Let's become mindful of heedlessness - Ven. Aluthgamgoda Gnanaweera Thero | Nihanda Arana

Let's become mindful of heedlessness - Ven. Aluthgamgoda Gnanaweera Thero | Nihanda Arana

We are now discussing the Maha Sunyata Sutta. We intend to discuss it thoroughly until the end of the Sutta. Although we started with this Sutta for meditation, we've mostly been talking about the concept of "mindfulness" (sati). I recall a section where Osho says that noble ones (ariyans) don't particularly like meeting him. This is because no matter how much he speaks, he only talks about impermanence (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and non-self (anatta). It sounds like he's saying the same thing repeatedly. With ordinary people (puthujjana), it's different; they might say one thing in the morning and then scold the same person in the evening. There's a lot of complete nonsense there, different things at different times. But when you meet a noble one, it always feels like they're saying the same thing. It can even be boring to hear the same thing, because the discourse is always pointing towards anicca, dukkha, and anatta.

With that understanding, I think we need to look at this Sutta now. The Buddha brings this discourse to us today after attaining the fourth jhana. While he was developing up to the fourth jhana and staying in that state, he needed to arrange his words. The reason for this is that developing one's meditation to the level of the fourth jhana means it's a significant development. After developing it to the level of the fourth jhana, we need to be skilled at protecting what we've cultivated from that point onwards. Otherwise, this concentrated mind, this samadhi that we've been building, can quickly break down. So, we need to be skilled at protecting it. It can't be protected if my words don't support it. We need to assist the development of that jhana and that samadhi. Because as soon as I get into thirty-two kinds of worldly talk, it doesn't support the growing stillness and samadhi that leads to Nibbana.

For example, let me tell you something. A person who had meditated for some time came to a Burmese Pandit monk. This person had spent some time meditating abroad, traveling, and then came to stay at a meditation center, immediately thinking, "I need to do my own work." But when they tried to meditate, they couldn't; their whole body felt broken and restless. They didn't feel like staying at all. On the third day, they came to the Pandit monk crying, saying, "I came here after giving up everything to stay, but on the first and second days, my whole body felt broken. My whole body aches; I don't feel like staying; I only want to leave, only want to leave." They kept crying, saying they had booked a ticket to go back to Malaysia from Burma.

The Pandit monk, while purifying the meditation subject (kammaṭṭhāna), often noted down the experiences of practitioners in a book, as is common in Burma. As he read what this person had written, he realized this person wanted to stay, but despite giving up everything, they weren't settling in; the "vibe" wasn't right. However, the Pandit monk lifted the book and read underneath it, saying, "Your meditation has started to develop again."

This is something I understood very well from an incident. Remember the person who used to be here and came back recently? They stayed for three or four days. On the first day, they said they didn't feel like staying at all. In the past, they had meditated with us and even went to Nistharana Vana. Now they say they don't feel like listening to Dhamma, their body feels broken, and they feel very tired. They quickly feel like leaving, quickly, quickly feel like leaving; they don't feel like staying here. It feels like it's not "setting in," as we say. It's not setting in. That's what it means; the vibe broke. Then they went back to the "race" in Colombo. They went to Colombo and started running in the race. Then they ruined what they had developed beautifully, slowly, and calmly. They went to run to experience the world. As soon as they went to run, it became very difficult; their body was tired, and being on a timetable felt like a burden. The mind just didn't want to do anything.

That's how it is. No matter how much someone meditates, if they don't continue it. If they don't continue the work they started, then look, even here, for those who broke it off once and come back for a second time, it's very difficult to settle. The mind doesn't allow it to go inwards again. I'm not saying it's impossible. If it's impossible, that would be wrong. It's not impossible. However, it takes more effort than usual. It's not easy; you have to start from scratch again. It's like heating wood; you keep heating it, and there's only a little bit left before it ignites. But you can't bear it, so you stop and leave. What happens after you stop and leave? Then you have to come back and heat it up from the beginning again. So it's very difficult again. Otherwise, if I had stayed in Nihanda Arana for so many years and developed it so much, I should be able to start from where I left off. But that's not how it works.

Then what happens? The mind starts to feel like it's not settling. This is because it has run too much towards that side, too much towards sense pleasures, towards the "race" of the world that our mothers and fathers run in. It has run too much towards that. Now it's trying to settle back into this, and it understands that it's useless. It's meaningless, just a fake stress. Now after going to work and experiencing it, one understands, but there's nothing one can do. That person becomes helpless. That person becomes helpless, even if everything is there, they can't do it. Even if everything one needs is there, it's very difficult to settle back again. That is, it's very difficult to connect to the "vibe."

It just doesn't feel right. Even after coming here, one feels very much like a stranger. A very foreign feeling comes. However, the old Pandit monk said it's okay. Now, little by little, as that lets go, those body pains start to come little by little. You want this yourself. That is, if one makes the effort, even with difficulty, it will work; I'm not saying it won't. But here, the Buddha shows a much easier way: how to use the body and speech to support this development when one has cultivated up to the fourth jhana. Don't break this down. This is a very good place to find things.

In occult science, they cure cancers, right? Different blessings, different powers. They actually cure people of diseases instantly. That cancer disappears instantly through those occult things. But look, after some time, the disease reappears. The same problem comes back. Why does the same problem come back? Because they didn't change their behavior. They didn't know that with the healing of their disease, they needed to control their diet, and give up some addictions. What happens to some people is that even after the disease is cured, if they haven't given up their addiction, they fall back into the old place. That's what the Buddha describes in this Sutta: after cultivating the fourth jhana, one needs to know how to maintain and protect this developed jhana. Protecting it doesn't mean it's permanent or a self.

This is about continuing to cultivate it without letting go of what has been developed. That's the difficult part. The Buddha says, and Ven. Maha Sariputta preaches, that it's difficult to become a monk, but to continue with that enthusiasm is even more difficult. It's not easy to decide to become a monk and give up everything at once. But to remain in that state continuously. The reason for this is that when we reach only up to the fourth jhana, meditation starts to become spontaneous (niraayasa). Mindfulness starts to fall into autopilot mode. That is, as one practices meditation up to the fourth jhana, and as one walks (sakmanaya) at the level of the fourth jhana, one begins to understand that "I" am not there; the walking just happens. You are completely still, doing nothing. The walking happens. Mindfulness itself invigorates itself. There's nothing for "I" to do.

