DP Tool Club 12/CD_ASCQ_12_0294.iso/vrac/wheel083.zip/ROBES.TXT

Text File | 1994-01-22 | 121KB | 2,096 lines

                          WITH ROBES AND BOWL
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                               PREAMBLE:
           The Bhikkhu Life -- The Thirteen Austere Practices


      The Triple Gem or the Three Precious Ones are the highest ideals
  of the Buddhadhamma. To the Lord Buddha, to the Holy Dhamma (Teaching)
  and to the Noble Sangha (Order of Monks) are given veneration by all
  Buddhists since they aspire to mould their lives according to the
  qualities represented by these three ideals.[*]

  * [See 'The Wheel' No. 76:  The Threefold Refuge, by Nyanaponika
       Thera.]


      In the English language, there are now a number of books
  describing the life of the last Buddha, Gotama, also many explaining
  what is meant by the ideal of Buddhahood. Likewise, we have an
  ever-growing flood of literature, translations, commentaries and so
  forth, to help us understand what is Dhamma. Much less information,
  however is to be found on the Sangha, especially upon the bhikkhu-life
  of the present day. Of course those living in the Buddhist countries
  where the Sangha is established, will know more about it than will
  those who follow the Buddha's Path in other lands. It is to give the
  latter a picture of bhikkhu-life that this book is written, besides
  keeping before the eyes of those living in Buddhists lands, the best
  traditions of the Sangha.

      While Buddhadhamma is a way for everyone, bhikkhu or lay-follower,
  naturally the bhikkhus, since they have fully devoted themselves to
  its practice, have more opportunity to penetrate to the heart of the
  Teaching. To do this, they must, as indeed anyone who wishes to do so,
  obtain experience in its three trainings (//ti-sikkha//): Learning
  (//pariyatti//), Practice (//patipatti//) and Penetration
  (//pativedha//). These lead on one from the other, thus making both of
  the first two necessary. Without Learning, one's Practice (of keeping
  the Precepts, Meditation) is liable to stray away from Correct
  Understanding (//samma-ditthi//). Without Practice, learning is just
  barren as far as the fruits of Penetration are concerned.

      Commentaries written later upon the ancient Buddha-word give new
  names to Learning and Practice, calling the former Book-work
  (//gantha-dhura//) and the latter Insight-work (//vipassana-dhura//).
  It may have been already in early times that a tendency appeared to
  concentrate upon either one or the other as though they were
  alternative ways rather than complementary steps. This tendency, which
  has persisted into the present, seems to be an expression of human
  frailty, for it is much easier to study the scriptures and become
  learned,[*] while largely setting aside the practice, especially
  meditation, than it is to get down and practice all that has been
  learnt.

  * [For the life of the `book-work' bhikkhu, see Buddhism, Ch. V.3
       edited by R. Gard.]


      This separation is however, far from absolute since many bhikkhus
  gain a groundwork of Learning and then leave the city temples where
  they have studied for a Meditation Teacher's forest dwelling, there to
  take up the Practice which will lead, in due course, to Penetration of
  the Dhamma.

      Although one may gather something of the life of the Insight-work
  bhikkhus from ancient sources, nothing seems to have been written
  regarding them in the present day. Hence this short account which
  attempts to outline their life as found in Thailand (the position in
  other Buddhist countries is unknown to the writer).

      A bhikkhu undertaking Insight-work bases his life upon the three
  great foundations. These are: strict observance of the //Rules of
  Training// (as contained in the Vinaya-Discipline) which he has
  undertaken to keep at the time of his Acceptance (the higher
  ordination -- Upasampada). He is one who takes the earnest exhortation
  of Lord Buddha to heart:

            "Devoted to virtue should you dwell, O Bhikkhu,
            devoted to the discipline of the Sangha and
            restrained by that discipline! Perfect should be
            your conduct and behaviour! Seeing danger in even
            the slightest fault, you should train yourself in
            the rules which you have accepted."

      Secondly, he follows his Meditation Teacher in the application of
  the //Austere Practices// (//dhutanga//), being guided by him as to
  how and to what extent he should practise them. The first foundation
  above ensures purification and the removal of obstacles while the
  second gives rise to strong renunciation and to contentment with
  little. Thus both become good, indeed necessary, bases for the third
  foundation of his life, the actual Meditation Practice (//bhavana//).

      Something should now be said about these Austere Practices.[*]
  Lord Buddha refused to allow extreme asceticism, with which he had
  experimented before his Enlightenment. However, he did recognize that
  a certain degree of austerity would be useful in the training of
  bhikkhus. For instance, we find that in the Four Nissaya (supports)
  recited to a bhikkhu upon the occasion of his ordination, he is to:
  (1) wear rag robes, (2) eat almsfood, (3) dwell at the foot of a tree,
  (4) have fermented cow's urine for medicine.

  * [Fully described in the `Path of Purification' (//Visuddhimagga//),
       Ch. II.]


      Further, we see from the lives of many bhikkhus in the time of
  Lord Buddha that the Dhutangas were widely practised, for the early
  Sangha was a community in which the wandering, meditative life was the
  normal one. As examples we have the greatly venerated Maha-Kassapa who
  was acclaimed by Lord Buddha as the foremost among those who lead
  austere lives; while the first of his disciples to gain insight into
  the Dhamma, Anna Kondanna, dwelt secluded throughout his life in the
  depths of the forest.

      With the establishment of permanent viharas, which began even in
  the Lord Buddha's days, together with the necessity of preserving the
  Buddha-word, memorizing and learning came to have increased
  importance. Not all learned bhikkhus practised and thus Dhutangas were
  left for those who wished to practise meditation.

      It was also stressed that for a person whose character was
  strongly rooted in hatred (//dosa//), these Austere Practices would
  not be appropriate, being liable to increase self-hatred. On the other
  hand, with characters rooted in greed (//lobha//), faith (//saddha//)
  and mixed-rooted (so-called `balanced') characters, the dhutangas
  could help greatly in the cultivation of renunciation and contentment.

      The differences between a thudong bhikkhu and one who practices
  severe asceticism (some yogis in Hinduism, some Christian monks, etc.)
  are worth noting. The latter start with some species of view that
  there is a permanent spiritual entity (//atman//, soul) enclosed in,
  or even imprisoned by, the fleshly body begotten of and begetting
  further the so-called `lusts of the flesh.' Holding to such a view,
  the body becomes something despicable and then hateful as it seems to
  thwart one's search for the spiritual. Then follows `mortification of
  the flesh' to quell the evil arising from the possession of such a
  body (see for instance, the case of Henry de Suso (Heinrich Seuse)
  related in William James' //Varieties of Religious Experience//). Such
  attempts to `control' desires are really only extreme examples of
  repression effected by means of self-inflicted torture. To begin to do
  this, one must hold a view which hates the body and the outcome of
  such asceticism will be greatly increased body-hatred. Masochistic
  tendencies, where present, will also be gratified. All this can hardly
  be said to indicate a healthy psychological state and Lord Buddha has
  many times criticized these ways as unskilful (//akusala//). His words
  found in the Dhammapada (verse 304) show the insufficiency of
  `exterior' asceticism, which must fail to accomplish salvation.

            "What is the use of your matted hair, O witless
            man! What use your garment of antelope's hide?
            Within you is a tangle (of passions); outwardly
            you clean yourself."

      In Buddhist Teaching, the inter-dependence of mind-body
  (//nama-rupa//) is emphasized. Moreover, it is the mind which has
  charge at the helm, while materiality (//rupa//) is a passenger. As
  the Dhammapada stresses in its first and second verses: "Mind precedes
  all states and is their chief, they are all mind-wrought..."

      A Buddhist knows that he has acquired his present body through his
  own craving (//tanha//) and that it is in the //mind// that one must
  look to find the source of all unskill including all types of greed
  and all hatred whether for self or other. The Dhutangas are therefore
  a mainly physical discipline with a psychological basis and are
  invaluable as a complement to the greater part of the Dhamma which is
  a psychological discipline based on materiality (i.e., the
  `possession' of a human body). The thudong bhikkhu thus makes use of
  these practices in so far as they help him to discipline himself in
  the promotion of skilful mental states like renunciation and
  contentment.

      These thirteen Austere Practices allowed by Lord Buddha [*] have
  been characterized as a moderate and sane ascesis; they are as
  follows:

  * [The //Buddhist Dictionary// notes: `These 13 Ascetic exercises are
       all, without exception, mentioned in the old sutta texts but
       never in one and the same place; Majjh. 5, 112; A. v, 181-190"
       Niddesa has 8 of them at M. Nid 1, p.188 P.T.S. edn.]


      I. Refuse-rag-wearer's Practice (//pamsukulik'anga//) -- wearing
           robes made up from discarded or soiled cloth and not
           accepting and wearing ready-made robes offered by
           householders.

      II. Triple-robe-wearer's Practice (//tecivarik'anga//) -- Having
           and wearing only three robes and not having additional
           allowable robes.

      III. Alms-food-eater's Practice (//pindapatik'anga//) -- eating
           only food collected on pindapata or the almsround while not
           accepting food in the vihara or offered by invitation in a
           layman's house.

      IV. House-to-house-seeker's Practice (//sapadanik'anga//) -- not
           omitting any house while going for alms; not choosing only to
           go to rich households or those selected for some other reason
           as relations, etc.

      V. One-sessioner's practice (//ekasanik'anga//) -- eating one meal
           a day and refusing other food offered before midday. (Those
           Gone Forth may not, unless ill, partake of food from midday
           until dawn the next day.)

      VI. Bowl-food-eater's Practice (//pattapindik'anga//) -- eating
           food from his bowl in which it is mixed together rather than
           from plates and dishes.

      VII. Later-food-refuser's Practice (//khalu-paccha-bhattik'anga//)
           -- not taking any more food after one has shown that one is
           satisfied, even though lay-people wish to offer more.

      VIII. Forest-dweller's Practice (//Arannik'anga//) -- not dwelling
           in a town or village but living secluded, away from all kinds
           of distractions.

      IX. Tree-root-dweller's Practice (//rukkhamulik'anga//) -- living
           under a tree without the shelter of a roof.

      X. Open-air-dweller's Practice (//abbhokasik'anga//) -- refusing a
           roof and a tree-root, the practice may be undertaken
           sheltered by a tent of robes.

      XI. Charnel-ground-dweller's Practice (//susanik'anga//) -- living
           in or nearby a charnel-field, graveyard or cremation ground.

      XII. Any-bed-user's Practice (//yatha-santhatik'anga//) -- being
           satisfied with any dwelling allotted as a sleeping place.

      XIII. Sitter's Practice (//nesajjik'anga//) -- living in the three
           postures of walking, standing and sitting and never lying
           down.

      It will be noticed that the dhutangas help a bhikkhu to find
  contentment with the first three of his Four Requisites (//paccaya//):
  Robes (No's I, II), Almsfood (III-VII) and Shelter (VIII-XIII); the
  fourth of his Requisites, not covered here, is Medicine.

      As regards their present practice in Thailand, III, V, VI, and VII
  are most commonly found amongst thudong bhikkhus. Having and wearing
  only three robes is also widely practised (II). Individual thudong
  bhikkhus may gather rags, stitch them together, dye and then wear them
  although made-up robes are so plentiful that this not so common (I).
  The fourth practice is the normal kind of almsround in many Thai
  villages where every house gives a spoonful or so of rice to every
  bhikkhu. In the towns, IV is not practised, it being more usual for
  bhikkhus to have a few houses where he is invited to call each day.
  All thudong viharas comply with VII. The next two are practised
  subject to the conditions of the weather for fierce sun or torrential
  rain make them both impossible. The eleventh may be recommended by a
  teacher for the practice of some of his disciples according to
  character while XII is a special aspect of that contentment which all
  bhikkhus must cultivate. The last Dhutanga has been mentioned below as
  a communal practice in some viharas upon Uposatha-day. When a bhikkhu
  practises this individually, he will usually only do so after
  consulting his teacher and, lest conceit arise, he will take care that
  others do not know that he practises in this way. It is likewise true
  of all these practices that they are to be undertaken in seclusion and
  a real thudong bhikkhu always shuns the public gaze. The //Buddhist
  Dictionary// says, quoting the Puggala-pannatti: "These exercises are
  however properly observed if they are taken up only for the sake of
  frugality, of contentment, of purity, etc."

