Shedding Tears in Amazement with Dhamma Venerable Ãcariya Mahã Boowa’s Dhamma Talk given at the age of 89 on the 2nd of May, 2002.
The basis of death exists precisely in the citta, as death and birth are both present within it. The citta itself is never born and never dies. Rather, the defiling influences that infiltrate and permeate the citta keep us in a repetitious cycle of birth, death and rebirth. Do you understand? Look at the citta. If you do not see the poisonous nature of the citta, you will fail to see the poisonous nature of these defilements. At the most advanced stage of practice, the mesmerizing and radiant citta is itself the real danger. So don’t think only of how precious and amazing the citta is, for danger lurks there. If you can view the citta from this angle, you will see the harm that lays buried within it. Do you understand what I mean? So long as you continue to hold the radiant citta in high esteem, you will be caught and remain at an impasse. It’s as simple as that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. When the time comes, you must sweep aside everything until nothing remains.
Preserve nothing. Whatever you leave untouched—that is the Ultimate Danger. Speaking of this reminds me of the time when I practiced at Wat Doi Dhammachedi. It was early in the morning, just before the meal. At that time my citta possessed a quality so amazing that it was incredible to behold. I was completely overawed with myself. I thought, “Oh my! Why is this citta so amazingly radiant?” I stood on my meditation track and contemplated its brightness, incredulous about how wondrous it appeared. But, in fact, this very radiance that I found so amazing represented the Ultimate Danger. Do you see my point?
We tend to fall for the radiant citta. In truth, I was enthralled and already deceived by it. You see, when nothing else remains, one concentrates on this final point of focus, which, as the center of the perpetual cycle of birth and death, actually manifests a condition of fundamental ignorance we call avijjã. This point of focus is the highest state of avijjã, the very pinnacle of the citta in saÿsãra. Since nothing else remained at that stage, I simply admired avijjã’s expansive radiance. Still, that radiance did have a focal point. It can be compared to the filament of a pressure lantern. The filament glows brightly, and the light streams out to illuminate the surrounding area. That was the crucial consideration, the one that so amazed and struck me with awe then, causing me to wonder, “Why is my citta so incredibly bright?” It seems as though it has completely transcended the world of saÿsãra. Look at that!” Such is the magnificent power that avijjã displays when we reach the final stage of practice. I didn’t yet realize that I had fallen for avijjã’s deception.
Then suddenly, spontaneously, a maxim of Dhamma arose, as if someone had spoken in my heart. How could I ever forget: If there is a point or a center of the knower anywhere, that is the nucleus of existence. Just like the bright center in the filament of a pressure lantern. Look at that! It told me exactly what I needed to know: this very point is the essence of existence. But even then, I could not grasp the meaning. I was bewildered. A point, a center … it meant the focal point of that radiance. I began investigating that “point” after the Venerable Ãcariya Mun passed away: If there is a point or a center of the knower anywhere, that is the nucleus of existence. Had he still lived then, my confusion would immediately have elicited this answer from him: It’s that focal point of the radiance! And then, that point would have instantly disintegrated. For as soon as I understood its significance, I would also have known its harmfulness, thus causing it to vanish. Instead, I was still carefully protecting and preserving it.
The Ultimate Danger, then, lies right there. The point of Ultimate Danger is the core of brilliant radiance that produces the entire world of conventional reality. I will remember always. It was the month of February. Venerable Ãcariya Mun’s body had just been cremated, and I had gone into the mountains. There I got stuck on this very problem. It completely bewildered me. In the end, I gained no benefit at all from the maxim of Dhamma that arose in my heart. Instead of being an enormous boon to me, it became part of the same enormous delusion that plagued me. I was confused: “Where is it, this point?” It was, of course, just that point of radiance, but it never occurred to me that the center of that radiant citta could be the Ultimate Danger. I still believed it to be the Ultimate Virtue.
