Whether this is old or new to you depends on you, on your wisdom and
discernment. One who has no wisdom or discernment won't be able to
figure it out. Just take a look at trees, like mango or jackfruit
trees. If they grow up in a clump, one tree may get bigger first and
then the others will bend away, growing outwards from that bigger
one. Why does this happen? Who tells them to do that? This is nature.
Nature contains both the good and the bad, the right and the wrong.
It can either incline to the right or incline to the wrong. If we
plant any kind of trees at all close together, the trees which mature
later will branch away from the bigger tree. How does this happen?
Who determines it thus? This is nature, or Dhamma.
Likewise, tanhā, desire, leads us to suffering.
Now, if we contemplate it, it will lead us out of desire, we will
outgrow tanhā. By investigating tanhā
we will shake it up, making it gradually lighter and lighter until
it's all gone. The same as the trees: does anybody order them to grow
the way they do? They can't talk or move around and yet they know
how to grow away from obstacles. Wherever it's cramped and crowded
and growing will be difficult, they bend outwards.
Right here is Dhamma, we don't have to look at a whole lot. One who
is astute will see the Dhamma in this. Trees by nature don't know
anything, they act on natural laws, yet they do know enough to grow
away from danger, to incline towards a suitable place.
Reflective people are like this. We go forth into the homeless life
because we want to transcend suffering. What is it that makes us suffer?
If we follow the trail inwards we will find out. That which we like
and that which we don't like are suffering. If they are suffering
then don't go so close to them. Do you want to fall in love with conditions
or hate them?... they're all uncertain. When we incline towards the
Buddha all this comes to an end. Don't forget this. And patient endurance.
Just these two are enough. If you have this sort of understanding
this is very good.
Actually in my own practice I didn't have a teacher to give as much
teachings as all of you get from me. I didn't have many teachers.
I ordained in an ordinary village temple and lived in village temples
for quite a few years. In my mind I conceived the desire to practice,
I wanted to be proficient, I wanted to train. There wasn't anybody
giving any teaching in those monasteries but the inspiration to practice
arose. I traveled and I looked around. I had ears so I listened, I
had eyes so I looked. Whatever I heard people say, I'd tell myself,
''Not sure.'' Whatever I saw, I told myself, ''Not sure,''
or when the tongue contacted sweet, sour, salty, pleasant or unpleasant
flavors, or feelings of comfort or pain arose in the body, I'd tell
myself, ''This is not a sure thing!'' And so I lived with Dhamma.
In truth it's all uncertain, but our desires want things to be certain.
What can we do? We must be patient. The most important thing is khanti,
patient endurance. Don't throw out the Buddha, what I call ''uncertainty''
- don't throw that away.
Sometimes I'd go to see old religious sites with ancient monastic
buildings, designed by architects, built by craftsmen. In some places
they would be cracked. Maybe one of my friends would remark, ''Such
a shame, isn't it? It's cracked.'' I'd answer, ''If that weren't
the case then there'd be no such thing as the Buddha, there'd be no
Dhamma. It's cracked like this because it's perfectly in line with
the Buddha's teaching.'' Really down inside I was also sad to see
those buildings cracked but I'd throw off my sentimentality and try
to say something which would be of use to my friends, and to myself.
Even though I also felt that it was a pity, still I tended towards
the Dhamma.
''If it wasn't cracked like that there wouldn't be any Buddha!''
I'd say it really heavy for the benefit of my friends... or perhaps
they weren't listening, but still I was listening.
|