Right effort arises spontaneously, and right mindfulness and right concentration will develop on their own. Therefore, keep on practicing daily without neglecting.
Those who are sitting in the hall, do you understand the teachings today? What is behind your thoughts? Sometimes, we might feel that we are thinking good thoughts, wanting to do good things. But deep down, is there any attachment or desire hidden within? We need to observe ourselves. When we perform good deeds, are we doing it to gain something, or are we doing it to reduce and eliminate something? Pay attention to your own motivations. Those who do good to get something—if they have good karma, they may receive things, but whatever they receive will also come with suffering. Having a lot of money, for example, brings suffering. Whatever we gain, suffering is always present. Therefore, do good deeds to reduce and eliminate attachment and selfishness. Do it to benefit others, to help the world, to help other beings. If the opportunity arises, do it. If not, don’t worry. Take it one step at a time.
Sometimes, you may give money to me, and I will collect it, sometimes using it to help hospitals or for other causes. Most of the time, I don’t do charity directly for the temple. I don’t tell you not to donate to other temples. But I see that the world is suffering a lot right now. Instead of creating more material things in the midst of people’s suffering, the priority should be helping those who are struggling.
As for preserving the Dhamma, I teach the correct dhamma to preserve Buddhism. I don’t often encourage you to construct temples or other permanent structures in Buddhism. We’ve already built many of these structures which need maintenance. In case some can’t keep up with maintenance, then, they have to find ways to organize events, sell amulets, and do some other things to gain money for the maintenance of these structures. Are the temples necessary? Yes, they are, and they also need maintenance. However, if we only focused on building and maintaining physical objects, but not on creating true Buddhists, then those objects will eventually become nothing more than tourist attractions. People who come to visit won’t be Buddhists because the Buddhists have already disappeared. As we can see in many countries, they have grand Buddhist places but there are no Buddhists left.
Therefore, the key to preserving the religion right now is not about constructing more buildings but about cultivating true Buddhists—instilling right view (Sammā-diṭṭhi) in the hearts of all Buddhists. Once we truly become Buddhists, our hearts will naturally want to protect and uphold the religion and the monasteries without any need for deception. For example, at this temple, there has never been any solicitation for donations, yet people voluntarily come together to contribute and build. In fact, sometimes they even have to be restrained from doing too much.
So, when making merit, consider what brings the greatest benefit. Since our financial resources are limited—choose what will truly benefit others rather than just ourselves. Saying this does not mean one should not make merit at temples—let me clarify that before any misunderstandings arise. Temples also face difficulties. Monks have a duty to maintain their dwellings, and letting monastic residences deteriorate is not right. But in many places, large temples are built with impressive halls and buildings, yet only a few monks reside there. Sometimes, there are not even enough monks to sweep the grounds. In such cases, the benefit is minimal.
Therefore, cultivating Sammā-diṭṭhi (right view) in our hearts should be the first priority. Once we become true Buddhists, we naturally understand what is appropriate and what is not, what should come first and what should come later. For example, if someone is drowning and at the same time there is a ceremony to cast a Buddha statue, what should we do first? If we are heading to the ceremony but see someone about to drown, we must recognize what takes precedence. Similarly, if people are starving while efforts are being made to raise funds, is that the right course of action? As Buddhists, we must discern priorities wisely.
Wat Suansantidham
21 August 2022