      The Thai word `thudong', however, has a rather wider connotation
  than that of these practices themselves. It is applied to anything
  connected with them and thus we have: thudong-vihara, thudong-bowl,
  thudong-life and so on. As the Dhutangas may be practised either
  strictly, middlingly, or mildly according to the standards laid down
  in the //Visuddhimagga//, so there are many variations in thudong
  practice and different teachers place different emphases and therefore
  different viharas have different conditions.

      For 2500 years and more, this thudong life has been lived by
  bhikkhus in many different lands. Not much can be found to record
  their life since those who take the thudong way are not usually
  writers and carry out their practice in seclusion. In Thailand, many
  of the ancient records, religious and secular, were destroyed in the
  conflagration of the capital Ayuthaya in 1767 CE. Still, we know that
  there were before that time, many Arannika (forest-dwelling) bhikkhus.
  Probably our oldest records now are the temple wall paintings from the
  early reigns of the present dynasty. They illustrate thudong bhikkhus
  undertaking the thirteen practices according to the three grades of
  strictness.

      At the present time there are a good number of viharas where this
  way of life with its three foundations is taught by experienced
  teachers. Most of them prefer to be well away from the commotion of
  city life, the distractions and luxuries of which are far removed from
  the thudong ideal.

      Finally, it is interesting to record that a large stupa (or
  cetiya, -- `relic-monument') with thirteen white pinnacles piercing
  the blue sky, is now being completed in a large thudong vihara named
  after that great Indian monarch who helped in widely disseminating the
  Buddha's Teaching, the Emperor Asoka. In the topmost cetiya will be
  enshrined relics of Lord Buddha whose life was this very thudong way,
  while below will be placed the ashes of a famous meditation teacher
  who had followed his Great Master's way with devotion, until his
  recent death.







                               DAILY LIFE


            Control of the senses, contentment, restraint
            according to the Patimokkha and association with
            friends who are noble, energetic and pure in life,
            these are the very basis of the holy life for the
            wise bhikkhu.

            The bhikkhu who abides in the Dhamma, who delights
            in the Dhamma, meditates on the Dhamma, and who
            bears the Dhamma well in mind, does not fall away
            from the sublime Dhamma --
                                                (Dhp. 375, 364)


      It is rather difficult to write about the thudong bhikkhu's daily
  life as the conditions in which they live are so different. However,
  there are certain features of this life which are general and these
  may be taken as a basis for this outline.

      The material which is presented in this and succeeding sections is
  composite in origin, some of it being experience heard from others and
  more again being stories told of others. Therefore we shall speak of
  `the bhikkhu' or `our thudong bhikkhu' and present all these varied
  sources under this anonymous label. While doing this, it should be
  borne in mind that much of what will be said is quite common
  experience for those following the thudong life.

      Wherever the thudong bhikkhu is, whether in a cave, in the forest,
  or in some other solitary place, his day begins early and with
  stirred-up vigour he rises. All is quiet except for the night-sounds
  of some insects and perhaps the swishings of bats -- and at such a
  time, long before dawn, say two or three o'clock, conditions are
  excellent for the practice of meditation. Of course, our bhikkhu,
  unless he is very skilled, will have to shake off Mara, (the
  personification of evil) in the guise of sloth-and-torpor
  (//thina-middha//), for this aspect of the Evil One would urge him to
  loll abed until daybreak. Instead he rises and after refreshing
  himself, fixes his mind upon his meditation- subject which he had put
  down the night before upon going to sleep. Making the triple
  prostration to the Three Jewels, quietly intoning, "Namo tassa..." and
  perhaps the Three Refuges, the bhikkhu, his mind rightly directed and
  guarded, settles into his meditation. The extent to which he is able
  to fix his mind upon his subject, to prevent the arising of the five
  hindrances [*] (//panca nivarana//) and make it more and more
  one-pointed, will depend of course upon his own progress and ability.
  The two greatest obstacles which he will encounter will be the
  sloth-and-torpor already mentioned above, and distraction
  (//uddhacca//); and between these two his mind is liable to vacillate
  as Odysseus' boat dodging between Scylla and Charybdis. Being wrecked
  upon one or the other will be a common experience for him in the
  beginning. When he finds his mind to be like a fountain bubbling up
  ideas, phantasies, memories, anticipations and so forth, he sits
  firmly upon his seat unmoving employing mindfulness (//satipatthana//)
  until the mind becomes quiet. But when sleepiness creeps into his mind
  and interferes with his bodily posture, then he gets up and practises
  his meditation while walking up and down. If he is settled for some
  time in a cave or in the forest, he will have made his walking place
  (//cankamana//) even, and neither too long nor too short. Pacing
  steadily up and down, sleepiness leaves both the mind and body and
  after some time, with the mind made one-pointed, he may try standing
  practice. After bringing the mind to a fully quiet and one-pointed
  condition in this position, he may return to fruitful practice
  sitting-down.

  * [See THE WHEEL, No. 26: The Five Mental Hindrances.]


      His practice will be concluded when the cockerels, birds or
  alarm-clock inform him that daybreak is at hand. Then, if he has them,
  he will offer a candle and a few sticks of incense and, having
  reverently prostrated, our bhikkhu will intone his morning puja to the
  Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha. The standard formulas for this, found so
  many times in the Pali Canon, gain deeper and deeper meanings which
  become clear to him as his devotion (//saddha//) deepens and as his
  practice makes progress. Indeed, when our bhikkhu's calm is well
  established, the slowly chanted phrases do not disturb at all and they
  may even be the basis for insight (//vipassana//). He may supplement
  these standard chants with others selected according to individual
  preference or tradition: among the latter will be the meditation chant
  upon the 32 Parts of the Body, the Pali of each repulsive part being
  followed by a translation into his own language, just to make their
  significance quite clear. This may well be balanced by the meditation
  chants of loving-kindness (//metta//), first filling himself with this
  spirit to get rid of inward conflict and then spreading out his loving
  kindness to other beings. [*] It is also usual to chant the
  Recollection-before-use of the Four Requisites of a bhikkhu (robes,
  almsfood, shelter and medicines.) The reason for doing this is that
  the true purposes of the Requisites then readily come to mind during
  the day when he is actually using them. Finally, our bhikkhu chants a
  sincere wish that the merits which have accrued through this chanting,
  be made over for the good of all beings. Perhaps, being in Thailand,
  he may use the beautiful, "//Ya devata santi viharavasini...//", even
  more excellent when intoned in the rising and falling `//sarabhanna//'
  style of chanting. This chant is now beloved in Thailand since apart
  from the merit of its meaning and the euphony of style, it was
  composed by the greatly respected and deeply religious king, Phra Chom
  Klao, known to the West as King Mongkut (reigned C.E. 1851-1868).

  * [For many of these chants see THE WHEEL No. 54: The Mirror of the
       Dhamma.]


      Now is the time for our bhikkhu to prepare himself to obtain that
  medicine which will allay but not cure the greatest disease -- hunger.
  He will see that his bowl is in order, clean and tightly bound in its
  sling. Then rolling his two upper robes together (uttarasanga and
  sanghati), he is ready to set out. A few remaining possessions may be
  secured by him in his bag and hung up in some safe place to await his
  return; however, his three robes should go with him since in ancient
  days cloth was not always easy to obtain and even now the double outer
  `cloak' (sanghati) is expensive to make and must thus be guarded
  carefully.

      Many things may happen on his almsround (//pindapata//), the
  subject of another booklet in this series. [*] His almsround is not
  only to collect food for himself since it serves two other important
  aspects in Buddhist life. On the one hand he gives lay-people a chance
  to make merit (//punna//) by their acts of giving, while on the other
  he trains himself in many good qualities at this time, for as he goes
  his way collecting food, so he cultivates humility, loving-kindness
  and compassion, mindfulness and perhaps his meditation subject.

  * [See THE WHEEL No. 73: The Blessings of Pindapata.]


      Having taken sufficient food to last the day and knowing at the
  same time moderation in quantity, the bowl has then to be washed and
  dried carefully so that it will not rust, returned to its sling and
  tied to its stand, being then ready to be taken anywhere.

      If the bhikkhu is temporarily resident in one place, he will then
  engage in some walking up and down. This is in accordance with one of
  the discourses of Lord Buddha which recommends this form of meditation
  exercise to ward off sleepiness after having taken what is usually a
  substantial meal. Having thus established himself once again in
  mindfulness, he may take up any work which has to be done. It is
  difficult to list all the possible jobs that he may do at this time
  but readers should realize that he tries to be as self-sufficient as
  is practicable. Even though he has but few things (see section on
  "Wandering"), these have to be kept in good repair. For instance, it
  is important for him to keep his robes mended. Going through jungles,
  thorns catch and tear and there is always ordinary wear and tear; in
  fact, the thudong bhikkhu is well aware of the household truth -- `A
  stitch in time, saves nine.' A thudong bhikkhu's robes are usually
  well-patched and look as though they have seen long service. Or he may
  make certain things from bamboo or wood, and many a thudong bhikkhu is
  very skilful at such manufacture. A bowl-stand is needed or the bamboo
  shafts of his //crot// (umbrella-cum-mosquito-net) must be replaced,
  or he may make quantities of toothbrush-and-picks out of bitter wood
  to give to other bhikkhus. Our bhikkhu may be conversant with the
  medicinal properties of the herbs, trees and climbers which grow all
  about him, and compound from these, with honey, milk, red peppers and
  fruits, medicines for many diseases. Then again, he may manufacture
  out of tins, wire and fine white cloth, a collapsible candle-lamp
  which no wind can blow out; or perhaps he is gifted in the ability to
  carve and if so he may fashion small pieces of hardwood or ivory into
  images of Lord Buddha. He may, if he lives in a cave, like to adorn
  the mighty walls of his residence with drawings of the Buddha all
  executed in simple colours from the earth round about.

      If there were many thudong bhikkhus in this world, they would
  truly be the bane of modern commerce which insists that man's
  happiness depends on having many things and that he buys them in
  particular and new brands, from others. Quite contrary to all this is
  the thudong bhikkhu, whose ways are directly set against the worldly
  stream where it is not a multitude of things impermanent which bring
  happiness -- but contentment with little. Thus lightened of the
  clutter of things he goes more swiftly towards his goal of
  Enlightenment.

      Or, if his pindapata has been long and his food got with
  difficulty, he may feel bodily tiredness and lie down mindfully. This
  is usually done by lying on the right side placing a supporting roll
  of robes (or pillow if he has one) under the upper half of the body,
  the head being supported in the palm of the right hand while the elbow
  of that arm rests on the ground. This was the lying posture
  recommended by Lord Buddha and balanced thus, it is not possible to go
  to sleep while mindfulness will be maintained.

      Whenever he feels that his body is light, all tiredness gone, we
  should picture our bhikkhu sitting down cross-legged upon his
  sitting-cloth and arousing mindfulness and all the other salutary
  factors of meditation, and then striving to succeed, or perhaps
  succeeding in his subject of meditation. He may sit for many hours at
  a stretch especially if he is skilled, or he may vary his sitting with
  more walking and even, if his back becomes tired, with lying down. The
  latter posture can only be practised during the day as sleep is liable
  to overcome him if he lies down during the hours of darkness. He may
  also find it helpful in moments of mental stress or when he is
  experiencing too much of the monkey-mind.

      His meditation time will take him round to early evening when, the
  heat of the day over, it is the usual time to do the sweeping. If he
  lives in a meditation-vihara there may be large areas to sweep. If in
  a hut in the forest, then only his hut and its surroundings. But this
  work is quite unnecessary for one who is living under his crot
  wherever he has pitched it and he will probably not have a broom
  anyway. General mindfulness at this time is accompanied by the
  `sweeping reflection': Just as this broom is sweeping away dust, so
  may this meditation practice sweep away the defilements (//kilesa//).
  There are some other excellencies to sweeping: for instance it is a
  chance to test the strength of the calm (//samatha//) which has been
  developed mostly in the sitting posture. Also it is good exercise for
  the body after sitting still most of the day. Our bhikkhu does his
  sweeping rhythmically and silently.