This is how the kilesas deceive us. Although I had been warned that it was the Ultimate Danger, it still cast a spell on me, making me see it as the Ultimate Virtue. I’ll never forget how that dilemma weighed on me. Eventually I left Wat Doi Dhammachedi and went to Sri Chiang Mai in Ban Pheu district. I stayed there for three months, living deep in the forest at Pha Dak Cave, before returning to Wat Doi Dhammachedi with that mystery still weighing heavily on my mind. Then, while staying on the mountain ridge there, the problem was finally solved. When that decisive moment arrives, affairs of time and place cease to be relevant; they simply don’t intervene. All that appears is the splendid, natural radiance of the citta. I had reached a stage where nothing else was left for me to investigate. I had already let go of everything—only that radiance remained. Except for the central point of the citta’s radiance, the whole universe had been conclusively let go. So, can you understand what I mean: that this point is the Ultimate Danger?
At that stage, supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom converged on the focal point of the citta to call it to account, concentrating the force of the whole investigation on that point. I reached the stage where I wondered why one citta had so many different aspects. I can state unequivocally that every aspect of the citta was known, and each known aspect was subject to change. No sooner was it grasped, than it changed. One aspect was seen as being good, another as being bad. The investigation centered on that point, analyzing everything, trying to understand: “Why does this one single citta have so many different aspects? It’s as though it is not unified.” No matter which aspect of the citta came under investigation, all of its possible permutations were clearly understood according to the profound subtlety of that level of practice where supreme-mindfulness and supremewisdom worked together. Combined, the two forces were able to keep up with all the citta’s variations, no matter how subtle. One moment it’s bright, the next moment it’s tarnished.
“Why does this citta have so many different aspects? The changes come from within. See! I’m beginning to catch up with them now. One moment there’s sukha, the next moment there’s dukkha.” In the realm of conventional reality, such conditions are invariably an integral part of the citta. With nothing else to investigate, supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom concentrated directly at the point where the changes occurred. One moment there was sukha, the next moment dukkha; one moment, brightness, the next moment, a slight dullness. But you must understand that the shifts from sukha to dukkha, or from brightness to dullness, were so slight that they were just barely discernible. Nonetheless, supreme-mindfulness was right on top of them the entire time. “Why does the citta have so many variations?” At that juncture, mindfulness dropped everything else and turned its full attention to the prime suspect. Every aspect of the investigation came together in the citta, and all of them were interrelated. For at the highest level, supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom are so extremely subtle that they permeate and penetrate everything without exception.
Supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom at this paramount level differ from the automatic mindfulness and wisdom that are used to reach that final stage. Automatic mindfulness and wisdom work in unison without prompting. They investigate things in successive stages, chopping them to pieces, section by section. At the paramount level, supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom also work in unison without prompting, but they permeate everything simultaneously. At that time, they were examining the citta’s central point of focus. All other matters had been examined and discarded; there remained only that one small point of “knowingness”. It became obvious that both sukha and dukkha issued from that source. Brightness and dullness—the differences arose from the same origin. Why was it that one citta had so many different characteristics? Then, in one spontaneous instant, Dhamma answered the question. Instantaneously—just like that! This is called “Dhamma arising in the heart.”
Kilesas arising in the heart are forces that bind us; Dhamma arising in the heart frees us from bondage. Dhamma arose suddenly, unexpectedly, as though it were a voice in the heart: Whether it is dullness or brightness, sukha or dukkha, all such dualities are anattã. There! Ultimately, it was anattã that excised those things once and for all. This final, conclusive insight could arise as any one of the ti-lakkhaõa, depending on a person’s character and temperament. But for me personally it was anattã. The meaning was clear: Let everything go. All of them are anattã. Suddenly, in comprehending that these differing aspects— dullness, brightness, sukha, and dukkha—are all anattã, the citta became absolutely still. Having concluded unequivocally that everything is anattã, it had no room to maneuver. The citta came to rest—impassive, still, in that level of Dhamma. It had no interest in attã or anattã, no interest in sukha or dukkha, brightness or dullness.
