There’s a candlelight procession yesterday. There were many people. The procession took an hour and a half. We’ll move this ceremony to the church once it’s finished. The procession will take less time there.
Many people here are Chinese. I feel for them. They sought Dhamma and took a long trip to get here. Some stay near the Tiger Zoo. In the morning, there’s no public transportation, so they walked to the temple. It’s 2 kilometers from the closest village to this temple, and they live even farther away. They are very determined to get Dhamma to free their lives from suffering. You Thais have it easy, so pay more attention. If Dhamma disappears from our country, and then we want it, it’ll be difficult. You’d need to make an international trip and might face a language barrier. So, when they come, I need to take good care of them.
Don’t ignore good things that are close to you. Sometimes, people who are close to the masters can be like that; they ignore learning from the masters. When I went to visit my teachers, the teachers’ caretaking monks called me “a bee.” They thought I was like a bee getting nectar from flowers. They saw themselves as frogs guarding a lotus bush. The frogs never benefited from the nectar. But, actually, the frogs eat the bees that come near the lotus bush. The analogy was that the masters are like lotus flowers. The monks were close but didn’t really practice; the bees were better off since they got the nectar when they reached the flowers.
The world is nothing but suffering
So, pay close attention. The more you study and practice the Buddha’s Dhamma, the more you’ll be amazed by it. You’ll see two amazing things. Some people may see many, but I don’t see much. The first one is that the world is nothing but suffering. I see people get totally absorbed by worldly pleasures. But when I practice, I see the world as nothing but suffering. Suffering arises, stays, and decays. That’s it. The second is my amazement at the Buddha’s enlightening wisdom. How could he discover the truth that is above the world?
The world is empty; It consists only of compositions. This is called Sankhata-dhamma, or Sankhara. Sankhara has many meanings. Sankhara Khandha is the aggregate of mental fabrications, which can be wholesome, unwholesome, or neutral. Sankhara in the big picture means our body and mind, or all physical and abstract phenomena. When you practice, you’ll see that all Sankhara is suffering. They arise, decay, and get replaced by the new arising ones.
Like, we’re now here. Before we arrived, this land might have been inhabited by other people or animals. They all decayed, so we could move in. In the future, we will decay and others will displace us. Everything arises and decays, and nothing is satisfying. If you’re not delusional, you won’t see the world as enticing. It’s enticing only for deluded people. When you practice enough, you’ll see the world as nothing but suffering. Physical and abstract phenomena rise and decay; they arise and cease. Nothing except suffering arises, stays, and decays.
The Bodhisatta (the one who’s to be self-enlightened) was ready. Prince Siddhattha’s father tried to prevent him from seeing the outside world by keeping him inside the palace. When the prince got older, he went outside to see old, sick, and dying people. He also saw an ascetic. There are many types of ascetics; a bald ascetic is called a Samana (ascetic truth seeker). He saw four things: old people, sick people, recently deceased individuals, and a Samana. The prince had never seen old people before. So, when he did, he asked Channa, his charioteer, why someone’s body was crooked and moved slowly. Channa explained that this was an old person. The prince asked how someone could become old. Channa replied that everyone will age one day. The prince was disheartened by the impermanence of youth and inevitability of aging.
Next, he saw a moaning sick person. He asked Channa what had happened to the person. Channa explained that the person was sick, and illness is inevitable for everyone. The prince was again disheartened. Next, he saw relatives of a recently deceased person crying as they carried the body to the cremation site. When the cremation began, he asked Channa why they were burning someone. Channa explained that the person was dead, and death comes to everyone. He was disheartened again as he saw that life wasn’t so desirable. The prince hadn’t yet attained enlightenment, but he was ready. Did you notice that what he saw was aging, sickness, and death? At first, he saw old people, sick people, and a corpse. He knew that the world wasn’t so desirable. Worldly happiness was fleeting.
