Dhamma Diary

The Golden Cord

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Let us for a moment suppose you’re ill. You decide to go to the doctor’s in order to find out what exactly is wrong with you, what the cause is, and most importantly, how to get better. You sit in front of him and he pulls out his little torch, asks you to say “aaahhhh” and sees that your throat is inflamed and as red as a beetroot - it’s an infection. That is the problem. He then does some more tests and identifies the bacteria that are causing the illness. Then he prescribes a suitable antibiotic and gives you precise instructions regarding the amount to be taken and how often to take it. You then go home and start to take the medicine as directed. After completing the course you recover.

Now, it would be a very foolish person who would tamper with those antibiotics, thinking: “If I just take this ingredient out, and put this one in; and maybe take it on these days, but not on those….” That would not be wise. I know I wouldn’t tamper with the antibiotics because I don’t know the first thing about them! But I do know that many people take them exactly as prescribed and in doing so they are cured. That is all I need to know. I take them and I’m cured.

Unfortunately people are not so wary of tampering with the Buddha’s medicine, that is, his teachings. Our illness is suffering (The First Noble Truth), the cause is craving (The Second Noble Truth), and the medicine is the Noble Eightfold Path - the path of morality, meditation and wisdom (The Fourth Noble Truth). The Buddha’s teachings are the fruits of a perfected mind; a mind that was not tainted by greed, hatred and delusion - and so setting out to improve them would be like trying to ‘gild refined gold’ (to quote Shakespeare), and to alter them to suit our desires like melting down the gold and mixing it with excrement. Yet some people think: “If I just take this teaching out, and put this one in; and maybe take this precept out, and change the meaning of such and such….” The wise person leaves the Dhamma in its original state as found in the Buddhist Canon as he or she knows that through the millennia countless people have followed these teachings exactly as prescribed and have thus been cured of their suffering.

Say if you were on your way to the doctor’s with your poorly throat and just as you turned the corner you saw a little grubby old homeless man sitting hunched on a creaking stool outside the doctor’s gate. You try to creep past him hoping he won’t see you, but he does, and he smiles a toothless grin at you and starts muttering. You now find out he stinks. Then you look to his right and there’s a little sign which says: ‘SALE! Homemade Antibiotics! Tasty and Work Quick!!!!’ You frown and look back at the old man who’s excited because you’ve read his sign. Now, would you think: ‘Great! What a bargain! - I’ll take ten bottles!’ Or would you think: “You’ve got to be joking!” and go straight to the doctor? Of course there is no way you would buy those antibiotics for obvious reasons, after all, who is this man to be - in the first place - making his own antibiotics, and - in the second place - to be selling them?! He is in no position to do such thing! Luckily we know of the real doctor who can be trusted in these matters. Unfortunately there are many people who take hold of the Buddha’s medicine, tamper with it, and then sell it off as Buddhism. In many cases the resulting product will have hardly any resemblance to the Buddha’s original medicine, and may even make you sick!

We can think of many aspects of authentic Buddhism that have been altered and distorted or even scrapped altogether.

I used to have a friend who, when he was very young, had to take a course of medicine. And this medicine was absolutely delicious, I think it was banana flavour. Anyway, he took the course of medicine and, what do you know, IT ROTTED HIS TEETH. Luckily they were his first set, so he only looked like the old man of the above scenario for a little while. So the medicine tasted wonderful but it rotted his teeth. Some people like the flavour of Buddhism without the precepts. But it’s going to be more than their teeth that rot if they carry on taking that!

Virtue is the lifeblood of Buddhism. To disregard it is perhaps the most damaging alteration that can be made to the Buddha’s medicine. To take Buddhism without concern for the precepts is to take it from that little old smelly man instead of from the Buddha!

Ajahn Chah was once sat in front of a group of monks and he held his hands up about a foot apart, palms facing each other, fingertips upwards. Then he bent one hand towards the other and said: “You must bend yourself to suit the Dhamma” - then he switched hands - “don’t bend the Dhamma to suit you.”

If we compromise the precepts we compromise our ability to reach enlightenment. I remember speaking to a senior monk prior to my novice ordination and he said that the precepts “do a lot of the work for you”. They help us in so many ways. They bring joy; they bring mindfulness; they bring concentration; and they bring wisdom. They are there at the beginning, the middle and the end of the path. If we tinker with the precepts they lose their efficacy: we weaken or even destroy those barriers that guide us to happy destinations and stop us from going down dangerous paths. It is so crucial that we leave the precepts as they are and allow them to work on us in the way the Buddha intended.

