All the Buddhas attain their enlightenment through the realization of the Dhamma that is inherent in this world. All of them attained the same knowledge and insight, and their teaching was all the same and conforms to the highest ethical and moral principles. They did not teach the Dhamma in an aberrant or corrupt manner like the Buddhist followers of today who are indecorous and ostentatious, trying to outdo the Lord Buddha. There are many of them, despite the fact that the ideal way of teaching is still extant. But they just don’t want to follow it, because they simply want to be famous and distinguished. If one follows the principles of the Dhamma teaching, then one will be free of errors, flawless and impeccable.
Whether one is a bhikkhu or a layperson, one will be possessed with sīla or morality and Dhamma. If one just practices following the principles of the Dhamma teaching that one has faith in, then how can one ever get into trouble? The cause for schism in various sects is the conduct that goes against the Dhamma-vinaya, crushing and trampling on the Dhamma-vinaya, which are the truth; thus replacing the Dhamma teaching of the Lord Buddha with the kilesas by thinking that this is the proper and correct way of doing things. If they are in accord with one’s preferences and obsessions, then they must be right. These ways then keep on growing. These are the grosser kind of kilesas. Concerning the more subtle ones that are found within the heart of everyone, including those of us practitioners who have been constantly fooled by their tricks, what are they?
They are hatred, anger, and the obsessions with our feelings and emotions that are created by our thinking and concocting, which are influenced by the kilesas, with ourselves being totally unaware of them and are totally engrossed and immersed in them. They are all found within the heart of everyone. The Lord Buddha expounded that all of them are harmful and dangerous. Love, hatred, anger, animosity, and our obsession for the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and emotions are all harmful. They are influenced and created by the kilesas that give rise to delusion and infatuation. The Dhamma has already pointed this out, but we are always enticed and hypnotised by them. If we do not fall for them or be captivated by them, how can the heart not find any calm? We have to be vigilant, take care of our thinking and concocting, and curb the confusion and chaos of the heart that the kilesas create by manipulating saññā and saṅkhāra to afflict our hearts with trouble and hardship. This is something that we haven’t yet seen the harm of. When the mind has not attained calm, then it is already obvious that it is being afflicted with harm.
This damage is the state of confusion and restlessness which prevents the mind from coming to calm. The reason why the mind cannot be calm is because of the agitating and disturbing influences that reside inside the mind. If the practitioner doesn’t reflect on their harm, then he will not be able to find anything worthwhile. The wonderful quality of the mind, which is the state of calm, will not appear. We have to constantly see them as harmful and be very careful and vigilant. If we are not, how can we expect to come across the magga, phala, and Nibbāna? If they constantly obstruct the magga, phala, and Nibbāna, how can we ever realize them when every time we think, our thoughts always go in the way of the kilesas? Whatever we concoct or turn our mind to various thoughts, it is never about the Dhamma, but always about the kilesas, taṇhā, and āsava. How then can we ever come across the magga, phala, and Nibbāna? We as practitioners must think like this.
The kilesas are always influencing saṅkhāra and saññā. As far as the sight and sound and the other sense objects are concerned, the kilesas only influence them when they come into contact with the sense organs. This happens from time to time. It is the feelings and emotions which arise from sensual contacts that disturb and agitate us that we ceaselessly think about and concoct. Whatever we concoct, it is always the work of the kilesas, not the work of Dhamma, not the work of sati and paññā. If paññā investigates and contemplates, then it is the work of Dhamma. When saṅkhāra thinks with Dhamma, analysing and differentiating the element aggregates, reflecting and contemplating with discernment; then it will go in the way of Dhamma. Our perception or saññā must follow the investigation, like following a painted line. This is what saññā has to do. Then it will be in accordance with the Dhamma. But as it is, 95% of the time it is the work of the kilesas. Even the remaining 5% hardly ever goes in the way of the Dhamma.
Thus, in the practice of Dhamma, we hardly ever come across and clearly perceive the Dhamma within our heart, the state of calm that is not really that far away from us at all. As soon as we curb and restrain our emotions with sati, the state of calm will appear. If we cannot calm our hearts and free them from these disturbing and agitating influences, how then are we going to come up with the magga, phala, and Nibbāna? I have explained this to you countless times—more frequently than the kilesas have swarmed over your heart. By now you should be able to bear it in mind and take it up for contemplation and investigation. The work of overcoming and uprooting the kilesas is a herculean task. There is nothing more tenacious than the kilesas, and I myself have already experienced this. I really had to put all of my life into it.