Another time, he saw Samana, bald ascetics. He asked Channa who these people were. Channa told him they were seekers of a way out of suffering. So, this led him to think that if suffering exists, a way out can also exist. If he wanted to find a way out, he had to become a Samana. So, he entered Samana-hood. In Thailand, it is often taught that he fled the palace to become a Samana. But some texts mention that his father’s face was full of tears when he told him that he would enter Samana-hood. I guess we won’t know what really happened. Why did he become a Samana? The reason was clear; he sought a way out of suffering and nothing else. He didn’t seek material wealth; he was wealthy and the heir to the throne. He wanted freedom from suffering. What did he see as suffering? Aging, sickness, and death–things that make people suffer. He sought a way to be free from them.
Once Prince Siddhattha became a Samana, the first thing that he did was practicing sitting meditation. This was the first step for those seeking liberation in that era. It remains unchanged to this day. In our minds, seeking liberation means doing sitting or walking meditation. He went to study meditation with Rishis, and was able to enter the 7th and 8th levels of Jhana (meditative absorption). The 7th Jhana is called Akincannayatana. In it, the mind gets detached from both the object and itself, and enters nothingness. Only consciousness and peacefulness remains. This 7th Jhana is very similar to Nibbana (absence of suffering–nirvana), because in it, there is no time, thoughts, people, animals, oneself, others, the sun, or the moon. It sounds very similar to Nibbana, but it is impermanent. Nibbana is permanent.
So, the prince practiced and noticed that when he left the 7th Jhana, suffering returned. He then went on to practice with another Tapasa (hermit) named Uddaka. He practiced until he attained the 8th Jhana, where the mind becomes so inactive that consciousness almost disappears. When he left the 8th Jhana, he found no liberation, as suffering returned. So, practicing Jhana wasn’t the way to liberation. Can you see that the prince set the right goal? He aimed for liberation from suffering, while most of us aim for happiness. If we could enter Jhana, we would attain a happiness beyond worldly pleasures, and that would satisfy us.
When we make material donations, we crave wealth. No one wants to be free from suffering. We want happiness and seek how to be so. Our answers might be money, reputation, fame, or societal relevance. Deep down inside, we seek happiness. That’s why Nibbana seems beyond reach. If you want happiness, keep making merits. Punna (merit) is synonymous with happiness. It’s easy to invite someone to make material merits. You entice them in promises of heaven and good fortune. Tell them that their sacrifices will have benefits. Many people still want happiness, unlike the Bodhisatta (the one who seeks to be self-enlightened), who saw the world as suffering. People suffer; they must age, get sick, and die. The Bodhisatta sought liberation from this suffering.
Kusala (wholesomeness) is above Punna (merit)
You can gauge yourself. Do you want to be free from suffering, or do you want happiness? If you want happiness, make Punna (merits), keep Sila (moral precepts), and practice peacefulness meditation. Keep doing that and enjoy the happiness that results from them. After a long period of such happiness, you may end up in hell, since this happiness lacks real substance. When I see people get together to make merits, I feel dejected. Buddhism still exists; why do people aim so low? Kusala (wholesomeness) is above Punna (merit). Why don’t you seek wholesomeness? Kusala (wholesomeness) is about the wisdom of reducing the mind’s impurities to be free from suffering. Punna (merit) is about accumulating good actions that result in happiness.
Why aim so low when you could aim higher? People often lure each other into various kinds of merit-making, each with different expected happy results. This is a small matter. The Buddha taught this for those whose strength is weak. Most of the time, he didn’t specify the results for different kinds of merits. He taught Dana (donations) not for the accumulation of wealth and merits, but to reduce one’s selfishness. He taught Sila (moral precepts) not for a place in heaven, but to refine your mind. If your Kilesa (impurities) are too strong for Samadhi (stability) and Panna (wisdom) to develop, you use moral precepts to guard your mind from committing bad deeds. Sila is a tool to prevent your mind from giving in to impurities.
Higher than moral precepts is Samadhi (stability). Samadhi prevents impurities from tainting your mind. Can you see the difference? Moral precepts involve the mind resisting giving in to impurities, but Samadhi prevents the impurities from corrupting the mind. Panna (wisdom) is the essential tool for the eradication of impurities. So, you keep the moral precepts in hope of attaining many advertised benefits. “Sila is the way to happiness.” Did the Buddha teach that? He did, but to people who lacked the capacity to develop further. “Sila is the way to wealth.” He also taught this. But, the crucial one is, “Sila is a step towards Nibbana.” Without moral precepts, you cannot reach Nibbana because you cannot combat your impurities. So, he also mentioned Nibbana when he taught about moral precepts.