When you go to do sitting meditation (paryanka bhavana), you understand that in sitting meditation, the object has faded away. That is, when meditation develops to the level of the fourth jhana, you feel that in sitting meditation, there is no object for meditation. There is no object at all. You are just sitting. There is mindfulness. There is equanimity (upekkha). There is no specific meditation subject that has been focused on. There is no object.

However, everything is felt and heard. But nothing, that is, consciousness, is connected to any sense organ; there's a state where no sense organ is being used. No sense organ, no object, is being used internally. Even if you go to work that day, you start to realize that no matter what work you do, there's a certain emptiness. There's a sense of solitude. There's a good feeling; even if you're with a hundred people, you feel a sense of being alone. This feeling, this emotion, starts to come to us after the path to the fourth jhana develops. At that point, you begin to understand that your entire life feels like it's stopped, like you're alone. Even if you go for a walk, there's nothing to do. The walking happens automatically; you're just there. When you sit in meditation, without any specific meditation subject, as soon as you sit down, your body calms down.

So you just watch. It is at this point that the meditator's right view (samma ditthi) determines how they treat this felt solitude after coming to a monastic life and practicing meditation to this level. Does their discourse turn towards Dasakatha (talks that are beneficial for spiritual progress) or towards Detiskatha (thirty-two kinds of worldly talk)? That is, at that time, a monk came yesterday and told me, "I'm getting attached without reason."

"I start getting attached without reason. I can't imagine getting attached. I came looking for a life like this. I was looking for a life like this, a rest like this, a retirement like this, a solitude like this. But I don't understand this solitude. Why am I getting attached?" One can't figure out what this pain is. That's why I said that as we progress in meditation towards the fourth jhana, when there is mindfulness without an object, concentration without an object, and one-pointedness (ekaggatava) without an object, there's nothing for "I" to do. "I" has nothing to do from above; "I" just has to be there. "I" can't show off work; "I" wants to stand out. This ego (mamathvaya) wants to show that it's someone important, to show off. To show off that it's someone important, you need to post a photo on Facebook, right?

When all of this disappears and one turns inwards, inwards, inwards, inwards, this felt solitude… what is it? If I reject this, then like that story, it's not sex; it's pure rape. If I reject this feeling, then it becomes suffering. But if I appreciate this, it becomes good sexual satisfaction, good happiness. So, is this going to be a good sexual pleasure, or is it going to be like a rape, depending on the attitude I have towards it?

We heard that song the other day, the "Ulale Leno" song. When we heard it, we understood that one looks at that solitude as if to cry. It feels like pain. It feels like great sorrow. Look at those "Ulale Leno" songs. But then, look, we heard another song that day. When we heard that, we understood that we could look at the same thing as joy, solace, happiness. Let's listen to those two songs again today. Listen to them and see. Then we'll understand for ourselves that in one song, the solitude is viewed with joy, solace, rest, with great joy. There's no roof, it's happiness. There's no door. Everyone is at peace. This growing solitude, as one meditates more and more, is known as joy. That's why I said it's hard to say from which perspective one will look at this. It is for that perspective that the help of a good person (satpurusha) is needed. A kalyanamitta (spiritual friend) is needed. As one meditates and meditates, this is what happens internally. As one progresses more and more in monastic life, diligently, this is how we live in solace. This loneliness, this nothingness. As there's less and less to hold onto. As there's less and less to rely on. As there's no address. I wonder how much I make it "mine." I think this is the "track" in the meditation life, because I have read some meditation methods. When I read them, those teachers say, "Don't stay when it becomes more and more empty. Get rid of that emptiness. Reflect on the 'opening of the mouth.' Otherwise, they say to reflect on 'staying, staying, staying.'" I can't understand why, as one meditates, why one doesn't awaken to this. Those who go by the path of wisdom (prajna) say to look at name and form (namarupa) here.

They say to look at Dependent Origination (Paṭicca samuppāda) here. Those who go by the path of calm (samatha) don't like this place. They say, "Don't stay here quickly. This is just the mind deceiving you." Those who go by the path of Abhidhamma say that when meditating and gradually entering into emptiness, you fall into the bhavanga citta (life-continuum consciousness), and there's no truth in that; you should aim away from it. However, the teachers I've met, half of them, have told me to fearlessly awaken to that very state. Awaken to that. When you feel it at the fourth jhana and beyond, there's nothing to do with objects. There are no nimittas (mental images). There's no place for "I" to rely on. Look to awaken to this.

Awaken to this. Look at this in a very positive way. We are living in solace, there are no problems. Otherwise, I feel that many meditation methods, when you look at them, tend to cut things off here. This internal feeling, those who go by the path of books, don't understand what it is at all. Those who analyze and interpret the Dhamma directly from books, through the Tipitaka and Suttas. Do they even understand what is being said here? What is being said here? I think this needs to be experienced. It needs to be experienced without giving it a name, without calling it "consciousness" (siva) or "vinnana." Don't give it a name, don't put a label on it. And also, don't try to make something out of it. But as this comes more and more, how much can I adapt to this nature, like casting my eyes on the path that goes on? As I meditate more and more, this solitude that I feel...

...this unbearable loneliness, this state, how much can I look at it with happiness? I think what's here are issues of interpretation. How I look at it determines how it appears to me. And how it appears, that's what determines whether I turn towards Dasakatha or if I jump off the track again and my mind starts to describe women, men, the world, if it jumps off my channel track and enters a worldly track. If I go to the worldly channel and lose mindfulness, then it pulls me to that side. It completely pulls me to that side. It completely pulls me back into the world of sensual desire, which is where the problems are. That's what I said. When we break that track, it's very difficult to come back; it starts to get difficult. It breaks. It's very difficult to settle back into that beautiful journey, to the "vibe." It's not the same enthusiasm as before. Look at the song that talks about solace. It portrays solitude with such joy, which we heard recently. But listen to it again, and you'll understand how negatively it talks about that solitude. In that song, it beautifully says, "It's okay that there's no dust here anymore."