      Next comes the time for bathing, perhaps in a forest pool or
  river. Taking his bathing-cloth our bhikkhu goes -- not with the
  worldly idea of enjoying the water but bearing in mind an aspect of
  his body's repulsiveness which makes it necessary to bathe. He
  reflects: having got this body through craving (//tanha//), one has
  daily to wipe off the sweat which oozes out of it, and the dirt which
  sticks to it, otherwise if would quickly become evil-smelling and
  unbearable both to oneself and to others. This also applies to his
  robes which require washing frequently while at this time he may
  occasionally have to dye his robes.

      Returning, still bearing his meditation-subject in mind if he is
  able, there may be some allowable drink awaiting him at his abode to
  refresh him further. Nains (novices) are expert at preparing these
  from jungle fruits adding sugar or honey, while if hunger disturbs him
  much, one of the bitter fruits allowed in the Vinaya may be taken with
  salt, sugar and perhaps some chili. Before he takes these, he will
  reflect carefully upon the real reason for doing so, according to the
  passage repeated in his morning puja.

      If we were watching him, we should soon notice the care that he
  takes so that no small creatures come to destruction. Before he pours
  out his drink, he inspects the glass to see whether ants or other
  insects are inside. If there are, he removes them very gently to a
  safe place. In lifting the glass and putting it down, he takes the
  same care and even when a mosquito alights on his body, it is not
  squashed but blown away for even the smallest creatures must not come
  to death either through his intention or through negligence.
  Harmlessness (//ahimsa//) has for him many practical applications.

      The time has come now for his evening meditation and taking his
  seat refreshed in body, he makes further endeavours in governing the
  mind. Perhaps before he begins, Lord Buddha's oft-repeated exhortation
  comes to mind: "What a master can do for his disciples, wishing them
  well, out of compassion and sympathy, that I have done for you. Here,
  O bhikkhus, are the roots of trees and secluded places. Practice
  meditation, O bhikkhus! Be not negligent lest you regret it later!
  This is my exhortation to you." And so we may imagine him sitting long
  into the night, as long in fact, as he can keep off sleepiness. When
  this becomes too pressing, he lights a candle and some incense and
  begins his night chanting. If he knows much Pali, this may continue
  for a long while softly and steadily proceeding with that euphony
  peculiar to this ancient language. It is recorded in commentarial
  stories that the gods came to listen to the Pali chanting of those
  bhikkhus living in wild places, who had pure hearts.

      At last finishing, after again making over all merits for beings'
  happiness (for one should not have greed even for merit), he lies down
  mindfully bearing in mind his meditation-subject and the necessity of
  arising early to proceed with his practice.




                           THE HAND OF DEATH


            Ere long, alas, will this body lie upon the earth,
            unheeded and lifeless, even as a useless log.
                                                        (Dhp. 41)


      Living in sylvan solitudes is not always, alas, ideal, for dukkha
  must show its fangs from time to time to remind our bhikkhu, if indeed
  he needs reminding, that it is in a world subject to birth and death
  that he lives. Having got himself into the condition of being born, he
  and all other beings will surely die.

      This lesson he learned from close acquaintance for he recently
  lost a good companion. He was an intelligent young man recently
  ordained as a nain, one who would have been well capable of
  understanding the Dhamma. He was able to live the thudong life and to
  enjoy it to his profit -- a not inconsiderable combination of factors.

      His life ended suddenly when he was about twenty years old, for he
  fell over a forty-foot cliff and dashed his brains upon the rocks
  below. Our bhikkhu was the first person to reach the nain after having
  raced down a circuitous path. Little enough could he do. Telling
  another nain to run into the nearest village for a stretcher, he knelt
  beside his only other companion on the rocky hill where they lived.
  The nain's breathing still functioned but in great, irregular gasps.
  Blood, already clotted, oozed from the sundered skull and trickled
  from many other cuts and bruises upon the body, arms and legs. Death
  was near at hand.

      Taking a rosary from his bag, the bhikkhu opened one of the nain's
  hands and placed it there. It would thus act as a skilful object of
  touch (//phassarammana//), if the nain's touch-consciousness still
  functioned. After sprinkling him with cooling water, he began to
  intone the suttas (discourses) for protection (//paritta//). This he
  did so that there would be a skilful sound-object (//saddarammana//)
  upon which the nain's death-consciousness (//cutti-citta//) could be
  concentrated. Though he tried to chant steadily and evenly, to give
  confidence to the dying nain -- if indeed he heard him, his voice was
  not without trembling.

      The minutes drew on and after the opening salutation of "Namo
  tassa....", the Karaniya Metta Sutta (on loving-kindness), the
  Mahamangala Sutta (on the greatest blessings), and the Ratana Sutta
  followed each other. [*] As the closing words of the last sutta:
  "Sangham namassama, suvatti hotu (To the Sangha let us bow: May bliss
  abound!)" -- as these words were softly chanted upon the shimmering
  air, a last breath arose and gaspingly fell -- and the body was still.
  His good companion had passed on according to his kamma and as the
  bhikkhu earnestly vowed: May it truly be to a better state of affairs
  than this! After that, if only to relieve his own mind -- and who
  knows, perhaps his erstwhile friend could still hear him in his new
  condition -- he intoned further the Buddha Jayamangala stanzas with
  their refrain of: "By the power of this (truth) may you be endowed
  with victory and blessings."

  * [For these discourses, see Wheel No. 54, The Mirror of the Dhamma.]


      It is widely believed in Buddhist lands that merits (//punna//)
  are transferable providing that one has a compassion deep enough with
  others and a wisdom grown great. For the well-faring of the dead nain,
  his friend made over to him all and any merits which he might have
  accumulated, including those gathered by the recitation of these
  hallowed scriptures.


                        *     *     *


      We take up the story again three days later when bhikkhus have
  gathered for reciting the traditional chants for the dead. The father
  of the dead nain has also arrived. The chanting is solemn indeed and
  rolls on sonorously through the tropic night, spreading its peaceful
  sound far beyond the range of the pressure lamps which light up but a
  small circle in the bamboo forest. Seated upon mats covering the
  ground lay-people listen reverently with joined palms (//anjali//),
  while the chanting proceeds. Our bhikkhu, seated with others upon some
  more mats, concentrates all his attention upon the chanting, making it
  proceed not from the throat but deep down from the heart.

      At its conclusion, there is some informal talk upon Dhamma
  especially regarding death and kamma and then more general
  conversation opens concerning what arrangements should be made. A
  westerner might notice, if one had been present, that although this
  ceremony roughly corresponded to a funeral service, no one was
  weeping, or even looking particularly sad -- and certainly not the
  father of the late nain. Whatever tears there had been over his death,
  they were long since over and quickly stopped by such Buddhist
  recollections as the fact that rebirth takes place according to kamma
  and that nothing of this can be changed by weeping. And again, the
  injunction to live in the present without attachment to the past which
  is irreclaimably gone. And the reflection that rebirth may already be
  accomplished and (it is always sincerely hoped) be superior in
  happiness to this state; would it not be strange to be miserable
  because someone else was now more happy than he was in this life?
  Putting aside all self-pity which makes for most of the tears at
  death, a good Buddhist concentrates upon the situation //now// and
  sees what can best be accomplished in the present.

      The conversation has turned to the customary presentation, in this
  case by the father, of robes (//civara//) upon the death of a
  relative. Sometimes ready-made robes are laid upon the coffin and
  received by bhikkhus as //pamsukula// (intentionally cast-off cloth);
  at other times, white cloth is similarly given to be made up into
  robes. The strictest practice and one which is followed by a few
  thudong bhikkhus is to take cloth which has been used as a
  corpse-wrapping and make this into robes -- this is a practice from
  the time of the Lord Buddha and such robes may truly be called
  `rag-robes.' [*] Our bhikkhu wishes to benefit from the present
  circumstances so as to obtain such a robe. The father of the dead nain
  has already bought about twenty yards of white cloth for pamsukula
  robes. This has then to be inserted into the coffin and then to be
  extracted at the time of burning. Later, our bhikkhu will cut it up
  and sew it to make traditional patchwork pattern and the robes that he
  makes from this cloth will ever remind him of death, by stains and
  smell for some time and for longer by the memory of how they were
  obtained.

  * [Pamsukulik'anga (Refuse-rag-wearer's) Practice, the 1st Dhutanga --
       see Preamble.]


      The next day, food being finished, our bhikkhu turns his attention
  to the large coffin which rests under some trees. Candles and incense,
  the Buddhist symbols respectively of Enlightenment and of the perfume
  of strict morality (//sila//), are burning round about. As he
  approaches the coffin, the smell grows stronger -- the peculiarly
  repulsive smell of a human body's decay, which spreads its sweetly
  sickening odours for many yards about. It is not without some
  apprehension of what he will see upon raising the lid that he
  proceeds, for he has read the descriptions of bodily decay as used for
  meditation purposes but reading does not satisfy him, the bhikkhu
  wishes to see for himself.

      Lifting the lid, he gazes within and is immediately and deeply
  impressed that these descriptions as found for instance in the
  Satipatthana Sutta, [*] are but poor substitutes for beholding the
  real thing. His companion in life was a handsome young man, even with
  his hair shaved off: this body which lay before him was quite as
  hideous as temple wall-paintings sometimes show and emphasized for him
  that words are quite inadequate for portraying such sights.

  * [See Wheel No. 19, The Foundations of Mindfulness.]


      So, the young nain with unblemished body and pleasing face died
  but three days before and now what does our bhikkhu perceive? His
  companion is certainly not there! This puffed, distorted, oozing mass,
  blueish in colour is not the man he knew! Nothing resembles him. Three
  days have sufficed to change everything. Gaining this insight and the
  perception of impurity in even living bodies -- what to speak of dead
  ones -- he continues with the work he has set out to do. The body is
  already covered by the stained robes of the late nain and the white
  cloth is laid over this. Having completed his work, he reseals the
  coffin to await the time of cremation. As the lid is replaced so the
  stench grows less but the whole experience has burned itself deep into
  his mind and will not lesson. Indeed, he may develop it into a
  fruitful meditation when he sees with inward sight his //own// body
  not only as liable to such a condition but actually experiences the
  body (not then `his' body) as //being// in such a state.

      Climbing back to his dwelling high above the forest, he muses:
  Where such a terrible sight as this can be found so soon originating
  from apparently pleasing conditions -- where such and worse can be
  found, what sort of world is this? Who will waste their lives after
  such a perception? Who will longer be deluded by the sugar-coating of
  the world's sense-attractions after seeing thus? Will they not rather
  sense the bitter pill beneath? Is this not the time to turn away from
  those conditions giving rise to the bitterness? Is it not the time to
  devote oneself to that Dhamma which is "lovely at its beginning,
  lovely in its middle course, and lovely at its ending"? Some such
  thoughts as these, our bhikkhu thinks.

      For those who can do more, this is the time to join those millions
  who have gone forth like our bhikkhu with robes and bowl, rejecting
  all that the world values, and seeking to reject both ignorance and
  craving (//avijja-tanha//), those twin conditions for bitterness, to
  win in the Dispensation of the Conqueror, that Enlightenment which he
  also won.

      So urges the Enlightened One:

            "Shed thou householder's finery,
            As coral tree its leaves in fall:
            And going forth in yellow clad,
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros.

            And rid of passion, error, hate,
            The fetters having snapped in twain
            Fearless when as life ebbs away
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros."





                             THUDONG ABODES


            The bhikkhu who has retired to a solitary abode
            and has calmed his mind and who comprehends the
            Dhamma with insight -- in him there arises a
            delight that transcends all human delight.
                                                (Dhp. 373)


      Our bhikkhu will live anywhere that is conducive to his practice
  of meditation and to winning insight but certain types of abode are
  generally more suitable for him than others.