The citta resided at the center, neutral and placid. But it was impassive with supreme-mindfulness and supremewisdom; not vacantly impassive, gaping foolishly like the rest of you. Speaking in mundane terms, it seemed inattentive; but, in truth, it was fully aware. The citta was simply suspended in a still, quiescent condition. Then, from that neutral, impassive state of the citta, the nucleus of existence—the core of the knower—suddenly separated and fell away. Having finally been reduced to anattã, brightness and dullness and everything else were suddenly torn asunder and destroyed once and for all. In that moment when avijjã flipped over and fell from the citta, the sky appeared to be crashing down as the entire universe trembled and quaked. For, in truth, it is solely avijjã that causes us to wander constantly through the universe of saÿsãra. Thus, when avijjã separated from the citta and vanished, it seemed as if the entire universe had fallen away and vanished along with it. Earth, sky—all collapsed in an instant. Do you understand? No one sat in judgment at that decisive moment. That natural principle arose on its own and passed its own judgement.
The universe then collapsed on its own. Originating from a neutral state of the citta, the happening took place all so suddenly: in an instant the entire cosmos seemed to flip over and disappear. It was so brilliant! Oh my! Really and truly magnificent! Too extraordinary to be captured in words. Such is the amazing nature of the Dhamma that I now teach. Tears flowed when I experienced it. Look at me even now! Even now my tears are flowing at the recollection of that event. These tears are the work of the khandhas. Please understand that they do not exist in the natural state of purity that appeared at that moment. That natural state appeared suddenly, in all of its incredible magnificence. I want all of you who are so complacent to realize what the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha is really like. Oh! So truly, truly amazing! My goodness, the tears came streaming down my face. Utterly astounded, I exclaimed: “Is this how the Lord Buddha attained Enlightenment? Is this how he attained Enlightenment? Is this what true Dhamma is like?”
It was something that I had never conceived or imagined. It simply arose, unexpected, in an instant. Oh! Indescribably amazing! Look at me. I am crying even now as I remember how amazing it was. The memory is still fresh in my mind. It has remained with me ever since. My whole body trembled at that moment. It’s difficult to explain. Everything happened at once: the sky came crashing down and the world completely vanished. Whereupon, I kept repeating: “What? Is this how the Lord Buddha attained Enlightenment?” But actually it was unnecessary to ask because I had encountered the Truth myself. “Is this what the true Dhamma is like? Is this what the true Sangha is like?” All three had come together, merging into one supreme, remarkable Dhamma—what I call the Dhamma-element.
“What? How can the Lord Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha be one and the same thing?” I had never imagined it to be possible. “The Buddha is the Buddha. The Dhamma is the Dhamma. The Sangha is the Sangha.” This had been impressed in my heart ever since I was old enough to understand such matters. But at the moment when the Supreme Dhamma arose in all its brilliance, all three were of one and the same nature—the true nature of amazing Dhamma. Once it arose in all its brilliance, things that had lain in obscurity, things I never knew, were suddenly illuminated and revealed. I’m not fabricating a fantasy to deceive people. Even now that extraordinary Dhamma moves and amazes me. It is all-embracing, an encompassing luminosity that lights up the entire cosmos, revealing everything. Nothing remains hidden or concealed.
Then the consequences of good and evil and the existence of heaven and hell strike one with the irrefutable force of the obvious. I wish they could strike all you skeptics with such force; all of you who have allowed the kilesas to deceive you into believing that there is no such thing as the consequences of evil, no such thing as the consequences of goodness, no such thing as heaven and hell. They have existed since time immemorial and they have been all-pervasive. You just have not perceived them yet. Do you understand? These things have existed always. They continue to harm those who are foolishly ignorant of their existence and so blinded by the kilesas’ deceptions that they never glimpse the truth. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE HOTTER than the fires of hell? Conventionally, there are five crimes which are the most heinous of all and five blazing hell-fires that correspond with them.