Look at the beauty in that: it appreciates the absence. What is it? If there were chairs, there would be dust. As we meditate more and more, everything disappears. Everything disappears, but we are in this loneliness with solace and ease. This loneliness is a great joy for us; this solitude is a strange happiness for us; there are no problems. If someone comes here, if we put chairs, then things will start to break. Thieves will start to take things. But when thieves come here, there's nothing for them to take. So, when we develop the path, there's nothing for thieves to take from us. There's nothing; it's empty. So we are joyful; we have nothing to lose. As we enter the meditation life more and more, there's nothing.

There's nothing to lose. So there's nothing to be sad about. At the time of death, there's nothing. Because anyway, we've already lost everything before death. We're in the utmost joy in the state of nothingness. Where is the joy in nothingness? So why should we be sad at the time of death? If we're told to leave tomorrow, we have nothing to leave behind. There's no one to leave behind. There's nothing to leave behind. So are we living in solace? We've become accustomed to facing death with joy even before death. Now we're living in joy. People say, "My younger brother built a house for my elder brother." I'm living in joy; you're living in that joy. It's not a house we built. It's a house someone else built, and we're living in it with utmost happiness. That's how it is when you meditate and meditate. Look at the perspective. This angle, we say it often, if you get this angle, this solitude becomes happiness day by day. It becomes joy day by day. Otherwise, day by day, one starts crying without reason, like the "Ulale Leno" song. "Ulale Leno, what happened to us?" This perspective of "What happened?" starts to come. The other side of that angle...

...if the word "living in solace and ease" doesn't come, if that vision doesn't come, then a kalyanamitta is needed. A kalyanamitta is needed. The talks of a kalyanamitta need to be heard. If they are not heard, then life will just appear from that angle. When you hear that song, you understand that this loneliness just feels like a curse, like something awful after everything is ruined. It's talked about as if this solitude is a terrible thing. But it's not like looking at this loneliness with joy. There's no sense of "we're living in peace, we're living in this loneliness with solace and ease."

That needs to be talked about. It happens to everyone. When people go to funerals, that's what they say, "That's how life is. We all die." Look, the words there are spoken in a very negative way. Very negative talk. "That's how life is." There was a man, a friend whose wife passed away. When people came to see him, he realized that with this burden, "What happened? My wife is gone. That's how it is." He wasn't troubled. "You can get another wife. It's good to let time pass. It's not troubling, it's not troubling." His wife passed away, and time passed. But even as people came, it was clear that he was talking about it with laughter, with a strange joy. His wife died. It's not like they were fighting. They were in love. But at some point, he was looking at separation from a very unique angle. Similarly, when one enters this meditation life and passes the fourth jhana, I don't know, we will all have to face this. That is, after being a monk for some time. Up to that point, observe how the faith (saddha) that was present before becoming a monk decreases. Before becoming a monk, those who meditated with great love and faith, when they become a monk, it only takes one day, and they are like a she-devil (yakshaneeya) in the sense of not having joy, not having that arm-around-the-shoulder feeling. They start to walk a very solitary path.

It becomes a very solitary path. They can't bear even a little bit; they get angry. The faith they had before, where they used to bow down, has changed. What happens is that as that solitude increases more and more, there's a kind of demonic nature that emerges. From somewhere, faith decreases. The devotion, the belief, the faith that was there, all disappear, and it becomes difficult to approach. It's very difficult to approach. Men have a certain innate quality, a kind of boisterousness. That's why they understand this. Whatever quality a man has, no matter how much they fight or scold each other, when the tea is served, when the rice packet is served, everything is over. There's something, I don't know what quality it is in men, that when they get together, it's over. They don't carry grudges later; they fought at that moment, they scolded at that moment. The next moment, as soon as the rice packet arrives, as soon as they settle, everything is over. What is it, that sharing quality? The good that we feel in this monastic life, that feeling of being able to act. A laughing, talking quality. These days, it feels like it's lost its address. But there's a laughing quality within that boisterousness. I think that's how they get released.

What happens with women is that the monk becomes even more alone. She becomes even more alone. She starts to get even angrier. She can't express it. I'm not saying every woman is like this. I'm not saying every man is common either. I'm saying that based on my experience, I understand that this kind of situation happens. Therefore, the pressure is higher after becoming a monk, for a woman. For a man, there isn't that much pressure. It's that style. Because of that inner style, they say, "Bro, you're doing all this nonsense. Are you doing it too, bro, like this?" Up to that point, what is it? I don't understand what it is. I think it's something that develops from birth, from childhood. That boisterous quality, that tendency to share within the group. For women, from childhood, it happens that they become more and more alone, and then they start to look down, and then they cry. Then they look at the mountain and the hill. They become alone. Something happens to me. I can't get close to anyone. So I think that in a place like this solitude, when one enters deep into something like monastic life, I think the masculine style is what's needed.

During school, even if we fought a lot, the next moment, we'd have our arms around each other's shoulders. That sense of sharing in a pack, that vibe, that mode, is what we are doing together here. Because we've entered this as a team now, as a group.

So now it's up to us to express these feelings, these things that we experience. Because no one is truly above anyone else. What you are feeling now, I also feel. What I feel, you also feel. Desire (kama) doesn't decrease for anyone. I don't think anyone is above anyone else in terms of getting angry, irritated, or feeling lonely. So, we've met here together because we have a shared human heart. That is, the human emotions you have, I also have. There's faith (saddha), effort (virya), anger (taraha), and lust (raga). All these are set within us together.

However, some people are ashamed to reveal these things. "My image might be broken." "What will they think of me?" Because of some reason, they hide it. By hiding, this becomes a burden. Internally, you start to get attached without reason. Without reason, you might even feel like giving up your robes. Without reason, there's a terrible pain. A terrible, very intense, internal pain that one endures. I know, from what I understand, this feels more like a woman's pain, as I think about it and talk. So then, there's a kind of one-line progression among us. That is, we all move along a single line. Then we discuss our problems among ourselves. In the next moment, we laugh about it. In the next moment, it's over. It becomes a problem, that's the nature of the mind. What to do? I just got a little angry at that moment, sorry. That's all. I had some doubts about you at that moment. Or at that moment, I got a little angry. I felt annoyed that day. If you were annoyed and I told you, "Get up and come here, come there," I'd say, "Sorry, I was a bit annoyed at that moment." Like that, just say it and finish it there. If something like that comes up, I think that when we move as a group like this, our feelings can be expressed in this discussion.