      From ancient times a favourite dwelling-place of the thudong
  bhikkhu has been a cave, indeed this is really the best environment
  providing that a suitable one can be found. Not all are good for
  meditation and our bhikkhu upon arriving at a cave new to him would
  inspect it with the following points in mind.

      People are very fond of making caves into shrines -- and some of
  these are very beautiful with hundreds or thousands of Buddha-figures
  of different sizes ranged about the cave, sitting on blocks of stone
  and stalagmite near to the floor and gazing down compassionately from
  apparently inaccessible niches near the lofty roof. Such caves and
  others more rustic acquire fame as places of pilgrimage in proportion
  to their beauty and ease of approach. Now, if our bhikkhu were to make
  his sitting place in some such cave, he would surely be disturbed by
  the people visiting the shrine. Apart from the noise that they make,
  some would certainly approach him, perhaps trying to engage him in
  ordinary conversation, or coming to ask for charms or blessings, since
  popular ideas of `holiness' are rather less exacting or more vague
  than the freedom from the fetters (//samyojana//) which mark a Noble
  One (//ariya//) according to the Pali Canon. Therefore, if he does not
  wish to instruct in Dhamma, much less to engage in worldly matters, he
  will avoid all such caves.

      Apart from people, bats are also fond of caves in the dark depths
  of which they live in their thousands. They also make their noises,
  cheeping and swishing about, but their noises are much less
  objectionable than is the smell of their dung. This is very good for
  growing plants but less agreeable to a meditator's nose. Usually, they
  will not live near to the cave entrance, especially if the sun comes
  in and so, other conditions being favourable, our bhikkhu may live
  there.

      Other conditions include sound and heat. In this noisy age,
  rackety iron boxes of various shapes travel over land, water and
  through the air and their sound is surprisingly hard to escape from.
  It is understandable therefore that caves adjacent to airfields,
  motorways or railways, will also be avoided.

      The great advantage of a cave in a tropical country is its equable
  temperature. Cool even on the hottest days of the hot season, and warm
  in the coldest nights of the cold weather, it is very favourable for a
  meditating bhikkhu. Caves which have wide openings to the south or
  west are therefore less suitable for the hot weather. Other
  inconveniences to consider are the danger of falling rocks and the
  presence of carbon dioxide. Also, it sometimes happens that earth
  godlings (//bhummadevata//) take up their residence in caves and not
  all of them will welcome a bhikkhu staying there as this will
  interfere with their pleasures. Indeed, there are stories of bhikkhus
  being evicted by spirits but there is at least one instance of an
  experienced bhikkhu (lately a famous meditation teacher in this
  country) who sat night after night in a cave defeating all the efforts
  of godlings to oust him. Our bhikkhu, if he is wise, seeks for the
  protection of any gods there abiding, when he first arrives at a cave.
  With gods giving their blessing to his efforts, meditation certainly
  becomes easier; while, if the opposite should occur, it may be
  impossible.

      Finally, a consideration of great importance: its distance from
  the nearest village. As most thudong bhikkhus go to collect alms every
  day and as bhikkhus are not allowed to store food, so a village must
  be within walking distance. How far this is depends upon the vigour
  and age of our bhikkhu. Half a mile or a mile's distance is desirable
  in any case being thus beyond village noises but it does happen that a
  cave otherwise ideal may be too far from the village for the bhikkhu
  to walk there and back. In this case the villagers will help the
  bhikkhu by taking their food out half-way.

      He may find that living in a cave is a little eerie at first and
  should any "fear, trembling or hair-raising" take place, no doubt he
  will at least remember the Metta Sutta (Lord Buddha's discourse on
  loving-kindness). Also well-fitted for recitation at such a time is
  the Discourse on the Flags (//Dhajagga Sutta//) where the medicines
  recommended for fear are the Recollections of the Buddha, Dhamma and
  Sangha. If our bhikkhu is still better read in the Pali Canon, he will
  remember the Discourse on Fear and Dread (//Bhayabherava Sutta// in
  //Majjhima Nikaya//) where Lord Buddha describes the way in which he
  trained himself to be mindful of fear while he was yet a Bodhisatta
  (Wisdom-being striving for Buddhahood).

      What sort of picture do we get of our bhikkhu in his cave? If he
  is staying long he will probably have built himself a bamboo or wooden
  pallet above which will hang his crot. To one side somewhere, hang his
  bag and candle-lamp. Near to him will be a water-flask and, if it is
  dark, possibly a torch. His bowl is placed securely on a flat rock
  while any robes which he is not using are folded up neatly upon his
  pallet. He is sitting quietly facing the direction of his head when
  laying down.[*] If one were to watch intently, it would be difficult
  to detect even breath movements in his body, swathed as it is in
  rather shabby patched robes of folded ochre. Above him, the roof
  vaults in great arches and mysterious hollows half-lit by the dim
  light. Steady and distant is the dripping of water which makes through
  long ages great columns slowly joining roof and floor. Sunlight
  filters through a leafy screen for a few minutes and is gone and
  perhaps a bee drones in but finding little of interest soon finds its
  way out. All is very still, very silent.

  * [Because if he has a small Buddha-figure or Dhamma-book, it will be
       placed respectfully near to his head.]


                         *    *    *

            He who sits alone, sleeps alone, walks alone,
            who is strenuous and subdues himself alone,
            will find delight in the solitude of the
            forest.[*]
                                                (Dhp. 305)

  * [This verse summarizes the 8th Dhutanga Practice (//Arannik'anga//)
       -- see Preamble.]

      Caves are by far the best abode but they, especially ideal ones,
  are rare so that we should go on to describe something of the more
  common `home' of thudong bhikkhus -- the forest.

      The advantages of dwelling in the forest are several. First, there
  is much of it in many Buddhist countries. Then, as it is the sort of
  place where most men do not like to live (except they are secure and
  comfortable in a strong house), the thudong bhikkhu is not likely to
  be disturbed, not at any rate by his fellow-men. Like other thudong
  abodes, it conduces to contentment with little; also, it makes very
  necessary the development of metta or loving-kindness. [*]

  * [See WHEEL No. 7, The Practice of Loving-kindness.]


      Besides advantages, there are quite a number of possible
  hindrances to practice while forest-dwelling. For instance, metta is
  made rather essential by the presence of all sorts of potentially
  antipathetic creatures, the most dangerous of which are snakes. This
  is certainly emphasized in the Pali Canon by the presence of a special
  chant, the Khanda Paritta, in which the person chanting stresses that
  he has metta towards and does no harm to all creatures including four
  species of snakes.

      There is a little story to illustrate this. An old Buddhist nun
  was living in a small hut close to the jungle. Her hut had one doorway
  and she usually sat on the bamboo floor for meditation against the
  opposite wall. She was quite accustomed to see the tails of large
  lizards appear out of the thatch overhead where they lived.
  Occasionally they fell out but being quite harmless, they would
  scamper away quickly. One day, hearing such a bump on her floor, she
  opened her eyes but instead of seeing a lizard, there was an angry
  snake of the poisonous species coiling and uncoiling itself. Instantly
  recollecting the meditation on metta, she pervaded herself and the
  whole hut with this spirit. The snake which lay between her and the
  door and had been threatening to strike her now quietly coiled up and
  after a few minutes, slithered out of the doorway. This anecdote
  illustrates quite a common occurrence for one dwelling in the jungle:
  how a meditator can be brought into close proximity with the untamed
  animal world. Is it necessary to stress further the value of metta in
  such surroundings?

      While the power of Lord Buddha's metta was so great that he could
  calm the rutting wild elephant Nalagiri, there have been many thudong
  bhikkhus up to modern times who have lived continuously in the forest
  developing the Brahma-viharas [*] (the Divine Abidings -- in
  loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity), and with
  whom forest animals become friends. For the man who has love -- and no
  fear because no hatred -- of other creatures, those creatures will not
  fear him. In this connection there are a number of Jataka stories
  which tell of the Bodhisatta's life in the forest when, living in a
  hermitage, all manner of animals became his companions.

  * [See WHEEL No. 6; "The Four Sublime States".]


      Still, there do seem to be some creatures which do not respond so
  well to metta and therefore, returning to the case of our thudong
  bhikkhu, he will be wise not to spread his sitting cloth over the
  entrance to an ants' nest, nor to pitch his crot near places where
  stagnant water lies. Regarding the latter, he would be courting the
  attentions of vast numbers of hungry mosquitoes. The crot is an
  effective protection against but it can be hot inside while cooler air
  blows without. So if a place can be found fairly free of mosquitoes,
  at least during the day, our bhikkhu will abide more happily. As to
  ants, they come in all shapes and colours and a good range of sizes
  and mill about everywhere and our bhikkhu knows that it is safe to
  assume that all bite, so it is well to stay away from their roads,
  tunnels and doorways. A few drops of paraffin sprinkled round his
  sitting-cloth will ensure that he is fairly secure against invasion.

      Unless the forest is really ancient with dense shade, our bhikkhu
  will experience extremes of heat and cold unknown to the cave-dweller.
  In the hot season the sun blazes down from our of the cloudless sky
  overhead and the small shade of his crot will be insufficient. Even
  under a tree, at least in open forest, hot winds are liable to blow
  and make life less pleasant. [*] The conditions in densely-shaded rain
  forest rather resemble cave-dwelling but there is an increase of
  biting life to reckon with as well as the rainfall.

  * [The practice of the 9th Dhutanga (//Rukkha-mulik'anga//) is
       therefore possible at some places and times, See Preamble.]


      Forest-dwelling is only possible for the thudong bhikkhu all the
  year round, if he has a small hut to supplement the protection of his
  crot. [*] During the three months of the Rains Retreat (Vassa --
  approximately July to September), he must in any case dwell with a
  roof over his head. It is quite common for thudong bhikkhus to have a
  small wood and bamboo hut built by a supporter in some favourable
  place in the forest and to dwell there either alone or with a nain or
  boy to assist him.

  * [Thus limiting the practice of the 10th Dhutanga,
       //Abbhokasik'anga// (Open-air-dweller's) Practice, to the dry
       season and cool places: see Preamble.]


      Forest life is very far from silent for, quite apart from the
  occasional noises of the larger animals, smaller ones, especially
  insects keep up an almost continuous racket. Cicadas and grasshoppery
  creatures although small, manage to produce incredible volumes of
  sound sometimes resembling that of railway trains! The only times when
  they are silent is when presumably they are sleeping. This is during
  the heat of midday and afternoon and during the middle watch of the
  night. Unfortunately this quietness coincides with the times when
  human beings also are most inclined to sleep.

      However, forest conditions vary very much and our bhikkhu will not
  find all the unfavourable conditions together, but since this world is
  one level of samsara, there are bound to be one or more flies in the
  ointment.

      We may think of him on a moonlit night in the hot weather. A
  cooling wind blows stirring the trees many of which are leafless,
  while filling the air with the fragrance of some tree's blossoms. A
  little bamboo hut stands raised upon wooden legs and upon its open
  platform a boy sleeps. The bhikkhu paces up and down his walk which is
  some thirty feet long and made under tall trees. The dark end of it is
  lit by his candle-lamp hanging from a tree while the moon lights up
  the rest. Light is necessary since thick, tubular millipedes have
  their homes on either side of his walk and also like to wander upon
  its smooth and freshly- swept surface.

      Our bhikkhu finishes his walking and contemplatively returns to
  his hut. Mounting the bamboo ladder to the platform, he stops before
  the door to his tiny room. Over the door is fixed a polished wooden
  board upon which the following words are cut and coloured:

            Handa dani bhikkhave, amantayami vo:
            Vayadhamma sankhara, appamadena sampadetha'ti.

            "Pay attention, O bhikkhus, I exhort you:
            Going to destruction are all compounded things,
            With heedfulness make an effort!"

      These are the last recorded words of Lord Buddha: his final
  exhortation to the thudong bhikkhus of those days. [*]

  * [See WHEEL No. 67-69, p. 75]


      For our thudong bhikkhu now they not only have the significance of
  being the last instructions, since his own practice -- and perhaps
  realization -- accord well with them.