The five most heinous crimes are: patricide, matricide, killing an Arahant, physically harming a Buddha, and actively instigating a schism in the Sangha. All five of these evil kammas are known in the heart. And they all become clearly obvious at that enlightening moment. Then there is no need to ask where heaven and hell are located. The Buddha did not tell lies. These things were clearly known by him as well, and he described them just as he saw them. Ahh! This supreme Dhamma is strange and miraculous beyond belief. It encompasses absolutely everything within the heart. When the evidence is so clear, what need is there to inquire further? This absolute clarity is in complete harmony with the heart, so it is unnecessary to ask questions. Later, as I turned my attention to investigating my past lives, it was terrifying to think how many times I had been born and how many times I had died; how many times I was reborn in hell; and how many times in the heavens and the Brahma realms, only to fall back into hell again. It appeared as though the citta was climbing up and down a flight of stairs. But the citta itself never dies.
Do you understand this? The citta never dies. Kamma is buried there in the citta. Good kamma leads the citta upward to the heavens and the Brahma realms. Then, when the good kamma is exhausted, the bad kamma that has lain buried pulls the citta down into the realms of hell. It is as if the citta were climbing up and down a flight of stairs. Do you understand? This is the way it is, so wake up and take notice. Today I have revealed everything fully—to the extent that tears streamed down my face for all of you to see. Is this madness, or is it virtue? Think about it. Listen carefully to the Dhamma that I teach to the world. I can say unequivocally: My citta has no courage and it has no fear. It is completely above such emotions. So I turned my attention to investigating my own past births. My goodness! If the corpses of this one individual were scattered across the length and breadth of Thailand, there would not be an empty space left. Just this one individual! Imagine the amount of time it took to be born and to die that many times!
It would be impossible to count all the births and deaths. There were far, far too many to even try. My thoughts also spread to all the innumerable corpses of each person in the world. Each and every citta of each and every living being has exactly the same history of repeated births and deaths. Everyone is equal in this respect. Stretching back indefinitely, everyone’s past is crowded with countless corpses. It was an unbearable sight. Consequently, I felt disgust as I reviewed my past lives. My goodness! Having been reborn so many times, I still struggled, continuously, to be born again and again. If Dhamma had not finally passed judgment, then I would have carried on indefinitely in this manner. I investigated in this way, examining the nature of the world; and the more I did, the more unbearable it became. I saw the same situation everywhere. Every living being in the whole universe is caught in the same vicious cycle. In this respect, all are equal. Then, a feeling of discouragement arose without warning in my heart.
I thought: “How will I ever be able to teach people this Dhamma? What is the point of teaching? Since true Dhamma is like this, how can it possibly be presented so that others will be able to know and understand it? Wouldn’t it be better to live out the rest of my life and then simply pass on?” There! Do you see? I was disheartened. I felt little incentive to teach. As if, having found an escape route, I was satisfied to escape alone. I could see no benefits arising from teaching others. That is how I considered the matter at first. But that wasn’t the end of it. Occurring spontaneously in my heart, my reflection on this matter continued to develop in stages. Looking at the state of the world, I felt discouraged. I saw people who lived in total darkness as being hopeless. Being so blind that they’re worthless, the Buddha called such people padaparama. Gazing further up the scale, I saw the types of people known as neyya and vipacitaññý.
Persons in the neyya category are capable of being trained in the way of Dhamma. Sometimes they make progress, sometimes they lose ground. Neyya individuals are fully capable of understanding the Teaching and putting it into practice. Should they be careless, however, they’ll lose ground. But if they are earnest in their practice, they can progress rapidly. Depending on the degree of commitment, neyya can go either way. Vipacitaññý individuals always progress toward the goal; they never lose ground. Still, their progress is slower than that of ugghaåitaññý, individuals whose intuitive wisdom is so sharp that they’re always fully prepared to make a decisive breakthrough. Were they cattle, they would be waiting at the corral gate. As soon as the gate opened, they’d come rushing out. Ugghaåitaññý are capable of the kind of quick understanding that allows them to pass beyond in one moment of insight. All living beings must fall into one of these four categories. As I investigated the nature of the world, it separated naturally, of its own accord, into these four types of individuals. I could see that superior individuals existed in that multitude of humanity which I had felt so discouraged about teaching.