The later generations speak of many great qualities achieved from keeping the moral precepts. You will attain good looks in your next life. There’s no need to wait for the next life; we have cosmetic surgery. So, good looks mean little. Or, you may want to practice sitting meditation and Samadhi to attain superhuman powers. I’ve heard Luangpor Pud himself say this. Someone asked him whether practicing Samadhi could lead to superhuman powers, like being able to fly. He said yes, but questioned the purpose. After so much dedication and effort, you could fly alone. But today, they build airplanes that can fly 300-400 passengers. So, superhuman flying ability isn’t that practical. He was trying to teach that something much better than superhuman powers exists.
You practice Samadhi to suppress the impurities from taking over your mind. Moral precepts are the tool to suppress the mind from giving in to the impurities, because the impurities are very strong and your mind isn’t. So, you subdue your mind by making the intention to refrain from physical actions. For Samadhi, the mind is stronger and can cause the impurities to scatter away, but when Samadhi is weakened, the impurities will return. The tool to completely eradicate the impurities is Panna (wisdom). That’s why I teach Vipassana practice. It’s about wisdom to eradicate the impurities, not to accumulate them. Do you notice that when you make merits, you’re unaware of many impurities that are hidden in your mind? If you were to make merit by casting a Buddha statue, you crave merits. The mind is full of craving and is unable to free itself from the world and Vatta (cycles of rebirth). Liberation is achieved by being free from cravings, not by trying to growing cravings.
Real Buddhism still exists today, but it’s under a thick encasement. This thickness comes from the decreasing strength of the students. So, teachers had to settle for enticing them to make merits. That’s all the teaching they could take. Once they’re accustomed to making merits, the masters encourage them to keep the moral precepts. When I first started to teach, some masters warned me that my teaching was too difficult. Teaching laypeople to make merits and keep moral precepts was already fruitless. I didn’t argue with the masters, so I acknowledged their advice. But, did I believe them? No. My belief comes from my wisdom. If I can’t see it for myself, I won’t believe it. My temperament is not to easily believe. Like, I didn’t easily believe in the Chinese rite of paying respect to dead ancestors.
I also didn’t believe in receiving something in return for donations. Some believe that with large donations come large merits. The Buddha didn’t teach it that way. If you’re penniless and you see someone committing a good deed and you happily approve, you gain some merit without sacrificing material wealth. There are many ways to gain merit without any material donations, but many people lure others to make large donations. They say a higher amount means a higher level in heaven. I didn’t want to argue. It’s all Moha (delusions). Where does someone who’s full of delusions go in their next life? You can consider this yourself, but I disagree that it’s a high level in heaven. So, your practice shouldn’t stop at making merits. You must elevate it to developing Kusala (wholesomeness). You keep moral precepts not for good physical looks. You make donations not to be rich. You make donations to tame your selfishness. You keep moral precepts to not giving in to impurities; this needs self-restraint. You practice Samadhi not for superhuman powers or mindless happiness.
All the right Samadhi consist of mindfulness
You must practice right Samadhi (stability). There are many kinds of Samadhi, but they fall into 2 main types: Wrong Samadhi and Right Samadhi. Wrong Samadhi is everywhere. When a cat wants to catch a bird, the cat must have Samadhi (stability), but its stability is focused outside. It’s wrong because it lacks Sati (mindfulness). Its mind wants to catch and harm a bird; its mind lacks wisdom and is full of Moha (delusions). So, wrong Samadhi lacks mindfulness. If you do a sitting meditation, become half-asleep, start to see mental visions, and lack mindfulness, that is wrong Samadhi.