                         *    *    *



            `Should one find a sagacious man who points out
            faults and reproves, as if indicating a hidden
            treasure, let one associate with such a wise
            person. It is always better and never worse for
            him who cultivates the acquaintance of such a one.

            Let him admonish, instruct and shield one from
            evil; a dear one is he to the good, detestable to
            the wicked.'
                                                   (Dhp. 76-7)


      The greatest teachers of the thudong tradition have very often
  wandered all their lives, never settling down long in any one place
  except for the annual Rains Retreat, or when extreme old age forced
  them to do so. Some have never founded viharas (monastic residences),
  leaving this to those of their disciples who had an aptitude for such
  work.

      Our bhikkhu, however, especially if he still requires guidance,
  may live in a thudong vihara. This will be rather different from the
  ordinary run of viharas where bhikkhus usually live two or three
  together in large huts (//kuti//), or even if they live singly, their
  residences will be crowded closely together being built about an open
  hall (//sala//). A thudong vihara is distinguished by having the huts
  set so that from one, another cannot be seen. This is not difficult as
  wood, bamboo and thatch blend easily into the jungle. In each hut, one
  bhikkhu lives and orders his time according to his practice and
  ability.

      Our bhikkhu will not often meet others resident there; once or
  twice a day at most. The first time is when all gather in the hall to
  prepare themselves for pindapata while the second may be in the
  evening when some fruit drink is served. At this time also, the
  venerable teacher of meditation may give some instruction, as he sees
  fit. General instructions, for instance on matters of Vinaya (monastic
  discipline), will be given to the community of resident bhikkhus every
  Holy Day (uposatha -- the Full and Half Moon Days) after the
  recitation of the Patimokkha (the bhikkhus' Fundamental Precepts).

      If our bhikkhu wishes for individual instruction in some matter,
  he will approach his teacher after the evening instruction has been
  given and, after saluting him with the triple prostration, he will
  question him respectfully. If we were present in the hall, pillared
  with roughly shaped tree trunks and lit by candles burning before the
  gilded and painted shrine of Lord Buddha, we should notice the great
  respect which he pays to his teacher. He sits in a respectful position
  never pointing his feet towards the teacher and he always raises his
  joined palms (anjali) when speaking to the teacher while, when the
  latter speaks to him, he places them clasped together in his lap and
  listens attentively. Our bhikkhu's teacher is for him one who has
  experienced some degree of the Dhamma in his own heart and not merely
  read about it out of books. Such teachers are therefore accorded great
  veneration and anyone going to such a teacher, yet not making the
  usual salutations, would probably be regarded as being difficult to
  teach -- because of the presence of strong conceit. [*]

  * [For an interesting case of this in ancient times see the "Sutra of
       Hui Neng (Wei Lang)" and the master's encounter there with
       Bhikkhu Fa-Ta.]


      In some thudong viharas, usually those inclined to less strict
  observance, there is communal meditation and puja in the morning
  before pindapata and again in the evening. Some teachers favour this
  while others prefer their disciples to lead a more solitary life. Both
  may be valuable to our bhikkhu according to his character and
  progress.

      Upon uposatha-nights it is also a feature in some thudong viharas,
  to chant Lord Buddha's discourses all through the night, the bhikkhus
  not sleeping. [*] This may be interspersed with some instructions from
  the meditation master and perhaps by the individual practice of
  walking. Where practice already goes deep, this chanting, slow and
  rhythmic, may well be an aid to attainment in meditation.

  * [This is a modification of the 13th Dhutanga (Nesajjik'anga -- the
       Sitter's Practice).  See also Preamble.]


      Regarding this, there was once a twelve year old boy who sat down
  one evening with other pious lay-people who were practising meditation
  while the bhikkhus chanted. He knew nothing about how to practise, nor
  had he ever sat in meditation posture before. But a very great
  meditation-master lived there at that time and was leading the
  bhikkhus in chanting. These factors all combining led that boy through
  successive stages of mental concentration until he reached complete
  meditation (//appana samadhi//). He was still sitting rapt in
  stillness when the bhikkhus prepared to go collecting pindapata. The
  meditation-master upon seeing him, decided not unnaturally, that the
  boy would make a good disciple. After rousing him, and giving him the
  precepts, the boy lived in that vihara learning the way from his
  master.

      One bhikkhu, well-practised in meditation, was famous for the easy
  control he had over his body. Sitting down in the temple at eight
  o'clock upon uposatha-nights, he would not find it necessary to change
  his posture until six o'clock the next morning. He never got up from
  his seat, his gaze never wandered anywhere, he just concentrated upon
  chanting from the heart being completely absorbed in this.

      Our bhikkhu will be encouraged by his teacher to live with him
  until such times as the latter feels that he has sufficient knowledge
  of the Dhamma and strong enough meditation to go off on his own, to
  practise in a cave or forest. There are disciples who like to stay
  with their teachers until death parts them. There are others who want
  to go off quickly and practise alone. It sometime happens that the
  latter experience one of the ecstatic absorptions (//jhana//) and
  conclude from this, since they lack sufficient Dhamma-knowledge and
  the guidance of their teacher, that they have won a noble (//ariya//)
  attainment. Sometimes such bhikkhus proclaim this out of ignorance and
  gain quite a following: however, their fame soon dwindles for one
  cannot //pretend//, intentionally or otherwise, to be an Arahant (an
  Accomplished Sage), or even to have reached one of the lower stages of
  ariyan attainment.

      A famous teacher once had a pupil who esteemed himself to be an
  Arahant but the former knew that he was not so but that his mind was
  really overcome by the perversions (//vipallasa//). Now this teacher
  had another pupil who, although he could neither read nor write, had
  such experience of Dhamma that many consider that he was really an
  Arahant. He lived alone in a cave and seldom spoke and when he did so,
  he uttered only words of Dhamma, never mere pleasantries. The famous
  teacher was in the habit of sending any of his pupils who became
  deluded to this great pupil, of whom he thought very highly. So he
  sent his deluded disciple to him. The first and only words which the
  great pupil spoke to the deluded one, were: "Sit here." The former
  gave the latter no instruction, he only sat in meditation with him day
  and night only rarely breaking off for the barest necessities. After
  two weeks of this rigorous treatment, the deluded one at least gained
  the insight that he was not after all an Arahant and then returned to
  live with his teacher. In this way he was cured of this manifestation
  of the perverted mind (//vipallasacitta//).

      Living in a vihara, at least for some time, will enable the
  thudong bhikkhu to make his meditation practice grow strongly and that
  "fear, trembling and hair-raising" which he might easily experience in
  other more remote surroundings, are less likely to arise there.

      He has the guidance of the Good Friend (//kalyana-mitta//, as the
  meditation teacher is called), and the companionship of the good, that
  is of fellow-bhikkhus and nains who are likewise striving to
  accomplish the goal of complete liberation of the mind. In this way he
  has the best possible environment for progress in his meditation and
  may stay with his teacher for many years. This is particularly true if
  the pupil finds just the right teacher who can instruct him in the
  right way to go. For just as pupils vary as to the proportions of
  differing defilements in their characters, so teachers vary with
  regard to different attainments and ability.




                              *    *    *



            `Just as a storm cannot prevail against a rocky
            mountain, so Mara can never overpower one who
            lives devoted to the meditations on impurity (of
            the body), who is controlled in senses, moderate
            in eating and endowed with faith and earnest
            effort.'
                                                        (Dhp. 8)


      What can we say of other bhikkhu abodes? Generally the thudong
  bhikkhu looks with disfavour upon living on a mountain -- unless that
  is, there happens to be a village near and at approximately the same
  altitude. Our bhikkhu knows that his bowlful of rice is quite heavy
  enough, especially after a long walk, without having to haul it up a
  mountain path. Whenever bhikkhus ceased to rely on pindapata, as for
  instance in China, they were able to live upon mountain heights in
  peace and solitude.

      Among abodes recommended in the "Path of Purification" is the
  charnel-field or bone-yard. This is said to be an excellent abode for
  greed (//lobha//) characters. It appears to have been a common custom
  in ancient India to take corpses to a special part of the forest and
  to leave them there to go to their dissolution. Thus a thudong bhikkhu
  lighting upon such a place might be able to see all the various stages
  of decay of the body -- as they are described in detail in the above
  work. [*] Such was, of course, an unforgettable lesson upon the fate
  of his own body.

  * [See Ch. VI, "Foulness as a meditation subject." This is also
       Susanik'anga (Charnel-ground-dweller's) Practice, the 11th
       Dhutanga. See also Preamble.]


      Nowadays, in this country, bone-yards like this cannot be found,
  for burning the body sooner or later has taken the place of the
  natural process of its return to the component elements. Therefore it
  is now almost impossible to live in this environment and the best that
  can be done is to dwell near a burning ground. Usually there will not
  be much of bones remaining, only piles of ashes, still there is for
  many the fear of spirits (//peta//) to overcome. It is commonly
  assumed that such a birth follows a human one and that the hungry
  ghost or spirit lurks about near its former body, sometimes with evil
  intent while others are supposed to be more kindly disposed. This may
  sometimes happen when peta-birth actually follows the human one
  because of peta-like kamma, but popular belief assumes that this is
  invariable.

      However this may be, a certain amount of caution is required
  before dwelling in such a place. If our bhikkhu is of imaginative
  disposition, he must have his imagination well under control before
  dwelling in a burning-ground. An uncontrolled imagination coupled with
  loneliness, the natural noises of the night and the dimly lighted
  surroundings can result in an unbalanced mind.

      A good many years ago now, there was a nain recently ordained and
  fifteen years of age. His meditation master sent him to dwell
  overnight in the local burning-ground-cum-graveyard which was well out
  of the village, in the jungle. Not knowing that it is proper to
  inspect such a place in full daylight first, noting how all the rocks,
  trees, tombs etc. are placed -- he arrived there only at dusk. After
  laying a cloth to sit upon and hanging up his crot, he began to look
  around. Finding a suitable place to walk up and down, he decided to
  begin his meditations in this way. As he was turning round, at one
  end, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a great black phantom
  looming up, its jagged arms outstretched, the claw-like fingers ready
  to seize him. In fear and trembling he continued his walking and so
  great was his terror of the unknown `thing' that he did not sit or lie
  down all that night but walked and stood meditating (with a glance
  every so often to see that `it' had not moved). When dawn came, the
  'thing' became less black and menacing, slowly resolving itself into a
  stricken tree-trunk!

      As custom has changed so much that the boneyard is no longer to be
  found, there was in this country many years ago a senior bhikkhu who
  decided to remedy this lack. This teacher dwelt in a little vihara in
  a patch of woodland outside a small town and near the old capital of
  Ayuthia. Very few bhikkhus stayed in this vihara for after they had
  seen what they came to see, he sent them away to practice on their
  own. And what did they see?

      This teacher had constructed a flower garden and all round it he
  had built a high wall pierced by only one door and that was padlocked.
  The flowers that grew in this garden were very special ones, special
  bhikkhu flowers. The flowers of laymen are of gorgeous colours,
  entrancing shapes and subtle perfumes but these flowers for bhikkhus
  although they had their colours, shapes and perfumes, were rather
  different. Inside the garden there were constructed a number of open
  troughs covered by glass frames from one end of which rose a long
  pipe. When a man died in the town, the teacher would go and personally
  carry away the body, slinging it over his shoulder. Taking it to his
  garden he would lay it in a trough and cover it with a frame.

      When a bhikkhu desiring a subject of meditation came to him, he
  would be told by the teacher that he only instructed in the Cemetery
  Contemplations. At first the teacher would go with him into the garden
  during daylight and let him select a suitable `flower' for his
  meditations. Then he let the bhikkhu go in there alone, to fix the
  subject in his mind. Finally, he was permitted to go in at night and
  spend the hours of darkness meditating upon his `flower'. Then having
  settled the meditation subject firmly in his mind, the teacher would
  tell the bhikkhu to go and to meditate alone.