But there must be that pack mentality within it. That vibe that we are one team, that no one is more special than anyone else. Look, yesterday, when this was being done, everyone was talking about the Sangha (community of monks). No one was big or small. Just Sangha. I am not superior. You are not superior. At that moment, when delivering this discourse, I am here. But at that time, when observing poya (observance day), there is no special person. Anyone can say it to anyone. No one has special titles above anyone else. No one is more special than anyone else. We don't try to be special. As Sangha, we expose our shortcomings. I expose my problem before the Sangha. Then everyone says, "I also had that experience. I looked at it this way. Try looking at it this way." Then, as a team, after I present this to the team, each and every person in that group has their own way, because everyone faces all those problems. That's why I said there are no problems that only I have, or unique problems just for me. All those problems are the same for all of us. And that's how each person faced them. Then they say, "At this moment, I felt so annoyed. I just wanted to leave. But I kept thinking about this. I did this in this way."

Then, each person relates how they subdued that mind, how they avoided falling prey to it. When Tanha (craving), Rati (delight), Raga (lust) dance, how did they keep their eyes half-closed? The Buddha said it, didn't he? When Tanha, Rati, Raga danced, he kept his eyes half-closed. If he had opened his eyes even a little, it wouldn't have been Rahula Kumara, but another child. Another child would have been born. It wouldn't have happened. At that time, he somehow kept his eyes half-closed. When Tanha, Rati, Raga danced, how did he do it? Then he said, "Monks, those three danced in front of me, and they will dance in front of you too. I kept my eyes half-closed like this. You too should stay like this, keeping your eyes half-closed."

If it's truly unbearable, then there's a book I read about the Vedas. In that series, there's a story of a person, like Don Juan, who goes and, while there, he finds solitude. That person develops a desire for women, for women. Then he asks that guru, that spiritual guide, "What should I do?" The guru tells him, "Go and see and come back. It's like those temples, isn't it? They are covered with curtains from the outside. But when you pull back the curtains, there's nothing inside." "If you're so eager, then when you're in that solitude, go and stay for a year or two and come back and see." He says, "You say you can't do it, but if it's dancing like that, then it's very difficult; you have to see it, like removing the curtain of a temple, removing the curtains." "Go and see. How many curtains are there, covering it, because there's nothing inside?"

He said, "Don't you even have the sense to understand that? If the betel is good, do you need to cover it so much? Is there anything to see? Nothing. It's because there's nothing that the temple is covered with so many curtains, so many drapes, so many hangings, like Chinese goods. The embroidery is intricate. But the goods are useless. The goods there are useless." Similarly, if you think there's something beyond this solitary life, you'll understand it yourself. What's there to do with any of that? They don't listen when told. If they don't understand when told. If they don't understand when told, and he's dancing so much, and wriggling so much, what is there to say? It's karma, what is there to do? There's nothing to give, is there? They keep asking for so much. Look, there's nothing. There's nothing special. There's nothing special at all. You're just trying to go into this solitude for nothing. This is where the solace is. This is where Nibbana is. But if someone says, "I need to examine it a bit," there's no prohibition. No prohibition at all. But not within this monastery. Go outside. Go and test whatever you want. Experience whatever you want, do whatever you want. Is there anything beyond this? If you say there's something beyond this solace, beyond this solitude, beyond this rest, then stop there. There's no problem then. If you understand that there's something. But you'll understand that you've been fooled. Now there's no way to escape from this. You'll understand that you've been fooled. Then you'll understand that day. That day, you won't know if you'll settle into that vibe again after coming back. As I said, you can go, but after you come back, whether you can connect again, I can't be a witness to that. I can't be a witness to that. But if you want to, look, it's the same thing that keeps appearing to me again and again.

However, it's like this: for a person with faith (saddha), just hearing this is enough. You don't need to go and see all those temple curtains and everything. They are covered because there's nothing. It's just a cat in a well. There's nothing in those temples. If you don't believe that, then go and look carefully. If you have faith, then do this Dhamma path without going through those troubles, without suffering. As you gradually, gradually, gradually calm down, as you calm down internally, support this. Give value to this. That's what the Buddha says here: after attaining the fourth jhana, when there are no more mental images (nimitta), when the mind becomes signless (animitta), at such a time, be very careful about this talk. Because we are deceived by words. Be very careful about words. What is being talked about with the body? The talk means... the Buddha is saying here, for a person who is meditating, for a person who is in the fourth jhana, the Buddha says they might feel like talking. So when they talk, they know, "This talk is low, shallow, common, ignoble." That is, "This talk is useless; how base is this? Does it belong to the ordinary world? Is it not noble? Does it lead to misfortune? Does it not contribute to dispassion? Does it not lead to the destruction of defilements (kilesa)? Does it not lead to tranquility? Does it not lead to profound wisdom?

Does it not lead to understanding? Does it not lead to Nibbana? Therefore, do not engage in such conversations." That is what Gnanaarama Thero says. He says that when you go to a place, you realize that as people talk little by little, they change their track, and they only talk about these thirty-two kinds of worldly talk. That is, they talk about actors, actresses, kings. That means about politicians, or about food, about cooking, or about food. Or about relatives, or about the abandoned parents. "Is that a good thing? Shouldn't one fulfill duties towards parents?" Or they talk about relatives. Or about newly arrived vehicles, or about cities, or about women, or about men. When they talk about these things, you realize that their minds are cultivating worldly things. But now, the person who has meditated understands that as they continue this practice, they understand that their parents, their friends, their talk is not compatible with them. Look carefully, as this Dhamma develops and one meditates more and more, that's when the value of monastic life is felt. The value of becoming a monk is felt. After becoming a monk, we fall into the company of noble people (satpurusha). We fall into the kalyanamitta (spiritual friends). After being with that group of friends, they don't find us compatible. Because what we talk about, meditation and concentration, they can't hear it. "What's wrong with you?" they say. They gradually start to see you as a disturbance.