Right Samadhi has mindfulness. This is the indicator of whether the Samadhi is right or wrong. All the right Samadhi consist of mindfulness. Without Sati (mindfulness), there’ll be no right view, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, and right Samadhi. So, Sati is the essential ingredient of right Samadhi. Right Samadhi consists of 2 types. The first type is where the mind is at peace with an object. This allows the mind to rest and gain strength. The second type is where the mind is stable. The first type is called Aramanupanijhana (object-focusing stability). The other type where the mind is a stable, knowing, awakened, and blissful observer is called Lakkhanupanijhana (characteristic-focusing stability). It’s hard to attain this second type of Samadhi unless you’re truly dedicated to practice, or have accumulated its practice from previous lives.
This morning, one of this temple’s ex-monks came to see me. He had been practicing for more than 10 or 20 years. His practice didn’t have Right Samadhi. He practiced by over-focusing to attain peacefulness. So, I gave him strong medicine. I carefully consider before giving this to someone. I’m not a reckless teacher who always gives out harsh teachings. If I gave strong medicine to everyone, many patients would die. But I felt he was ready for it. He asked me how to practice better. I told him to stop practicing. What he was doing was useless. When he heard this, he was so disheartened and almost cried.
I asked him whether he saw his mind’s sadness. He said yes. I asked whether he knew that this sadness came from listening to my voice and interpreting. Once the mind could understand the words, the mind became sad by itself and the body almost cried. I asked whether he saw the disheartened mind. Once he could see the disheartened mind, the disheartenment disappeared and a stable, observing mind arose. When mindfulness recognizes the occurring phenomenon, the knowing mind will arise automatically. But the phenomenon I used to teach him was strong medicine. That’s the phrase, “stop practicing. What you’re doing is useless. If you want to get better, stop practicing.” Those words caused a strong disheartenment. I then asked whether he could see the sadness. Once he saw it, sadness immediately ceased and the knowing, awakened, blissful, observing mind sprang up. I then pointed out that the knowing mind is occurring.
You cannot make this happen, because Citta (the mind) isn’t self. You can’t make it an observer. The mind needs to be mindful of the occurring phenomenon in order to be an observer. This is like what many teachers teach. Many of them teach you to be mindful of the mind that has wandered off. The mind that wanders off is a phenomenon. Once you’re mindful of that mind that’s wandering off, the wandering off mind will cease and a stable, observing mind will arise. But for this student, letting him observe the mind that wanders off was no longer sufficient. He needed to observe a strong phenomenon. Strong, easy to observe phenomena are Dosa (aversion). They’re the easiest to observe. Disheartenment is a Dosa. It’s easy to see.
Luangpu Dune also sometimes gave strong medicine. One of his monk students thought that he became an Arahant (the fully enlightened one). He was practicing in Phanom Rung. Has anyone been there? When he thought he attained Arahantship, he was delighted. He then thought of fellow monks. He thought of Luangpu Dune, and felt that these monks hadn’t yet attained full liberation. His mind had a great compassion. So, he walked from Phanom Rung to Wat Buraparam in Surin. It was a long trek of many tens of kilometers. He arrived in the evening and started knocking on many abodes’ doors, asking to be listened to. He kept going until he knocked on Luangpu’s abode’s door. Luangpu knew that his mind was taken over by Vipassanupak-kilesa (impurities that arise when cultivating wisdom), but it’s hard to fix. So, Luangpu invited him to take a rest in the chapel, saying that he’d have a conversation with him in the morning. He said that since it was late in the evening, monks would be too sleepy to listen to the teaching. So, the student complied and took a rest in the chapel.
In the morning, Luangpu tried to teach him, but was unsuccessful. His mind was convinced that it had attained full enlightenment. After many days had passed, Luangpu used his strong weapon. He provoked the student’s anger by saying, “You hellspawn, get out of my sight!” This false Arahant became angry but didn’t realize it, so he replied, “Oh, Luangta Dune, I came to teach you, but you didn’t want to listen. But I don’t care anymore; you’re not my mom.” He used the word “mom” instead of “dad” when addressing Luangpu.
