Being Dharma

by Ajahn Chah

  This is called right view, or right understanding. We know conventional reality as conventional reality and see how things appear to be and how we designate them as being such and such. The Buddha said that all these designations are empty. When he was teaching the Brahmin Mogharaja, he said, “Mogharaja! You should view this world as empty.” These words can cause an ordinary person to lose heart. “Seeing this world as empty, the Lord of Death will not be able to follow you. He will not see you.” The Buddha taught his disciples in this way.

  Saying that this world is empty might give us the idea that there is nothing in the world. When we look at a bowl or a spittoon, these things do exist. It is not that they don’t exist, but they exist in the sphere of emptiness. They exist but are empty. We can call something a spittoon as a convention that we create through our designation. Or we can use another convention and call it a pot. Actually it is empty of these names from its own side, but we view it in a certain way and then have attachment to seeing it as such.

  There might be two people, one a clever sort, the other kind of foolish. The latter goes to the market and buys something. He doesn’t really know what it is—he has unwittingly bought a chamber pot. He takes it home and uses it as a serving bowl for his rice and feels that it does the job pretty well. He doesn’t know what others use it for.

  When the clever guy comes along and sees this, he is startled and wonders what is going on. “What is this person doing? It’s repulsive, using a chamber pot to serve rice.”

  So one is called foolish, the other smart. Why is the latter disgusted? The pot is new. It’s never been used as a chamber pot. It’s clean, so why should anyone be disgusted by this? It is only attachment to an idea, and this attachment brings about revulsion and anger. “Hey, look at this idiot, he’s using a chamber pot to serve rice!” Out of these two people, which one is actually the fool?

  The chamber pot is not really anything in itself. An ordinary pot is not really anything. We designate something as a chamber pot, and then if someone uses it to serve rice or soup or curry, others will feel that is a disgusting thing to do. What is the meaning of these negative feelings? It’s only because of attachment to the designation, to the convention that says, “This is a chamber pot.” It is not really a chamber pot in any absolute and unalterable way. It just depends on our perceptions and how we wish to use it. If it’s clean, we can use it for a lot of different purposes.

  If we understand the truth like this, there isn’t really anything to get worked up over. We are not the owners of anything. We can use serving dishes, chamber pots, and ordinary pots without any problem. These things don’t name themselves. We could call them a number of things; whatever convention will work is fine.

  So it is said that our speech should be one thing but the mind another. If others are calling something a spittoon, we can do that also. If they call something a chamber pot, we can do that, too. It means adjusting ourselves to speak in accordance with the world, matching ourselves to the ways of this world in which we live. The Buddha and his disciples lived with society at large. They lived together with every kind of person, good and bad, wise and foolish. They were able to fit in anywhere because they understood the facts of conventional reality and ultimate reality. When you have this understanding, the mind is comfortable, at peace. There will be no attachment or clinging; that is the natural result of right view. You know what is convention, what is liberation, and the mind is free of disturbance, letting go of things.

  The Buddha wanted us to practice Dharma. But what is practicing Dharma? Dharma means all things. The forms that the eyes see, sounds heard by the ears, these are all Dharma, because dharma means conditions that are maintained in existence. Having come into being, they pass away. We don’t need to expect too much from them, because that is the way they are. We should internalize this truth and see it in our minds and bodies; it is not something far away. The components of body and mind are not stable or permanent. They have no inherent reality. The Buddha advised us not to see them as real. Why would you want to see something that has no inherent reality as real? Appearing and disappearing, constantly in a state of change—where is the reality in that? The only reality is this insubstantiality itself. The Buddha wanted us to see this truth, the truth that things are impermanent, unsatisfactory in nature, and without self-essence. Not seeing this and grasping at things, the only result is suffering. Seeing and letting go leads to freedom.