For us too, the problem is that we don't feel like going to parties every day and acting crazy. Now imagine, that is, it's not that we can't stay there. But when we are there, the world that our mothers make a big deal about, the houses, money, relatives that our mothers talk about with such importance, these things just don't feel right to us; the vibe. We realize it's meaningless to us. We don't even feel what they say. Then Gnanaarama Thero says that if you have to talk like that, don't belittle those people. Go to some place, and now we understand that after coming here, even these monks, they talk nonsense. They come to the monastery and talk nonsense about the woman who came, about the nun, about that monk, about that boy in the monastery, about the dogs. It makes no sense. About movies, about plays, about those boys who came, about newly released songs, all sorts of useless things are being discussed, and we realize, what's the point of scolding? "Oh no, is this what monks talk about? Are they crazy?" It makes no sense. It just creates an unnecessary conflict. Then, when we are in this, we understand that not everyone inside here has become a monk for Nibbana. They are relishing this path. Or they became monks because of some family problems. Or they became monks for some other reason. That is, Nibbana is not their ultimate goal.

Liberation (vimukti) is not the ultimate goal. They became monks to escape from something. To escape from prison, or to escape from lawsuits. Or because there's no one. No one, no relatives, no siblings, no one. But not really for Nibbana. Not really to attain liberation. So when we are with them, we realize that they talk about women, men, vehicles, and things in the outside world. One person told me that someone who was here said, "Oh, why did you become a monk when you have so much money?" Then we understand that they are here because they have no other opportunity. If they get a chance, they'll go to some country any time. They're just waiting until they can get a visa. They are here until the visa is ready. Then imagine, such a person will never make this their own. They say, "These things can be done later; I need to experience more." They say the visa didn't work out. Look, some monasteries, I'm not belittling them. They are waiting to go abroad. If they say they got to go abroad, it's like attaining Nibbana instantly. But it's not like that. Those who have gone know how empty it feels to be there. And the people there, if one person commits suicide, a whole line of people commits suicide. That is, even in Japan, if the TV says one person committed suicide, ten people hear it and commit suicide. There's no substance inside. So to go to such a world, some people even dream of staying in a place like this, but their minds are in a place like that. Then look, even if we are in a monastery like this, they talk about that. They talk nonsense about the things they experienced outside and the things they didn't experience. Then what happens to us is that a conflict arises for us. We have a conflict. Because we didn't come here to talk about foreign countries or anything like that. We came here after hearing a discourse that spoke about Nibbana. But after talking about Nibbana, on your YouTube, you talk about Nibbana, but when you actually come here, the people talk crazy about something else, about girls, about boys, about nuns who come here, about monks, about actors. Then we understand that this is something else entirely. The Dhamma we heard on YouTube and the reality here are two different things. Where else would we go? What else would we talk about? But there's no point in us getting into conflict. Because we have a teacher there. There's a path. But if you consider the people there, if you go with those people, you'll understand that they're talking about something else, some other nonsense.

Then, Gnanaarama Thero says, you should say, "My stomach is a bit upset today. I'll go to the toilet and come back," and leave. Don't stay among that group. There are people there who talk about the Dhamma. There are people there who talk about liberation and spiritual vision. Go and plug into them quickly. If you need to talk, if you really need to, then quickly understand. That is, there are people who became monks for liberation. There are also people who are waiting for a visa. So if we think, "Oh, everyone here came after listening to Dhamma on YouTube, and everyone here came for Nibbana," then truly, you'll get bored and annoyed very quickly. "What is this?" What we heard on YouTube is one thing. The problem is, we need to understand that even during the Buddha's time, not everyone who came to a place became a monk solely for Nibbana. That's why the Buddha had to lay down so many monastic rules. In the early days of the Buddha, there were those who became monks for Nibbana, who became monastics to realize Nibbana. But later, after the Sangha received offerings and honor, there were those who became monks to live an easy life. There are no troubles, right? You can live freely, eat what's available, and stay out of the way. In that sense, there were those who became monks. Some were like Jivaka, the physician, who only treated the Buddha's disciples and kings. So, to get treated by Jivaka, who was a very skilled physician, one would become a monk. In that sense, they became monks.

So, we need to understand that when any institution gains offerings, honor, and fame over time, people who desire these things become monks. When these things are easily available, there are people who stay for these conveniences. Because those conveniences are there. Otherwise, it's not truly for Nibbana, or to explore what liberation is, to investigate this. It's like they're there because they have to be, because they come to these programs. So, there's no need to truly explore internally, to investigate. They just follow tradition; that is, even if they are here, they are looking at the world through their phones. Even if they are inside, they take their phones and enjoy worldly things all day.

When that kind of vibe comes, I mean, that's when we need to be skilled. There's no need to belittle such people. We should slowly detach ourselves from such people. Because if we stay in that vibe for a few days, we also get infected with playing video games. With talking about the men and women who come here. And then mocking those people. Joking about them. Then we understand that if we stay with such unwholesome people (asath purusha), the Buddha first says in the Mangala Sutta, "Asevanacha balanam" - "Do not associate with fools." Quickly signal left and turn right and leave. Or say, "I'll go to the toilet and come back," signal left, and quickly turn right and don't go near that area. Don't associate with that area. Because if we get into that kind of talk, we'll start to appear like our old selves again. As soon as we start talking about those things, we'll also start making those jokes. We'll start supplying those jokes.

Then, this fundamental thing, this concentration that we have cultivated day by day, needs to go deeper. Day by day, this mind that has been cultivated needs to strive for further calming, not for further madness. This little bit that has been cultivated with difficulty needs to strive for more and more calming. More and more, I associate with the teacher. More and more, how do I calm down? That is, I'm not saying to get agitated. But as the words of the kalyanamitta (spiritual friend) are heard, we understand that the words of the kalyanamitta are inclined towards renunciation (nekkhamma). They are inclined towards solitude (viveka). They are inclined towards contentment (alpēchchaya). As we hear those things again and again, we become refreshed again and again. Those tendencies of feeling bored, which we mentioned, disappear, and we start to hear again. We start to update ourselves again. That's why the Buddha explains that here, we need to be careful. If there is someone who engages in these thirty-two kinds of worldly talk, that person is indeed a fool. "Asevanacha balanam" - "Do not associate with fools." Don't even go near such association. As soon as you go, you don't know what will happen to us. Then, when that person talks, they say, "Oh, that Dhamma, what is it?" They always put this talk into two pages. "What is it? They always say the same thing. Today too, you'll go and listen to that."