One of the fundamental reasons for observing the precepts is to enable us to understand the workings of our minds. We go to the doctor to find the cause of our illness so that a cure can be administered. We come to Buddhism and we find that the cause of all our problems is within us; it is craving, which is rooted in ignorance. If we don’t come to know this cause we will never be cured. The precepts help us to dig down and find the cause of our suffering. They expose our craving, our ignorance and all the other unwholesome forces at work. We wish to take a drink of alcohol but we CAN’T. Then what happens? We are confronted with the desire that was driving those thoughts of wanting a drink. That desire smashes into the crash barrier of the precepts allowing us to CLEARLY SEE that defilement. Because that desire has not been satisfied there will be a moment of suffering, and here we see the link between craving and suffering. This is one of the ways they teach us.

As monks we keep a large number of precepts. This is one of the advantages of being a renunciate. I remember on the day when I ordained as a bhikkhu feeling like a giant safety net had been placed beneath me. I felt safe. The precepts would now protect me. Any monk serious about the training will NOT break those precepts. What’s the point in becoming a monk if you’re going to carry money and watch TV? (even when the World Cup is on!). It’s a slippery slope once you start weaving your way around the precepts and finding excuses to use money etc. I read of a monk who said that he needed to catch the bus so therefore he would have to use money. HOLD ON A MINUTE! That should be the other way round: ‘I cannot handle money so how will I travel?’ Once you start saying “Well this precept doesn’t really matter” where do you stop? If a monk starts going down this route before he knows it he’ll have a wife and two kids!

So the more precepts you keep the better. As part of our monastic discipline we observe the 75 Sekhiya rules. These govern how we present ourselves in public, as well providing us with detailed instructions concerning how we should go about eating. In addition to these, as Forest Monks, we undertake some of the ‘Dhutangas’ – the 13 ascetic practices. One of these is to eat ALL of your food from the same bowl. Now, the strict interpretation of this is that you must put all of the food you are about to eat in the bowl BEFORE you start to eat. Now, it’s Christmas time and I’m tucking into a delicious meal when I get half way through and find that, much to my horror, I forgot to put my mince pie in my bowl! It’s still in my bowl’s lid! AARRRGHHH! Now I can’t have it because I didn’t put it in my bowl before I started eating! So what do I do. Well I could follow my defilements and infringe the rule (it isn’t a compulsory one) and satisfy my desire but gain no wisdom; or, I can uphold the rule and observe my mind thrashing about wishing I had put the mince pie in the bowl, and see the clear connection between craving and suffering, thereby developing restraint, awareness and most importantly – wisdom! So of course I held to the rule and exercised mindfulness and full awareness and watched those thoughts and feelings come into being and pass away; hence wisdom was developed. One point to wisdom, none to craving.

The precepts help us to dig down and pull out the weeds from the depths our our minds and bring them into the open where we can see them. We can then see those forces in the mind that drive is to suffer. This is of such fundamental importance and it is something that only the precepts can do.

Combine this weeding out with clear mindfulness and concentration and you begin to see the impermanent, unsatisfactory and selfless nature of these mental events and the mind subsequently releases itself from them. Such is the way to develop wisdom and happiness!

So, if the precepts are to fulfil their role as weed removers and as the barriers against which our defilements crash, they need to be reliable and solid; we need to establish a dedication to morality.

The Buddha once gave a particularly important teaching where he likened the teachings of past Buddha’s to flowers and the monk’s discipline - the Patimokkha - to a cord. He then listed those Buddhas who did not lay down the Patimokkha and those that did. He said that just as flowers when unconnected by a cord soon disperse, so too, where a former Buddha had not laid down the Patimokkha his teachings were soon scattered and lost as the winds of time blew. But then he said that just as when flowers that are connected by a cord stay together and remain, so too, where the Patimokkha had been laid down the teachings lasted for a long time. Gotama Buddha thankfully did lay down the Patimokkha, hence the existence of Buddhism today.