He stormed out of Wat Buraparam and walked to Wat Pa Yotha Prasit. Right now, there’s a teacher’s college there. It’s 3 kilometers from Wat Buraparam. The student was angry during the entire trek. When he reached the gate of Wat Pa Yotha Prasit, he became mindful of his anger. He saw the anger phenomenon. His delusion immediately ceased. Once the mind sees a phenomenon, it becomes a stable observer. Dosa (aversion) is the family of phenomena that’s easiest to observe, while Moha (delusion) is the most subtle.
Knowing phenomena as they are gives rise to a stable, observing mind
The teaching of knowing the mind that has just wandered off is easy to say. But, for people who are just starting out, their minds wander off all day, and they don’t even realize it. It’s a difficult practice. So, observe the impurities that you clearly recognize, whatever they may be. Just like I told the ex-monk, “hey, stop practicing. Whatever you’re doing is useless.” His mind was disheartened, and his mindfulness knew it. So, the observing mind arose. The mind also had Piti (joy), and tears filled his eyes. So, I asked him whether he saw the joy arising. He did. The joy then ceased, and his mind became stable. So, you cannot control the arising of the observing mind. If mindfulness recognizes the occurring phenomena, the observing mind will emerge immediately.
First, there was the disheartened mind. After knowing so, the observing mind arose. Next, the mind was filled with Piti (joy) to the point of tears filling the eyes. Letting Joy entrap you is a mistake. Piti (joy) isn’t something bad. Joy in Dhamma is good, but attachment, despite its goodness, is not. The goal is to be free from suffering, which means being free from compositions. Joy is a composition. When the mind knows that it is filled with joy, it will let go of that joy, and a stable, observing mind will arise. I told him to remember the stable, observing mind well. Once you’re familiar with the phenomenon of the stable, observing mind, mindfulness of physical or abstract phenomena will lead to wisdom. An observing mind is a stable mind of the Lakkhanupanijhana (characteristic-observing) type. It can see Trilaksana (three characteristics of compositions); it does not remain peacefully immersed in the object.
So, when the stable, observing mind arises and mindfulness knows the body, the mind will see the body’s Trilaksana, and will see the body as non-self; the mind remains a stable observer. When mindfulness recognizes Vedana, which are physical feelings of comfort or discomfort, the mind will see that the physical feelings are non-self. When mindfulness recognizes mental feelings of happiness, sadness, or equanimity, the mind will see that the mental feelings have Trilaksana, and are non-self. Recognizing memory and perception with mindfulness is subtle, so we will skip talking about it, but you can see it later one day.
Memory isn’t something exotic. It’s remembering people’s names or their relatives; it’s knowing that the road in front of this temple leads to Ban Bueng. This is a regular memory. A slightly deeper one is remembering the symbols, like red light means stop, and green light means go. This is also Sanna (memory and perception). Sanna can have up to two layers. The second layer remembers the symbols.
Another part of Sanna is perception. There can be right or wrong perceptions. Unenlightened people have wrong perceptions; that’s why the Buddha didn’t teach much about Sanna. Right now, we have wrong perceptions. So, the Buddha taught us how to adjust our perceptions. The right perception when you observe the body is that the body is undesirable. It is impermanent, in conflict and decay, and isn’t self. Right perspective means seeing the body as unattractive, impermanent, in conflict and decay, and isn’t self. When perceiving the mind, there’s no attractiveness, since it’s not physical. Right perspective means seeing the mind, wholesomeness, and unwholesomeness as impermanent, in conflict and decay, and isn’t self. The right perspective sees non-selfness.
When your mind has sufficient Samadhi (stability) and is a stable observer, it may be mindful of the body and stay still with the body. That mind is peacefully attached to the body, and has Aramanupanijhana (object-focusing) quality; the mind has the right Samadhi of the peaceful type. But if you want to cultivate wisdom with a stable, observing mind, perceive Trilaksana (the three characteristics) of the body. When the mind knows Vedana (feelings), perceive Trilaksana of the feelings. Do the same with mental compositions, whether it is wholesome or unwholesome, like greed, anger, or delusions.