Looking back at the way I practiced, I cannot help but be in awe of the way I struggled, for now I would not be able to put forth that kind of effort. That is how intense it was. My physical condition is no longer favorable for this kind of exertion, and neither do I have the determination. These days, I am just passing my days doing nothing, living an ambitionless existence. There is no ambition, even for the magga, phala, and Nibbāna, and this is not being contemptuous of them. I am speaking about my state of mind, as there is now a great contrast to before. All I had then was the intent and steadfast determination for the Dhamma and for the magga, phala, and Nibbāna, the state of freedom. When one’s aspirations are at this extreme, then everything is geared towards and concentrated on one’s goal which acts like a magnet that attracts every facet of one’s exertion, endurance, and perseverance. One’s diligent effort, endurance, perseverance, and one’s tenacity and aggressiveness will all come by themselves.
This is because one’s heart is full to the brim with one’s determination and aspiration for the magga, phala, and Nibbāna. Nothing can easily undermine this resolve. One can readily shake the kilesas loose, even though one hasn’t yet developed one’s sati and paññā to a very high level. One’s determination is very strong and powerful. Regardless of how toilsome and arduous one’s exertion is, one just keeps on persevering, and keeps on fighting and struggling with these extremely tenacious kilesas. One cannot do it lightly, taking it easy and letting the heart drift aimlessly. One must be firmly grounded with truth and rationality. Having an unshakable conviction for the Dhamma is a crucial basis for the heart. Once one has a firm belief in the Dhamma, then one has to follow the instruction of the Dhamma. When the Dhamma says that we have to resist, we must resist. For instance, when we want to see something, we have to resist this urge. And when we want to listen to the things that go in the wrong way, and which promote the growth of the kilesas and are harmful for us, then we must not listen.
Whatever we crave, we have to resist that craving, and this is not only about hearing and seeing. If there is any desire that goes in the way of the kilesas, we must resist it. There is pain in resisting the kilesas, but let us face this pain. This pain is for the overcoming and eliminating the kilesas that have been afflicting us and are embedded within the heart for a very long time. We are fighters, we must resist. If we are going to uproot the perils and poisons within the heart, we must act like a fighter—tough and hardy, enduring and persevering. Once we have established this crucial understanding, then everything will be manageable. We will not be concerned with the four living requisites which are food, shelter, clothing, and medicines; for our interest now is all focused on the Dhamma, and ultimately on the magga, phala, and Nibbāna, the state of deliverance.
This intense interest is so forceful that it blocks all the other things from distracting the heart. We exist solely for the practice that will lead us to freedom. When we eat, we only eat so that we can nurture our freedom, and when we go to sleep, it is only for the purpose of resting and re-strengthening the body so that we can exert for the freedom inside our hearts. Everything that we do is solely for this purpose. When our determination is this intense, then we will naturally become very tough and strong. Have the magga, phala, and Nibbāna really faded away? Where are they now? They are found right within the heart. They are being concealed by the kilesas, making the heart worthless, lacking in moral excellence. This is because the kilesas have wiped them all out.
Can’t we yet see the harm of the kilesas? They have wiped out all the goodness and all the admirable and marvelous qualities of our hearts. The attributes that are appearing now are all created by the kilesas. We are merely substituting the genuine for the fake qualities. Aren’t we ever disgusted with them? We have to look up to those teachers who are renowned and are revered by many bhikkhus, sāmaṇeras, and the laity. We have to look at the way they have practiced. I have already talked to Tan Ajaan Khao, who was terribly intense and resolute in his exertion. He told me that through one’s exertion, one can get carried away with oneself without being aware of it, becoming fanatical. One can discipline oneself to the extent where it becomes damaging to oneself. This is due to one’s aggressiveness and tenacity. In the application of one’s exertion, one must therefore be flexible, enterprising and versatile. This is what he related to me. He was really rigorous and resolute.
He also talked about the time that he was staying with his teacher in Chiang Mai, and also in the various places that he put forth his exertion. It was an uphill struggle for him. His striving was rendered difficult due to his age. When he was ordained as a bhikkhu, he was already quite old and already had a family. His teacher also tried very hard—being aloof, delighting in solitude and seclusion. He just wouldn’t allow anybody to come close to him. He was Tan Ajaan Mun. When Tan Ajaan Mun went to live in Chiang Mai, Tan Ajaan Khao tried to follow him, and eventually caught up with him and sought permission to stay with him, and listen to his Dhamma teaching. With his strenuous exertion, he put his whole life into it. I have also talked with Tan Ajaan Brom, and it was very satisfying. He had already transcended and achieved the ultimate goal when he was living in Chiang Mai.