They start putting it into a two-page document. That madness they have within them, eventually makes them despair (viryava). They start to despair. They start to despair, and they tell us, "He always talks about that stuff." Then we think, "Oh, if we just listened to a folk song on the phone, that would be better." That's why the Buddha says, "Do not associate with such people. This kind of talk happens." But the important point here is, don't belittle them and leave. Then, we will develop self-praise and denigration of others (attukkansanaparavambhanaya). That is, I will uplift myself and belittle others. Then, we will fall into the defilement of conceit (mana) again. If we fall into the conceit of greatness again, then defilements will be at work there too. That's why I say, never belittle such people. Because we can't say. In some places, it is mentioned that a person with leprosy (kushtha rogi) came to the Buddha for alms. What was his name? Do you remember the leper's name? Supabuddha the leper. That Supabuddha the leper didn't actually come to attain Nibbana.

He came because he had leprosy all over his body. He came for another reason; he came because if he went to the monastery at mealtime, he could get some food. He went to eat, but he heard something. He heard a discourse. He didn't go to listen to Dhamma. He was a leper. But as he was leaving, he decided to listen. He didn't know what was being said. As he listened, his wisdom was applied. His wisdom was applied, and he attained the paths and fruits (margaphala). The monks who listened there did not attain the paths and fruits. The man who came for lunch that day realized Nibbana. That's what I said. That's why we can never belittle anyone. "Oh, we came to realize Nibbana, but these people came here to eat." Don't do that. Don't say that. That's what I said. If we do that, we are caught. We can't say that. That's why I said, don't go to judge. Don't go to judge anyone. Because we don't know when, with what words, someone might be liberated and realize Nibbana. In the end, it will become reproach of the noble ones (ariya-upavada) for us. It will become reproach of the noble ones. One day, Damaru told us that Gnanaarama Thero, having become an Anagami (Non-returner) and been reborn in the Suddhavasa (Pure Abodes), became an Arahant there. Gnana Ketu Gnana Thero said that he could go to this female lay disciple (upasika) and possess her and speak through her. He went.

After he went, after he went, he possessed a female lay disciple, or rather, a female lay disciple who was a nun, a female lay disciple who was a nun, a female lay disciple named Asu, and said, "I don't truly know the human world." The idea is just this, I'll tell you the point. Then he said, "Having become an Anagami, I attained Arahantship here. So, the Sangha who are in this monastery should be a bit careful. Everyone has fallen into Ariya-upavada." So, avoid it as much as possible, he said. What that story is, I don't know. Those are stories we don't understand, mystical stories. It's not a mystical story I need to tell. I wanted to be careful. Because we don't know if the person who acted crazy today has attained Sotapanna (Stream-enterer) tonight by speaking a word. Sotapanna is not as strange a story as we think. It's a moment of feeling. Who knows if all these people here are Sotapanna? So, if we speak out, if we put them down, then it becomes Ariya-upavada. Then, except for the anantariya-papa-kamma (heinous crimes), any other karma can happen even to a Sotapanna. Except for matricide, patricide, causing a schism in the Sangha, and wounding the Buddha, a Sotapanna can commit other unwholesome actions. That's why we say, therefore, be very careful. Because in a place like this, more than in the outside world, you speak out because of these words. That's what the Buddha says. So, from what I understand, the best thing is, don't talk about anyone.

Don't talk about anyone. We don't know if someone here is drunk or whatever, how do we know if they are a Sotapanna? We don't know. How can we say that? And to come to a place like this, there must be some past karma, and they might even be a Sotapanna without knowing it. What kind of conditions led them to come to a place like this, to spend so many days in a place like this, to allow their mind to stay? Whatever madness they perform, we don't know. That's why it's said, think carefully. If you commit ariya-upavada, no matter how much you meditate, the path won't develop. If you commit ariya-upavada, no matter how much Dhamma you hear or whatever you do, the path won't develop. So, what Gnana Thero has said from his astrological knowledge is important. There's no point in these people here committing ariya-upavada now. That's why I say, be careful with your words. We don't know that even the person who came here today has come here because of past lives. Imagine, they have been selected from millions and billions of beings. We don't know what kind of merits they have. What kind of conditions they have fulfilled. They might have weaknesses from this world. Some might even be addicted to these things, we don't know. That's why it's said, think and be doubly careful when talking internally, more than when you're outside. Because we don't know when we might commit ariya-upavada, when we might go to judge, and when we might be talking about those who have attained the paths and fruits. We are just speaking these words because of our inherent ugliness and jealousy.

Now, what I’m saying is, be very careful, because if we commit reproach of the noble ones, we just don’t know. So, if it turns into an act of reproaching the noble ones, you have to go and apologize to them. If they then tell you to do a certain observance, you don’t have to do it on their behalf. It’s easier, when you’re in a place like this, to keep your mouth shut if you realize the vibe isn't right. You just need to quickly make an excuse and leave, saying, “Oh, I need to go to the toilet for a bit, my stomach is upset today,” or “I have an urgent matter, someone just called me quickly like this.” Just quickly go to the toilet, and from there, if they go to the meditation hall, that's fine. That’s all you have to do. Instead of going there and criticizing them, asking, “Are you guys crazy, coming to a place like this and talking about these things?” That’s just creating an unnecessary problem again. And this tendency to elevate myself and compare myself – that’s what’s called conceit. Always weighing, always comparing. Comparing yourself with those present. That very act of comparison is conceit. Don’t let your mind go there. Don’t let yourself fall into that.

I’m repeating this part well because of places like this where we accumulate a lot of unwholesome actions (akusal). Because once we come to a place like this, we don’t kill living beings. In a place like this, we don’t steal. It’s very rare that we engage in sexual misconduct in a place like this. We don’t commit rape. In a place like this, we don’t commit murder. But in a place like this, our problems start with words. In a place like this, we judge people when we talk. We go into judgments. Out of the ten unwholesome actions, four are about frivolous talk (samphappalapa). Then there’s lying, slanderous speech, harsh speech. The Buddha calls all four of these kamma paths. They definitely result in consequences. That’s why, I think, in a place like this, we need to be extremely careful when we go to talk about another person, when we go to gossip about another person, when we go to measure and describe the people inside this place using the measures we had outside. That’s why the Buddha preaches here. So, as much as possible, get rid of these thirty-two kinds of worldly talk.