Now, of course the Patimokkha is for monks, but it is the principle that is important here. Whatever precepts you have, whether they are the five, the eight, the ten, or the two hundred and twenty-seven, they are a part of the golden cord that holds Buddhism together. We must each remain steadfast in our precepts and ensure that the cord of morality remains strong so that the precious Dhamma flowers are not lost.

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The next teaching will be on:

The New Moon Day, Saturday the 5th of April

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I realise some of you were looking forward to the posts on meditation that I’d planned…. sorry about that. I haven’t abandoned that series completely, I just didn’t want to be pinned down. I will ensure a meditation post pops up from time to time. This is one of them.,

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DETERMINATION

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“Even if my flesh and blood dry up… I will not leave this seat until I have attained Full Enlightenment.”

The Buddha-to-be, prior to his enlightenment.

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Here we look at determination - one of the Ten Perfections - both in general terms and in relation to our meditation.

DETERMINE!

I recall a time on personal retreat when I was struggling somewhat. I was sat cross-legged in my kuti feeling particularly down - I had little enthusiasm to do anything and this negative state of mind felt like a sumo wrestler sitting on top of me. In Thai they have an expression meaning he or she is ‘in hell‘; that summed up my state of mind. Never-the-less, when it was time to go outside to do walking meditation I peeled myself up off the floor and dragged myself to my path.

I got to the beginning of my path and my mind started whining: “I REALLY don’t want to walk!” Anyway, I forced myself to walk, but all the time my mind was haranguing me to do something else. I knew I’d be depressed no matter what I did though, so I resisted and kept on walking. But the mood just kept getting bigger and uglier, and my mind was becoming more and more pathetic: “Oh please, do something else, anything but walking meditation.” After a while of this something had to give - either me or the mood…. This time, it wasn’t going to be me.

“FOR GOODNESS SAKE – LISTEN TO YOU!!” I thought. I’d had enough of being pushed around by this mind; and of listening to its whinging; and of being bullied by this big, fat, ugly mood! And I realised that if I didn’t stand up to it, it was going to overwhelm me. So I said to it: “RIGHT YOU! I’m not leaving this path until you’re GONE!”

And do you know, it didn’t know what to do. It was stunned. And as I walked that big, bully of a mood, shrunk and shrunk until it was as big and as threatening as a ladybird, and my mind shut up. And this was all because of my firm DETERMINATION to get through this little puddle of tar that we sometimes get stuck in. When we hit hard times we DETERMINE to get through them, no matter how long it will take. And as that little story shows, once you actually make that determination, that’s half the battle done. As soon as I stood up to my difficult mind, and especially to that mood, it realised that I meant business and it immediately weakened as it realised I wasn’t going to leave the path until it was gone. It was a revelation for me, because now, whenever I’m stuck in a negative state, I know I can do this.

And so, full of energy, I continued walking, just daring my mind to test me. As I walked though, that little ladybird would keep on trying to grow into that big, ugly monster again; but as soon as I spotted him I would immediately mentally shout at it and tell him: “JUST YOU TRY!”, and then he gulped and hid. And after a time, feeling quite proud of myself, my mind started saying: “It’s gone now, you can go into your kuti…. Well done…” — “Mmmmm… that smells like Mara* to me!”, I thought, and I looked carefully and saw that little ladybird hadn’t quite disappeared, and he was ready to start mutating into a quite large and ugly mood given half a chance. So I said “NO! - I’ll keep on walking, thank you very much!” And the ladybird knew the game was over and he gave up and eventually vanished. Job done, all thanks to that firm determination at the beginning.

So, whenever you have difficulty with your meditation, or your mind is misbehaving, or you’re lacking motivation, or you’re ‘in hell’ – DETERMINE! Make that iron willed resolution. This will do half the job for you. Once you have made that determination it will carry you through the hard times, and upon making that determination, you might even find that you practically solve the problem on the spot, as with what happened to me.

*MARA: the Buddhist personification of greed, hatred, delusion and all unwholesome states.

Sharpen the knife of meditation

It isn’t often that I ask for help with my meditation; in the Forest Tradition it is a central tenet that we rely on our own cunning. But on one particular occasion I felt I really needed some advice from an experienced meditator as I believed my personal barrel of solutions had been well and truly scraped. I imagine that it was clear what the problem was when I described it to Luangpor not so much from what I said, but from the way I said it. He responded with one word: “Determination”. That was enough; I knew why he had said it. I had been lacking that clear and incisive resolve and my meditation was wobbling. I didn’t see this though, as it had been developing for some time. I had been losing that incisive and definite edge. When we meditate we need to be definite about what we are doing.