      Before he went, he would receive instructions upon a further
  aspect of the meditation which emphasized that it was not a body `out
  there' which was to be seen, even in the mind. It was his own body
  which had to be seen with insight as bloated, festering, or just dry
  bones, according to the stage of the decay selected. Thus were
  bhikkhus of that time enabled to free themselves from the deluded
  identification of this body as being `myself' or as `mine' -- by the
  special exertions of this teacher.

      Every teacher, as we have mentioned before has his own
  characteristic ways, both of instruction and of conduct. If our
  bhikkhu went to a certain teacher, a disciple of a yet more famous
  master, he would have to put forth energy if he wished to live with
  him.

      This teacher lived in a little ramshackle hut -- he would not let
  lay-people build him anything else, in a small jungle vihara -- and
  was about eighty-five years old. It was his practice to begin his
  working day at five o'clock when he would vigorously start to sweep
  the vihara grounds. Then, when it was light, he went out to collect
  food. Returning, he ate a single meal of small quantity and for the
  rest of the day drank only water. Besides the two normal pujas, he
  made a third one in the middle of the night. To do this, he slept from
  ten o'clock until midnight -- and never used a mosquito-net -- and
  then got up for puja, after which he slept again for another two
  hours. Arising vigorous, he would sit in meditation until the
  sweeping-time. His appearance was hale and it appeared that he might
  very well carry on with his way of life for another twenty years at
  least!

      Stories about teachers are endless and this short account could
  never contain a tithe of them. So we must let these few suffice as
  examples and close this section on thudong abodes.




                              *    *    *





                               WANDERING

            `Those who exert themselves and are mindful,
            delight not in any abode. They are like swans that
            abandon their like, leaving home after home
            behind.'
                                                        (Dhp. 91)

      Today, when it is possible to go quickly everywhere by some
  conveyance or other, why wander? What is the purpose of the thudong
  bhikkhu who, alone or with one or two companions, prefers to go his
  way on foot? There are quite a lot of reasons why wandering in this
  manner is preferred. For example, the wanderer goes quietly and at
  whatever speed he wishes. He is not brought into contact with others
  who might disturb his contemplative way and he may stay at a place
  just as long as it pleases him -- and leave it when he wishes. Also,
  he is uninvolved with other people, no arrangements has he to make for
  them while he gives trouble to none. In fact, his is the way of
  freedom. Then again, he reflects that this way of travel was used by
  his great Master in the forty-five years of his teaching in India and
  has been that of countless other bhikkhus seeking Enlightenment. The
  modern ways of travelling are good for getting to places quickly but
  not so good for gaining Enlightenment. There is distraction enough in
  the mind without churning it up still further -- some such thoughts he
  thinks.

      Reasons for wandering are also rather various and we are only
  concerned with those motivated by the search for Enlightenment. The
  real purposes are threefold: to be able to dwell in solitary places
  for meditation; to visit meditation-masters who often stay far into
  the country or forest; or to go on pilgrimage to some famous shrine.

      While the first and second have already been touched upon, the
  third needs a few more words. By pilgrimage to a shrine is meant the
  desire that arises in some bhikkhu who has taken to thudong life, to
  visit and make his puja at a great stupa (reliquary monument) where
  are enshrined some remains of Lord Buddha or the Arahants. Or perhaps
  to go to some famous temple where an exceptionally beautiful image of
  the Enlightened One is enshrined. All this he does with the idea that
  merit is gained from such actions and indeed, if our thudong bhikkhu,
  or anyone else, goes on such pilgrimages single-mindedly and in deep
  devotion, the results for his own development in the Dhamma are bound
  to be fruitful.

      If he wanders every day, especially if the weather is hot, the way
  rough or both, his power of meditation must be very strong indeed, or
  it will suffer from the impact of these external conditions. Tiredness
  of the body after walking only four or five hours can be a great
  obstacle in the way of peaceful practice. Therefore, either he will
  walk one day and then finding a suitable place, stop there for three
  or four days, or, if he wishes to reach a definite place by a certain
  time, then he puts by his practice of mental calm (//samatha//) and
  takes up the full time application of mindfulness (//satipatthana//)
  in its various aspects. [*]

  * [For these see: Wheel No. 60, //The Satipatthana Sutta and its
       Applications// and, //The Heart of Buddhist Meditation//, Rider
       and Co., London.]


      Besides the necessity of strong samadhi, it is quite sure that he
  must have a strong body able to endure blazing sun, heat, sweat, rough
  ways, insects and cuts and bruises. These latter, together with
  blisters, are not infrequent in thudong life and can make his way very
  difficult. If he goes without sandals, rocks will cut and thorns
  pierce his feet, or going with them, the feet must be very hard or
  they will surely be chapped.

      Strength of body is required so that he can carry comfortably his
  few essentials. What does a wandering thudong bhikkhu carry? First of
  all, there are his eight essentials which are a bhikkhu's only
  possessions. They are: three robes (one waist-cloth, one upper robe
  and one double robe, [*] a bowl (usually of thin malleable iron with a
  brass cover), a waist-band to secure the waist-cloth, a needle and
  thread, razor (of cut-throat pattern), and lastly, a water-strainer.
  These items he //must// take with him or if he loses any of them at
  any time, they should be made good as soon as possible. In the thudong
  life, all these things have their relevance -- including the water-
  strainer which is a very important piece of equipment.

  * [Having only three robes is the Ticivarik'anga
       (Triple-robe-wearer's) practice -- the 2nd Dhutanga; see
       Preamble.]

      Besides these, there will be certain other things which he is sure
  to have: a water-flask or kettle, his crot, a sitting cloth and one
  for bathing and probably a bhikkhu-bag containing a few additional
  articles. Among these may be a candle-lamp, and or two medicines,
  toothpick-cum-brushes, perhaps a small folding clock and a penknife.
  He may also carry a copy of the Patimokkha (his Fundamental Precepts)
  in Pali with a translation into his own language and some small book
  on the teaching such as the Dhammapada. All these together make up a
  good weight and generally he will only want to carry them before the
  sun gets too high and the late afternoon or evening when it is
  setting.

      How then should we picture our bhikkhu as he makes his way by
  footpaths and stony tracks, through deep forest or open rice-fields?
  He wears two of his robes, the double-thick one being usually wrapped
  and stowed inside his bowl, unless it is very cold. His bowl is
  secured in its sling and tied tight to its stand, while the strap of
  the sling passes over one shoulder. His sitting cloth and a few other
  things may also be put inside while the bathing-cloth forms an
  additional outer protection for the bowl. His bag, the //crot// in its
  sling and the water-flask, hang from the other shoulder. A thudong
  bhikkhu does not wear his robes long but hitches them rather high and
  so passes more easily through streams and over mountains. If he is in
  open country and the sun is shining, he may place any handy piece of
  cloth on his head, although this is always removed in accordance with
  the Vinaya's injunctions when passing by houses or through villages.
  The sandals on his feet are stout ones -- they have to be to take all
  the knocks that his feet would otherwise suffer. In this way he goes,
  mindful of and joyful in the Dhamma.

      He may go alone or with a nain or small boy following, or he may
  be with one or two other bhikkhus. Probably they will not be walking
  very close together but prefer to be rather well-spaced so that
  mindfulness does not suffer, nor conversation tend to break up their
  silence. Every so often, at least in forests, one of the bhikkhus will
  spot some refreshing fruit tree and then they may turn in that
  direction and after gathering the wild fruits -- providing that it is
  not yet twelve o'clock -- sit eating them while taking a well-earned
  rest. Certain bitter fruits, such as the emblic myrobalan, may be
  taken after midday as they have medicinal properties and our bhikkhu
  will be glad of these to help quench his thirst in the heat of the
  afternoon.

      A few thudong bhikkhus //en marche// in some ways resemble a small
  detachment of soldiers. They both have uniforms, they both carry all
  their needs along with them and in both cases the senior leads and the
  juniors follow, but here the resemblance ends. The former wear the
  robe of peace, of harmlessness towards all living beings and all their
  possessions speak of a pacific way of life. No guns do they carry, but
  //crots//, no grenades, but almsbowls. The wandering bhikkhu has
  conquered eastern Asia by these means, without dissension, without
  resort to violence, without wars but with loving-kindness and
  compassion. And those mighty empires which ambitious and victorious
  men have raised one after the other, by the use of force, shattering
  opponents by wars innumerable -- all this might and glory has passed
  away, has crumbled to defaced stones and time-smoothed coins found in
  distant jungles. But the Dispensation of the Conqueror who practised
  and preached a morality based upon non-violence, this empire of peace
  has endured. What is the message here for the empire-makers, political
  or economic, of the present day? What has this Dhamma to say to those
  who think of their lives as a fight against others? Upon this matter,
  the Dhammapada has the following verse:

            Though he may conquer a thousand thousand men in
            battle, yet, he is indeed the noblest victor who
            would conquer himself.
                                                  (Dhp. 103)


      Our wandering bhikkhu may decide at the end of his day whether he
  will stay the night in the forest, or cave or other suitable place, or
  whether, the country proving unfavourable, he will go to the nearest
  village. If he elects in favour of the latter, it may well be that in
  approaching the village in the evening light, some villagers will see
  him. Then some pious laymen will approach him and saluting him
  respectfully, relieve his shoulders of bowl and crot and invite him to
  stay for the night in the village vihara, or where there is no
  established residence for bhikkhus, in the `hall' (//sala//). Word
  will soon get round the village that a venerable thudong bhikkhu has
  arrived and people will then come to the hall bringing with them
  things for his comfort -- a pillow, mat and of course, tea. In
  Thailand at any rate, this means `water-tea' (literally translated),
  or as westerners would say, Chinese tea. He may also be offered honey
  or sugar to refresh himself and while he does this, people will sit
  upon a lower level of the hall and respectfully enquire where he has
  come from, whereto he will be going, how long has he been a bhikkhu
  (how many Rains-Retreats?) -- and so forth. If our bhikkhu wishes, or
  has the gift of teaching, the general conversation may well be turned
  towards Dhamma and the lay-people will sit listening intently and
  perhaps putting a question now and then upon some point which they do
  not understand.

      Whenever there is time during the informal gathering, or when
  people have departed, our bhikkhu will have to see about patching up
  his skin bag which is so liable to become punctured even though he
  takes great care. Villagers will give him more medicines, often of
  their own manufacture, if those he carries do not suffice. His various
  wounds, usually very small matters, may nevertheless give him plenty
  of room for reflection upon the nature of the body. A small pimple
  soon grows into a large sore and an insignificant cut quickly pulsates
  with oozing pus; and he remembers that each day he chants: "There are
  in this body -- //kesa// -- hair of the head, //loma// -- hair of the
  body ... and so forth, to... //taco// -- skin, //mamsam// -- flesh...
  //pubbo// -- pus, //lohitam// -- blood..." . His cuts and blisters are
  reminders for him that the bag of skin holds much which although
  usually hidden from ordinary sight, is liable to erupt and compel
  attention. The thudong bhikkhu gives attention here willingly whereas
  the worldly attitude is to turn away from and try not to consider such
  nasty things. Our bhikkhu, however, knows that the seeing of all these
  parts of the body, traditionally thirty-two in number, as they really
  are, that is, as a danger, as repulsive and as liable to decay, leads
  him towards freedom from the `own- body-view' (//sakkaya-ditthi//) and
  towards that state where the body is viewed quite impersonally and as
  a collection of processes, acting and reacting. At best, it will be
  seen, after insight into its nature has been experienced, as an
  instrument of the Dhamma.

      Towards such insight and mature understanding, our bhikkhu
  strives, and he will, if he has still energy enough, sit in meditation
  after the last villager has departed and, attaining calm, shift his
  attention to these thirty-two messy parts, or some one or two of them,
  endeavouring to develop insight. Perhaps he may vow before taking his
  rest: "Oh, may this body be devoted to the Dhamma, may it become a
  Dhamma-instrument." And his night will be spent peacefully, no dreams
  will disturb him and he will awake refreshed, the body ready for
  active service in the Dhamma when he takes up his meditation-subject
  again in the cool of the morning.