  Those who genuinely practice are respectful. Why? Because they see the Buddha. When they sit here, it is as if the Buddha were in front of them. Walking, standing, lying down, it is the same—they cannot get away from it! They witness this in their own minds, so they respect Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. The Buddhasasana does not become weakened or diluted. It is not given up and cannot be lost, because it exists in their minds. Wherever they are, they are hearing the Dharma of the Buddha.

  This concept almost made my head explode when I first encountered it. I went to listen to teachings from Ajahn Mun, and he said, “You! Practice along, and listen to the Dharma of the Buddha. When you sit under a tree, listen to the teaching of the Buddha. When you walk, listen to the Dharma of the Buddha. When you sleep, listen to the Dharma of the Buddha!” I couldn’t get it. I just could not figure it out, because it doesn’t come from figuring and thinking. This is something that has to come from a pure mind. I couldn’t properly contemplate these words, because they are talking about really seeing Dharma. But this isn’t something far away, because that which is not Dharma does not exist.

  We think the Buddha entered final nirvana long ago. But in truth the one who sees the Dharma sees the Buddha. It’s difficult to get this point. When you see Buddha, you see Dharma. When you see Buddha and Dharma, you see Sangha. They exist in the mind. But see them clearly; don’t merely pick up the words to play with. Otherwise people will say things like, “Buddha is in my mind,” but their behavior doesn’t match, and they never practice or realize anything according to the Buddha’s intention.

  The mind is the one that knows the Dharma. The one who knows is Buddha. The Buddha taught Dharma. He was enlightened to Dharma, but he did not take the enlightenment away with him. For example, you might be a teacher. You weren’t born as a teacher; you studied to accumulate knowledge and got experience at teaching people. You work at it for a number of years, and someday you will retire and then pass away. But we can say the teacher doesn’t die, because the virtues that make you a teacher have not disappeared. The Dharma of ultimate reality, the truth that makes one a Buddha, does not disappear. So we can say there are two Buddhas, that of his physical form and that of his mind. The Buddha said, “Ananda, practice well, develop yourself well. You will blossom in the sasana. Whoever sees Dharma sees me, and the one who sees me sees Dharma.”

  We hear the words and don’t really know what they are about. It gets confusing—Dharma is Buddha, Buddha is Dharma. But the truth is like this. At first, there was no Buddha. When he realized Dharma, he was given the title Buddha. Before that, he was Prince Siddhattha Gotama. We are the same. We are called Joe or Alice or perhaps Prince so-and-so, but if we realize the Dharma then we too are Buddha, no different from him. So understand that the Buddha is still living.

  Where is the Buddha? Whatever we do, truth is there. We think we can do evil and it doesn’t matter, no one sees. Watch out! The Buddha sees. The Buddha still exists to support us to walk the path properly and continuously, but we don’t see, we don’t know it. Those who practice won’t doubt good and evil; they are their own witness. But we think we can act in unwholesome ways and no one sees. There is no such thing. We see. Wherever we are, whatever we do for good or bad, we don’t go beyond it. That is called karma. Truth in actions exists. The Buddha taught according to that principle. If everyone in the world were to practice and realize truth, they would all be transformed and become Buddha, the one who teaches the path of virtue.

  So the Buddha still exists. You should be happy about this. It’s n
ot something to feel sad about. But some people feel frustrated and say, “Oh man, if the Buddha were still here, I would have made it by now. I would be enlightened.” But in truth he is really here, in the path of practice, the standard of right and wrong.

  The Buddha called humans “special beings,” those able to realize Dharma. Unlike animals, for example, we can understand concepts. When trained by a qualified teacher, we can practice and realize the truth. It is much easier for us than for other beings.

  The teachings say that human birth is hard to attain. This is difficult to understand. We think, How can that be? People are being born constantly. Sometimes they are even born two together. We don’t quite get it because we don’t know what a real human is. We look around and see plenty of people. A person without virtue is one type of human, just barely human. He or she is another kind of animal, only having the name human.

  We come into this world and as children don’t know what this is all about. We don’t know what to practice, don’t know what is the true wealth and virtue of human existence. As we grow up, we learn from parents and teachers, gradually developing virtues, and become complete humans. Then we can say that a human is born.

