A number of times Mara showed up while I was meditating, which I found especially irritating. I would feel his presence and glance over and there he would be, twirling his black moustache and smirking at me. He would instantly start yammering, always saying the exact same thing, “You cannot escape me, monk,” but I would invariably put him in his place by saying, “You are nothing, Mara,” at which point he would invariably slink away in defeat. Why he kept coming back, I have no idea; it actually got to be slightly embarrassing at times. “Do you have no dignity?” I wanted to ask Mara. One time after I told him to leave, Mara wandered a few feet away and sat on the ground, skinny shoulders slumped, absently poking at the dirt with a stick. (SY 4:24–25) “Why don’t you just stop trying, Mara?” I felt like asking him. “You’re making a complete fool of yourself.”
One night Mara’s three daughters, Lust, Appetite and Delight, spoke to him. Their advice, not surprisingly, was terrible. “Don’t be sad, father,” they told him. “We will catch the Buddha with our snare of lust and bring him under your power!” They flew down and instantly announced to me that they worshipped my feet. I ignored them. They then split themselves into a hundred women, all of whom told me they worshipped my feet. Once again, I ignored them. They then divided themselves into a multitude of women, from young to old, and all of them told me they worshipped my feet. “I don’t have the ‘foot fetish’ you all seem to believe I do,” I remember thinking to myself at that moment. (SY 4:24–25)
Another strange thing that happened at this time was my fight with a giant snake. I’d had, up to that point, a reasonably good relationship with snakes overall. The day of my great awakening, in fact, as I had approached the Bodhi tree, Kala the Snake-King had kindly informed me that because my splendor “shone forth like the sun,” I was on the verge of attaining perfect knowledge. “The birds salute you, soon-to-be Buddha!” Kala the Snake-King had proclaimed (ASV 12:113–15; MV 1:10–15), and that had been very encouraging. For some reason, however, this giant snake now wanted to fight me. It was a brutal fight; before long the hideous creature was blowing fire at me.
Everyone watching the fight was horrified. “That beautiful man is going to be destroyed by that giant, fire-breathing snake!” I heard someone cry. Of course they were mistaken—I was not going to be destroyed by the giant fire-breathing snake. Rather, I was going to blow fire right back at him and then stuff him into a huge bowl, which I then gave to the leader of the hermitage I was visiting. Irritatingly, the hermitage’s leader didn’t seem all that surprised by my gift. He also seemed strangely unimpressed when I subsequently parted some waters and flew around. (Among my powers at this time, by the way: Shooting fire out of both my hands and feet; walking through walls; walking on water; turning other people invisible; touching my ears with my tongue.) (DG 11; MV 1:7–54) I finally got sick of this leader’s insolence and openly put him in his place. “You’re not a Buddha and you’re never going to be, no matter what you do, understand?” At that point the man dropped to the ground and begged me to teach him. Some people just need a good kick in the ass, you know what I mean? (Shortly after my fight with the giant snake, Mara took the form of a giant snake too. It was a typically moronic move on his part, given that I’d just destroyed a giant snake. As usual, I just looked at him and said, “Go away, Mara,” and giant-snake-Mara slithered away ignominiously. “That guy is the lamest devil of all time,” I remember thinking to myself at that moment.) (SY 4:6)
Before long, my initial group of six followers had grown to sixty, and after that to six hundred. One day in the middle of this growth, two important new students showed up. One of them, Ananda, would turn out to be my closest aide and confidante. The other, Devadatta, would turn out to be my worst enemy. (Sadly, more on Devadatta later.) Ananda was short, balding, heavily built; he blinked a lot, which made him look like he was slightly confused. From the moment Ananda laid eyes on me, it was obvious that all he desired was to serve my every need. For the next forty-plus years, I generously allowed him to do just that. There were moments almost from the start, however, when Ananda was a bit, shall we say, “gushy.”
“Master?” I remember him saying to me one night as he washed my feet.
“Hm?”
“I think you are the pure, true mind of the universe.”
“Thank you, Ananda.”
“I think you are the perfect, empty void of radiance.”