All of these teachers were really resolute and determined. The chance of coming across the magga, phala, and Nibbāna is very slim if one just lives casually. Tan Ajaan Kum Dee was also very resolute and strong-willed, but his personality has now completely turned around. He said that before, he was very stubborn and unyielding, but that was due to the intensity of his resolve. He has now changed. That was what he said. One who is going to combat and conquer the kilesas must always be strong and forceful, and always opposing and resisting. One must not see anything better than the Dhamma appearing in the mind. Then the mind will be sublime, due to the Dhamma that one has cultivated.
The mind becomes awful, terrible and totally worthless when it comes under the influence of the kilesas. There are many of these kilesas that obscure and prevent one from seeing the truth. The kilesas, taṇhā, and rāga, are like fires that constantly consume the heart. It is hot when one is standing, sitting or lying down. In all postures one is always afflicted with this heat. One is totally overwhelmed with this annoyance, and one looks at everything in the wrong light. This is because the heart is in the wrong—it is being poisoned and is injurious to itself. One cannot remain calm and cool when one sees one’s colleagues. One is vexed and edgy, finding faults with others as a means of venting the kilesas that are consuming one’s mind. This can actually happen. No matter how transcendent one’s teacher might be, one cannot perceive it because the kilesas which have completely enveloped the mind are not marvelous. How then can the mind see those wonderful and supreme qualities? It can only see whatever the kilesas direct it to see. We must, therefore, discipline and train ourselves. We really must achieve this.
At least we should attain calm, so that we can clearly see the result from our sitting in meditation. This will at least bring forth samādhi, concentration of the heart that is not beyond the training and disciplining of our hearts. We have been neglecting the mind for too long. In looking for benefit for ourselves, we have to make an assessment of the value of the stream of thoughts that has been constantly flowing for such a long time. What have we come up with from this thinking? We have been constantly following it and have been captivated by it. The more we oblige these thoughts, the more fuel we put on the fire that produces our trouble and hardship. Are we still going to persist in cooperating with these thoughts, to become enchanted and mesmerized by them, while we are wide awake? We have to ponder this. This is called Dhamma, the means of coping with the kilesas. If we don’t develop sati and paññā, then we will never overcome the kilesas. We will only be groping and doing guesswork.
When we sit meditating, we only sit as a mere token. And when we experience minor pain and difficulties while the mind hasn’t yet attained calm, we will simply give up and go to sleep, which is merely a way of nurturing the kilesas. The more strength we gain from this sleeping, then the more the kilesas and rāga-taṇhā will be enhanced.
We have to make comparisons and make assessments so that we can see things clearly. Then it will be possible for us to struggle with them. Why can’t we dig and search and come up with the Dhamma, so that we can use it to compete and wrestle with the kilesas? When we are inclined to apply reason and Dhamma to liberate us from dukkha, we will surely achieve this one day. It will happen inevitably to one who likes to contemplate and reason things out for the purpose of liberating himself by using whatever logical arguments that he can come up with. People do not become brilliant from the first day of their birth. We all carry ignorance with us, as we are all born in the midst of the kilesas that cause all living beings to be ignorant of the Dhamma.
To become wise, we have to depend on Dhamma, our teacher, and the work of disciplining and training ourselves. Our behavior and bearing will steadily rise above average as the heart becomes steadily developed due to our exertion. For this reason, the work of development, learning, and hearing, are extremely crucial. We can be really captivated and enchanted by listening to the Dhamma of a teacher whose practices and attainments are indisputable. For one who has truly become enlightened, he will not speak with uncertainty and vagueness that will cause doubts to arise in the listener. Whatever he says is always true and valid because he has already truly experienced them, both the ways of practice that he has cultivated and the corresponding results. So when he talks about them, like the Lord Buddha when he expounded and proclaimed the Dhamma to the world, how can he be wrong?
The Dhamma discourses that can be accounted for number only 84,000, which as I see it is very small indeed. I really agree with what Tan Ajaan Mun said about this matter. He said that the Dhamma found within the scriptures is comparable to the water filling a jar. The 84,000 Dhamma discourses are comparable to the water inside a jar. It is hardly a great number. But the Dhamma not found in the texts is similar to the water in the ocean. How wide and how deep is this?
And how great is the difference between them? He knows about this because he practiced every day of his life and was experiencing and perceiving the Dhamma every day. The mind was really impressed with these dhammas and was able to understand their various aspects. The depths and profundity of his Dhamma is immeasurable, for his mind was no longer involved or entangled with anything. It was the mind of one who had already attained freedom. He said that it was a great pleasure and very gratifying to experience these dhammas. The mind is like a large fish in the ocean that has plenty of room to move around as the ocean is very large and extensive and the fish is enormous. For the heart that has attained ultimate purity, how can its Dhamma experience be limited to a certain level of profundity and subtlety? There is no bound and limit for this heart.
It can freely and easily go anywhere, for there are no longer kilesas to entangle and shackle it. When it is tied up with and constantly surrounded by the kilesas, then it is not possible for it to roam about freely. It is totally restrained and prevented by the kilesas from going anywhere. The kilesas are all over it. One lives and thinks with the kilesas. One’s thoughts all go in the way of the kilesas. Everything is influenced by the kilesas, making it impossible for the Dhamma to appear. But when the kilesas have been totally vanquished and one attains freedom, then it will be just like what Tan Ajaan Mun had described. Wherever he sat, the Dhamma experience arose continuously. He was convinced that the knowledge and insight that the Lord Buddha and the noble disciples who had attained freedom must have been immeasurably extensive and enormous. Their Dhamma experiences are like the sky and the oceans that have no bounds or limits. He said this based on his own personal experience. He had complete faith in the enlightenment and wisdom of the Lord Buddha and the noble disciples.
He said that he had no doubt at all. What I wrote in his biography was just a brief sketch of the essence of what he said. When I listened to his Dhamma talks, I was so captivated. It was very impressive and pleasant to listen to, for it was the ‘one who knows’ who spoke. This is what Dhamma is like.
When the mind cowers, it really cowers, and when it is gloomy, it is really gloomy. When it is overpowered by the kilesas, it can become really gloomy. But as soon as one has eliminated the kilesas, the elegance and serenity of the mind will then appear. These qualities will be realized inside the mind. When the kilesas steadily diminish, then these mental qualities will steadily appear, because they are an integral part of the mind. The reason why they are not apparent is due to the filth that envelope them. The mind then becomes filthy, corrupted, worthless and undesirable. Is dukkha desirable? How then does it manage to overwhelm our hearts? Nobody wants dukkha. But we cannot avoid experiencing this dukkha, as it is inside our mind, and we are not yet capable of eliminating it with our sati, paññā, saddhā, and viriya. We, therefore, have to endure it. In any case, we are fighters and must not retreat.
We have to be firm and strong, as this is very crucial for us. We have to train ourselves to be earnest. Don’t be frivolous and vacillating, like a post that is stuck in a pile of buffalo dung that keeps falling down. Don’t toy with your practice, for then you will never be able to come up with any result. Whatever you do, you have to be serious, really commit yourselves, for you are the practitioners. If you are serious and earnest in what you do, then you will become powerful. When it is time for you to exert yourselves in the work of overcoming and eliminating the kilesas, you must be serious and earnest. When you are serious and earnest with your other tasks, it is not only fruitful for them, but it will also be fruitful for the mind and fruitful for the work of eliminating the kilesas, because it will also make the mind serious and earnest. This is vital.
I have to talk to you about this out of my concern for you although it is inconvenient for me. I put in my effort to teach you because I have already seen the harm of the kilesas and have seen how they trample and damage the heart. Sometimes they trampled all over me right in front of my eyes, as I didn’t have the strength to resist them. But when I was able to muster up enough energy, I then attacked them at full force. I was seething with rage and vengeance, but as I was not able to fight them, I was forced to endure them. But I was really enraged and boiling inside. However, when I had accumulated enough sati and paññā, I then went on the offensive.
When I had established enough sati, I was able to make the mind attained calm and free it from the confusion and madness inside. I then felt relaxed and at ease. This is samādhi, or the state of calm. Once the mind has attained calm, then it will become restful, comfortable, satiated and not craving for anything. After it withdraws from the state of calm, if you tell it to investigate and contemplate with paññā, it will do so. It is unlike the time when the mind is hankering and craving for things. The mind will not investigate with paññā and come up with anything worthwhile. It just keeps beating around the bush and turning the investigation into speculation. Whatever it investigates it will turn into speculation. That is why the Lord Buddha said that paññā that is being supported by samādhi is of great result and benefit. Samādhi acts as the sustenance for paññā. Once the mind has attained calm and investigates with paññā, it will be paññā. The level of paññā will correspond to the level of samādhi. This will keep steadily progressing until paññā becomes incisive and brilliant. The more one comes across one’s results of practice, then the more one will become motivated. When one becomes wise and discerning, then nothing can slip through one’s investigation.
This is when one’s mental strength has matured to the ultimate level. There will be no retreat. In the beginning stages, one is submissive and is trampled on by the kilesas. The kilesas keep on crushing one’s head. Regardless of how infuriated and enraged one might be, one has to endure it because one doesn’t have any strength, sati, and paññā, to counter them. So during such time one has to give in to them. This was when my mind hadn’t yet established any foundation. The kilesas then kept on trampling on and crushing me in all postures, standing, walking, sitting, and lying down. I could not find any peace and happiness.
I went through enough of these experiences myself so I am telling you straightforwardly. It happened to me. Even while I was doing nothing, the pressure inside was so intense. I was burning hot within, like a fire burning rice-husks, burning and smoldering deeply within. I wonder how it managed to get to be like this. I kept on observing it, but it remained like that as I didn’t have any sati and paññā to unravel the kilesas. I just had to endure. However severe this blaze and dukkha was, I had to endure it. No matter how offended I was, I had to put up with it. It was useless for me to become enraged, but I did not relent in striving until I came across the state of calm. Once I had attained calm, I then went on the offensive. To enter into samādhi would be very easy for me. I did not have to go through the usual routine. I could enter into samādhi right away. This is the time when I became very adept with samādhi.
The mind is now always ready to enter into samādhi. The samādhi that arises from sitting practice and is totally devoid of any thought is one type of samādhi. Another type called samādhi bhāvanā is the samādhi in which the mind remains calm but still thinks with the mind firm and stable as a rock. That was how firm my samādhi has become. By entering into the state of calm frequently, I was able to make my samādhi solid and firm. This is the way of nurturing samādhi. After withdrawing from samādhi, which I use as a way of resting the khandhas, I can see very clearly that my samādhi is very firm and solid. I’m now ready to go on the offensive drive. If I intensify my effort in the development of paññā, it will not take long. But instead, I become attached to samādhi. I’m now so skilful I can enter samādhi any time that I want to. It takes less than a minute to do it. As soon as I prompt it, the mind will go right into samādhi because I have already securely established samādhi. So it is very easy and quick to stop all mental activities and enter into samādhi right away. If I developed paññā, I would advance very quickly. But I instead became attached to samādhi, by mistaking this samādhi as Nibbāna.
I therefore paid no attention to the development of paññā. It took Tan Ajaan Mun to shake me out of this delusion. When my mind was free from this delusion, it then became very energetic, ready and wellqualified. With that kind of samādhi, how can it not be ready? The samādhi of that level is very suitable for the development of paññā. Once the mind begins to develop paññā, it will do it relentlessly. It will realize the truth that will enable it to destroy all of the kilesas. I now become awe-stricken with the power of paññā, for I can now see it clearly in my mind, which further enhances my efforts. All the laziness has totally disappeared. Please understand that on the level of samādhi one can become lazy, because one does not want to investigate. One just wants to rest in the state of calm and comfort. This is the lazy kind of samādhi. But after Tan Ajaan Mun goaded me to investigate, and I have learned how to investigate, then the diligent effort just came naturally. But for me, the mind tended to go to the extreme.
Once it had begun to develop paññā, it was not able to go back into samādhi because it was no longer interested in samādhi. The mind just kept turning around incessantly investigating and struggling with the kilesas. Sometimes this went on throughout the night and I didn’t get any sleep, and in the daytime I couldn’t sleep either. When I did the walking practice, I was not able to walk straight, for I kept crashing to the ground. This was due to the lack of sleep, because the mind kept on investigating and fighting with the kilesas, taṇhā, and āsava. As far as surrendering myself to the kilesas was concerned, it is out of the question. I would rather die. The only way that I can be defeated is when I die. Giving in by retreating simply cannot happen. It is not possible. It can only happen if my head is cut off. Defeat can only occur if I lose my life. To give up by retreating is just not possible. Once you have attained this level, this will happen.
I am just telling you the truth. I am not boasting. I am speaking the truth of my practice, how I developed, how I exerted myself, how I had to wage an uphill struggle and how lazy I was. I was carrying the burden of the kilesas, taṇhā, and āsava, and enduring the fire inside my heart, both day and night, standing, sitting, walking, and lying down. This fire had never been separated from my heart. Once I had trained, disciplined, and developed my heart by earnestly exerting myself, enduring and persevering, my heart was then able to attain a state of calm and became strengthened. I was then able to drive harder. I could now intensify my effort in my practice of mental development. The calm would gradually increase and became more and more profound until I thought that it was Nibbāna. I became smug. Once the knowing becomes densely concentrated, then there is no thinking.
It is as if the world does not exist. What remains is just this sublime and profound knowing. I therefore speculated that this is what Nibbāna would be like. Fortunately, I did not claim it to be Nibbāna. I just speculated that this would be Nibbāna. It was only after I had investigated with paññā that I was able to discern what this state was. How could it be Nibbāna? When paññā had been thoroughly investigated, I could then see the kilesas that were still hidden in the mind. They had merely been resting, merely been temporarily subdued by the power of samādhi. But as soon as they emerged, they would be immediately eliminated by paññā. Paññā doesn’t promote the growth of the kilesas. It only destroys them. Paññā will keep on advancing. This is the way it is with the mind of this level. When you are dejected, you can be really demoralized. Living with your colleagues you keep blaming yourself for lagging behind in your practice, by thinking that all of your colleagues have totally eliminated the kilesas, leaving yourself behind to be consumed by the fire of the kilesas. This was the way I felt when I first went to stay with Tan Ajaan Mun. When I looked at all the other bhikkhus, they appeared to be serene and peaceful, though their exertion didn’t seem to be that intense. But I, for my part, after finishing the morning meal, would go into the forest and practice until it was time to sweep in the afternoon.
But I didn’t achieve anything. That was because at that time my mind had deteriorated and I was intensifying my effort to bring the mind back to its former higher level. My striving was very strenuous and intense. After having some conversation with my colleagues, I got to know them better. And when I had established some samādhi, I also got to know more about myself. I could see this clearly, so could my colleagues. How could they not know? Because this was a path that I had never walked before, when I talked to my teacher I had to tell him the truth so that he could correct me when I was wrong. Once I had gained the strength of samādhi and been goaded by Tan Ajaan Mun to develop paññā, I then really exerted myself. Now the kilesas could not remain at rest.
I would drag them by the neck and chopped off their heads. I would grab their arms, their legs, and chop them off. Once you get to the level of paññā, the mind will investigate continuously. It will start with the investigation of the body, to see it to be loathsome or asubha. This paññā that investigates the body is very aggressive and forceful. Once the delusion of the body is shattered, and you have fully understood every aspect of the body, the mind will then become satiated. It will then stop investigating the body. Once you are full, what is the use of taking more food? Or doing the investigation anymore? What, then, does it become attracted to? Now it will mostly become attracted to vedanā, saññā, saṅkhāra, and viññāṇa, with saññā the most important target, for it is very insidious. Saṅkhāra will just flare on and off, but with saññā, it will quietly permeate out to form a mental picture. It can subtly fantasize. You can’t help but being amazed by its subtlety. You then keep track of it, and then it cannot surpass the ability of paññā. Once sati and paññā become automatic, or become mahāsati and mahāpaññā, then what can slip away from it? Once sati and paññā investigate incessantly and naturally all the time, except when being forced to stop, then this is called automatic sati and paññā.
Even when you are eating, this sati and paññā doesn’t eat with you. It just keeps on investigating. This is how automatic the investigation has become. At this stage, all the laziness disappears. Sometimes you have to restrain it, or else you can die from exhaustion. You have to hold it back.
Sometimes you overexert yourself until you are ready to drop dead. The entire body becomes dead tired. You cannot even walk another step, because during the night time you didn’t have any sleep, and during the day time you just cannot go to sleep. The mind just keeps on investigating continuously. So I had to restrain it with the Buddho mantra by repeating ‘Buddho’ repeatedly and quickly, not allowing the mind to investigate and force it into calm. I had to drag the mind away from doing the investigation, which is the contention of paññā with the kilesas. It was not possible to tell whether I was using the sharp end or the blunt end of paññā. I was probably using the blunt end as I was so exhausted and tired. But the heart was still hell-bent on struggling with them.
It was only after I had rested the mind that I realized what was happening. I forced the mind to take a rest by repeating Buddho very quickly and continuously, not allowing it to do any investigation at all. I really had to coerce it to get into samādhi, or else it would not get in. I had to really force it, but as it had already been used to coercion, it didn’t take long for it to be subdued. It began to slowly calm down, and eventually it became very still. At that point, it seems like you have now uprooted the thorns. Your strength, energy, and happiness, seem to arise out of nowhere, and spread throughout the whole body and all over the heart. Yet even when it has rested in this state of calm, you still have to restrain it. I could not let go of the restraint. As soon as I do, it would immediately withdraw from the calm and investigate. I therefore had to keep on restraining it. It became re-strengthened. When I felt that it was the right time for it to investigate, I just let it go. It immediately jumped right back to investigate, and became totally involved with it. Now it seemed like it was using the sharp end, for it didn’t take long to destroy the kilesas.
Therefore, samādhi is absolutely vital. When it is necessary to take a rest, you cannot afford not to. When the mind becomes extremely weary and dead-tired, it is not right to think that the results of your work can only come through your exertion alone, without thinking about the importance of resting yourself so that you can become re-strengthened and able to do more investigation. You should therefore take a rest, go to sleep, take some food, and not be concerned with the time lost from doing this, as it is for the purpose of re-strengthening your body, so that you can do more investigation effectively. It is true with both the mind and the body. In order for them to regain their strength and energy so that they can further attack and destroy the kilesas, taṇhā, and āsava, it is definitely necessary for them to take a rest. When the mind has rested well in samādhi and is rejuvenated, then when paññā investigates, it will be like a sharpened knife. This is similar to a tired man trying to chop wood with a dull knife.
After he has rested and the knife sharpened, then it doesn’t take too much effort to cut the wood in two. It is likewise with sati and paññā of this level. Once it has regained its strength and energy, and gone out to investigate, it doesn’t take long for it to kill the kilesas. You will then see the benefit of samādhi. This happens on a very subtle level of the heart. The kilesas are correspondingly subtle, and so are sati and paññā. They are all equally subtle. The sati and paññā of this level are like water that flows very gently. The investigation of the mental objects—vedanā, saññā, saṅkhāra and viññāṇa—and the investigation of avijjā are done by the paññā of this subtle level. This investigation cannot be done in a rough manner, like the investigation of the body. The situation will dictate this and you will know it when you get there. It is the same way when you shape a piece of wood. You first use an axe, then you use a plane to shave the wood surface. You cannot thereafter use either a knife or an axe, for it will just ruin the wood surface. It is the same way with the mind. What level of paññā should be used in the investigation will be obvious.
You will investigate until you destroy all of the kilesas and see the truth. When the investigation is sufficient, then the mind will let go. If it hasn’t yet let go, then it is not yet sufficient. Once the mind has thoroughly investigated, then it will let go. For instance, when you investigate the loathsomeness of the body, you just keep on investigating until it is satiated. Then the mind will let go of the lust for the body. In the investigation of saññā and saṅkhāra, where do they come from? They come from the mind. They deceive the mind, as they are the instruments of avijjā. So how can they not deceive the mind? If sati and paññā are not capable of catching up with them, then you will still be deceived by them. Therefore, you have to relentlessly analyze and differentiate them from sati and paññā. When you have investigated this many, many times, the investigation will eventually become satiated. It will first become satiated with the investigation of the body.
Then it becomes satiated with the investigation of the vedanā, saññā, saṅkhāra, and viññāṇa and will let go of them. So what, then, is left that it is not yet satiated with? What remain are just the mind and avijjā that are entangled with one another. But you do not yet realize this. This is where you get to see the subtlety of the kilesas. When you finally come face to face with avijjā, you will see clearly that there is nothing more subtle than avijjā. You feel like you are staying in a tiger›s cave. When the tiger roars and growls, you think the tiger is entertaining you. Avijjā is like a huge tiger, but instead of being fearful you become submissive to it, loving it and are possessive of it. This is due to the subtlety of the kilesas. The true and genuine master and ruler of the mind is avijjā, but it cannot withstand the power of satipaññā. Although the satipaññā of this level will first be deceived by the avijjā’s subtlety, luminosity, bravery, boldness and the delusion that this is I and mine, it will not be complacent. Though it might be taking care of avijjā unknowingly, it is also vigilant and observant.
As this avijjā is sammati, how can the subtle changes of this sammati not be evident to satipaññā which is constantly watching, perpetually investigating and analyzing? How can they slip through? Eventually they will be revealed. Satipaññā will then use this avijjā as the object of its investigation, just like all the other objects. So how can it withstand? It will eventually be broken up. Once avijjā is shattered, the mind then becomes satiated, for this is the final fulfillment. The mind is satiated with the investigation of the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches, and satiated with the investigation of the body, vedanā, saññā, saṅkhāra, and viññāṇa.
Once it has thoroughly investigated, it becomes full. All that remains in the mind is avijjā. All the bridges have been cut off. There is no way for avijjā to come out. It cannot now get out by way of vedanā, saññā, saṅkhāra, and viññāṇa. Satipaññā now truly understands their nature. The inner bridge has been severed. As far as coming out via the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches is concerned, this is irrelevant. There is no need to talk about these because the mind has already transcended them as it moves in closer and closer. What remains is just avijjā. Now it doesn’t have any place to hide, so it stands out very clearly, because everything else has now been uncloaked. The truth of the body has already been unveiled. The truth of feelings, be it good, bad or neither, coarse or subtle, has also been exposed. But the most subtle of feelings is still found within avijjā. After satipaññā has unveiled the truth of avijjā, then this most subtle feeling will disappear from the mind. As long as avijjā remains, this most subtle feeling will also remain. For this reason, whether it is correct or not, and speaking on my own authority because it is so clear within my heart, I dare to say that all the arahants who have already got rid of all the kilesas have no feelings in their hearts.