  As humans we have greater potential than animals. I’ve sometimes given the example of a dog sleeping on a pile of unthreshed rice. When he gets hungry, he has to go looking for food. No matter how big the pile of rice, he can’t make use of it, because a dog can’t thresh rice and cook it. He might go wandering all around and find nothing, only to return to the heap of rice. He will be lying there, his empty stomach growling. He is right at the source of food but could die of starvation.

  So humans have this greater potential. It can be used for good or evil. An evil person, the type we can call a human animal, may even destroy a whole nation, but we never hear of a dog destroying a country. On the other hand, if a human being takes an interest in Dharma and practices sincerely, he or she can accomplish things that are impossible for an animal.

  In truth, to practice virtuous Dharma is not easy. It is correct, but difficult to do. Consider an easy example: the five precepts. We observe them all the time. They are the measure of worth for a real human. Refraining from killing or harming any living thing, as well as spreading goodwill to all; not stealing, respecting the rights of others; knowing restraint and moderation and what is proper in sexual relations; truthful speech; and refraining from intoxicants. If everyone observed them, there wouldn’t be much trouble in the world. Even without realizing Dharma, there would be little conflict, and we would really have a human world. There’s not a lot to it, but those who keep the five precepts will have well-being. Recollecting the past, we will be OK because we have done no harm, and when death comes, there will be no regret. So we are studying for the purpose of becoming real humans

  Supporting the sasana by making merit is good. It is the bark and the leaves, but it’s still good. A tree needs its bark, doesn’t it? When you make offerings and take part in ceremonies, do it with a good mind, not a greedy or deluded mind, but as a Buddhist who believes in cause and result. When you go home and people ask, “You went to the monastery. Did you get any merit?” you can explain what merit is all about. This kind of activity is upaya, or “skillful means.” Teaching is also one upaya. Understand this. It is convention. The real Dharma is something that we cannot see with the eyes or hear with the ears.

  When a teacher instructs her students, she uses an example, such as Mr. A. has this much money. In actuality, there is no Mr. A. She uses chalk to create this person on the blackboard. Is it Mr. A.? Yes, as a supposition, a convention, but he can’t run around and do things. We can talk about this Mr. A. for the purpose of learning, but he can’t get up and move. This is upaya. There is no Mr. A. We just use the letter A and suppose this person into existence for some purpose.

  If we just have mindfulness and clear comprehension of ourselves, we can do the practice. Some will think, I have no time to meditate, I have to sell things. Hey, when you’re doing business, do you breathe? If you have time to breathe, you have time to practice Dharma. Meditation is nothing but this awareness and sensitivity, but when you talk about meditating while you sell, people think it means to sit down in the market and close your eyes. Awareness means knowing what you are doing at the moment. Today did you speak, act, and think wrongly? If you have mindfulness, you must know.

  So don’t think that practicing Dharma means you have to ordain and live in a monastery. When you are doing business or housework, writing or whatever, it is the same as with the breath—you don’t need to set aside time just to do that. Even when you sleep you breathe. Why? Breathing is critical to life. Actually breath is an extremely refined nutrient. We can’t do without it for two minutes. The finest delicacy we can do without for two hours or two weeks. But how far can we go without breath? So the Buddha told us to contemplate the breath. In and out, in conjunction with the repetition of Buddho. All parts of the body depend on it. It is the supreme food. When you contemplate, you see how valuable and precious it is for you, better than money, gold, or diamonds. If it exits and doesn’t enter, your life is over. If it enters and does not exit, you are dead.

  Seeing the frailty of your life through seeing the breath is the meditation on the recollection of death. Just realizing this fact—that if the breath goes in but does not go out again, or goes out but does not come in again, your life is over—is enough to change the mind. It will startle you into being awake. Your outlook will be transformed, and your behavior will change accordingly. You will fear wrong actions and have a sense of shame toward them. You won’t be so inclined to follow your impulses of craving or hatred. Mindfulness will naturally increase, and wisdom will come rushing to assist you, teaching you many things.