“That is very good, Ananda.”
“I think you are the one and only reality, master!”
“Again, thank you.”
“I think you are an angel, master.”
“No, Ananda, as I have told you repeatedly, I am merely a man.”
“Yes, master, thank you, master.”
13
The next day I stood before my growing sangha.
“Today I will speak to you regarding the Six Realms of Existence, bikkhus. The first realm, the one you find yourself in presently, is of course the human realm. For all the myriad pains involved in human life (and there are many of them, obviously, here is a very abbreviated list: leprosy, insanity, being a hunchback or a dwarf, and worst of all by far, being a woman), the human realm is still the best place to be in the universe and I will tell you why: Because it is only those who exist in the human realm who are able to hear the words of the Buddha.” (ILL, Humans)
I strolled among the monks. “Below the human realm is the realm of the animals. This is a terrible and frightful place to exist, bikkhus, because animals, you see, are pure desire. Animals are so ignorant that they don’t even realize that their life is suffering. Being eaten alive, for instance, does that sound good to you, bikkhus, because that is an animal’s life. (ASV 14:22–23) Yes, Ananda?”
“Not tigers, master.”
“ … What?”
“Tigers don’t get eaten alive.”
“No, Ananda, all tigers do is have sex and sleep. Does that sound good to you?”
“Uh …”
“It shouldn’t. Tigers are ignorant fools, Ananda, driven solely by desire.”
“Why is one reborn as one animal rather than another, Tathagata?”
“An excellent question, Mahanama. The answer, of course, is karma. Here are some specific examples of how karma affects reincarnation in the animal realm: If you are a prisoner of your desires in this life, you will be reborn as a goose. If you are a prisoner of your delusions in this life, you will be reborn as a beetle. If you are a prisoner of your conceit in this life, you will be reborn as a donkey. If you are a prisoner of your anger, you will be reborn as a snake-god. (ILL, Animals) What is it now, Ananda?”
“What about plants, master?”
“What about them?”
“Can one be reborn as a plant?”
“No, Ananda, one cannot be reborn as a plant.”
“What about a fungus?”
“No, Ananda, one cannot be reborn as a fungus either.”
“Why not, master?”
“I don’t know, Ananda. I didn’t create this system—I’m just describing it to you, now will you please? Moving on, the third realm of existence, the one that lies just below that of the animals, is the dreadful realm of the Hungry Ghosts.” (LSV 14:29–31; ILL, Ghosts; PV; SH)
“What is a Hungry Ghost, Tathagata?”
“Imagine a creature with an enormous fat belly and a tiny little pinhole mouth, Sariputta.”
“How does the Hungry Ghost consume enough to be fat with such a tiny little mouth, Tathagata?”
“The Hungry Ghost is not fat, Sariputta, he is bloated. His stomach is distended because he is in fact starving. The Hungry Ghost is always trying to eat but cannot because his mouth is too small.”
“Will the Hungry Ghost eventually die of starvation, Tathagata?”
“It will indeed, Sariputta.”
“But … a ghost cannot actually die, can it, Tathagata?”
“Everything dies, Assaji, even ghosts.”
“Couldn’t the Hungry Ghost blen
d milk and honey together and drink that, Tathagata?”
“No, Vappa, and I will tell you why not: Because if he tried, the milk and honey would instantly change to hot lava, knives or possibly pus in his mouth.” Reacting to my monks’ sickened looks, I nodded: “Yes, exactly.”
“Do Hungry Ghosts ever come to the surface of the earth, Tathagata?”
“They do occasionally, Sariputta, in search of food.”
“Should we attempt to feed them?”
“You may try, yes, but it will be hopeless because, as I just told you, whatever they eat will turn to either lava, knives or pus in their mouths. Yes, Anuruddha?”
“Do all Hungry Ghosts look the same, Tathagata?”
“An excellent question. No, Anuruddha, they do not. There are some Hungry Ghosts who are, for lack of a better term, more ‘ghouls’ than ‘ghosts.’ The dreaded ‘Pot Balls,’ for instance. Do you know why they are called ‘Pot Balls,’ Anuruddha?”