      When it is fully light, many villagers will come to the hall to
  make merit which means that our bhikkhu will not have to go out for
  pindapata. Every house will send a bowl of rice and some other food to
  accompany it and perhaps he may get sweets and fruits as well. One
  person from each house will place one or two spoons of rice into his
  bowl as it stands upon the raised platform-floor. When they have
  finished, the other food, together with his bowl will be reverently
  given into his hands -- for a bhikkhu should not take any food which
  has not actually been offered in this way. The senior layman may well
  ask him for the Three Refuges and the Five Precepts, and the giving of
  these being completed, our bhikkhu will intone a chant (//Yatha
  varivaha pura paripurenti.....//) whereby the merits made by the laity
  are formally dedicated to the happiness and comfort of the hungry
  ghosts (peta). Before he begins his meal, he remembers that this food
  is one of the four requisites (//paccaya//) and the proper reason why
  he will eat it.

      His meal over and his bowl washed, he sets out again upon his way.

      Generally, however, the serious wanderer will prefer wherever
  conditions permit, to spend his nights in the forest where his own
  quiet of mind will be better company for him than many people. Of
  course, he will not get good tea, nor honey -- nor the other comforts
  of the village hall but if he has practised diligently, he will have
  comforts enough and far superior to those who have not sat in
  meditation. He will be able to sit as long as he can in the cool of
  the night, without interruption if he has chosen a site far enough
  removed from the village.

      So our bhikkhu stays out of sight and hearing until he appears the
  next morning in the village upon his round for pindapata. Of course,
  there will be no special food for him as there would be if he had
  stayed in the hall. He will just get the ordinary fare. As he has
  cultivated contentment, he will not care whether it is finest culinary
  art or plainest village rice -- it is all the same to him. [*]

  * [//Pindapatik'anga// (Almsfood-eater's) Practice, the 3rd Dhutanga;
       see Preamble.]


      He will find a considerable difference in the villages along his
  way; some will be prosperous, while others are poor, some tidy and
  others uncared for, and so on. And he will not always be welcome and
  though this will be very unusual; it does happen, especially where
  villagers are for some reason without bhikkhus to guide their lives.
  When he chances upon such a village, if he is an ordinary bhikkhu, he
  will have a good opportunity to test the strength of his patience.
  While if he is a teacher, he may stop there for some time and, using
  all his skill, teach the people what is wrong with the way that they
  are going and what is the right way to fare through life.

      Turning now to another matter, we should mention here the custom
  among thudong bhikkhus of making certain vows (//addhitthana//). It
  may be that the vow is made to observe a definite practice among the
  thirteen ascetic modes (//dhutanga//), such as refraining from lying
  down for a certain number of days, weeks or months. A wandering
  bhikkhu may vow never to stay in a hall such as we have described, or
  to go on some pilgrimage by foot all the way, not accepting proffered
  transport -- and so forth.

      Regarding this last vow, there is a story. A few years ago, a Thai
  bhikkhu of about fifty years of age, made a vow to walk from Bangkok
  to the holiest place for Buddhists, the `Diamond Throne' (The Buddha's
  Seat of Enlightenment) at Buddha Gaya in India. So he set off with
  bowl and robes and a few other things such as we have described. He
  took no money upon his pilgrimage, neither did he worry about such
  modern encumbrances as passports and visas. Falling in with a party of
  Mon bhikkhus going to make their puja at the Shwe Dagon Pagoda in
  Rangoon, he went with them and from there made his slow progress up
  the length of Burma. Two rains retreats he spent upon the way and
  still he had not reached India. Finally, he crossed the Indo-Burmese
  border in the wild hills of Nagaland and there some Nagas, who had
  probably never seen a bhikkhu before and took him for a spy, severely
  beat him, taking away even his robes and bowl. Fortunately, he was
  able to recover these although his few other things were gone, and so
  limping, he made his way down the Assamese plain. Knowing not a word
  of any Indian language and having to rely on pindapata which is not so
  easily got in India, his first concern was to get someone to write on
  a piece of paper in Hindi and Bengali: "I am a Buddhist bhikkhu. I
  collect cooked food which is to be placed in this bowl. May you be
  well and happy." This piece of paper he showed everywhere he went so
  that people would understand what he required. Luckily he was a
  vegetarian and not troubled regarding food. After many months of
  walking, he came to Buddha Gaya. His vow was fulfilled after two and a
  half years: he had wandered to good purpose.

      There is wandering in this way with some profitable end in view
  and there is also an aimless wandering. The thudong bhikkhu wanders
  (//carati//) in order to put an end to wandering (//samsarati//). He
  wanders purposefully in the Dhamma-faring so as to come to an end of
  the infinitely long wandering in birth-and-death (//samsara//). He has
  taken up this way of life, that of a homeless one, because he sees the
  dangers which beset all who drift in the currents of //samsara//.
  Birth and death, ageing and disease afflict all beings who are like so
  many pieces of driftwood dashed about by the ocean waves, first this
  way and then that -- but never getting anywhere and forever at the
  mercy of wind and water. As driftwood, so beings do not know why they
  are here and instead of trying to probe this matter, they invent all
  sorts of fanciful explanations.

      Our bhikkhu sees, if only to some extent and for part of the time,
  that beings are overcome by the poisons of the three roots of unskill
  (greed, hatred and delusion) and that these blind them and make them
  the prey of all the worldly conditions which they experience. And so
  they go, pulled this way and that by the results of their own actions
  (//kammaphala//) leaping from birth to birth. He knows that beings do
  not always spiritually evolve, but that devolution is always possible
  -- into states where darkness is complete, the black night of
  ignorance (avijja) where the lamp of the Dhamma is no longer
  discernible.

      Why wander blindly in this round of woes?, thinks our bhikkhu. Why
  wander on and on to such states as will be difficult to escape from
  (as for instance, animal-birth)? Perhaps he calls to mind a picture
  painted by a master of old [*] which shows a long, long track a
  winding from the distance into the foreground and from thence out of
  our ken. This track so tortuous, passes through an unbeautiful
  landscape of shattered, spiky rocks, smitten, storm-struck trees,
  fire-blackened grass and earth and here and there lying about, are
  bones -- a skull bone here, a leg bone there. Along this dreadful
  track there comes a man, his clothes all in tatters, a wide-brimmed
  pilgrim's hat upon his head and a staff held skew-wise in one hand.
  His face bears all the marks of foolishness, from his eyes which are
  wandering and not fixed upon his way before him, to his mouth set in
  the most imbecile smile imaginable. He has wandered all down that long
  way, grinning foolishly at the bones which would warn him if only he
  would heed them. He has wandered long, infinitely long and he will
  wander longer -- uncomprehending. He sees no other way to go but the
  dreary track in front of him.


      * [The reverse panels of a diptych by Hieronymus Bosch.]


      Our bhikkhu (and all those who earnestly take to this Dhamma) is
  one who is determined no longer to wander aimlessly but to be one who
  marches along the high road to freedom, that glorious bliss-bestowing
  Way, the Noble Eightfold Path.






                  COMPANIONSHIP AND THE SOLITARY LIFE


            If one find friend with whom to fare
            Rapt in the well-abiding, apt,
            Surmounting dangers one and all,
            With joy fare with him mindfully.
            Finding none apt with whom to fare,
            None in the well-abiding rapt,
            As rajah quits the conquered realm,
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros.



      A good deal has already been written upon companionship while
  leading the holy life and this need not be repeated. The point that is
  really important is whether one makes progress best in the
  Dhamma-company of others, or whether one's mentality and progress are
  sufficiently strong and mature to "fare lonely as rhinoceros."

      One who has the company of others has many chances to learn from
  them. Not only from his teacher but from other bhikkhus, and not only
  from them, from nains, in fact, from everyone with whom he has
  contact. Every person is one's teacher, if only there is the facility
  and humility to learn from them and in all situations. From the wise,
  our thudong bhikkhu upon his Dhamma-pilgrimage, learns wisdom. But
  also from those lacking in good qualities, he learns how not to
  behave, he learns through their mistakes and reflects upon himself;
  `Now, is this unskilful way of speech or bodily action to be found in
  me, or not?'

      He also learns more humility from this mindfulness of others'
  action, for while perceiving some fault of others, he does not make
  this an opportunity for the arising of pride. When noting greed in
  someone else, besides the above reflection upon his own behaviour,
  perhaps he can add the thought: `But he has (for instance) a very
  strong devotion.' In other words, he learns through his contact with
  fellow Dhamma-farers, to see their good qualities also and to strive
  to bring those excellencies to perfection in his own personality.

      Through the effort that he makes, we should note certain qualities
  which, being present to the extent that his training has been
  successful, mark him out as one who has indeed taken the following to
  heart:

            Good is restraint in eye, good is restraint in
            ear, good is restraint in nose, good is restraint
            in tongue.

            Good is restraint in action, good is restraint in
            speech, good is restraint in thought, restraint
            everywhere is good. The bhikkhu restrained in
            every way is freed from all suffering.
                                                    (Dhp. 360-361)


      We should notice that all his actions were marked by this
  moderation. If we saw him in company, he would be one who laughed but
  little for he will have to some extent, perceived the truth in the
  following:

            When the world is ever ablaze, why this laughter,
            why this jubilation?
                                                        (Dhp. 146)

      But we should not from this gain the impression of a gloomy
  saintliness or that his face would be forbiddingly harsh, for our
  bhikkhu has made loving-kindness and compassion (//metta-karuna//)
  grow and will upon occasion smile gently. Likewise, his speech is
  marked by a softness of expression and lack of rough words. He would
  be inclined to speak to others upon the Dhamma and be little attracted
  to other subjects except where they touched upon what for him, is
  all-important: the Way to Enlightenment.

      Besides contact with teachers and other bhikkhus he may have a
  nain as his companion or perhaps a boy who wishes to train for
  ordination later. If a suitable boy can be found and is given the
  going-forth to become nain then he will be of great help to the
  thudong bhikkhu. `Suitable,' here means that he feels a genuine urge
  to live not only the holy life but also to live it in the sort of
  places where thudong bhikkhus live. he must also be devoted to the
  bhikkhu with whom he lives, looking upon him as his teacher.
  Suitability includes as well the ability of the nain or boy to
  practise meditation, for living in the wilds with few or no books and
  out of range of the sense-distractions of the towns, such boys must be
  able to employ themselves through at least part of the day without
  disturbing the bhikkhus. There are, in Buddhist countries
  particularly, numbers of boys who, one supposes, have practised
  meditation in past lives and who take to it in this one as ducklings
  to water.

      The nain or boy helps in so many ways that it would not be
  possible to list them all. He is ever-solicitous for the well-being of
  bhikkhus and never loses an opportunity for doing them some service.
  In particular this applies to the teacher of the nain and to any other
  bhikkhus whom he particularly respects -- for their wisdom, patience,
  gentleness, learning, energetic striving or whichever other fine
  qualities are manifest in them. In the training of the nain,
  helpfulness towards others and humility to learn from them are prime
  qualities.

      Whenever our thudong bhikkhu finds the occasion proper to instruct
  or correct, he will find if he has a really good nain that he will
  listen with ears open wide to the former, while accepting the
  correction humbly and with a good heart. It does happen even with the
  best of nains that he will make some mistake, particularly regarding
  carelessness. Then the bhikkhu will quietly admonish the nain and
  perhaps prescribe some punishment-work (//danda-kamma//) for him to do
  -- and the nain gently smiling accepts his work, which is often
  sweeping and sets about it with a right good will.

      Such a novice, keen for the training, is positively avid for
  Dhamma and listens particularly to stories, with great attention. As
  there is no lack in Buddhist literature of stories to illustrate
  points of training, nains soon come to have a fund of such material
  both of the Buddha-time and from later Buddhist history. Thus begins
  the Dhamma-education of what will probably be a good thudong bhikkhu.

      What then of one who chooses to live alone? Two points stand out:
  Positively his character must be deep and resourceful enough to
  surmount all the obstacles he may encounter, while on the negative
  side, his defilements (//kilesa//) must be sufficiently held in check
  by his culture of mindfulness (//sati//) and meditation (//samadhi//).