Ugghaåitaññu: they were fully prepared to cross beyond in an instant. In descending order: there were vipacitaññý, those progressing quickly toward the goal; then, the neyya, whose desire to lie down and take it easy competes with their desire to be diligent. Do you see what I mean? Those two opposing forces are vying for supremacy within their hearts. And finally padaparama: those who are human in physical appearance only. They have gained nothing at all to enhance their future prospects. Death for such people is death without distinction. There is only one possible direction they can go—down. And they fall further and further with each successive death. The way up is blocked, for they have gained absolutely nothing beneficial to take along with them. They can only go down. Remember this well! This teaching comes straight from my heart. Do you think I am bluffing and telling you deliberate falsehoods? When compared with a heart that’s absolutely pure, the world is one big refuse bin, containing different grades of garbage.
From the highest, ugghaåitaññu, to the lowest and most common grade, padaparama, all possible types are gathered together in the same great receptacle. The entire world of conventional reality is one big contaminated mix of good things and bad things. Do you understand? In my investigation, I sifted through this huge pile of garbage and uncovered four distinct grades of living beings. Out of that investigation, a realization then arose that countered the discouragement which made me reluctant to teach others the way. An inspirational thought emerged suddenly in the citta: “If this Dhamma is so supreme, so superb that no one can possibly comprehend it, am I then some kind of divine being? What about me? How was it that I came to realize this Dhamma? What was the reason? What brought about this realization?” As I considered the cause, my thoughts seized on the path of practice that had led me to that realization. It was the same path that the Lord Buddha had taught: dãna, sïla, bhãvanã.
This was the path that led me to that point. There is no other way to reach it. Reviewing my past practice, I conceded that the same path could lead others there as well. Maybe there were only a few, but there definitely were some who could make it. I could not deny that. The awareness that it would benefit at least some people encouraged me to begin teaching those who were worthy to be taught. After that, monks began to gather around me in the forests and mountains where I lived, and I taught them to be resolute in their practice. Gradually, little by little, my teaching began to spread, until it extends far and wide today. Now people from across Thailand and around the world come to listen to Ãcariya Mahã Boowa expound the Dhamma.
Some travel here to hear me talk in person; some listen to taped recordings of my talks that are broadcast throughout Thailand on the radio and the Internet. I can assure you that the Dhamma I teach does not deviate from those principles of truth that I myself have realized. Do you understand me? The Lord Buddha taught the same message that I am conveying to you. Having said this, I want to exclaim Sãdhu! Although I am a mere mouse compared to the Buddha, the confirmation of that realization is right here in my heart. All that I have fully realized within myself concurs with everything that the Lord Buddha taught. Nothing that I have realized contradicts the Lord Buddha in any way. The teaching that I present is based on principles of truth which I have long since wholeheartedly accepted. That’s why I teach people with such vigor as I spread my message throughout Thailand. Speaking conventionally, I talk boldly as if I were a conquering hero. But the Supreme Dhamma in my heart is neither bold nor fearful. It has neither loss nor gain, neither victory nor defeat. Consequently, my teaching emanates from pure, unadulterated compassion.
For example, if I see a dog-fight and proceed to pull them apart to stop them from biting each other, I don’t have any interest in who’s winning and who’s losing. It’s the dogs who care. They are the ones who are biting, so, they are the ones in pain. I simply grab and separate them so they will stop biting each other. Such is the nature of Dhamma. Dhamma tries to separate people who are always quarreling, always arguing over who is right and who is wrong. This is akin to what I’ve said about present-day Thailand. The comparison is appropriate. Let the Dhamma speak for itself. At this time I am very involved with the world. No one is more involved than Ãcariya Mahã Boowa. By that I mean that I am constantly engaged in separating the dogs of this world so they won’t keep biting each other. These days, both lay people and monks act like dogs, shoving themselves forward and howling noisily as they fight for the honors. So I teach them Dhamma, which is equivalent to separating and restoring calm among fighting dogs.