If you see greed, aversion, or delusions and you focus on them, you have the first type of Samadhi, which is the mind peacefully immersed in one object. But if you see greed, aversion, and delusions as impermanent, in conflict and decay, and non-self, you perceive the phenomena as having Trilaksana. This is the right perception. It’s seeing phenomena from the right angle, which is different from the angle that you used to see. The angle that you used to see is that the body is self. When happiness or sadness arises, you see yourself as being happy or sad. When you remember or perceive something, it’s you who remembers or perceives. It’s you who fabricates wholesomeness or unwholesomeness; the mind is self. These are the wrong perceptions.
Practice developing new, correct perceptions. When observing the body, perceive it as impermanent, in conflict and decay, and non-self. Do the same with mental fabrications. Perceive greed, aversion, and delusions as impermanent, in conflict and decay, and non-self. This is how you develop the right perception. But, this isn’t yet true Vipassana (wisdom cultivation). True Vipassana is having the right perception without intention or induction. Sati (mindfulness) observes physical and abstract phenomena without intention. The mind is stable without your intention. The mind perceives Trilaksana of physical and mental phenomena without intention. Note that intention is not involved here. So, carefully practice. At first, it’s okay to have intention to perceive correctly. Right perception leads to right thoughts. Right thoughts lead to the mind’s right view. Practice steadily.
Without a stable, knowing mind, all of the above is impossible. Without a stable, knowing mind, the Khandha (aggregates) won’t separate. You’ll feel the body and the mind as one big entity. But with a stable, knowing mind, when you observe the body, you’ll see the body and the mind as separate entities. With a stable, knowing mind, this separation also happens between the knowing mind and Vedana (feelings), Sanna (memory and perception), and Sankhara (mental compositions). The knowing mind will see Trilaksana in Vedana, Sanna, and Sankhara. Seeing Trilaksana gives rise to wisdom. If you lack a stable, knowing mind, you cannot practice Vipassana, because when you practice Vipassana, you will see each phenomenon arising and ceasing. The physical arises and ceases. Feelings arise and cease. Memory and perception arise and cease. Mental compositions arise and cease. The mind itself also arises and ceases. This is Vipassana. If all five Khandha (aggregates) fuse into one entity, self arises, and you cannot truly practice Vipassana.
Luangta Maha Bua said it well. He taught many things, but this sentence really touched me. He said, “if you cannot separate the aggregates, don’t tell me you’re developing wisdom.” In order to separate the aggregates, the mind must be a stable observer. The mind will be a stable observer by observing the occurring phenomena.
Like the kid I mentioned earlier, actually, he’s not a kid anymore. He must be around 40. I intentionally disheartened him. He almost cried physically, but he was actually crying inside. When I pointed out his disheartenment, his mindfulness recognized it. After he became mindful of the disheartenment, it immediately vanished. The disheartened mind is of the Dosa (anger/aversion) type, so it ceased immediately. The mind then became a stable observer. Knowing phenomena as they are gives rise to a stable, observing mind.
Another way is to enter Jhana. I’m not teaching you this; most people today cannot attain Jhana. Many people refer to their practices as “entering Jhana,” but they’re not; “entering Jhana” has been used as a euphemism. When the mind actually attains Jhana, it doesn’t pay attention to which level of Jhana it is in. You need to exit Jhana first before you can determine the levels you were in.
The cessation of compositions is blissful
When your mind becomes a stable observer, you’ll see that Rupa (physical), Vedana (feelings), Sanna (memory and perception), Sankhara (mental formations), and Vinnana, also known as Citta (bare consciousness), arise and fall. All physical and abstract phenomena, both body and mind, are phenomena that arise and fall. One rises and falls, then another rises and falls in an endless cycle. This isn’t a cessation from suffering. When something arises, it ceases, and then another rises in its place. But, if you thoroughly know the world, knowing that the world of physical and abstract phenomena is nothing but suffering and that all phenomena, all Khanda, rise and fall, the mind will let go of all physical and abstract phenomena.