The goal needs to be clear (here regarding the breath):

1. DETERMINE to be loyal to your subject of meditation, and to persist with it, without flitting between techniques.

2. DETERMINE to sustain your attention on the breath for as long as possible without interruption. (Samadhi means ‘the fixing of the mind on a single object’.)

3. DETERMINE to gradually refine your awareness of the breath and experience it in more and more detail.

4. DETERMINE to go beyond the five hindrances of sensuality; ill-will; sloth and torpor; restlessness and worry; and doubt, so that your mind will be clear to see the Dhamma

We can remind ourselves of these determinations each time we sit.

We can also set ourselves other little goals. So if we are focusing on the breath we can determine to focus on ten breaths without interruption, or five breaths, or one breath. I will sometimes determine, or resolve, at the beginning of each breath to know that breath completely and fully. Then the next breath begins and I make the same resolve. And as we carry on like this the little individual resolves become one big resolve and our mind engages with the breath.

Think of meditation as a knife and determination as a sharpening stone. If your meditation has lost its edge, sharpen it with enthusiastic determination.

There is no substitute for determination. If you have been struggling against a particular obstacle for some time and you feel all hope is lost, take heed of these words from Winston Churchill, a man of great determination:

“When you feel you cannot continue in your position for another

moment, and all that is in human power has been done, that is the

moment when the enemy is most exhausted, and when one step

forward will give you the fruits of the struggle you have borne.”

Perfect. Substitute ‘enemy’ as you please.

We all need to develop determination. Our minds would much rather do things the easy way. But the easy way is often not the best way. DETERMINE to sit every day, even for ten minutes. DETERMINE to sit half-lotus for ten minutes, twenty minutes… If you really have aversion towards sitting, DETERMINE to sit for half an hour and watch and wait as your mind throws a tantrum until it wears itself out - “Give me all you’ve got!” you can say to it. It’s great fun! And you’ll learn a lot. Doing this will make you feel better because you are in control. As Ajahn Chah said: “Don’t be afraid of your defilements, make your defilements afraid of you!”

The little lawyer within

I’ll tell you a story. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ll tell it anyway, just to show how our minds can be like little lawyers that try to find loopholes in our determinations. This was before the time of the story I began this piece with.

It was the beginning of my third Rains Retreat. This annual retreat is a three month period when monks will often undertake special practices in order to develop themselves. Some monks will determine to not lie down for the three month retreat period; some will decide to eat only the food they receive in the villages; some will determine to read a particular portion of the Tipitika. But I was going to do something else; something of phenomenal difficulty that would test me to the core. I decided that I would - cue drum roll - only drink

ONE

CUP

OF

TEA

A DAY.

It’s true. As you can imagine a nice, hot, sweet cup of tea (with the consistency of syrup once you put all the honey and sugar in) occupies a special place in a young monk’s heart. As cruel as it may have been, one cup a day it was to be. (Note: In my determination ‘tea’ was a blanket term that covered all hot, sweet drinks, though I wasn’t utterly clear to myself on this crucial point….) And so I made my solemn determination and it seemed, for a moment, that the birds outside stopped their chirping, and a cloud temporarily blocked the sun. But then they started chirping again and wondered what all the fuss was about.

And it went quite well for a few weeks. But then the little lawyer in my mind started drumming his fingers on his desk and rubbing his chin, plotting how a loophole in this determination might be found. “Aha!” he thought and a little light bulb appeared over his head. Then in the most charming voice he said to me: “Now what exactly did you mean by tea?” Now, not being experienced with the ways of the mind, I was caught off guard and innocently thought: “He has a point. What did I mean by tea?” And before I knew it, as pathetic as it was, I had stepped onto the slippery slope and was drinking everything but tea, and then eventually, yes - tea. Half way through the Retreat the little lawyer in my mind had completely undermined my determination, and I was left utterly helpless with a cup of tea in either hand (figuratively speaking). Such are the ways of a good lawyer, and a mischievous mind.

