Sense Contact - the Fount of Wisdom1 |
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''Excuse me, sir, who are you?''
''I am a samana.''
''Who is your teacher?''
''Venerable Gotama is my teacher.''
''What does Venerable Gotama teach?''
''He teaches that all things arise because of conditions.
When they cease it's because the causal conditions have ceased.''When asked about the Dhamma by Sāriputta, Assaji explained only in brief, he talked about cause and effect. Dhammas arise because of causes. The cause arises first and then the result. When the result is to cease the cause must first cease. That's all he said, but it was enough for Sāriputta4. Now this was a cause for the arising of Dhamma. At that time Sāriputta had eyes, he had ears, he had a nose, a tongue, a body and a mind. All his faculties were intact. If he didn't have his faculties would there have been sufficient causes for wisdom to arise for him? Would he have been aware of anything? But most of us are afraid of contact. Either that or we like to have contact but we develop no wisdom from it: instead we repeatedly indulge through eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind, delighting in and getting lost in sense objects. This is how it is. These sense bases can entice us into delight and indulgence or they can lead to knowledge and wisdom. They have both harm and benefit, depending on our wisdom. So now let us understand that, having gone forth and come to practice, we should take everything as practice. Even the bad things. We should know them all. Why? So that we may know the truth. When we talk of practice we don't simply mean those things that are good and pleasing to us. That's not how it is. In this world some things are to our liking, some are not. These things all exist in this world, nowhere else. Usually whatever we like we want, even with fellow monks and novices. Whatever monk or novice we don't like we don't want to associate with, we only want to be with those we like. You see? This is choosing according to our likes. Whatever we don't like we don't want to see or know about. Actually the Buddha wanted us to experience these things. Lokavidū - look at this world and know it clearly. If we don't know the truth of the world clearly then we can't go anywhere. Living in the world we must understand the world. The Noble Ones of the past, including the Buddha, all lived with these things, they lived in this world, among deluded people. They attained the truth right in this very world, nowhere else. They didn't run off to some other world to find the truth. But they had wisdom. They restrained their senses, but the practice is to look into all these things and know them as they are. Therefore the Buddha taught us to know the sense bases, our points of contact. The eye contacts forms and sends them ''in'' to become sights. The ears make contact with sounds, the nose makes contact with odors, the tongue makes contact with tastes, the body makes contact with tactile sensations, and so awareness arises. Where awareness arises is where we should look and see things as they are. If we don't know these things as they really are we will either fall in love with them or hate them. Where these sensations arise is where we can become enlightened, where wisdom can arise. But sometimes we don't want things to be like that. The Buddha taught restraint, but restraint doesn't mean we don't see anything, hear anything, smell, taste, feel or think anything. That's not what it means. If practicers don't understand this then as soon as they see or hear anything they cower and run away. They don't deal with things. They run away, thinking that by so doing those things will eventually lose their power over them, that they will eventually transcend them. But they won't. They won't transcend anything like that. If they run away not knowing the truth of them, later on the same stuff will pop up to be dealt with again. For example, those practicers who are never content, be they in monasteries, forests, or mountains. They wander on ''dhutanga pilgrimage'' looking at this, that and the other, thinking they'll find contentment that way. They go, and then they come back... didn't see anything. They try going to a mountain top... ''Ah! This is the spot, now I'm right.'' They feel at peace for a few days and then get tired of it. ''Oh, well, off to the seaside.'' ''Ah, here it's nice and cool. This'll do me fine.'' After a while they get tired of the seaside as well... Tired of the forests, tired of the mountains, tired of the seaside, tired of everything. This is not being tired of things in the right sense5, as right view, it's simply boredom, a kind of wrong view. Their view is not in accordance with the way things are. When they get back to the monastery... ''Now, what will I do? I've been all over and came back with nothing.'' So they throw away their bowls and disrobe. Why do they disrobe? Because they haven't got any grip on the practice, they don't see anything; go to the north and don't see anything; go to the seaside, to the mountains, into the forests and still don't see anything. So it's all finished... they ''die.'' This is how it goes. It's because they're continually running away from things. Wisdom doesn't arise. Now take another example. Suppose there is one monk who determines to stay with things, not to run away. He looks after himself. He knows himself and also knows those who come to stay with him. He's continually dealing with problems. For example, the abbot. If one is an abbot of a monastery there are constant problems to deal with, there's a constant stream of things that demand attention. Why so? Because people are always asking questions. The questions never end, so you must be constantly on the alert. You are constantly solving problems, your own as well as other people's. That is, you must be constantly awake. Before you can doze off they wake you up again with another problem. So this causes you to contemplate and understand things. You become skillful: skillful in regard to yourself and skillful in regard to others. Skillful in many, many ways. This skill arises from contact, from confronting and dealing with things, from not running away. We don't run away physically but we ''run away'' in mind, using our wisdom. We understand with wisdom right here, we don't run away from anything. This is a source of wisdom. One must work, must associate with other things. For instance, living in a big monastery like this we must all help out to look after the things here. Looking at it in one way you could say that it's all defilement. Living with lots of monks and novices, with many lay people coming and going, many defilements may arise. Yes, I admit... but we must live like this for the development of wisdom and the abandonment of foolishness. Which way are we to go? Are we going to live in order to get rid of foolishness or to increase our foolishness? |
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