I am not speaking about myself who is like a tiny mouse. How can an arahant have feelings within his heart? Whatever kind of feelings it might be, it is not found within the heart of an arahant. Once the mind has become satiated with the investigation, it will stop. Once it is sated, it will no longer deceive itself. It will not be deluded anymore, not even with the state of purity. Once it becomes satiated, it will come to a standstill. This is contentment. It no longer grabs at this or that. There is no craving. This contentment progresses in stages by letting go in stages. Whatever the objects or conditions that it is satiated with, it will let go. It will keep moving further inwards until it finally becomes sated with avijjā and lets it go.
The mind will now be completely satiated. Then all the problems come to an end, and there is nothing further to do. This is the elimination of all forms of dukkha. They will all disappear when avijjā is eradicated by the power of mahāsati, mahāpaññā, saddhā, and viriya which are like the most advanced weapon system. This is the end. From there onwards, it doesn’t really matter where you live or what you do. Once the sammati within the heart vanishes, whatever you do will be merely acting. The day and night will no longer be significant. Likewise with the days, months, and years, or Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, or the Year of the Rat, or the Year of the Ox, and so forth. They are all suppositions. It is alright to play with them when you are not deluded with them. But to play with them when you are deluded is not good.
This is the story of a mind that had to wage an uphill battle, nearly losing its life, and nearly losing itself to evilness and corruption due to the influence of the kilesas, taṇhās, and āsavas. This is the story of a dogged determination. This achievement is not above your ability. All that you have to do is to be serious and earnest. The Dhamma teaching of the Lord Buddha is beyond doubt in its ability to subdue the kilesas. There isn’t a single kilesa that is sharper, keener, wiser or cleverer than satipaññā, which is the magga. That is why it is called majjhimā, which means suitability. It is suitable for the removal of every kind of kilesa. This is my favorite definition of majjhimā. There will be a time when you will eliminate all the dukkha that arises from your exertion that will eventually come to an end. When all the dukkha is vanquished, it will disappear forever. There will be a time when we will put down our burden that we have been shouldering so heavily. There is an end to our exertion. We will then live in bliss.
Is there ever an end to the worldly undertaking? Never! Even at the end of your life. When you die you will leave behind your work, your friends, your relatives, your father and mother, your husband or wife, and your own body. You will die leaving your work incomplete. But there is an end to your exertion, the conquering of the kilesas. There is an end to it. When the kilesas have been totally vanquished, then this exertion will come to an end. The Lord Buddha called this ‘Vusitaṁ brahma cariyaṁ’. This can be simply translated as ‘The end of your task’. The goal of the holy and chaste life is the elimination of the kilesas, which has now come to an end, because all of the kilesas have been totally eliminated. For those who have fully achieved this goal, their meditation practice from then on will be for the vihāra-dhamma, which is the maintenance for a peaceful coexistence between the body and the mind, and is left to each individual disposition and preference. For this practice has nothing to do with the removal of the kilesas. As long as the body still goes on, then there is still the necessity of maintaining it, feeding it, and giving it the proper exercise.
This is quite natural. Everybody knows how much he has to eat or drink, how much he has to walk, stand, or take a rest, and go to sleep in order to keep the body healthy. It is the same way with those who have already become enlightened. They know how to take care of the body and the mind that still coexist with one another. But the heavy load that had oppressed the mind for a very long time has now been entirely discarded. You must strive to achieve this goal yourself, for you are fighters, not cowards. You have to earnestly and seriously fight the kilesas, by putting all of your efforts into the meditation practice. You should not be doubtful of the magga, phala, and Nibbāna. Why must you be doubtful? Every aspect of the Dhamma teaching taught by the Lord Buddha is for achieving the magga, phala, and Nibbāna. His teaching doesn’t aim at futility. Why are you doubtful? This doubt is the work of the kilesas designed to lead you astray. You have to be confident of the magga, phala, and Nibbāna, and confident of your ability. You must use chanda, satisfaction; viriya, strenuous effort; citta, concentration; and vimaṁsā, investigation in your practice. You must not practice blindly, lacking in satipaññā. If you do, you will never achieve your goal. You will only amuse the kilesas.