This is the path
Sati-paññā will always be investigating and contemplating the coarse emotions, or defilements, of greed and anger—pleasure and displeasure towards forms, tastes, odours, sounds, and bodily sensations—as they arise, so as to let them go from the heart. As a result, there will be equanimity of mind. When we contemplate like this, over and over, the mind will gradually put down its grasping and attachment for forms, tastes, odours, sounds, and bodily sensations. Even if it only puts them down temporarily, it’s still good.
Sati, samādhi, and paññā are firmly established in the here and now due to one’s frequent contemplation, laying down the more coarse emotions. Mindfulness and wisdom probe into the physical body, seeing it more clearly, repeatedly investigating within the range of the body.
Once the mind has settled, we then take up the body for reflection to see the impermanence and selflessness of the body until the mind unifies again in concentration. When the mind withdraws from samādhi, and we wish to practice further, we then take up the body for further investigation. Contemplation alternates between the body and the emotions within the heart, hence weakening them. Greed and anger will ease off due to the arising of skilful means within the mind. The skilful means and methods used will, however, vary from person to person. We must find ways and means to contemplate that will free the heart of greed and anger—satisfaction and dissatisfaction—every time that these emotions arise. We have to destroy the kilesas, destroy any emotions; in other words, we let them go.
Practice like this in each and every moment that kilesas arise. If there are no defilements present and the mind is free of emotions, then bring up the body for investigation until seeing each part clearly. For example, head hair is clearly seen as something that is inherently dirty, so the mind lets go of any attachment towards it. As for skin, we reflect upon it so as to remove or let go of any doubts about its true nature. Teeth and bones are investigated by sati-paññā, they too being let go of once clearly seen and understood: what has been let go, falls away. If any doubts still remain regarding the body, then mindfulness and wisdom must further investigate on a more refined level, requiring the breaking down of the body into the elements of earth, water, air, and fire, or taking the contemplation further on into the body’s innate emptiness.
When the mind sees the unattractiveness of the body and that it’s comprised merely of elements, it will gather in samādhi. The heart will be free of attachment and clinging towards the body, even if only temporarily.
It becomes apparent to the heart that this is the path, the way leading to the realization of the Dhamma, for it enables one to let go of all attachment and clinging from one’s heart. Therefore when sīla, samādhi, and paññā coalesce into a single force, there will be the seeing of one’s own body as being impermanent and without self. One will also start to see that all material objects are inconstant: having come into existence, they must, as a consequence, break apart. The mind gives up attachment to its conventional view of reality. Dhamma of the first level thus arises. The kilesas are being cleansed away, little by little.
One constantly contemplates the body and the emotions of one’s mind until the body is truly understood. If one’s own body and those of others are truly seen as merely being elements complying with nature, then the heart will completely let go: putting down its attachment for one’s own body, the bodies of others and for all forms and materiality by recognizing that they are just elements according to nature. Everything in this world, whether it be the lives of humans, other sentient beings, or material objects, all will be viewed objectively, with equanimity. That is to say, the mind looks upon them as being mere elements in compliance with nature—all broken up and scattered in pieces. Regardless of whether it is one’s own body, those of others or all other material objects, all without exception come into being, exist, then break apart, being merely elements of earth, water, air, and fire. Within the heart, it is seen vividly, in its entirety. The heart lets go: in seeing, it just sees; in hearing, it just hears. Greed and anger cease, delusion towards the body ceases; lust and sensual pleasure have come to a final end. This is the first stage in giving up upādāna1—attachment and clinging towards the body. Throughout the day and night, the mind has only peace and tranquillity.
No longer remaining is the suffering that arises from greed. Gone is the suffering that stems from anger. Sensual attraction causes suffering no more because it’s finished—exhausted. Such a mind is free—free from attachment to one’s own body, the bodies of others and all material forms. In the heart, there is peace, happiness and tranquillity owing to the absence of any dukkha (suffering, unsatisfactoriness) that would normally arise due to one’s attachment to the physical body and material objects. The mind is now free from the human realm, the deva (celestial being) worlds, or from the lower Brahma worlds2. The mind will never be reborn into in these realms again, for there is no longer any home (body) for it to again take birth into.