      It is no good living in the wilds boorishly unrestrained as in the
  case of venerable Gulissani. [*] On the contrary, our bhikkhu knows
  that the greatest restraint is needed as there is no longer any
  companion to upbraid or advise him whenever this is necessary. He has
  then to be his own instructor and this is plainly impossible unless
  such excellent qualities as mindfulness, shame (//hiri//) and fear of
  blame (//ottappa//) are well-developed.

  * [See Gulissani Sutta, Majjhima Nikaya, No. 69.]


      Our bhikkhu who wishes to taste solitude must also be sure that he
  does so for the right reasons. There are those people who like to live
  by themselves simply because they cannot bear their fellow-men. Their
  solitary life is thus based upon the root of hatred (//dosa//). Far
  different must be the thudong bhikkhu's reason for desiring
  loneliness. He wishes to course deep in the Dhamma and have no drags,
  no ties whatever, which might prevent his increasing perception of its
  truth. His whole life revolves around the Dhamma and he has, or wishes
  to develop the central thought of Dhamma, that is, of the Three
  Signata of Existence (//tilakkhana// -- impermanence, suffering and
  non-self). [*]

  * [See Wheel No. 20, The Three Signata.]


      To do this his emotional nature must be mature and this, in
  Buddhist practice, means the development of the Divine Abidings
  (//brahma-vihara//), each one of which replaces a certain aspect of
  emotional instability. Thus hatred is replaced by loving-kindness;
  indifference to others' sufferings is remedied by compassion; envy by
  sympathetic joy with other's happiness; while involvement with and
  attachment to others is, in maturity, replaced by equanimity. Even if
  our bhikkhu cannot yet reach to the heights of equanimity, at least
  his gentleness and compassion must have grown to some degree. He has
  almost placed himself outside the world of men, and he is sure
  therefore to have greater contact with animals than do most men and he
  may, especially if in him purification is will advanced, have visions
  of the gods (//devata//). Many are the stories of old told about both
  sorts of contact. From the context of stories in which the gods appear
  to bhikkhus it is apparent that they do so because the latter's
  spiritual development has approached or surpassed that of those gods.
  It is these Divine Abidings which make possible this meeting of
  worlds.

      Stories of extraordinary affection between thudong bhikkhus and
  animals are also frequent. In this country at the end of the Ayuthia
  period (ended CE. 1767), there were numbers of forest-dwelling
  bhikkhus who, like the sages of old, would dwell hermit-like
  surrounded by animals and birds. Deer in particular, came to love the
  companionship of these hermits who could only attract animals thus
  because of the loving-kindness which they had made grow in their
  hearts and the consequent absence of hatred and fear.

      Two other qualities are necessary for the solitary dweller:
  patience and energy. He will hardly be a thudong bhikkhu at all if he
  has not the former. Living-conditions for him are many and not all of
  them are perfect all the time. Although he has backed out of the rough
  waters of attachments to persons, places and things, he still lives in
  this world imperfect and must patiently cope with whatever trials he
  encounters. With patience he trains his mind so difficult to bring
  under control and with patience he notes the gradual relaxation of the
  defilements (kilesa). He comes to know that his Dispensation
  (//sasana//) is as Lord Buddha instructed:

            "Just as the great ocean deepens not suddenly but
            shelves out gradually, so this Teaching is gradual
            and understanding of it gradually deepens."

      He has patience in seeing that his efforts are gradually rewarded.
  `Efforts' means energy, rather necessary for many aspects of strenuous
  thudong life, as our bhikkhu knows. If he did not make any effort in
  his chosen way of life, then a speedy decline would follow, in which
  the defilements, for the weakening and ultimate breaking of which he
  was leading this life, would re-assert themselves and once more close
  their stranglehold upon him.

      The thudong bhikkhu makes efforts too, to maintain his observance
  of the Vinaya and in particular of the Fundamental Precepts
  (//Patimokkha//) pure and unbroken. Even more diligent must be the
  observance of the solitary bhikkhu who can ill afford to let slide any
  of the precepts. If he does so, he will find that his meditation is
  disturbed by thoughts of the broken precepts and to mend matters he
  must go and obtain purification of his fault through confession of it
  to another bhikkhu.

      He has to stir up energy to maintain and develop further his
  meditative practice. Without effort, instead of going from strength to
  strength in meditative calm and insight (//samatha-vipassana//), he
  would be liable to slip backwards practising less and less every day.

      With patience to hold in check agitation and energy to ensure that
  slothfulness does not lay on its benumbing touch, our solitary thudong
  bhikkhu has a good chance of making balanced progress along the way.

      Pali Scriptures mention another kind of solitariness and after his
  practice of bodily seclusion (//kaya-viveka//) together with the
  mental withdrawal experienced in deep meditation (//citta-viveka//),
  he may come to possess this lasting solitude. The man with craving
  (//tanha//) present is said to be accompanied by a second one
  (//dutiya//), whereas one in whom craving is absent, having been
  totally eradicated through insight (//vipassana//), is an Arahant who
  abides in the ultimate solitude from all substrates producing
  continued existence (//upadhi-viveka//).

      Our thudong bhikkhu strives to use his solitude in forest or cave,
  in order to be rid of his companion in all samsaric wandering --
  craving, and being without this second one to know the true solitude
  of Dhamma-truth. When he has achieved this, then indeed he may abide
  anywhere, and whether forest or city it will make no difference to
  him.

      This was the pattern in Lord Buddha's life, first the long
  meditative seclusion followed by his carrying of the torch of
  Enlightenment for all to see. sometimes, in those long years of
  teaching the Enlightened One would betake himself to the forests for a
  time. Then he would return to the viharas quite near to the important
  towns of those days or wander among the villages meeting kings and
  `outcastes', priests and princes and discoursing to all without
  exception, for the potential of Enlightenment lay within all men,
  having no regard whether he was estranged from society and labelled an
  `outcaste' or esteemed by people as a priest (//brahmin//) of `pure'
  lineage.

      Thus, in following the thudong life our bhikkhu is making his
  efforts, however small, to follow in the Way his Master trod. To him,
  the life of the Enlightened One is not something remote, for it is
  illuminated to some extent by his own experience and is always a great
  source of precious inspiration and guidance. It shows him what can be
  achieved and gives him the courage to face all dangers and go forth to
  make the attempt for this highest achievement. As Lord Buddha assures
  all people:

            "Those who are always meditative and ever
            steadfastly persevering, the wise ones, realize
            Nibbana, the bond-free, the highest."
                                                (Dhp. 23)






                               POSTSCRIPT

      As much as can easily be written of the thudong bhikkhu's life is
  contained in these sketches. Just as the flavour of soup is not to be
  told even in one thousand pages, so the real flavour of this Ancient
  Way cannot be conveyed by words. Soup is to be tasted: the thudong
  life is to be lived. If it sounds hard, one must remember that its
  rewards are great, and in the field of Dhamma-endeavour, nothing is
  gained without effort. The world wants everything quick-and-easy but
  the fruits of the holy life are thus only for those who have already
  put forth their energy, already striven hard for the goal. Truly Lord
  Buddha promises in the Discourse on Mindfulness (//Satipatthana
  Sutta//) that the noble attainment of the Arahant may be experienced
  within seven days. There is also the phrase found: "Instructed in the
  morning, he attains in the evening." Such promise and statements
  depend upon individual capacities and whether the practice of
  mindfulness is strong and complete enough and moreover, they only
  apply providing that there is the ability to renounce this world
  completely. Nibbana, the supreme goal, is not to be got at while
  anything, even the most subtle dhamma, is still clung to. Behold, says
  the Exalted One:

            "Come behold this world,
            Like unto a royal chariot,
            Wherein fools flounder,
            But where the wise find no attraction."
                                                (Dhp. 171)


      The thudong bhikkhu makes efforts to be among the wise who have
  cast aside all embroilments with things, people and the three periods
  of time. He has few things among which he can flounder and he tries
  vigorously to cut off all that might tie him to people. He strives
  also to win for his own, his Master's realization regarding the three
  times:

            "The past is like a dream,
            The present as clouds appears,
            Mirage-like is the future."

      All bonds, however arising, he tries to shatter. He is inspired by
  the Enlightened One's exhortations that a mortal disease (ignorance,
  //avijja//) requires a drastic remedy. he has gone forth from home and
  family, from all the dear decorations of life, to don the ancient
  yellow robe of patches, to have little and want less, to pursue the
  sublime Way shown by the Buddha with every energy he possesses. While
  unenlightened he wants only one `thing' -- Enlightenment.

      When he wishes to take the step of Going-forth (//pabbajja//, to
  become a nain), he thrice utters these words: "Give leave, Venerable
  Sir, and having given me these robes, out of compassion let me go
  forth for the extinction of suffering and the realization of Nibbana."

      If he is serious in his quest he tries even amid life's diffusion,
  not to forget these words, not to forget the reason why he is wearing
  the three robes. They are a great reminder that Enlightenment is his
  aim and that the well-being of others is best upheld by penetration of
  Enlightenment by oneself. This thudong way although it seems to be
  devoted only to the good of the bhikkhu undertaking it, actually
  stands at the beginning of his progress along the way.

      Lord Buddha emphasized: "Who, stuck in the mud, can pull out
  another stuck in the mud?" Later, when some mastery is gained in the
  Dhamma, then is the time to aid others and only then can one actually
  help them effectively.

      It is this straight-forward attitude to the Dhamma among members
  of the Sangha and devoted lay-people which has been responsible for
  the spread of the Dhamma in Eastern Asia, from Sri Lanka to Siberia,
  from Afghanistan to Japan. And to spread the Dhamma outwardly, it must
  first be spread inwardly, in one's own heart. The Sangha unencumbered
  by worldly lumber, has just this work. It is the Sangha in fact which
  has everywhere in the past been the backbone of the Buddhist religion.
  It is the mainstay of knowledge of the Dhamma and it is the spearhead
  of applying that Dhamma to the living of the holy life. Efforts made
  to spread Buddhism in the present must therefore take account of these
  two factors: the necessity of having those who have experienced Dhamma
  for themselves as guides, as meditation masters: also the importance
  of the Third Jewel, the Sangha, which must be made to grow strongly
  since it provides the opportunity for devoted effort to win the Dhamma
  and the subsequent teaching of others which may follow.

      Such effort is made particularly by the thudong bhikkhu as we have
  tried to show. This is not to say that others having practices
  different from those outlined here, do not make efforts toward
  Enlightenment. Of course they do, but here we have only been concerned
  with this particular aspect of bhikkhu life. Still, from the high
  esteem in which the genuine thudong bhikkhu has always been held in
  Buddhist lands and the fact that his life most nearly approaches that
  of the original Sangha it would not seem a mistake to regard the
  thudong way as being first among other modes of bhikkhu life.

      Among the bhikkhus, it is those who have realized for themselves
  the truth of the Dhamma and who are therefore qualified to teach
  others, it is they who are the elect. Of course, they do no write
  books and are often difficult to find but certainly they are the
  heartwood. Where they are to be found, in whatever Buddhist land or
  anywhere else, there the Buddhadhamma truly lives, for the light of
  that Dhamma burns brightly in their hearts. Wherever they are there
  Dhamma not only lives, it can also grow. For the Dhamma does not grow
  by the numbers of its adherents according to governments' statistics,
  nor by the number of its temples, not yet even by the quantities of
  yellow robes worn: no, it grows heartwise from teacher to pupil,
  through the former's instructions and the latter's application.

      The thudong life is one way to this growth. The Dhamma is not
  secret for it is open to all who have ears to hear, and the Sangha
  exists for all those who would devote their lives to Dhamma. The Way
  is there, the Way is always there -- but who will tread it?



                              *    *    *



            "//Grounded on practice (patipatti), sire, is the
            Dispensation of the Teacher, in practice is its
            essence. It will last so long as practice does not
            disappear.//"

                           //Venerable Nagasena's reply to King Menander
                           (Milinda) in "Milinda's Questions
                           (Milinda-panha)" p. 1986, translated by I.B.
                           Horner.//