The practice of Dhamma goes
against our habits, the truth goes against our desires, so there is difficulty
in the practice. Some things which we understand as wrong may be right, while
the things we take to be right may be wrong. Why is this? Because our minds are
in darkness, we don't clearly see the Truth. We don't really know anything and
so are fooled by people's lies. They point out what is right as being wrong and
we believe it; that which is wrong, they say is right, and we believe that.
This is because we are not yet our own masters. Our moods lie to us constantly.
We shouldn't take this mind and its opinions as our guide, because it doesn't
know the truth.
Some people don't want to
listen to others at all, but this is not the way of a man of wisdom. A wise man
listens to everything. One who listens to Dhamma must listen just the same,
whether he likes it or not, and not blindly believe or disbelieve. He must stay
at the half-way mark, the middle point, and not be heedless. He just listens
and then contemplates, giving rise to the right results accordingly.
A wise man should
contemplate and see the cause and effect for himself before he believes what he
hears. Even if the teacher speaks the truth, don't just believe it, because you
don't yet know the truth of it for yourself.
It's the same for all of
us, including myself. I've practised before you, I've seen many lies before.
For instance, ''This practice is really difficult, really hard.'' Why is the
practice difficult? It's just because we think wrongly, we have wrong view.
Previously I lived together
with other monks, but I didn't feel right. I ran away to the forests and
mountains, fleeing the crowd, the monks and novices. I thought that they
weren't like me, they didn't practise as hard as I did. They were sloppy. That
person was like this, this person was like that. This was something that really
put me in turmoil, it was the cause for my continually running away. But
whether I lived alone or with others, I still had no peace. On my own I wasn't
content, in a large group I wasn't content. I thought this discontent was due
to my companions, due to my moods, due to my living place, the food, the
weather, due to this and that. I was constantly searching for something to suit
my mind.
As a dhutanga2 monk, I went travelling, but things still weren't right. So I
contemplated, ''What can I do to make things right? What can I do?'' Living
with a lot of people I was dissatisfied, with few people I was dissatisfied.
For what reason? I just couldn't see it. Why was I dissatisfied? Because I had
wrong view, just that; because I still clung to the wrong Dhamma. Wherever I
went I was discontent, thinking, ''Here is no good, there is no good...'' on
and on like that. I blamed others. I blamed the weather, heat and cold, I
blamed everything! Just like a mad dog. It bites whatever it meets, because
it's mad. When the mind is like this our practice is never settled. Today we
feel good, tomorrow no good. It's like that all the time. We don't attain
contentment or peace.
The Buddha once saw a
jackal, a wild dog, run out of the forest where he was staying. It stood still
for a while, then it ran into the underbrush, and then out again. Then it ran
into a tree hollow, then out again. Then it went into a cave, only to run out
again. One minute it stood, the next it ran, then it lay down, then it jumped
up. That jackal had mange. When it stood the mange would eat into its skin, so
it would run. Running it was still uncomfortable, so it would stop. Standing
was still uncomfortable, so it would lie down. Then it would jump up again,
running into the underbrush, the tree hollow, never staying still.
The Buddha said, ''Monks,
did you see that jackal this afternoon? Standing it suffered, running it
suffered, sitting it suffered, lying down it suffered. In the underbrush, a
tree hollow or a cave, it suffered. It blamed standing for its discomfort, it
blamed sitting, it blamed running and lying down; it blamed the tree, the
underbrush and the cave. In fact the problem was with none of those things.
That jackal had mange. The problem was with the mange.''
We monks are just the same
as that jackal. Our discontent is due to wrong view. Because we don't exercise
sense restraint we blame our suffering on externals. Whether we live at Wat Pah
Pong, in America or in London we aren't satisfied. Going to live at Bung Wai or
any of the other branch monasteries we're still not satisfied. Why not? Because
we still have wrong view within us. Wherever we go we aren't content.
But just as that dog, if
the mange is cured, is content wherever it goes, so it is for us. I reflect on
this often, and I teach you this often, because it's very important. If we know
the truth of our various moods we arrive at contentment. Whether it's hot or
cold we are satisfied, with many people or with few people we are satisfied.