If you eliminate talking about the thirty-two kinds of talk and speak, the Buddha says it’s something that fosters dispassion (viraga), that brings about disenchantment (khalakireema), and that generates more and more effort for meditation to realize Nibbana. Talk about that. That is, the Buddha presents some talks for this: talk about contentment (appicchatā katha). That is, what we have received is enough for us. Talk only about contentment regarding the food we receive and the basic necessities. Then others will also think, “Oh, what he says is true. What little we have is actually more than enough for us. Let’s continue this practice with this much.” Talks about contentment. After that, talk about satisfaction (santushti katha). That is, never crying. We are always in that peaceful, relaxed state, in a joyful mood. “This little bit is enough. I can breathe two breaths now, oh god, I can take at least one step now.” If I didn’t even have one step, if I were outside, I’d be going crazy. “At least I’ve come here and observed these precepts, right?” Always in a joyful mood. Not like, “Oh, I don’t have a jhana here, not even the first jhana, not even the second jhana,” no crying at all. “Oh my god, if I were outside, the madness I’d be creating! Just because I’m inside, at least my precepts are preserved, right? We are peacefully abiding.” Even if there are no jhanas, no paths and fruits achieved, it doesn’t matter.

Such talk about satisfaction. After that, it talks about talk about seclusion (paviveka katha). What is talk about seclusion? It’s always about how to incline towards seclusion. Now, if we were outside, oh my god, that funeral house, that alms-giving house, this house, those relatives, oh my god, my brother’s children are coming to visit, my sister’s children are coming to visit – what is all that? It’s not easy, is it? Once you go to that side, we do that. They say, “Well, brother, you’re there, we have a job, too much work. You, just look after the kids for a bit,” and they force you. So, think about how much rest we’ve gotten with the enthusiasm we came with. Otherwise, once you step outside, there’s no end to other people’s affairs. After coming here, we don’t have anything like that. We have complete rest; that doesn’t mean just eating. Now I am working for the Sangha. I sweat a lot, I work hard. But it’s like, I realize there’s a rest in every single one of those tasks. There’s a respite in every single one of those tasks. You do it for the Sangha, that’s all. Those are not definite responsibilities for me, like what I do for my wife, what I do for my husband, no. I work hard for the Sangha. There’s a true rest. Here, it doesn’t tell us not to meditate. It doesn’t tell us not to listen to Dhamma. We get as much rest as possible for the practice. So, as much as possible, talk about being inclined towards this. That is paviveka katha.

Asaṃsagga katha (talk not conducive to association) means, if possible, when you talk, be like a lion, like an elephant. That is, talk with those who talk about separation from the crowd as a good thing. Otherwise, we’re always with the pack like dogs, aren’t we? Dogs, it’s really hard for them to be alone. But look at a lion. When you take a lion, we understand that a lion, you call it a lion, lives alone like a king. This talk values solitude. There are people who value this solitude, who are separate from the crowd. Talk with these people about these things. Don’t be like the pack of dogs who say, “Oh, I can’t be without him.” Don’t talk to people like that. When you go to talk, we tend to think, “Oh, I too am living a life like being alone.” No, this solitude, this being alone, talking about being a king, this very solitude itself—but the thing is, when you talk about that solitude, there’s a different quality to it. I want to be in the market, but I’m like I’m in a small market. But at first glance, he looks like he’ll be messed up by tomorrow. He’ll get involved in that by tomorrow. People are watching, waiting for him to get involved and eat some lentil curry. Now, they are like taking milk from a razor blade, cutting it, cutting it, cutting it. But he has some wisdom (paññā). At the very last moment, he breaks it, this attachment to the side of leisure, he crushes it. That’s him, that’s the Noble One’s son. He’s my son. What is it? What wisdom does he have? When he’s in the watchtower, it’s like, “Now he’s going to get messed up. Now he’s going to get involved with someone. He’s going to jump and run.” That’s what you think. But what is it? Even when he’s in the market, he’s like a stall holder there. Somehow, with wisdom, he cuts to the left. Now, he’s completely given up and gone to the left.

That’s what I’m saying. So, asaṃsak doesn’t mean I’m saying, “I don’t need anyone, I’m staying alone.” That’s just a big conceit. Now, wherever you are, when you’re with a group, you’re like part of the group. But internally, he has turned to the side of solitude. That’s why he talks to those worldly people, those attached people, like, “He’s an amazing person. He’ll marry me tomorrow.” When I go to talk, it’s like, “Shall we go out tonight?” He means that he turns completely to the other side. Then you understand that he’s an incomprehensible character, an incomprehensible person. Because there’s so much friendship, so much camaraderie, so much intimacy. But no one can grasp him, like grease has come. Like grease has come, you can’t grasp and embrace him before he leaves. Oh, he has that grease-like mood. That’s what asaṃsagga katha is. I think it’s like that, not like putting on a sour face and saying, “I don’t need anything.” We’re saying, when there are people playing ball, you play ball. When you go to the elders, you act like a crazy person. But he’s not crazy. He’s not crazy. But at first glance, he looks crazy too. He knows how to behave according to the situation. When he goes to that place, there’s a certain mode. But he doesn't want anything there. He's completely in solitude. He’s alone. But when he goes to a market, he looks like someone who belongs to the crowd in the market. But he's not in the crowd. That is, when he's completely with this group, he puts his tongue to his tongue and talks. With his tongue to his tongue, “Brother, how are you, my friend?” Then, “Is the hour and a half over now? Oh, please look after your mother,” and he leaves. Now the time is over. The loving is over, the jokes are over. “I’m going to my kuti (monk’s cell) to tear off my robes.” It doesn’t matter who it is now. “I’m an elder now, I’m going to my kuti.” From there, he tells them, “Don’t come to my kuti, don’t knock on my kuti.” That’s all. Oh, that’s what I mean. Not like, “Oh no, you all come to my kuti, it’s so hard for me to be in the kuti without you all.” Because for that work, he’s like in the initial love. He stays with his tongue to his tongue. When it’s time to leave, “Oh, for the rest of your life, oh, what will happen to us, venerable sir, please look after your mother.” I’ll say and leave. I have nothing to prepare. I don’t need you above me, and I don’t need you below me. I don’t love the lower part, and I don’t love the upper part. That quality. It feels like, “Oh, he’s so happy with us.” Like he can’t be without us. When it’s time to break, he breaks without bones. He breaks and throws away without any attachments. When he leaves, it doesn’t matter at all. That’s the quality of an asaṃsak person, I think, that I see. He’s very friendly, but you can’t grasp him. He’s like grease. A complete grease. So, the Buddha says, talk about these kinds of things. Talk about effort (viriyamba katha). How can we further strengthen our practice, how to increase effort: talk about virtue (sīla katha), talk about concentration (samādhi katha), talk about wisdom (paññā katha). That is, however, when talking about sīla, samādhi, and paññā, not many people will find it very engaging. Imagine, after going to watch a movie, if the whole movie is about a monk who has taken the five precepts and is sitting in meditation, calling it a meritorious video. Imagine how many people would watch that. Everyone stays for the minute of taking the precepts, but then they gradually leave. Similarly, when you go on talking about sīla katha, samādhi katha, and paññā katha, the crowd falls away. The boredom that comes to the group is, “Oh, what is this? We came to watch a three-hour movie. There’s no action here.” We like to see someone being shot and dying, that cruel quality in us, we really like to see blood. That vicious, evil nature, that desire to see blood, to see more. But what if you take precepts for three hours and then listen to a sīla katha, and sit in meditation for three hours about samādhi katha? Who would watch this movie? No one would watch it. I think that as time goes on, this crowd will find talks about samādhi and paññā even more boring. Because the mind that is inclined towards sensual pleasures is attached to that. But if you talk about the Buddha, if you talk about sīla itself, about samādhi itself, about liberation itself, about seclusion itself, then the dross falls away. And only the people who can bear it, only the people who can relish it, that group of good friends will gather with us. The rest will remain. The others will get tired of hearing this. “Oh, enough now,” like they’ve heard enough of sinful talk, they’ll slowly turn away.