There is a more refined type of becoming (wishing for existence) still remaining in the heart: that of the citta (mind/heart) deludedly clinging to the more subtle activities of the mind; they being, vedanā (feeling); saññā (memory); sankhārā (mental formations); vinññāna (sense-consciousness). All these are just conventional names for the mind’s activities.
Sati and samādhi are now automatic, being firmly grounded in the present moment. Even so, there are kilesas still present within the mind due to the citta grasping at whatever is present in the mind as being the mind itself; thus, it is stuck, deluded in the present moment due to mindfulness and wisdom not yet being refined enough to perceive the kilesas. Even though one has put down all thoughts and emotions regarding the past and future, the mind, however, is fooled by the present moment, clinging to it as being the mind.
Sometimes kilesas—the villain—can’t be detected because the mind is so calm and tranquil. Any sign of dukkha (discontent), albeit minute, rarely manifests due to its subtlety. Sati-paññā must again analyze and probe even further into the delicate workings of the citta, namely:
- Vedanā (feelings): feelings of the mind, be it happiness, dukkha (of which there is extremely little) or indifference. One must see that they are impermanent and devoid of self by having sati-paññā contemplating vedanā so as to let it go from the mind.
- Saññā (memory): The citta clings to and takes it for being the mind. When remembering or recognizing things, we understand and believe it to be ‘our’ memory, ‘our’ citta. Sati and paññā are naturally refined and will by their nature contemplate to see the impermanence and selflessness of memory; it arises and ceases and is not the mind. When this is seen clearly and constantly, it will be gradually let go off.
- Sankhārā (thinking and imagination): Sati-paññā recognizes that we have thoughts about a variety of good, wholesome topics and that they are merely conditions or states of mind. Mindfulness and wisdom investigate seeing more clearly that sankhārās are fleeting and without self.
- Viññānā (awareness or sense-consciousness): Sati-paññā begins to see more clearly being aware of happiness, dukkha and other objects of one’s awareness—by recognizing that this knowing or consciousness still has a ‘self’ present and that the ‘knower’ of one’s sensory consciousness still has kilesas. Sati-paññā must investigate the subtleties of viññānā to see its impermanence and absence of self.
Taken together, we reflect upon vedanā, saññā, sankhārā, and viññānā to see the ti-lakkhaṇa (three universal characteristics of all conditioned phenomena, i.e. impermanence, unsatisfactoriness and not self), reflecting upon them in all their subtle details. Finally, we turn the investigation back onto one’s own mind—the mind that grasps to the belief that it is the true, genuine mind, or that it is ‘the knower’. The teaching of the Buddha has us investigate, probing to destroy this ‘knower’ because this ‘one who knows’ is still defiled—‘the knower’ being no other than avijjā, or fundamental ignorance itself. Kilesas preside over the mind by letting moha (delusion) manipulate the mind into grasping its emotions and thoughts as being the mind itself.
The Buddha, therefore, taught us to come back to having mindfulness and wisdom reflecting to see the impermanence and non-existence of self in everything, removing from the heart that which we deludedly hold and cling to; namely, the emotions, thoughts, and conceptualizations which the mind mistakes for being the mind itself. Sati-paññā reverts to investigating and probing into this delusion by seeing its impermanence and absence of self until destroying it—giving it up so that pure knowing can arise.
All the Kroobā Ajahns, the forest meditation masters, conducted themselves and practiced for the purification of this very heart. The Dhamma practitioner, as a consequence, must work at the practice until attachment towards the physical body has been put down, along with attachment towards the emotions and thoughts within the mind until there is no holding or clinging to anything at all. Even though these matters are subtle, being beyond speculation or guesswork, we all should try to have an adequate enough understanding of the way or direction of practice: we must conduct ourselves and practice in sīla, samādhi, and paññā, so that the heart will have the mindfulness and wisdom to investigate this body and mind, seeing their impermanence and absence of self, for we’ve always clung to both of these as being ‘oneself’. This is the path of practice for the destroying or the abandoning of the kilesas from the heart. Therefore, the fundamental way of practice—that is direct and certain—is that which has been practiced by the Lord Buddha and his arahant disciples. If we stray from this path, the path of our esteemed teachers, it will be to our harm and detriment, for it will not be the path of practice for the knowing and seeing of the Dhamma—the transcendence of all suffering.