“Because … their balls are the size of pots, Tathagata?”
“Exactly so, Anuruddha, because their balls are the size of pots, waterpots, to be specific. Tell me, do you think walking around with waterpot-balls would be pleasant?”
“No, I think they would smack into each other, Tathagata.”
“But mightn’t they provide a comfortable cushion to sit on?” I asked.
“I think that sitting on your own balls, especially if they were that swollen, would be enormously painful, Tathagata.”
“Well done, Anuruddha, exactly so.”
Later that night, as Ananda was massaging my back, he suddenly blurted out: “Ghosts are dead, right, master?”
“Obviously ghosts are dead, Ananda.”
“Because I’ve been thinking about it and I do not understand … How can one be reborn as something that is dead?”
“It’s simply the way it is, Ananda. As I told you, I didn’t make this system up.”
There was silence for a few minutes, then: “Are there baby Hungry Ghosts, master?”
“Of course there are baby Hungry Ghosts, Ananda. There are child Hungry Ghosts, adult Hungry Ghosts and eventually, as I also told you, there are dead Hungry Ghosts.”
“How is a baby Hungry Ghost created, master? Do Hungry Ghosts have sexual intercourse?”
I turned, looked at Ananda. “Hungry Ghosts are reborn from wicked beings who ask too many impertinent questions!”
“I’m so sorry, master.”
14
The following day we resumed once again.
“Today we will discuss the next two realms of existence, bikkhus, those of the gods and the demigods. First I will speak to you of the realm of the demigods. What exactly is a demigod, you may wonder. Answer: Demigods are like gods, but not nearly as powerful; they are second rate gods, if you like, and therefore consumed with jealousy for their betters. Yes, Moggallana?”
“Can you give us a specific example of a demigod, Tathagata, because I do not think I comprehend them?”
“Here is one example, Moggallana: The well-known celestial musicians called ‘Gandharvas’? (ILL, Ghosts) They are demigods.”
“Gandharvas means ‘Odor-Eaters,’ does it not, Tathagata?”
“Yes, Moggallana, because that is precisely what Gandharvas do, they eat odors. Another demigod would be the half-horse, half-human creature known as the ‘Kimnara.’”
“Does the Kimnara have any powers, Tathagata?”
“No, Sariputta, it’s just a half-horse, half-human. The truth is, bikkhus, that there aren’t all that many demigods around when you get down to it and we don’t need to spend a lot more time speaking of them. Yes, Mahanama?”
“Would a talking tree count as a demigod, Tathagata?”
“Yes, most certainly.”
“What about a half-horse, half-tree?”
“That I am not sure about.”
“What about a half-tree, half-another-tree?”
“No, Mahanama, that would simply be a tree. Now enough about demigods, as I said they are not particularly important. Let us now move on to the realm of the gods. First, a quick geography lesson, bikkhus. The world is flat—we all know that. On top of the earth’s flat surface sit the four island continents, each of them situated around Mt. Meru, which is shaped, again as we all know, like a giant cube, with each of its four faces made of a different precious stone. The wall facing our continent, ‘Rose Apple Island,’ is made of lapis lazuli; that is why when the sunlight hits it the sky turns blue. The gods who live on top of Mt. Meru live for approximately 140,000 years. That sounds like a long time but the gods who live in the skies above Mt. Meru live much longer, sometimes for hundreds of millions of years. Far above Mt. Meru lies the Realm of Pure Form. Above that is the Formless Realm. The gods who inhabit these realms live for billions of years.” (AGG)
“A question for you, bikkhus: Do you think these gods are happy? If you think so, you are sadly mistaken, for I tell you they are not. These gods are miserable, more miserable than the worst sinner in Hell and do you know why? Because those suffering in Hell at least know why they are being punished; they have been wicked and they know it, while those in heaven have no idea why they suffer. ‘But I have been so good,’ they think. ‘Why am I being forced to watch my good karma slowly run out? Why are my godly robes becoming filthy and my godly body beginning to stink and my godly eyes beginning to weaken?’ Before long, bikkhus, these gods are nothing but half-blind, stinking bums, staggering around heaven and waiting to die (because make no mistake, they do die, just like everyone else) before being thrown right back into the cesspool of existence. No realm is exempt from the pain of existence, bikkhus, not even heaven. That is why I have taught you again and again that the only thing to strive for is Extinction.” (OJO, Gods; SDS)
Later that night I was drinking some tea when Ananda dashed in, eyes wide and terrified, trembling like a leaf.