So, this is what comes to my mind right away here. However, the main task now is that the main causes for these words are initial thought (vitakka) and sustained thought (vicara), according to the Buddha. That is, before uttering a word, my internal thought process must happen. If you note it there, “Now, what’s coming into my mind is a sensual thought. Now I feel like talking about women. I feel like talking about actresses. I feel like talking about my old wife. I feel like talking about my old husband,” when these thoughts arise, you can bring mindfulness (sati) to it, right? It’s okay to think. Thinking is natural. Now, what I’m saying is, watch this very well, little by little. Now, thoughts about kings, about desire, about women come to us, right? As soon as that comes, you can put that thought into the light of mindfulness. And don’t be distressed by it. “Oh no, venerable sir, I still think about women, about people, about actresses, about actors, about vehicles.” It’s okay if these thoughts come. You can see them now with mindfulness, can’t you? And if you can look at that mind that sees it with the understanding that “this is not me, this is not mine,” it’s not thinking, “I am not, this is not mine, there is no self.” If you can bring that perception here, then at that point, it breaks with vitakka itself, with vicara itself. If it breaks with vitakka itself, then it won’t go into words again.

That’s why the important thing here is that gradually, the two things that cause words to be spoken are vitakka and vicara. And you bring mindfulness to those vitakka and vicara. Bringing mindfulness, vitakka and vicara mean the internal talk. I understand that my internal talk these days is heavy with sensual desire. My internal talk is heavy with external things. You see that with mindfulness. As you see it, and see it, and see it, that tendency to get attached and speak out disappears. Similarly, by seeing that, if you can go to the view of non-self (anatta), “this is not me, this is not mine, there is no self,” then you can also go to experience emptiness (sunyata) through that very process. You can experience emptiness. However, for that, it’s not good to reject the internal talk. “Oh, impure thoughts are coming to me. I still have ugly qualities, ugly thoughts.” If you condemn it, you can’t. Without condemning it, you need to look at it with mindfulness, with the gaze of someone looking at another’s mind. That is, to put it another way, what I’m saying is that wisdom (vijja), or emptiness, is not something strange. It’s simply the extent to which you see ignorance (avijja). Remember that word well. Nibbana, or emptiness, or wisdom, is not something strange. If you can measure ignorance with mindfulness. That is, that even in your equanimity (upekkha), there is ignorance. If you can even see the ignorance in equanimity, that equanimity is holding onto something to be equanimous, that’s all. Understand that there’s no other magic. There’s no other place to stand as emptiness. There’s nothing to see as wisdom. It’s simply the extent to which you can see ignorance and know ignorance. That’s all.

Now, truly, even though we’ve talked for about an hour and a half, in the end, there’s only a very small point to talk about. In the end of this discussion, there’s really no path to talk about or anything to say. What remains in the end is, can you, day by day, measure the ignorance in your internal vitakka and vicara? That ability to measure it is what is called mindfulness (sati), discernment (ñāṇa), and wisdom (paññā). Otherwise, there’s no such thing as wisdom. There’s no such thing as wisdom (vijja). There’s no such thing as emptiness. There’s the ability to know the non-empty. That’s all. The ability to know non-mindfulness is called mindfulness. There’s no such thing as ignorance being ignorance, right? Is it the ability to understand that? There’s no such thing as ignorance. The ability to see that there’s nothing is wisdom (vijja). So, wisdom cannot be a thing, can it? So, gradually, little by little, you go and understand that there’s really nothing to do here. There’s nothing to do; there’s a perception, there’s knowledge. You need to come to that level. After that, as that perception is perfected, words will not be formed because of it again. Now, understand that words were created and used to assist in perception. Because of the ultimate perception, one’s words and actions become even more tranquil. That is, now we think of one, two, three, and then it becomes three, two, one. That is, understanding helps in words and actions again. And the calming of words and actions helps in understanding. There’s a journey where these mutually assist each other. It’s a cyclical progression, deeper and deeper, where they mutually assist each other in practice. So, may the Triple Gem bless all of us as we conclude.

Original Source (Video):

Not available 

Disclaimer

The translations shared on this blog are based on Dhamma sermons originally delivered in Sinhalese. They have been translated into English with the help of AI (ChatGPT & Gemini AI), with the intention of making these teachings more accessible to a broader audience.

Please note that while care has been taken to preserve the meaning and spirit of the original sermons, there may be errors or inaccuracies in translation. These translations are offered in good faith, but they may not fully capture the depth or nuance of the original teachings.

This blog does not seek to promote or endorse any specific personal views that may be expressed by the original speaker. The content is shared solely for the purpose of encouraging reflection and deeper understanding of the Dhamma.