One final point

Determination must be tempered with wisdom and patience. Wisdom, so that we recognise what is within our capabilities; and patience, as determination wrongly executed can bring impatience. Skillful determination should have an effortless element to it as well. We inscribe our determination on the rock-face of our mind and that mental resolve carries us through. When I determined to walk until my bad mood had gone, I made that initial resolve but then I backed off and it carried me through.

So, don’t take any rubbish from that lawyer! Develop your determination. Resolve to get through the difficulties and half the work will be done. And use it to get a good, sharp edge on your meditation.,

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THE NEXT TEACHING WILL BE ON

THE HALF-MOON DAY, SATURDAY, 29TH MARCH

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The Owl and the Two Silly Birds

Once upon a time there lived three friends in an old oak wood upon a small hill. They were Pablo the Parrot, Molly the Magpie, and Oswold the Owl.

Now, every day, when the sun arose, Molly the Magpie and Pablo the Parrot would sit on a big old rock in the middle of a clearing and start to talk. And what did they talk about? Well, Pablo the Parrot was a terrible talker, and Molly the Magpie was a tremendous thinker, and what happens when talkers and thinkers meet? - they talk and talk until the sun goes down. And they talk about philosophy and religion and science, and they ask themselves:

“How old is the world? Where did it come from? What happens when I die? Who am I?”

And so every day and every year Pablo the Parrot, the terrible talker, and Molly the Magpie, the tremendous thinker, would talk and talk from dawn to dusk.

But what did Oswold the Owl think of these two silly birds? Well, he didn’t think, because Oswold the Owl was a magnificent meditator. And Oswold knew that these two birds were no wiser than when they first hatched out of their eggs. Because these two silly birds would always end up lying on the rock, at the end of each day, with a headache! As they thought and they talked way too much! And Oswold the Owl, who was very wise, secretly named the hill they lived on - Headache Hill.

Now, Oswold was different. He would just sit, a little way away from the two bickering birds, and he would meditate. Perched on a little branch in his tree, he would slowly close his big brown eyes, still his mind, and concentrate on his breathing. Doing this made Oswold happy - very happy. But not only that, it also made Oswold very wise. And he secretly named his tree ‘The Tree of Truth’. Because he knew what the others didn’t, and that is that truth can only be found by making the mind very, very still.

Then, one day, the owl, seeing that the two birds were just getting more and more confused, and suffering from more and more headaches, felt very sorry for them and decided to go and teach them.

So, Oswold slowly opened his eyes, and, seeing Pablo the Parrot, the terrible talker, and Molly the Magpie, the tremendous thinker, sitting on their rock in the midday sun, flew from his branch and landed between them. The two birds were in the middle of a very complicated conversation, when they stopped, and looked at Oswold, and asked him his opinion. But Oswold shook his head and said:

“You silly, silly birds! You do not know how silly you are! You talk all day and yet you know no more! You are no wiser than when you first hatched out of your eggs! For every day, and every year, you talk and talk, and end up lying on this rock, on this hill, with a headache! And you should know, that for a long time, I have secretly named this hill – Headache Hill. It is time I taught you how to be happy, but most importantly, how to be wise. For it isn’t by thinking and talking that we become wise. It is through making our minds very, very still.”

Then, Oswold the Owl, the magnificent meditator, held in front of them a jar of water with little bits of soil and dirt sitting at the bottom. Then he said:

”Birds! You see this jar of water, with little bits of soil and dirt at the bottom. Well, this is like our minds. Our thoughts are like the mud and dirt, and when we think too much, it is like we shake this jar of water and our minds become very, very murky and we cannot see the truth.”

Then Oswold shook the jar and the water became murky. And the two silly birds looked at it, and then they looked at each other. Then Oswold stopped shaking the jar, and he held it very still, and the water gradually became clear. Then the two silly birds looked at it, and then they looked at each other.

“See, silly birds!” said the owl. “When we hold the jar still the water becomes clear. If we close our eyes, still our minds, and concentrate on our breathing, then our minds will become clear too, and the answers will come naturally to the questions that we have.”

“But how does it work? Why does it work? Why is it like this? Why? Why? Why?” sqwarked the terrible talker and the tremendous thinker.

“STOP!” said the owl. “Can’t you see?! You’re shaking the jar so vigorously, which means that you cannot see! Keep your minds still and all will become clear. Then we can name this hill - Happiness Hill.”