Contentment doesn't depend on how many people we are with, it comes only from
right view. If we have right view then wherever we stay we are content.
But most of us have wrong
view. It's just like a maggot - a maggot's living place is filthy, its food is
filthy...but they suit the maggot. If you take a stick and brush it away from
its lump of dung, it'll struggle to crawl back in. It's the same when the Ajahn
teaches us to see rightly. We resist, it makes us feel uneasy. We run back to
our 'lump of dung' because that's where we feel at home. We're all like this.
If we don't see the harmful consequences of all our wrong views then we can't
leave them, the practice is difficult. So we should listen. There's nothing
else to the practice.
If we have right view
wherever we go we are content. I have practised and seen this already. These
days there are many monks, novices and lay people coming to see me. If I still
didn't know, if I still had wrong view, I'd be dead by now! The right abiding
place for monks, the place of coolness, is just right view itself. We shouldn't
look for anything else.
So even though you may be
unhappy it doesn't matter, that unhappiness is uncertain. Is that unhappiness
your 'self? Is there any substance to it? Is it real? I don't see it as being
real at all. Unhappiness is merely a flash of feeling which appears and then is
gone. Happiness is the same. Is there a consistency to happiness? Is it truly
an entity? It's simply a feeling that flashes suddenly and is gone. There! It's
born and then it dies. Love just flashes up for a moment and then disappears.
Where is the consistency in love, or hate, or resentment? In truth there is no
substantial entity there, they are merely impressions which flare up in the
mind and then die. They deceive us constantly, we find no certainty anywhere.
Just as the Buddha said, when unhappiness arises it stays for a while, then
disappears. When unhappiness disappears, happiness arises and lingers for a while
and then dies. When happiness disappears, unhappiness arises again...on and on
like this.
In the end we can say only
this - apart from the birth, the life and the death of suffering, there is
nothing. There is just this. But we who are ignorant run and grab it
constantly. We never see the truth of it, that there's simply this continual
change. If we understand this then we don't need to think very much, but we
have much wisdom. If we don't know it, then we will have more thinking than
wisdom - and maybe no wisdom at all! It's not until we truly see the harmful
results of our actions that we can give them up. Likewise, it's not until we
see the real benefits of practice that we can follow it, and begin working to
make the mind 'good'.
If we cut a log of wood and
throw it into the river, and that log doesn't sink or rot, or run aground on
either of the banks of the river, that log will definitely reach the sea. Our
practice is comparable to this. If you practise according to the path laid down
by the Buddha, following it straightly, you will transcend two things. What two
things? Just those two extremes that the Buddha said were not the path of a
true meditator - indulgence in pleasure and indulgence in pain. These are the
two banks of the river. One of the banks of that river is hate, the other is
love. Or you can say that one bank is happiness, the other unhappiness. The
'log' is this mind. As it 'flows down the river' it will experience happiness
and unhappiness. If the mind doesn't cling to that happiness or unhappiness it
will reach the 'ocean' of Nibbāna. You should see that there is nothing other
than happiness and unhappiness arising and disappearing. If you don't 'run
aground' on these things then you are on the path of a true meditator.
This is the teaching of the
Buddha. Happiness, unhappiness, love and hate are simply established in nature
according to the constant law of nature. The wise person doesn't follow or
encourage them, he doesn't cling to them. This is the mind which lets go of
indulgence in pleasure and indulgence in pain. It is the right practice. Just
as that log of wood will eventually flow to the sea, so will the mind which
doesn't attach to these two extremes inevitably attain peace.
Footnotes
Given to
the assembly of monks and novices at Wat Pah Nanachat, during the rains
retreat, 1978
Dhutanga,
properly means 'ascetic'. A dhutanga monk is one who keeps some of the thirteen ascetic practices
allowed by the Buddha. Dhutanga monks traditionally spend time travelling (often on foot) in
search of quiet places for meditation, other teachers, or simply as a practice
in itself.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar