Inspiration
from Enlightened Nuns
Susan Elbaum Jootla
The Wheel
Publication No. 349/350
Copyright 1988
Buddhist Publication Society
Courtesy of Dharma Net
For free
distribution only, as a gift of dhamma.
Contents
Introduction
I. The
Background Stories
- The
Long Duration of Samsara
- Kammic Cause and Effect
II. The
Teachings of the Poems
- Trivial Incidents Spark Enlightenment
- Entering the Sangha after a Child's Death
- The Four Noble Truths
- Reaching the Goal after a Long Struggle
- Contemplation on the Sangha
- The Danger of Worldly Desire
- The Danger of Attachment to One's Beauty
- Further Conversations with Mara
- The Doctrine of Anatta
- Men and Women in the Dhamma
- The Five Aggregates and Nibbana
- Kamma and Its Fruit
About
the Author
In this booklet we will be
exploring poems composed by the Arahat bhikkhunis or enlightened
Buddhist nuns of old, looking at these poems as springs of
inspiration for contemporary Buddhists. Most of the poems we will
consider come from the Therigatha, a small section of
the vast Pali Canon. The Therigatha has been published
twice in English translation by the Pali Text Society, London:
first in 1909 (reprinted in 1980) by C. A. R. Rhys Davids in
verse under the title Psalms of the Early Buddhists: The
Sisters; and second in 1971 by K. R. Norman in prose under
the title The Elders' Verses, II. We have used
quotations from both translations here, referring to Psalms
of the Early Buddhists by page number and to The Elders'
Verses by verse number. Mrs. Rhys Davids' translations have
sometimes been slightly modified. Our discussion will also draw
upon the verses of bhikkhunis from the Samyutta Nikaya (Kindred
Sayings), included by Mrs. Rhys Davids at the end of Psalms
of the Sisters.
From the poems of the enlightened
nuns of the Buddha's time contemporary followers of the Noble
Eightfold Path can receive a great deal of instruction, help and
encouragement. These verses can assist us in developing morality,
concentration and wisdom, the three sections of the path. With
their aid we will be able to work more effectively towards
eliminating our mental defilements and towards finding lasting
peace and happiness.
In some respects, the inspiration
from these poems may be stronger for women than for men, since
these are in fact women's voices that are speaking. And when the
theme of the poem is the mother-child bond, this is bound to be
the case. However, at a deeper level the sex of the speakers is
irrelevant, for the ultimate truths which they enunciate explain
the universal principles of reality which are equally valid for
men and for women.
The verses of the nuns, if
systematically examined, can help serious Buddhist meditators to
understand many central aspects of the Dhamma. The background to
the verses, including biographical information on the nuns who
uttered them, is provided by the ancient commentary on the Therigatha
by the venerable Acariya Dhammapala. Mrs. Rhys Davids has
included some of these background stories in Psalms of the
Early Buddhists, and in the first part of this essay we will
look at these stories and consider the themes they suggest that
are relevant to contemporary students of Buddhist meditation.
Then we will go on to discuss a selection of the poems
themselves, which deal with many specific teachings of the
Buddha.
We of the twentieth century who
are seeking to attain liberation will find ourselves deeply
grateful to these fully awakened Buddhist nuns of old for their
profound assistance in illuminating the Dhamma for us in their
own distinctly personal ways.
The ancient commentaries give us
information about each nun's background and also explain the
poems themselves. Two major themes of relevance to contemporary
students of the Dhamma run through these stories: (1) the
immeasurably long time that we have all been lost in samsara,
the round of birth and death; and (2) the working of the
impersonal law of kammic cause and effect which brought these
women into contact with the Buddha's teachings in what was to be
their final lifetime.
The Long Duration of Samsara
In the original Pali commentaries,
the tales of the nuns began many, many rebirths and eons prior to
their final existence at the time of Buddha Gotama. We read how
over ages and ages all these women had been living out the
results of their old kamma and how they created powerful new
kamma based on wisdom, which finally culminated in the attainment
of Arahatship, full awakening. Each woman -- or, more accurately,
each succession of aggregates -- had to undergo infinite eons of
suffering in its gross and subtle forms before she was prepared
to gain complete insight. But finally she gave up all clinging
and was freed from the need ever again to be reborn and suffer,
on any plane.
Vipassana meditators trying to
develop this same understanding of the ultimate nature of
conditioned existence can find inspiration if they would apply
these tales to their own lives. When we realize how long we
ourselves have been wandering in ignorance, constantly generating
more and more unwholesome kamma, we will be able to remain
patient when our early efforts to train the mind tend to falter
or fail. Some of the bhikkhunis who had sufficient paramis
-- virtues cultivated in previous lives -- even to gain
Arahatship, still had to put in many years of arduous and
sometimes seemingly fruitless effort before they could attain the
goal.
For example, Siha entered the
Sangha as a young woman but could not learn to contain her mind's
attraction to external objects for seven years. Another nun
worked for twenty-five years without finding any substantial
peace because of her strong attachment to sense desire. But both
these bhikkhunis, when all the appropriate conditions were
finally fulfilled, found their patience and continued efforts
fully rewarded. So too will we, if we diligently and strictly
keep to the Noble Eightfold Path until we become Ariyas, noble
ones. Once we have done this, we are assured that we will
completely eliminate the causes of all suffering.
By making this effort to live in
accordance with the Dhamma and to understand the true nature of
existence, we begin to develop strong wholesome mental volitions,
kamma that will have effects in future births as well as in this
one. The continued efforts in this direction become easier and
more natural because, as we wear away ignorance and the other
defilements through insight meditation, our minds come to be more
strongly conditioned by wisdom (panna). Recollecting
this infinite span of time behind us, and the vast mass of
wholesome volitional activities accumulated therein, will help us
keep our efforts at purification balanced and strong.
These rebirth stories,
illustrating the continuous suffering which every sentient being
has undergone during the rounds of samsara, can also
encourage us to work hard in the Dhamma. Understanding this
weighty aspect of the First Noble Truth stimulates us to put
forth the great effort required to overcome suffering by
penetrating and uprooting its causes, which the Buddha explains
are basically craving and ignorance.
Bhikkhuni Sumedha, in her poem,
repeats one of the Buddha's powerful injunctions to eliminate the
source of the ceaseless stream of suffering that has rushed on in
our previous lives, and will otherwise continue on in the same
way throughout the infinite future. Sumedha is pleading with her
parents and fiance to allow her to enter the Sangha rather than
force her to marry:
Journeying-on is long for fools
and for those who lament again and again at that which is without
beginning and end, at the death of a father, the slaughter of a
brother, and their own slaughter.
Remember the tears, the milk, the
blood, the journeying-on as being without beginning and end;
remember the heap of bones of beings who are journeying-on.
Remember the four oceans compared
with the tears, milk and blood; remember the heap of bones (of
one man) for one eon, (as) equal (in size) to Mount Vepula. (vv.
495-497)
"Journeying-on" is samsara.
In the lines beginning "Remember the four oceans
compared," Sumedha is reminding her family of a discourse
which they must have heard from the Buddha. Each of us, the
Buddha tells us, has shed vast oceans of tears over the loss of
loved ones and in fear of our own doom as the succession of
aggregates has arisen and vanished throughout samsara's
weary ages. During all these lifetimes, as the verse declares, we
have drunk seas and seas of mother's milk, and the blood that was
shed when violent death ended our lives also amounts to an
immeasurable volume. How could even one gory death be anything
but terrible suffering? The Buddha perceived all this with his
infinite wisdom and so described it to his followers.
The vastness of samsara
that we endured before meeting the Dhamma in this life can easily
be extrapolated from the stories of these nuns. We must also
sustain the patience in our endeavor to wear down ignorance and
to develop the awareness of omnipresent suffering which is life
in samsara, as the First Noble Truth makes known.
Kammic
Cause and Effect
The second commentarial theme that
can be helpful to us in developing our own understanding of the
ultimate nature of reality is the working of the law of kammic
cause and effect. None of these nuns was emancipated because one
day she decided, "Now I am going to cut off all
craving." Nor did the grace of a guru or the power of God or
the Buddha himself enlighten them. Rather, it was a very long
process in the evolution of the "life continuum" that
gradually permitted the conditions for liberation to develop and
eventually culminate in Arahatship. Freeing the mind of
ignorance, like all activities, is an impersonal cause and effect
process. Natural laws of this sort are cultivated and utilized by
mental volition to bring about purification. By repeatedly seeing
all the phenomena of life as they are by means of concentrated
Vipassana meditation, we gradually wear away the defilements that
becloud the mind and cause rebirth with its attendant misery.
For example, Sela took robes when
she was a young woman and "worked her way to insight and
because of the promise in her and the maturity of her knowledge,
crushing the sankharas (conditioned phenomena), she soon
won Arahatship" (p. 43). For eons, Sela had done many good
deeds, such as making offerings to and looking after previous
Buddhas and their monks. As a result of these meritorious actions
over many lifetimes, she was reborn in the heavenly deva planes
or in comfortable situations on earth. Eventually, at the time of
Buddha Gotama, each of the bhikkhunis, including Sela, came into
the Sangha in her own way. Because the time was right for their paramis
to bear fruit, all the factors conducive to enlightenment could
develop, their defilements could be effaced, and the goal could
be achieved.
Sukha left the world under one of
the earlier Buddhas, but she died without becoming an Ariya.
Under subsequent Buddhas "she kept the precepts and was
learned and proficient in the doctrine." Finally, "in
this Buddha era she found faith in the Master at her own home,
and became a lay disciple. Later, when she heard Bhikkhuni
Dhammadinna preach, she was thrilled with emotion and renounced
the world under her" (pp. 40-41).[*] All her efforts in past
lives then bore their appropriate fruit as Sukha attained
Arahatship and became in turn a great preacher of the Dhamma.
Only a small number of nuns are renowned for their skill in
teaching, and it is likely that the need to develop the extra paramis
to teach the Dhamma made it necessary for Sukha to study under
earlier Buddhas for so long without gaining the paths and fruits.
* [Dhammadinna will be discussed
at greater length below, pp. 46-49. {See "The Five
Aggregates and Nibbana," below}]
Similar stories tell of how other
bhikkhunis performed good works and put forth effort in previous
lives, building various kinds of paramis which allowed
them to completely give up all attachment to the world at the
time of our Buddha. If we consider the process by which they
gradually matured towards liberation, we can see how every mental
volition and every deed of body and speech at some time or other
bears fruit.
It is due to our own paramis,
our own good kamma of the past, that we have the rare and great
opportunity to come into contact with the teachings of a Buddha
in this lifetime. It is because of wisdom already cultivated that
we now have the opportunity to develop greater wisdom (pannaparami)
through insight meditation. Wisdom has the power to obliterate
the results of past kamma since it comprehends reality correctly.
In addition, if we continue to generate such wholesome volitions
now, more good kamma is built up which will continue to bear
beneficial fruit and bring us closer to the goal.
However, wisdom cannot be
cultivated in the absence of morality. The Buddha taught that in
order to move towards liberation, it is necessary to keep a
minimum of five precepts strictly at all times: abstention from
killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying and consuming
intoxicants. If the precepts are broken, the bad kamma thus
created will bring very painful results. Without purity of body
and speech, purity of mind cannot be developed as the mind will
be too agitated by sense desires, regrets and aversion to settle
on its meditation subject properly.
Some of the earlier rebirth
stories of Arahat bhikkhunis tell of lives in which they did not
keep the precepts. Several of them suffered the results of their
unwholesome deeds in animal births or in low forms of human
existence. Addhakasi, for example, had a mixed background. She
had become a bhikkhuni established in morality under Kassapa
Buddha, the Buddha immediately preceding Gotama. But once, due to
anger, she referred to a fully liberated senior nun as a
prostitute. As a result of that wrong speech, she was reborn in
one of the lower realms, for to say or do anything wrong to an
Ariya creates worse kamma than to say or do the same thing
against a non-Ariya. When the fruit of that bad deed was mostly
used up, as a residual effect she herself became a prostitute in
her final life. By this time her previous good kamma was the
stronger and she ordained as a nun. Keeping the bhikkhuni life
pure, Addhakasi attained the goal.Causes and effects work
themselves out and keep the life process going through samsara.
So long as the mind is attached to anything at all, we will
engage in volitional actions, make new kamma, and will have to
experience their results. Cultivating good kamma will save one
from much suffering and prepare the mind for the most powerful
wholesome kamma of all, that born of wisdom, which can eliminate
all kammic creation.
The actual poems composed by the
nuns exhibit a wide range in tone and subject matter. They were
almost all spoken after the author had realized that rebirth and
all its associated suffering had been brought to an end by the
perfection of insight and total elimination of defilements. So
virtually all the poems contain some form of "lion's
roar," an exclamation that the author has become awakened.
Trivial Incidents Spark Enlightenment
In some cases the poems describe
the circumstances which brought the woman into the Sangha or
which precipitated her awakening. Both of these can inspire
contemporary followers of the Buddha. Sometimes the most mundane
event stimulates a ripe mind to see the truth perfectly.
Bhikkhuni Dhamma returned from her almsround one day exhausted
from heat and exertion. She stumbled, and as she sprawled on the
ground a clear perception arose in her of the utter suffering
inherent in the body, bringing about total relinquishment. She
describes the incident in the following lines:
Having wandered for alms, leaning
on a stick, weak, with trembling limbs I fell to the ground in
that very spot, having seen peril in the body. Then my mind was
completely released. (v.17)
If someone could gain awakening
based on such an event, surely there are an infinite number of
potentially enlightening experiences available to all of us for
contemplation. Systematic attention (yoniso manasikara)
given to any subject will show up its impermanence (anicca),
unsatisfactoriness (dukkha), and essenceless nature (anatta)
and so encourage us to stop craving. However, unless we carefully
apply our minds in Vipassana meditation under the guidance of a
competent teacher, it is unlikely that we will be able to utilize
our daily encounters with these basic characteristics as means
towards liberation. This is because the mind's old conditioning
is based on ignorance -- the very inability to see
things as they really are. Only concentrated mindfulness of
phenomena in meditation can enable us to comprehend correctly our
everyday experiences, because such methodical culture of insight
through Vipassana meditation loosens the old mental tendencies by
giving us direct experience of the impermanence of our mind and
body.
Entering the Sangha after a Child's
Death
Quite a number of women entered
the Sangha after their small children had died. Grief is put to
good use if it is made the motivation to develop the "path
leading to the cessation of suffering." Ubbiri greatly
mourned the death of her infant daughter until the Buddha pointed
out to her that right in the same charnel ground where she had
left this baby's body, she had similarly parted with thousands of
children to whom she had given birth in previous lives. Because
she had acquired strong merit in the past, this brief
personalized discourse was enough to turn Ubbiri from a lamenting
mother into an Arahat on the spot. As she clearly saw the
vastness of samsara, she was prepared to leave it
behind. Her profound gratitude to the Buddha is described in
these simple lines:
He has thrust away for me my grief
for my daughter. . . . I am without hunger, quenched. (vv. 51,
53)
With the quenching of ignorance
and craving, nothing remains but a pure mind, inherently
peaceful. Ubbiri had a pliable, well-prepared mind, and thus she
understood, through the Buddha's instructions, that the source of
all her suffering had been craving. After countless millions of
lifetimes spent rolling in samsara, Ubbiri realized how
her deep motherly attachment to her children had always caused
her much anguish; for sons and daughters, like everything else,
are subject to the law of impermanence. We cannot make our loved
ones live beyond the span set by their own kamma. This was an
insight so powerful for her that no object at all seemed worthy
of interest any longer because of the potential pain permeating
them all. Thus all tendency to cling was broken, never to
reappear.
The life story of Patacara before
she came to the Dhamma, described in considerable detail in the
commentary to the Therigatha, is even more dramatic. She
lost her entire family, her husband, two small children, parents
and brothers in various accidents within a few days. She went
insane from the sorrow, but the Buddha's compassion combined with
Patacara's paramis from the past enabled her to regain
her right mind. When she came into his presence, he taught her to
understand how often before she had hopelessly exhausted herself
grieving for the dead. She became a Stream-enterer (sotapanna),
one at the first stage of irreversible progress on the path to
liberation, and she was ordained. Later, as she was one day
pouring water to wash her feet and watching it trickle away -- as
life does sooner or later for all beings -- her mind became
utterly free from clinging. Patacara, like Dhamma, had thoroughly
developed seeds of understanding, so a very minor mundane
incident at just the right moment cleared her mind of every trace
of ignorance.
Many other women entered the
Sangha in circumstances similar to those of Ubbiri or Patacara. A
woman distraught over the death of a child must have been very
common in India in those days when limited medical knowledge
could not counter a very high infant mortality rate. Theri
Patacara spoke to a group of five hundred such grief-stricken
mothers, expressing what she had so powerfully learned from
similar experience herself:
The way of which men come we
cannot know;
Nor can we see the path by which they go.
Why mourn then for him who came to you,
Lamenting through the tears? ...
Weep not, for such is the life of man.
Unasked he came and unbidden he went.
Ask yourself again whence came your child
To live on earth this little time?
By one way come and by another gone,
As human to die, and pass to other births --
So hither and so hence -- why should you weep? (p. 78)
In this way Patacara illustrates
for these mothers the natural connection, the invisible,
impersonal causal nexus between death and life, life and death.
They too took robes and eventually became Arahats. Their joint
"lion's roar" culminates in the lines:
Today my heart is healed, my
yearning stayed,
Perfected deliverance wrought in me.
I go for refuge to the Buddha, the Sangha, and the Dhamma. (p.
77)
Because of their physiology and
their conditioning by family and society, women are more prone to
attachment to their offspring than are men, and so will suffer
all the more from their loss. However, if women train their minds
to understand how clinging causes enormous suffering, how birth
and death are natural processes happening as effects of specific
causes, and how infinite the history of such misery is, they can
utilize their feminine sufferings in the quest for awakening. In
the Kindred Sayings (Vol. IV, pp. 62-163), the Buddha
himself pointed out the five kinds of suffering unique to women.
Three are physiological -- menstruation, pregnancy, and
childbirth. The other two are social, and perhaps not as widely
relevant today as they were in ancient Indian society: having to
leave her own family to live with her husband and in-laws, and
having "to wait upon a man." All five must be the
results of past unwholesome deeds, yet each one can be made a
basis for insight. Women can train their minds to turn to
advantage these apparent disadvantages. They can then make full
use of their stronger experiences of the universality and
omnipresence of suffering to condition themselves to let go of
everything in the conditioned realm.
For some individuals, intense
suffering is needed to make the mind relinquish its
misconceptions and desires. Patacara is one example of this; Kisa
Gotami is a second. The latter was so unwilling to face the truth
of her child's death that she carried the dead baby around with
her hoping to find one who could give her medicine to cure him.
The Buddha guided her into a realization of the omnipresence of
death by sending her in search of some mustard seed. This is a
common ingredient in Indian kitchens, but the Buddha specified
that these seeds must come from a household where no one had ever
died.Kisa Gotami went looking for this "medicine" for
her baby, but because of the prevalent joint family system in
which three or more generations lived together under one roof,
every house she went to had seen death. Gradually, as she
wandered through the village, she realized that all who are born
must die. Her great paramis then enabled her to
understand impermanence so thoroughly that soon afterwards the
Buddha confirmed her attainment of Stream-entry. She then spoke
these lines:
No village law is this, no city
law,
No law for this clan, or for that alone;
For the whole world -- and for the gods too --
This is the law: All is impermanent. (p. 108)
Kisa Gotami thus transcended the
limits of a woman's personal grief to understand one of the basic
characteristics of all existence. Kisa Gotami later attained
Arahatship. Some of the verses she spoke on that occasion give
useful lessons to any striver on the Noble Eightfold Path:
Resorting to noble friends, even a
fool would be wise. Good men are to be resorted to; thus the
wisdom of those who resort to them increases. Resorting to good
men one would be released from all pains.
One should know suffering, the
cause of suffering and its cessation, and the Eightfold Path;
(these are) the Four Noble Truths. (vv. 213-215)
The company of the wise,
especially the guidance of a teacher, is an invaluable help in
getting oneself established on the path. But the company of
people not involved in the Dhamma will tend to be distracting.
Those who are not trying to practice the Buddha's teachings will
usually lead us in the worldly direction to which their own minds
incline. Thus, when we can, it is best to choose our friends from
among meditators.
The
Four Noble Truths
As Kisa Gotami urges in the final
lines quoted above, meditators need to train their minds
constantly to see the Four Noble Truths in all their
ramifications. This is wisdom, panna, the remedy for the
ignorance and delusion which are at the root of all suffering as
shown in the formula of dependent origination. To develop wisdom
one has to ponder these four truths over and over again: (1) the
Noble Truth of Suffering (dukkha) which includes all
forms of suffering from severe agony to the pervasive
unsatisfactoriness and instability inherent in individual
existence in all planes of becoming; (2) the Noble Truth of the
Cause of Suffering -- craving (tanha), which drives the
mind outwards after sense objects in a state of perpetual unrest;
(3) the Noble Truth of the Cessation of Suffering -- Nibbana,
which is attained when the causes of suffering, ignorance and
craving, have been utterly uprooted; and (4) the Noble Truth of
the Way leading to the Cessation of Suffering -- the Noble
Eightfold Path discovered and taught by the Buddha, consisting in
the assiduous practice of morality (sila), concentration
(samadhi) and wisdom (panna).
The Four Noble Truths are
concisely expressed in a verse spoken by Maha Pajapati, the
Buddha's maternal aunt who brought him up when his own mother,
Queen Mahamaya, died a week after his birth. It was at the
insistence of Maha Pajapati that the Buddha founded the Bhikkhuni
Sangha. In her poem she first praises the Buddha for the unique
help he has given to so many beings by training them in the way
to liberation; then she briefly sums up the Four Noble Truths
which she has so thoroughly experienced as ultimate truth. It
would be beneficial for modern meditators to consider these lines
carefully:
Now have I understood how ill does
come,
Craving, the Cause, is dried up in me.
Have I not walked, have I not touched the End
Of ill -- the Ariyan, the Eightfold Noble Path. (p. 89)
Buddhist meditators have to train
themselves to know these truths as deeply as they can by seeing
them in every aspect of existence. We follow the mundane level of
the Noble Eightfold Path in order to reach the supramundane (lokuttara)
path with the attainment of Stream-entry. Then the constituents
of the path -- morality, concentration and wisdom -- are
cultivated to the highest degree and the end of suffering,
Nibbana, is realized.
Reaching the Goal after a Long
Struggle
When we read the stories of these
great bhikkhunis, we see that many of them attained the highest
fruits either instantaneously or soon after coming into contact
with the Buddha or his Dhamma. This could have happened because
they had built up paramis in many previous lives,
creating pure kamma of body, speech and mind, while
simultaneously wearing out the effects of past kamma.Yet not all
the people whose paramis permitted them to actually hear
the Buddha preach were able to become Arahats so quickly in their
final lives. When we confront our rebellious minds as we try to
follow his path, we can take heart from the tales of nuns who had
to put forth years and years of intense persistent effort before
they eliminated all their defilements.
A youthful Citta ordained at her
home town of Rajagaha and spent her whole adult life as a nun
striving for enlightenment. She finally attained her goal only as
a weak old woman, as she laboriously climbed up the landmark of
Vultures' Peak. When she had done so, she said:
Having thrown down my outer robe,
and having turned my bowl upside down, I propped myself against a
rock, having torn asunder the mass of darkness (of ignorance).
(v. 27)
If we diligently, strictly, and
vigorously practice the Noble Eightfold Path, developing insight
into the true nature of existence, the opacity of delusion must
eventually become completely transparent, cleared by wisdom. It
may require many years or many lifetimes of work, but then
patience is one of the qualities we must cultivate from the time
we first set foot on the path.
Another bhikkhuni who took years
to reach enlightenment was Mittakali. She took robes after
hearing the Satipatthana Sutta. In her "lion's roar"
she describes the errors that cost her seven years to gain
Nibbana. Her poem can be instructive to other meditators both
within and outside the Sangha:
Having gone forth in faith from
the house to the houseless state,
I wandered here and there, greedy for gain and honor.
Having missed the highest goal, I pursued the lowest goal.
Having gone under the mastery of the defilements, I did not know
the goal of the ascetic's state. (vv. 92-93)
The Buddha pointed out on many
occasions that it is dangerous for monks and nuns to pursue gains
or favors from the laity, as such activities nullify any attempts
they may make to purify their minds. The layman gives gifts to
bhikkhus and bhikkhunis to earn merit. If the mind of the
recipient is pure, free from greed and other defilements, the
merit accruing to the lay disciple is far greater than if the
recipient's mind is filled with craving. One of the epithets
given to Arahats, whose purity is permanently perfect, is
"worthy of the highest offerings." All those, ordained
or not, who allow craving to overtake them and waste the precious
opportunity they have to practice the Dhamma, will delay their
own liberation and increase their suffering.
In the simile of the poisonous
snake in the Middle Length Sayings (Vol I, pp. 171-72),
the Buddha points out that his teaching has only one aim, freedom
from suffering. An incorrect approach that seeks to misuse the
Dhamma will lead to increased suffering, just as grasping a snake
by the body or tail will result in one's being bitten. The same
venomous snake, if grabbed with the help of a forked stick by the
neck just behind its head, will safely yield up its poison for
medicinal use. The Buddha declares that similarly only those who
wisely examine the purpose of his teachings will be able to gain
insight and actually experience their purpose -- the elimination
of the causes of suffering.
When Mittakali perceived that old
age and death were rapidly approaching, she finally came to
realize the urgency of the task after wasting years in the
pursuit of gain and honor. Since we can never be sure how much
longer we will live, it is risky to put off meditation. We have
come into contact with the Dhamma under conditions conducive to
pursuing the Buddha's goal. Such conditions as youth and human
birth will come to an end -- either gradually or abruptly -- so
we can never be certain that the conditions to practice the
Dhamma will remain ideal. Mittakali took years to comprehend that
with advancing age, rigidity of mind and bodily ailments were
making the job of purification ever more difficult. But once she
did realize this, she was able to achieve the goal. Studying this
verse of hers may help us to avoid wasting precious time:
I felt a sense of urgency as I was
seated in my little cell; (thinking) "I have entered upon
the wrong road; I have come under the mastery of craving.
"My life is short. Old age
and sickness are destroying it. There is no time for me to be
careless before this body is broken."
Looking at the arising and passing
away of the elements of existence as they really are, I stood up
with my mind completely released. The Buddha's Teaching has been
done. (vv. 94-95)
By observing the rise and fall at
every instant of body, feelings, perceptions, mental formations,
and consciousness, Mittakali's mind was freed from misconceptions
of any lasting "I" or self. After those seven long
years of being trapped in the net of desires, she saw through her
foolish and dangerous interest in mundane matters. She was then
able to see the elements or aggregates as they actually are:
utterly transient (anicca), hence incapable of providing
any satisfaction (so dukkha), working automatically
without any lasting core (anatta). All her worldly
involvements dropped away as she attained Arahatship and
thenceforth passed beyond all sorrow and suffering.
Perhaps the most moving story of a
nun who had to undergo a long struggle from the time she first
ordained until she became fully enlightened is that of Punna.
Under six earlier Buddhas, in the vast eons prior to the Buddha
Gotama's dispensation, Punna was a bhikkhuni "perfect in
virtue, and learning the three Pitakas [the Buddhist scriptures]
she became very learned in the Norm and a teacher of it. But
because of her tendency to pride [each time], she was unable to
root out the defilements." Even at the time of Buddha
Gotama, she had to work out some bad kamma and so was born as a
slave. Hearing one of the Buddha's discourses, she became a
Stream-enterer. After she helped her master clear his wrong view,
in gratitude he freed her and she ordained. After so many
lifetimes of striving, the paramis she had built up as a
nun under previous Buddhas ripened. Pride or conceit, always one
of the last defilements to go, finally dissolved and she attained Arahatship.
By pondering the accounts of women
who attained full awakening after much application and effort, we
can be encouraged to continue our own exertions no matter how
slow our progress may appear at a given time. In the Gradual
Sayings (Vol. IV, pp. 83-84), the Buddha gives an analogy of
the wearing down of the carpenter's ax handle to illustrate how
the mental impurities are to be gradually worn away. Even though
the woodcutter cannot say, "This much of the handle was
rubbed off today, this much last week," it is clear to him
that slowly, over time, the handle is being destroyed. Similarly,
a meditator who has a good guide and who constantly attempts to
understand the Four Noble Truths and to live in accordance with
the Noble Eightfold Path, will gradually eliminate his
defilements, even though the steps in the process are
imperceptible. Even the Buddha declined to predict the amount of
time that will elapse before the final goal is reached. This is
conditioned by many interacting factors, such as the good and bad
kamma built up in the past and the amount of effort put forth now
and in the future. Whether it takes us millions of more lifetimes
or a week, we will be sustained in our efforts by the faith that
perfection of morality, concentration and wisdom will bring utter
detachment and freedom from all suffering.
Liberation means renouncing
attachment to oneself and to the world. We cannot rush the
process of detachment; insight into the suffering brought about
by clinging will do it, slowly. While trying to eliminate mental
impurities, we have to accept their existence. We would not be
here at all were it not for the ignorance and other defiling
tendencies that brought us into this birth. We need to learn to
live equanimously with the dirt of the mind while it is slowly
being cleared away. Purification, like all other mental
activities, is a cause and effect process. Clarity comes slowly
with the repeated application of the wisdom of impermanence. If
we are patient and cheerfully bear with moments of apparent
backsliding or stupidity, if we continue to work energetically
with determination, not swerving off the path, the results will
begin here and now. And in due time they have to ripen fully.
Contemplation on the Sangha
The Sangha, the order of monks and
nuns, preserves and perpetuates the Buddha's pure teachings, and
its members have dedicated their lives to practicing them. Thus
contemplation on the Sangha is recommended by the Buddha to help
cultivate wholesome mental states. We could begin such
contemplation based on the poem of a bhikkhuni named Rohini.
Her father had asked her why she
thought recluses and monks were great beings. He claimed, as
might many people today -- particularly in the West with its
strong "work ethic" -- that ascetics are just lazy;
they are "parasites" who do nothing worthwhile and live
off the labor of others. But Rohini proclaimed her faith in the
work and lives of pure recluses. She thereby inspired her
father's confidence, and at her bidding he then took refuge in
the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. Her poem can also inspire
us:
They are dutiful, not lazy, doers
of the best actions; they abandon desire and hatred . . .
They shake off the three roots of
evil doing pure actions; all their evil is eliminated . . .
Their body-activity is pure; and
their speech-activity is likewise; their mind-activity is pure .
. .
They are spotless like
mother-of-pearl, purified inside and out; full of good mental
states . . .
Having great learning, expert in
the doctrine, noble, living in accordance with the doctrine, they
teach the goal and the doctrine . . . with intent minds, (they
are) possessed of mindfulness . . .
Traveling far, possessed of
mindfulness, speaking in moderation, not conceited, they
comprehend the end of suffering . . .
If they go from any village, they
do not look back (longingly) at anything; they go without longing
indeed . . .
They do not deposit their property
in a store-room, nor in a pot, nor in a basket, (rather) seeking
that which is cooked . . .
They do not take gold, coined or
uncoined, or silver; they live by means of whatever turns up . .
.
Those who have gone forth are of
various families and from various countries; (nevertheless) they
are friendly to one another; therefore ascetics are dear to me.
(vv. 275-285)
The Buddhist texts speak of two
kinds of Sangha, both referred to in this poem, the Ariya Sangha
and the Bhikkhu Sangha. In the opening lines Rohini describes the
Ariyas, "noble ones," and those striving to attain that
state. The three lower kinds of Ariyas may be lay disciples or
ordained monks and nuns. But because of their utter purity, the
highest type, the filly liberated Arahats, can continue to live
only within the Bhikkhu Sangha. It is Arahats who have completely
rid their minds of greed, hatred and ignorance, the three roots
of evil which Rohini mentions. Other Ariyas are striving to
abandon whatever of these three still remains in their minds. All
Ariyas to some extent "comprehend the end of
suffering," the Third Noble Truth, for it is this experience
of Nibbana which sets them apart as "noble."
Beginning with the next line,
Rohini specifically talks about the behavior of monks and nuns.
They wander on almsrounds through the streets with their eyes
trained just a few steps ahead of them. "They do not look
back" as they have no idle interest in the events that are
going on around them. They do not handle money and are content
with the minimum by way of the requisites -- whatever their lay
followers may offer them. Students of the Dhamma who are not in
the monastic order would also do well to cultivate the monk's
lack of interest in his surroundings. A good monk does not let
his gaze wander about uncontrolled, especially when he is on
almsround, because when going into the village every morning he
encounters a plethora of sense objects that might entice him if
he does not restrain his senses and maintain mindfulness.
Attentively, the good bhikkhu goes silently from door to door and
leaves when there is enough food in his bowl, without letting
craving disturb his balance of mind. Such a monk is not
interested in the details of the lives of those around him. His
focus is always on the ultimate nature of things -- their
impermanence, painfulness and essencelessness. As lay meditators
we too need to train ourselves to be like these bhikkhus, to
remain equanimous and detached amidst all the clamor and
distractions of life by reminding ourselves that none of these
things is worth running after.
Rohini also states that the noble
monks are not greedy about money or other possessions. They do
not save up their requisites out of fear for the future. Instead,
they trust their good kamma to fulfill their daily needs. While,
as laymen, we must work for our living, we should heed this
behavior and similarly adopt a detached attitude towards wealth.
We work in order to sustain our bodies and those of the people
who are dependent on us. But if we can learn to do this without
intense longing for the "security" that money seems to
provide, we will see how the law of kamma works.
The last verse states that within
the Sangha, the family, class or national background of its
members does not impede their cordial relations with each other.
This kind of open good will is surely useful for laymen to put
into practice in their daily lives too. Since it is by ordaining
that individuals can completely dedicate their lives to the
Dhamma, bhikkhus and bhikkhunis offer us laymen many examples of
how we should try to apply the teachings within the limitations
of "the dust of household life." Rohini's poem has
pointed out some of these.
The Danger of Worldly Desire
A large number of poems by the
nuns emphasize the danger of worldly desire. The bhikkhuni named
Sumedha shaved off her hair herself in order to force her parents
to cancel her proposed marriage and permit his to enter the
Sangha. But before she left home, Sumedha convinced her whole
family and its retinue of the validity of the Buddha's message.
To her fiance, King Anikaratta, she explained the futility of
sense desires and the insatiability of the senses:
Even if the rain-god rained all
seven kinds
Of gems, until earth and heaven were full,
Still senses would crave and men die unsatiated. (p. 176)
No matter how large a quantity of
worldly goods we may have, if the mind has not gained insight,
craving will recur. If ignorance has not been uprooted, desire
will seek more and different objects, always hoping for lasting
satisfaction. Durable happiness is impossible in the mundane
sphere because all sense objects change and decay every moment,
as does the mind itself. This perpetual state of underlying
dissatisfaction -- craving looking for gratification -- is one of
the many forms of present suffering. In addition, desire itself
generates the kammic energy which propels life towards rebirth in
order for it to continue its efforts at finding fulfillment. If
desire is present in the mind at the moment of death, rebirth has
to ensue.
After speaking the above verse,
Sumedha gave a lengthy discourse to the whole assembly in her
palace on the great value of a human birth in the infinity of samsara.
Life in this world is precious because it provides a very rare
opportunity for learning the way to put an end to rebirth and
suffering, for putting into practice the teachings of the Buddha.
Sumedha also spoke on the danger inherent in sensual joy and
sense desire and she uttered verses about the Noble Eightfold
Path as well. She enthusiastically exhorted her audience:
When the undying (Nibbana) exists,
what do you want with sensual pleasures which are burning fevers?
For all delights in sensual pleasures are on fire, aglow,
seething. (v. 504)
When craving momentarily gains its
aim, mind's enjoyment of the sense object brings it to a feverish
state of excitement and activity. Sumedha urges her family to
look beyond such unsettling, binding pleasures and to heed the
words of the Awakened One which show the way beyond all desire to
utter peace. She exhorts them to keep in mind their long-term
benefit and not get caught up in the fragile momentary happiness
that comes with the occasional satisfaction of sense desire. She
reminds them in words we too should recall: "Desires of
sense burn those who do not let go" (p. 176). Clinging to
pleasure always brings pain. Such agitated emotions, although
perhaps pleasant in a gross way, are gone in a moment. They arise
and cease due to conditions we cannot completely control. We
always tend to want the pleasant to last in spite of the fact
that its nature is to change, vanish, and give way to the
unpleasant. Sumedha's poem expounding this wisdom is the last one
in the original Therigatha and it summarizes what the
Buddha taught about the dangers of craving.
The bhikkhuni named Subha also
dwells at length on the dangers of mundane wishes, using some
terrifying metaphors to show the tremendous dangers inherent in
attachment to the world. In the following poem taken from the
Samyutta Nikaya a meditator can discover much by reflecting on
Subha's intense imagery:
May I not meet (again) with
sensual pleasures, in which no refuge is found. Sensual pleasures
are enemies, murderers, like a mass of fire, pain-(ful).
Greed is an obstacle, full of
fear, full of annoyance, full of thorns, and it is very
disagreeable. It is a great cause of stupefaction . . .
Sensual pleasures are maddening,
deceiving, agitating the mind; a net spread out by Mara for the
defilement of creatures.
Sensual pleasures have endless
perils, they have much pain, they are great poisons, they give
little enjoyment, they cause conflict, drying up the virtuous.
(vv. 351f., 357f.)
These lines show us the peril and
suffering we must face when we allow ourselves to become
entangled in mundane desires. Only personal comprehension of
these dangers motivates a meditator to become truly mindful,
aware of his physical and mental activities with ever-present
detachment. Otherwise his "mindfulness" may be forced,
suppressing reactions without helping to untie mental knots.
Studying the suffering we have to encounter if we are carried
away by our desires, naturally loosens their hold on the mind. We
will realize along with Subha that worldly lusts are enemies and
that they herald all the misery of successive births.
One of our tasks in seeking
liberation is to train our minds to see desire as it arises at
the sense doors. We must also see desire as it persists and as it
passes away. Having done this over and over again, we will
understand that all desire or attachment is bound to result in
unhappiness. In this way we will gradually train our minds to let
go of all craving and aversions towards sense objects. To try to
practice this mindfulness without any specific training is likely
to fail because the worldling, the average person, perceives no
suffering in craving. A worldling can only see the expected
happiness. He invariably thinks, "If only this would happen
just right, all would be well." But as we purify our bodily
and vocal activities through morality, still our minds through
concentration, and take up insight meditation under a good
teacher, we will come to see more and more clearly how all desire
is suffering and brings still more suffering in the future. We
will then also realize how often attaining a desired object turns
out to be an anti-climax which leaves -- not the anticipated
happiness -- but only emptiness. With a calm mind we can clearly
perceive the tension, distress, and uneasiness caused by the
continual dissatisfaction, which in turn is due to craving
impelling the mind to various sense objects.
Thus the mind is always running --
now towards what it foolishly regards as a "desirable"
thing, now away from what it considers "undesirable."
In Vipassana meditation, the one-pointed mind is trained to
experience directly the transitory nature of body and of mind
itself, and also of external sense objects. With this direct
knowledge or experiential insight, the "happiness"
which is so avidly sought by the worldling is seen as really just
another form of suffering, and the perpetual tension caused by
the ignorance and craving latent in any unliberated mind becomes
evident. As sensual pleasure is understood to be the seething
fire described by our bhikkhunis, the mind naturally lets go of
all these different manifestations of craving. Such a mind has
thoroughly learned the lesson that the nuns gleaned from their
Master and passed on to us: suffering is inherent in desire.
The Danger of Attachment to One's
Beauty
In ancient times as well as at
present, women in all stations of life have used various means to
enhance their beauty and to hide the signs of advancing age.
This, however, is just a futile attempt to pretend that the body
is not growing old, to keep it from showing outwardly that it is
actually falling apart. But if, instead of creams and lotions,
wisdom is applied to the aging process, it can deepen our
understanding of impermanence on all levels.
Ambapali was a wealthy and
beautiful courtesan during the time of the Buddha. Before she
heard the Buddha preach, her main concern had been to cultivate
and maintain her renowned beauty. With the Buddha's guidance, she
was able to face the inevitability of aging and the loss of her
beauty and to comprehend the suffering of old age. Her verses can
also stimulate our own understanding:
My eyes were shining, very
brilliant like jewels, very black and long. Overwhelmed by old
age, they do not look beautiful. Not otherwise is the utterance
of the speaker of truth . . .
Formerly my hands looked
beautiful, possessing delicate signet rings, decorated with gold.
Because of old age they are like onions and radishes. Not
otherwise is the utterance of the speaker of the truth . . .
Formerly my body looked beautiful,
like a well-polished sheet of gold. (Now) it is covered with very
fine wrinkles. Not otherwise is the utterance of the speaker of
the truth . . .
Such was this body. (Now) it is
decrepit, the abode of many pains, an old house with its plaster
fallen off. Not otherwise is the utterance of the speaker of the
truth. (vv. 257, 264, 266, 270)
Ambapali sees how all the body's
charms give way to ugliness and pain as the aging process takes
its toll, as the Buddha teaches it must. All physical beauty, no
matter how perfect it might seem at one youthful moment, is
utterly impermanent. Even at its peak, the brilliance of the eyes
is already, if invisibly, starting to grow dim; the firmness of
limbs is withering; the smoothness of skin is wrinkling.
Impermanence and decay, Ambapali reminds us, is the nature of all
bodies and of everything else in the universe as well.
Khema, the queen of King
Bimbisara, was another woman who had been enthralled with her own
beauty prior to meeting the Buddha. But Khema had made a vow
before one of the earlier Buddhas to become great in wisdom under
the Buddha Gotama. During the dispensations of several of the
intervening Buddhas, she had parks made which she donated to each
Buddha and his Sangha.
But in her final lifetime Khema
strongly resisted going to see the Buddha Gotama. Perhaps her
"Mara forces" were making a last effort to keep her in samsara.
They were, however, doomed to fail since by the force of her
merits this was to be her final existence. King Bimbisara almost
had to trick her into going to the Buddha because Queen Khema was
so attached to her looks and was afraid that this would provoke
the Buddha's disapproval. If we ever find ourselves resisting the
Dhamma, we can use Khema's example to remind ourselves of the
temporary nature of this mental state. Then we will not take it
as a major personal fault. Mind's old habits are not pure, so at
times it is bound to struggle against the process of
purification.
But the Buddha knew how to tame
Khema's vanity and conceit. He created the vivid image of a woman
even more attractive than she was. When she came into his
presence, Khema saw this other lady fanning the Buddha. Then,
before the queen's very eyes, the Buddha made the beautiful image
grow older and older until she was just a decaying bag of bones.
Seeing this, first Khema realized that her own beauty was not
unmatched. This broke her pride. Second and more important, she
understood that she herself would likewise have to grow old and
decrepit.
The Buddha next spoke a verse and
Khema became a Stream-enterer. Then in rapid succession she went
through all the stages of enlightenment to attain Arahatship on
the spot. Thereupon the Buddha told King Bimbisara that she would
either have to ordain or to pass away, and the king, unable to
bear the thought of losing her so soon, gave her permission to
ordain. So, already an Arahat, she was ordained -- one of the
very rare cases of a human being who had achieved Arahatship
before entering the Sangha. Khema had clearly built up truly
unique paramis by giving great gifts to earlier Buddhas
and by learning their teachings thoroughly. [*] Here again we see
the great importance of creating in the present strong good kamma
based on wisdom, even if we do not attain any of the paths or
fruits in this lifetime. The more good deeds accompanied by
wisdom that we do now, the easier will it be when the time
actually comes for us to reach the goal. Meditation is, of
course, the most valuable of such deeds.
* [This story is related in the
Commentary to the Dhammapada, translated as Buddhist Legends
by E. W. Burlingame, published by the Pali Text Society. See Part
3, pp. 225ff.]
In the Therigatha,
Khema's poem takes the form of a conversation with Mara, the
being who controls and symbolizes the forces of evil. Mara
praised her beauty, and her reply shows how totally her view of
herself and of life had changed now that she fully understood the
true nature of things:
Through this body vile, foul seat
of disease and corruption,
Loathing I feel, and oppression. Cravings of lust are uprooted.
Lusts of the body and mind cut like daggers and javelins.
Speak not to me of delighting in any sensuous pleasure!
All such vanities cannot delight me any more. (p. 83)
Then she identifies Mara with
those who believe that mere ritual observances will lead to
mental purification. Khema states that such people, who worship
fire or the constellations, etc., are ignorant of reality and
cannot eliminate their defiling tendencies through such
practices. This is why the belief that rites and rituals can
bring about liberation has to be eliminated to attain even the
stage of Stream-entry.
Khema concludes her verses with an
exclamation of deep gratitude to the Buddha, the supreme among
men. Her last line is a resounding "lion's roar":
(I am) utterly free from all
sorrow,
A doer of the Buddha's teachings. (pp. 3-4)
Khema had "done," i.e.
put into practice, the message of all the Buddhas, and this had
taken her beyond the realms of suffering.
Further Conversations with Mara
Some of the other discourse-type
verses in the Therigatha also take the form of a
discussion with Mara. Typically, Mara asks the Arahat nun why she
is not interested in the "good things of life." Mara
urged Sela, for example, to enjoy sensual pleasures while youth
allowed her to do so. The theri's reply on the dangers of such
delights offers similes as powerful as those used by Bhikkhuni Sumedha:
Sensual pleasures are like sword
and stakes; the elements of existence are a chopping block for
them; what you call 'delight in sensual pleasures' is now
'non-delight' for me. (v. 58)
Surely many of us have also heard
our own internal Mara urge us to "go have a good time and
never mind the long-term kammic consequences." But if we can
remind ourselves often enough and early enough of the painful
after-effects of such "joys" -- especially of those
that involve breaking moral precepts -- we may see through the
pleasures of the senses and so gradually lose our attachment to
them. In one of the discourses from the Samyutta Nikaya, Cala
tells Mara that, unlike most beings, she finds no delight in
birth in spite of the so-called sensual pleasures that life makes
possible. With clear simplicity she shows that ultimately all
that birth produces is suffering:
Once born we die. Once born we see
life's ills --
The bonds, the torments, and the life cut off. (p. 186)
We too should cultivate this
understanding in order to develop detachment from the
poison-soaked sensual pleasures offered by mundane life.
The
Doctrine of Anatta
One of the unique aspects of the
Buddha's teaching is its doctrine of anatta, the
impersonal, essenceless, egoless or soul-less nature of all
phenomena. This universal characteristic is difficult to
comprehend as it is contrary to our most deeply held assumption
that "I" exist, that "I" act and
"I" feel.
Sakula, in the following lines of
her poem in the Therigatha, briefly expresses her
understanding of the impersonal quality of all compounded things:
Seeing the constituent elements as
other, arisen causally, liable to dissolution, I eliminated all
taints. I have become cool, quenched. (v. 101)
Sakula has attained Nibbana
because she saw with total clarity that everything normally taken
to be "myself" is, in fact, devoid of any such self.
She knew that all these phenomena arise and dissolve every moment
strictly dependent on causes. This comprehension has rooted out
all tendency to cling to the sankharas or
"constituent elements" and so all the defiling mental
tendencies have ceased.
When Mara asks Sister Sela,
"Who made this body, where did it come from and where will
it go?", she gives him in reply (in one of the poems added
from the Samyutta Nikaya) a discourse on egolessness:
Neither self-made the puppet is,
nor yet
By another is this evil fashioned.
By reason of a cause it came to be;
By rupture of a cause it dies away.
Like a given seed sown in the field,
Which, when it gets the taste of earth,
And moisture too -- by these two does grow,
So the five aggregates, the elements,
And the six spheres of sense -- all of these --
By reason of a cause they came to be;
By rupture of a cause they die away. (pp. 189-190)
After the seed analogy, the last
four lines discuss the "self" as it actually is -- a
compound of conditioned, changing phenomena. The five aggregates
make up nama (mentality) and rupa
(materiality), each of which is turn made up of groups of
ephemeral factors. Nama, the mental side of existence,
consists of the four immaterial aggregates -- feeling (vedana),
perception (sanna), mental formations (sankhara),
and consciousness (vinnana) -- which arise together at
every moment of experience. Rupa, which may be external
matter or the matter of one's own body, consists of the four
essential material qualities -- solidity, cohesion, temperature,
and vibration -- along with the derivative types of matter
coexisting with them in the very minute material groupings called
kalapas, arising and passing away millions of times per
second.
Each aggregate arises due to
certain causes and when these causes end, the aggregate also
ceases. Causes, or conditions, are connected with effects in the
law of dependent arising (paticcasamuppada), which is at the
center of the Buddha's own awakening. The refrain from Sela's
poem (lines 3-4 and 10-11) is, in fact, a reformulation of the
most general exposition of that law often stated thus in the suttas:
When there is this, that comes to
be;
With the arising of this, that arises.
When this is absent, that does not come to be;
With the cessation of this, that ceases.
The specific link in the cycle of
dependent arising most relevant to Sela's verse is: "With
consciousness as condition, mentality-materiality arises."
That is, at the moment of conception, nama-rupa (in this
case excluding consciousness) arises due to rebirth-linking
consciousness. Later on, during the course of an existence, nama,
the mental aggregates, comes into being due to ignorance, past
kamma, objects at the sense doors, and many other conditions. Rupa,
the matter which makes up the body, arises during life because of
food, climate, present state of mind, and past kamma.
Sela also refers to the elements, dhatu,
a word which the Buddha uses for several groups of phenomena. Let
us look here at the eighteen elements. The five sense faculties
(eye, ear, nose, tongue, body), their objects (sights, sounds,
smells, tastes, touches), and the five types of consciousness
dependent on their coming together make up fifteen of the
elements. Mind as a faculty, mental objects (ideas), and the
mind-consciousness that arises when those two come together are
the sixth in each set, completing the eighteen.
The Buddha analyzed the totality
of conditioned phenomena into ultimate constituents in a number
of ways for the benefit of listeners of varying proclivities. To
some, the eighteen elements are clear, to others, the five
aggregates. Either way, what we need to understand as Sela did is
that none of these things is "me" or "mine"
or "my self." All these phenomena -- the aggregates,
the elements, the spheres -- arise because of certain conditions,
and when those conditions end, naturally they also have to end.
When the relevant causes have expended their force, all these
aspects of what we erroneously take to be "me" and
"mine" cease. So we see with Sela that nowhere is there
any real, independent, or lasting "I" with the power to
create and sustain itself. There is only the concept "I
am" which is conditioned by ignorance, i.e. our inability to
see mind-and-body as it really is. The idea "I" is
itself essenceless, it arises due to causes; and it is also
inherently impermanent, bound to completely disappear when the
ignorance and other supporting conditions behind it are uprooted.
This is the attainment of Arahatship.
The removal of ignorance takes
place step by step in Vipassana meditation. Every aspect of the
mind-body complex comes to be clearly known at its ultimate level
as conditioned, essenceless, transitory, oppressive. One comes to
fully understand that only when the appropriate conditions come
about will a so-called "being" be born. Only then will
a five-aggregate life-continuum commence a new life with its
bases, elements and sense organs. If we explore Bhikkhuni Sela's
seed analogy, we will see in relation to ourselves how a strict
succession of causes and effects, kammic and other, governs all
of life. We will discover that there is no underlying or ongoing
"I" doing or experiencing anything, and will begin to
loosen our attachment to this non-existent "self." Then
we start to eliminate the dreadful suffering that comes attendant
on this delusion.
Suffering follows from the
mistaken belief in an "I," technically called sakkayaditthi,
wrong view of a lasting self. On the basis of this idea the mind
generates all its thoughts of craving: "I must have
this," "I don't like that," "This is
mine." It is basically due to this misconception of a
controlling self that we have been wandering and suffering
throughout eons in samsara. If we are to eliminate all
the dukkha of existence, as Theri Sela did, we must
develop insight through Vipassana meditation to the point at
which understanding of the ultimate truth about mind and body
dissolves the mistaken belief in an "I." We can use
this bhikkhuni's words to stimulate our own personal meditative
experience of the essenceless nature of the five aggregates.
Men and Women in the Dhamma
The difference between the male
and female in connection with the Dhamma is a minor theme running
through the Therigatha. It takes two forms: poems whose
subject matter is the irrelevance of one's gender for gaining
insight, and instances in which a nun specifically inspires or
instructs a man with a discourse. The stories of Sumedha and
Rohini already discussed fit into the latter type.
An example of the first type is
Soma's challenge to Mara's query about women's ability to attain
Arahatship. Soma showed Mara that the capacity to gain the
requisite insight for liberation need not be hindered by
"woman's nature." Soma's encounter with Mara in the Therigatha
proper is explained in her verses from the Samyutta Nikaya, where
she rhetorically asks him:
What should the woman's nature do
to them
Whose hearts are firmly set, who ever move
With growing knowledge onward in the Path? (pp. 45; 182-183)
If one is really developing
morality, concentration and wisdom, it does not matter whether
one was born male or female. The insight to "truly
comprehend the Norm" is completely irrespective of
superficial distinctions of sex, race, caste, etc. Soma adds that
if one even thinks, "Am I a woman in these matter, or an I a
man, or what not am I then?" one is under Mara's sway. To be
much concerned with such subjects is to remain on the level of
conventional truth, clinging to the non-existent self. Repeatedly
worrying about which sex is better or about the
"inequities" women suffer generates unwholesome kamma.
Thoughts like this are rooted in attachment to "I" and
"mine" and are associated with ill will or desire.
Moreover, spending time on such
matters distracts us from the urgent task of self-purification.
Meditators who wish to escape Mara's net need to cast off such
thoughts as soon as they are noticed. We should not indulge in or
expand upon them. Soma and all the other nuns follow the Buddha's
advice closely when they urge us to stick exclusively to the work
that will allow us to liberate ourselves from all suffering. All
side issues will lose their importance and so pass away with
further growth of wisdom. When we know fully that all beings are
just impersonal, unstable mind-body processes, generating kamma
and feeling its results, our minds will remain with the ultimate
truths and have no interest in any conventional concerns.
The story of the bhikkhuni known
as "Vaddha's Mother" is one in which a nun specifically
guides a man in the Dhamma. This woman joined the Sangha when her
son Vaddha was small; thus he had been brought up by relatives.
Later, he too ordained and one day went to visit his mother in
the bhikkhunis' quarters. On that occasion, she exhorted and
inspired him to seek and attain the highest goal:
Vaddha, may you not have craving
for the world at any time. Child, do not be again and again a
sharer in pain.
Happy, indeed, Vaddha, dwell the
sages, free from lust, with doubts cut off, become cool, having
attained self-taming, (being) without taints.
O Vaddha, devote yourself to the
way practiced by seers for the attainment of insight, for the
putting an end to pain. (vv. 204-205)
From these lines Vaddha deduced
that his mother had reached the goal, a fact she confirmed. She
again urged him to develop "the path leading to the
cessation of suffering" himself. Vaddha, being deeply
inspired by his mother's words, also attained the goal and then
spoke the following lines praising her:
Truly my mother, because of being
sympathetic, applied an excellent goad to me, (namely) verses
connected with the highest goal.
Having heard her utterance, the
instruction of my mother, I reached a state of religious
excitement in the doctrine, for the attainment of
rest-from-exertion. (vv. 210-211)
Here we find a woman's example of
perfect sainthood, combined with her timely Dhamma instruction,
inspiring a man whose paramis were ripe to put forth the
utmost effort and attain complete liberation.
The Five Aggregates and Nibbana
The Culavedalla Sutta (Middle
Length Sayings, Vol. I) is another sutta in which a
bhikkhuni instructs a man. This important text takes the form of
a discourse on some fine points of the Dhamma given by the theri
Dhammadinna in reply to questions put to her by her former
husband, the lay disciple Visakha. They had been married for some
time when he attained the third stage of holiness, that of the
Non-returner (anagami), by eradicating all traces of ill
will and sense desire. Dhammadinna then learned from him that
women too could purity their minds and she obtained his
permission to take robes as a nun. By the time of this
discussion, she must have already attained Arahatship, the fourth
and final stage of holiness.
Visakha first asks Dhammadinna
what the Buddha actually refers to when, using conventional
language, he says "own self." [*] As a Non-Returner,
Visakha knew the answer to this basic question, but he put it by
way of introduction to his progressive series of queries.
Dhammadinna's reply is something for us to ponder. She says that
the "five aggregates of grasping" (pancupadanakkhandha)
comprise "own self." She defines the aggregates or
groups of grasping as: the group of grasping after material
shape, the group of grasping after feeling, the group of grasping
after perception, the group of grasping after habitual
tendencies, the group of grasping after consciousness.
* [In Pali, sakkaya. I.
B. Horner's translation of this term here as "own body"
may be misleading. Although the work kaya does literally
mean "body," it is often used to refer to a collection
or assemblage of things, such as a "body of people."
Here it signifies the assemblage of psycho-physical phenomena
that the worldling identifies as his self.]
The aggregates are viewed and
clung to as myself or mine: this is sakkayaditthi, the
view that there is a lasting self. Actually, there is no lasting
controller or core corresponding to the concept "me" or
"I." It is merely the grasping after these five groups,
which are all that actually makes up "myself," that
perpetuates our illusion that there is something substantial. If
we can see this, we will be attacking sakkayaditthi and
will come to know that in reality there is no essence, just these
five aggregates, all of whose components are continually
changing.
The next question Visakha asks
Dhammadinna concerns the reasons for the arising of the
aggregates. Quoting the Buddha, she replies that the cause for
the aggregates is "craving (that is) connected with
again-becoming, accompanied by delight and attachment, finding
delight in this and that, namely, the craving for sense
pleasures, the craving for becoming, the craving for
annihilation."
All craving contributes to the
arising of the aggregates over and over again. Being attracted to
the things of this world or of the heavenly planes ("craving
for sense pleasures") will lead to rebirth there with
renewed suffering, gross or subtle. Wanting to keep on going
("craving for becoming") strengthens clinging and
ignorance to force us to continue in samsara. The belief
that there is no form of life after death (rooted in
"craving for annihilation") undermines the doctrine of
kamma and its result, the understanding of which is essential to
moral living.
After a long series of questions
and answers which cover the Four Noble Truths, the attainment of
cessation, feeling, etc., Visakha asks a final question:
"And what, lady, is the counterpart [i.e. equal] of
Nibbana?" Here Dhammadinna has to stop him:
This question goes too far, friend
Visakha, it is beyond the compass of an answer. Friend Visakha,
the Brahmafaring is for immergence in Nibbana, for going beyond
to Nibbana, for culminating in Nibbana.
Nothing can possibly be compared
with Nibbana as everything else, be it mental or physical, arises
and ceases due to conditions.
Nibbana alone is unconditioned and
unchanging. Going beyond the realm of transitory, unsatisfactory
phenomena to the utter peace of Nibbana is the aim of the
teaching of the Buddha and so of serious Buddhists. It is useful
to keep this goal in mind even during the early stages of
meditation, when it may seem remote and vague. The aspiration to
attain Nibbana is cumulative. If it is frequently considered,
repeated and combined with the practice of Vipassana, this
aspiration will become a supporting condition for the attainment
itself. Frequent recollection of the goal will also keep us from
being sidetracked by the pleasurable experiences one may
encounter on the path.
After this question and answer
session, Dhammadinna suggests that Visakha should ask the Buddha
about all this so that he is certain and learns the answers well.
Visakha takes up the idea and later repeats to the Buddha his
entire conversation with the theri. The Lord replies in her
praise:
Clever, Visakha, is the nun
Dhammadinna, of great wisdom. . . .
If you had asked me, Visakha,
about this matter, I too would have answered exactly as the nun
Dhammadinna answered.
Kamma
and its Fruit
Finally, let us look at a poem in
which a bhikkhuni describes in detail a few of her previous lives
and shows her questioner how she comprehended the law of kammic
cause and effect working out behind her present-life experiences.
Isidasi had built up many good paramis
long ago during the times of former Buddhas. But some seven
lifetimes back, when she was a young man, she had committed
adultery. After passing away from that existence Isidasi had to
suffer the results of this immoral action:
Therefrom deceasing, long I
ripened in Avici hell
And then found rebirth in the body of an ape.
Scarce seven days I lived before the great
Dog-ape, the monkey's chief, castrated me.
Such was the fruit of my lasciviousness.
Therefrom deceasing in the woods of Sindh,
Born the offspring of a one-eyed goat
And lame, twelve years a gelding, gnawn by worms.
Unfit, I carried children on my back.
Such was the fruit of my lasciviousness. (p. 157)
The next time she was born a calf
and was again castrated, and as a bullock pulled a plow and a
cart. Then, as the worst of that evil kamma's results had already
ripened, Isidasi returned to the human realm. But it was still an
uncertain kind of birth as she was the hermaphroditic child of a
slave. That life too did not last long. Next, she was the
daughter of a man oppressed by debts. One of her father's
creditors took her in lieu of payment. She became the wife of
that merchant's son, but she "brought discord and enmity
within that house."
In her final lifetime, no matter
how hard she tried, no home she was sent to as a bride would keep
her more than a brief while. Several times her virtuous father
had her married to appropriate suitors. She tried to be the
perfect wife, but each time she was thrown out. This inability to
remain with a husband created an opportunity for her to break
through the cycle of results. After her third marriage
disintegrated, she decided to enter the Sangha. All her mental
defilements were eliminated by meditation, insight into the Four
Noble Truths matured, and Isidasi became an Arahat.
She also developed the ability to
see her past lives and thus saw how this whole causal chain of
unwholesome deeds committed long ago brought their results in her
successive existences:
Fruit of my kamma was it thus that
they
In this last life have slighted me even though
I waited on them as their humble slave.
The last line of her poem puts the
past, rebirth and all its sufferings, completely behind with a
"lion's roar": "Enough! Of all that now have I
made an end." (p. 163)
In Isidasi's tale we have several
instructive illustrations of the inexorable workings of the law
of kamma. The suffering she had to undergo because of sexual
misconduct lasted through seven difficult lives. But the seeds of
wisdom had also been sown and when the force of the bad kamma was
used up, the powerful paramis she had created earlier
bore their fruit. Hence Isidasi was able to become a bhikkhuni,
purify her mind perfectly, and so eliminate all possible causes
of future suffering. The beginning, the middle, and the ending of
every life are always due to causes and conditions.
We have now come full circle with
these stories of the theris and have returned to the theme of
impersonal causes and effects working themselves out, without any
lasting being committing deeds or experiencing results. The
infinite sequence of lifetimes steeped in ignorance and suffering
is repeated over and over until accumulated paramis and
present wisdom, aided by other factors, become sufficiently
strong to enable one to see through the craving which has
perpetually propelled the succession of aggregates. Through this
process these bhikkhunis clearly perceived that their attachments
and aversions were the source of all their suffering. Because of
this insight, they were able to dissolve the knots of old
delusion-based conditioning.
With their completed understanding
of suffering, the First Noble Truth, and the abandoning of
craving, the Second Noble Truth, their practice of the Noble
Eightfold Path, the Fourth Noble Truth, was perfected. They
attained the cessation of suffering, the Third Noble Truth, in
that very lifetime, and were never reborn again.
The poems of these enlightened
nuns, telling how they came to meet the Buddha, how they had
built up wisdom and other meritorious kamma over many previous
lives, how they understood the Buddha's teachings, and how they
attained Arahatship, offer us inspiration and guidance. They can
help us present-day Buddhists to practice Vipassana meditation
and to gain insight into suffering and its causes. Then we too
will be able to give up all craving by developing wisdom. We can
use the messages of the theris to assist us in putting an end to
our own suffering.
Grateful for their assistance, may
we all follow in the footsteps of these great nuns, true
daughters of the Buddha. May our minds be perfect in wisdom,
perfectly pure, and utterly free from all possibility of future
suffering.
Susan Elbaum Jootla was born in
New York City in 1945 and obtained B.A. and M.A. degrees in
Library Science from the University of Michigan. She is married
to an Indian, Balbir S. Jootla, with whom she lives in the
Western Himalayan hill station of Dalhousie. They have both been
practicing Vipassana meditation in the tradition of the late
Sayagyi U Ba Khin of Burma since 1970 and are now students of his
leading disciple, Mother Sayama, who directs the International
Meditation Centres in England and Rangoon. Her previous BPS
publications are "Right Livelihood: The Noble Eightfold Path
in the Working Life" in The Buddhist Layman (Wheel
No. 294/295) and Investigation for Insight (Wheel No
301/302). Her book Buddhism in Practice, about the
meditation tradition of U Ba Khin, is scheduled for publication
by Motilal Banarsidass of India.