Dhamma represents the Truth. If we relinquish all that is false and hold only to that which is true, then both the people in our society and the monks who uphold the sãsana will live in peace. But since all the dogs—both the good and the evil ones—are fighting right now, the country is in turmoil. The Buddhasãsana regards people’s hearts as the main staging ground. This great arena is now being broken up and scattered because those dogs are staging a dogfight in the one area which is most sacred to the hearts of all Thais—the Buddhasãsana. So I ask them all to cease and desist, for no benefit can be gained from fighting like dogs. For, in truth, there are no winners, only losers. Both those who win and those who lose are hurt in equal measure. So disengage, stand back, and accept reason as your guiding principle. In that way, Thailand, its citizens and the sãsana will all have peace and happiness. Nothing disastrous will then befall the country. Those who bare their teeth and boast that they are championing a just cause are, without exception, already badly defeated.
No one is right, because arguing is always wrong. Just like two boxers slugging it out in the ring, both the winner and the loser come away battered and bruised. Who can take pride in that? It’s not something to boast about. Arguing fosters bitterness and resentment in both parties. It becomes a battle of views and opinions, an attempt to glorify oneself that degenerates into a shouting match where no one listens to reason. Such dogs have taken the whole of Thailand as their battleground and, if they continue, they are bound to leave the country in ruin. I want people on all sides to think about what I’ve said. With total sincerity, I have just shed my own tears in an attempt to present this Dhamma for the Thai people to hear. If you stop your bickering now, no misfortune will occur. Were we to speak in worldly terms about winning, then those who are right will win for the sake of a righteous cause, while those who admit wrong and accept defeat for the same righteous cause are also winners.
Then both sides will unite and live in perfect harmony. But for those who snap at each other without giving in, there can never be winners or losers among them—only blood-covered parties on both sides. Is that acceptable? I don’t want to see that happen. Thailand is a Buddhist country. I don’t want to hear that the Buddhist faithful are fighting with each other like dogs and spattering their blood throughout the sacred monasteries of our land. So please abandon this madness. Ultimately, the regions of hell, and the heavens, the brahma worlds and Nibbãna will vouch for who is right and who is wrong, who is virtuous and who is evil. So never make the mistake of believing yourself above a fall into the deepest hell. Don’t display those self-righteous opinions that deviate so much from the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha. The Land of Dhamma is the heavens and Nibbãna, which are the domains of all virtuous individuals. Such aberrant views will merely drag you down to the level of biting and gnarling dogs, and bring incalculable ruin in their wake. Such talk will lead only to a bloody dogfight. Remember this well! Today I have explained everything to my utmost.
It is now 53 years since I attained that Supreme Dhamma. Today I have described that experience for your benefit. Never thwarted, never frustrated, this Dhamma is always sound and correct. It expresses itself perfectly to suit the circumstances that arise. For instance, today it expressed itself with such force that the tears of Ãcariya Mahã Boowa poured forth for everyone to see. This is an expression of Dhamma’s amazing propensity, and it is this very same Dhamma that I teach people. I never teach Dhamma in a casual manner—I always teach it in earnest. As I explained many times, I was always inclined to sacrifice my life for the sake of Dhamma. No one would believe how much effort I put into the practice. Since others have not done what I have, they cannot imagine the extraordinary effort I put into attaining this Supreme Dhamma. But I did exert such effort, and these are the results. It demonstrates the power of uncompromising diligence when it is used for Dhamma. The more determination, the better. Then one can die victorious, not badly defeated. Remember this well.
Author : Ajahn Maha Boowa Nanasampanno Translated by : Ajaan Dick Silaratano