The mind will then experience a phenomenon without composition, known as Asankhata-dhamma. The cessation of all Sankhara (compositions) is bliss. Sankhara is all of physical and abstract phenomena, which is the body and mind. These phenomena rise and fall. Once mindfulness and wisdom accurately see that everything that rises must fall, the mind will then let go and be free from compositions. Have you ever heard the chant, “Anicca Vata Saṅkhara,” at a funeral ceremony? It means all compositions, both abstract and physical, are impermanent. “Uppadavayadhammino” – their nature is to rise and decay. “Uppajjitva Nirujjhanti” – they arise and disappear. “Tesaṃ Vupasamo Sukho” – the cessation of compositions is blissful.
The one that eradicates this endless cycle of rising and ceasing phenomena is the fully enlightened mind. It fully understands that all compositions, both physical and abstract, rise and decay. This mind will let go of the Khanda (aggregates). Once the mind detaches from the Khanda, liberation is achieved. Nibbana (Nirvana) will be seen immediately. There is no process of sending the mind into Nibbana. If the mind is sent to Nibbana, it is a Brahman’s Nibbana, not the Buddha’s. The Buddha’s Nibbana is attained when the mind lets go of the five aggregates; it is then immediately seen by the mind at that moment.
The Pali verse mentioned earlier came from a monk who saw a cremation ceremony in a cemetery. He saw the burning of a beautiful woman’s corpse until nothing was left. His mind then exclaimed, “all compositions, both abstract and physical, are impermanent. They arise and decay. The cessation of compositions is blissful.” Where does this cessation occur? At the mind. When the mind is no longer attached to compositions, the compositions at the mind cease. The cessation doesn’t occur externally. If the cessation were external, it would be impermanent, and reignition would follow. So, when Citta (the mind) is liberated from compositions, it will immediately perceive Nibbana.
So, when Arahants (the fully enlightened ones) discuss where they go to after they die, they won’t say that after “Nibbana” (in this case, meaning their deaths), they’ll be in this or that realm. They simply say that the aggregates rise and decay. There’s nothing more to add after this. When the mind fully realizes the truth that Khanda (aggregates) rise and decay, it lets go and detaches from all compositions. It then immediately perceives Visankhara (the non-composite) and is free from compositions. The mind is immediately liberated. This is the path. As a Buddhist, you should listen to this kind of Dhamma and practice. As a layperson, make Dana (donations) as appropriate. Don’t overdo it by draining your wealth; that’s foolish. You’ll put yourself in a tough spot. Dana (donations) can be done without giving money. When you see someone is doing a good public action, you can join them.
When I hear that people donate many million baht, I usually feel indifferent. But when I hear about a star or a singer volunteering to provide emergency medical service, I feel Piti (joy). That’s a big merit, bigger than donating a lot of money. They dedicate their time and effort. When I hear that you guys make a donation, I’m usually indifferent. Whether you give it away now or not, your money will one day belong to someone else. But if you make a blood donation, it takes more courage. It is easier to give money than to give a part of your body. When I hear that my students donate blood, I feel a lot of joy. My students are worthy of being Buddhists. They’re selfless. There’s no monetary compensation for blood donation. It’s a selfless good action, bringing them a bit closer to Nibbana. I feel joy.
There are no donation drive events here because I dislike them. When someone makes a donation drive here, regardless of their cause or identity, I chase them away. So, learning here is free. You come to study Dhamma. The Buddha made an enormous effort to attain Dhamma, and he gave it away for free. I got it for free. Luangpu Dune never charged a tuition fee. Many masters I went to study with taught Dhamma out of kindness and compassion. So, we follow the path of the Buddha and the teachers. Dhamma is not for sale; it is something holy. We impart Dhamma with all our hearts. If someone is gentle, grateful, and worthy of receiving Dhamma, then give it. If someone isn’t ready, they can listen first. Don’t impose on them.
If you want someone to donate, you must know that the asker usually believes they are offering an opportunity to accumulate merit, but the potential donor may perceive it as extortion. It’s unsure whether the donor gains merit or gets extorted. Be careful. Asking for donations can lead to unwholesomeness. But, giving Dhamma is a greater merit that surpasses Dana (donations). Freeing cows, buffaloes, or fishes from slaughter is good, but letting go of your own impurities is even better.
Wat Suansantidham
25 February 2024