“What is it, Ananda? What’s wrong with you?”
“I was meditating under a tree, master—”
“Yes?”
“—when a Hungry Ghost with a flaming mouth showed up before me! He quickly informed me that his name was ‘Flaming Mouth’ and that I would die in three days and afterwards return as a Hungry Ghost exactly like himself! (DFMHG) ‘How can I escape this horrible fate, Flaming Mouth?’ I pleaded. ‘You must feed 100,000 Hungry Ghosts, Ananda,’ he told me. ‘If you do that, you will not become a Hungry Ghost like me after you die. Also, not that you would necessarily have any reason to care about this, but I, Flaming Mouth, will be reborn as a god.’”
“What did you say to Flaming Mouth at that point, Ananda?”
“I said yes, of course I would do it! But master, now I am asking myself, how can I possibly feed 100,000 Hungry Ghosts?”
“You cannot, my friend.”
At that, Ananda crumbled to the floor and started sobbing pitifully. “I am doomed then, master, oh, I am dooommmed … dooooommmed …”
I nudged Ananda gently with my foot. “Stop crying, Ananda, you are not doomed. There is one way out of this dilemma.”
“There is??”
“When Flaming Mouth approaches you next, you must speak the following words to him: ‘I pay homage to the Tathagata for he is the most revered of all two-legged creatures. I pay homage to the Tathagata of the bejewelled excellence. I pay homage to the Tathagata of the most perfect bodily form and also of vast, unimaginable size. The Tathagata is my Deliverer from Fear and also he is the King of Ambrosia!’”
“And if I say all that, will Flaming Mouth leave me alone, master?”
“Flaming Mouth will not bother you after that, Ananda, I assure you.”
“Oh thank you, master, thank you thank you thank you,” Ananda whispered as he kissed my feet.
15
“Today we will talk about the most fearsome realm of all, bikkhus: Hell. Or perhaps I should say ‘Hells,’ because the truth is that there are many of them. (LSV 14:10–14) There are, to begin with, the eight hot Hells an
d eight cold Hells, all of which lie beneath the surface of the earth, below where the Hungry Ghosts live. In the hot Hells, the flames are so hot that they will literally melt your bones while in the cold Hells, well, let me put it this way—one of the cold Hells is called ‘Split like a Blue Lotus.’ Do you know why that is, bikkhus? Because that is what will happen to the blisters that will form on your naked body there, they will split like blue lotuses! Yes, exactly.”
As I strolled among them, I continued: “Moving on to the Secondary Hells. ‘Oh,’ you may think to yourself, ‘Secondary Hells, that doesn’t sound so very frightening.’ If you think this, you are deeply mistaken, bikkhus, because the truth is that the Secondary Hells are far worse than any of the hot or cold Hells. In Milahakupa Hell, for instance, you will live in a pool of shit and piss while you are endlessly eaten by giant hordes of worms. In Kukkula Hell, you will be cooked and then eaten by birds with metal beaks. After these birds have eaten you, your flesh will then quickly grow back and the birds will eat you again! (ASV 14:14) If you are an adulterer in Kukkula Hell, demons will make you climb a tree of sharp, metal thorns! In Asipattavana Hell, you will be eaten by dogs with metal fangs! But that’s not the worst part of Asipattavana Hell. Guess what your food there will be, bikkhus?” (ILL, Hells)
“Feces, Tathagata?”
“Much worse than feces, Anuruddha. Red hot iron balls. And what do you think your drink would be?”
“Urine, Tathagata?”
The Buddha's Story Page 6