The various daily practices and observances, or any of the dhutanga practices, are therefore, the things that wear away at the kilesas. We must restrain the mind, always keeping it within the bounds of Dhamma-Vinaya in order for one’s body, speech, and mind to have a degree of calmness. We then must press on with our efforts to develop samādhi because one’s sati-paññā is not yet able to see the defilements that are still remaining within one’s heart. Hence, we must develop samadhi-bhāvanā so as to make the mind peaceful. As peacefulness arises within the mind, sati will perceive the mind’s emotions—seeing the kilesas that manifest within the heart. It is essential that sati-paññā investigates and contemplates the defilements in order to eliminate them, successively from the gross to the moderate until finally uncovering and removing the subtle kilesas.
Consequently, we haven’t come here to live and practice complacently. Each day and night are passing by, so we must be giving our total effort. When tired, take a rest—resting to fight again. Once the body is energetic and strong, and with the heart firmly established, we again take up the fight with the kilesas in one’s heart. Wearing this brown robe—the arahants’ flag of victory—puts us in a favorable position. We must have the aim and expectation of conquering the kilesas—which will require sati and paññā to defeat the greed, anger, and delusion within one’s heart. As long as we still have breath, mindfulness and wisdom, we will never give up trying to conquer the kilesas. Today we may be discouraged, so we have to contemplate, searching for ways to give rise to the confidence and effort that can one day defeat the kilesas. Take the practice of the Lord Buddha and the Arahant disciples for example—they gave up everything. They retreated to meditate in the forests, the mountains, and caves, never seeking out any material gain or veneration, only making use of the eight personal requisites of a monk (set of three robes, bowl, waist-belt, razor, needle, and water filter) and the four general requisites (robes, almsfood, dwelling place, and medicines for sickness) so as to go about their practice for one day and one night.
All of us, therefore, are presently living off the legacy of the Lord Buddha. We enjoy a comfortable existence, relying on the support of the laity who have faith in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. They contribute to the sustenance of this supreme dispensation of the Lord Buddha. In one’s heart, therefore, one should never forget why one chose to ordain. We depend upon the four requisites offered by the laity to practice Dhamma, so we must practice, as is befitting, for the transcendence of all suffering. Each day and night, we should exert ourselves to the fullest. When tired, take a rest to continue the battle against the kilesas—that's all. If one does this every day, relentlessly, the knowing of Dhamma will arise within one’s own heart.
Normally, regarding knowledge, we’ve heard a lot, listened a lot, and studied extensively. This is called knowledge or understanding, but it isn't the understanding or insight within one’s heart. From this knowledge, we bring about insight within one’s heart by practicing in sīla, samādhi, and paññā. The heart’s understanding will arise when we have mindfulness and wisdom, contemplating one’s own physical body to see that it’s impermanent and devoid of self. Also, contemplate the thoughts and emotions within one’s heart, recognizing that they are fleeting and without self—each one arises and passes away.
Sati-paññā contemplates viewing things like this—constantly seeing impermanence and the non-existence of self—to be called ‘seeing’; that is, the seeing or knowing within one’s heart. Once seen, disenchantment will arise, joy will arise, and there is letting go. This is called knowing within one’s heart. Sati-paññā probes and sees this frequently until clear realization arises in the heart. This is how it has to be for the arising of the Dhamma that has gradually, little by little and stage by stage, abandoned the defilements.
What we call the Dhamma is, at the first stage, the fruition of stream entry; at the second stage, the fruition of once-returning; at the third stage, the fruition of non-returning, and at the fourth stage, the attainment of arahantship. This is the arising of the Dhamma. If it is arahantship, it is the Dhamma in its complete, perfect wholeness. The heart is pure, free of greed, anger, and delusion—the absolute extinction of the kilesas. It is supreme happiness, just as the Lord Buddha said: ‘There is no happiness greater than peace’, meaning the peace of there being no defilements within the heart.
Therefore, we should all endeavor to put forth effort. We have heard and studied the Dhamma, as well as the texts, quite enough already. We know the way of practice, so let’s practice for the knowing and seeing of the Dhamma, following in the footsteps of the Lord Buddha and his arahant disciples.
For tonight, I offer just this much for you to reflect upon.