And from that day on, when the sun arose, the three friends would sit together in The Tree of Truth, slowly close their eyes, still their minds, and concentrate on their breathing. And, after a time, their wisdom grew, and there was never again a headache on the hill.

The next teaching will be on:

The Full Moon Day, Friday, 21st March

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I’ve decided not to continue with the series of five posts on meditation that I’d planned. I’ve learnt that it’s not always a good idea to say you’ll be writing / talking about something several weeks from now. It can kill spontaneity. (Plus I’m fed up of talking about the plane!)

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Playing with toys in a house that’s burning down

Before I became a monk I had an experience which caused an earthquake in the depths of my being and which undoubtedly turned me in the direction of devoting my life to the practice of the Dhamma.

I believe I had been practising meditation for a few months. It was a Sunday night and I was lying in my bed. I remember that on this occasion I was rather more aware than usual. I just lay there and there were hardly any thoughts, there was just a slightly more refined awareness than usual. At the time I thought nothing of it.

The week that followed passed in much the same way as all the rest until, once again, it was Sunday, and I was lying in bed. Once more this state of awareness that I had experienced the week before arose. It didn’t seem anything particularly profound, it was simply that thoughts had dissipated and I simply lay there, just being aware. It happened naturally. And then, like a bolt of lightening, it struck me. I suddenly remembered the same experience of the previous Sunday and it seemed like nothing had happened between those two moments. Those two experiences appeared to me to have had no period of time between them, and yet a whole week had passed. I became acutely aware of how my life was vanishing before me. Alarm bells rang. “What am I doing with my life?! What have I achieved that is of any worth?!”

Then my life became one of turning away from worldly pursuits and the entanglements of sensual pleasures, towards the path inside, the path of Dhamma.

This perception of change and death caused a great chasm to open in me between the worldly ways and the way of the Dhamma. I was stood on the side of the Dhamma.

We must reflect on the fact that we are going to die! The Buddha said that whether you are a monk or a nun, or a lay-man or a lay-woman, you should reflect on this fact every day. The Buddha said that contemplation of death precedes all wholesome states. (AN - I believe).

Some people say that the fact of death doesn’t mean anything to them. Well they should think about it! Imagine your body lying there, dead. This thing that you took to be yourself now lies utterly motionless. It will never move again. It now belongs to the worms and the maggots. You can’t suddenly jump up and shout at those maggots “Get off! Leave me alone! This body’s mine!” No, it’s not yours. And it never was. It is nobody’s.

And so reflecting on death helps us to see this body in a different way, in a way that is more in accordance with truth. And what happens when we see things in accordance with truth? We don’t suffer. We let go. We detach. I sometimes imagine my body just lying there. It’s quite a powerful experience that throws up your strong identification with the body and it makes you see the stupidity of attaching to it. But this attachment is deep, and we carry on being stupid, so we must keep reflecting.

Contemplating death puts everything in perspective. One of the best talks I have heard was given by a young novice called Sataro here at the Hermitage. Why was it one of the best talks I have heard? - because it is as fresh in my mind now as if it had been given yesterday, and yet it happened over four and a half years ago.

He was given the topic of the talk a week in advance in order to prepare. It was to be a talk on the Four Protections, the fourth of which is the contemplation of death. As a community we were taking it in turns to give Dhamma talks to each other. So I would do one week, then the following week it would be someone else, etc. Now I think my facts are correct, but during that time of Sataro’s preparation a very young person connected with the monastery died in tragic circumstances. Of course we all took that news inwards as anyone practising the Dhamma should.

Then came the time for the Dhamma talk. When Sataro reached the Fourth Protection, he related how he had been very nervous during his preparation. It was probably the biggest obstacle to all of us who were very new to giving talks – this very irrational fear of speaking in public. It was especially irrational at this time as we knew each other so well.

But then, he said, after the news of the girl’s death, his mind turned around and his nervousness rapidly faded. He thought: “In the light of death, what is this talk?!!!”. The awareness of death put it in perspective.

Perspective. We are so often without perspective.

When we reflect in this way we let trivial things pass. We don’t hold grudges. We forgive. We have loving-kindness. We don’t waste time.

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THE NEXT TEACHING WILL BE GIVEN ON:

THE HALF MOON DAY, FRIDAY, 14TH MARCH

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