  Take an interest in your breath, set mindfulness on it, and many kinds of wisdom will arise. It is easy, because we all have breath. When you lie down, you can fix attention on it until you fall asleep. This is truly easy. It will make the mind clean and peaceful, no matter if you are an ordained person or a layperson.

  Meditation is something to help us get beyond suffering. We can see what is right and wrong, but if we don’t practice we don’t see clearly. Whatever we do, we should do it with knowledge. This is how the Buddha wanted his disciples to live.

  The Trapper’s Snare

  NO ACHES AND PAINS IN the body, no fever or sickness: can there be such a thing? We beings are caught, caught in the snares of Mara, the Evil One. If we are caught in the snare, Mara can do anything to us. He can afflict us in our eyes, our ears, our limbs, anywhere.

  It is the same as when someone sets a snare for animals, digs a trapper’s pit, or baits a hook. When a bird comes to eat and is caught, what can it do? The snare has it by the neck; where can it go? It tries to fly, but it can’t get away. It struggles but can’t break the snare. Then the hunter, the owner of the trap, arrives. He sees the bird caught in the snare, just as he had hoped.

  He grabs the bird. It struggles, and if it tries to nip the hunter or peck at him, he can break its beak. It may try to fly, but he can break its wings. It frantically tries to run; he can break its legs. The owner of the snare has all the authority here. However the bird tries to get away, there is no escaping.

  Likewise, we are caught in a trap. The Lord Buddha was one who saw and knew clearly according to the truth. He was a prince, an heir to the throne who enjoyed all the royal treasures and privileges. When he saw what things were really like, he renounced everything. He clearly and unmistakenly saw the nature of ordinary existence and, without any regrets, left it behind. Seeing it as danger, he fled. Having been born, caught by birth, he saw that he was like a bird caught in a snare. The noose was around his neck. He saw the liability, so he left it all, just walked away. Thus, after his enlightenment, he pointed this out, showing what is harmful and what is beneficial in this realm of uncertainty. He would not allow himself to be submerged and drown in it. He refused to die there. He would not agree to be caugh
t in the noose, so he was able to renounce the world and remove himself from it. Having seen, having attained realization, he then taught us to know about these things.

  Still, though he explained the faults and dangers, the obscurations of people prevent them from seeing. The mind is so thick, so dark! It just stays like that and keeps on accumulating afflictions and desires. In all these dharmas, if we investigate, we can see the liability and suffering in them. Just as it is said “birth is suffering.” We are born into this world; do we suffer? We have contacted birth. We have arms and legs, eyes and ears. All these things coming into existence are just suffering coming into existence. Then we have to find a way to get by, struggle to support ourselves, raise a family, and so forth. We contact something and become stuck in attachment. We touch something else and get mired in that. There is headache and worry about ourselves, anxiety over children, concern over wealth and possessions.

  Having been born, anything can degenerate at any time. The ears can degenerate into deafness. The eyes can lose their sight. Pain can afflict the limbs or any other parts of the body. We cannot soar away because we are caught in the snare, the snare of the trapper. It is up to the trapper now to do as he wishes. We are in the trap. He can take care of us and raise us, or he can break our beaks, break our wings. This trap represents the demon of the aggregates, or the demon of the afflictions.

  Here, the mass of humans do not understand the Dharma and only want to escape from reality. They strive to avoid it and struggle to get away. They don’t want it to be the way it is, but wish for it to be otherwise. So it leads to suffering, by way of sensual desire, desire for becoming, and desire not to be.

  So the Buddha taught us to analyze the body to give rise to dispassion, detachment, and disenchantment, and to see that these conditions are not a being, an individual, or a self. It’s like when we are working the fields. We put up a scarecrow when the rice is maturing so the birds won’t alight to eat the crop. We gather grass and sticks, tie it all together, and cover it with a shirt and pants; then the birds are afraid. They won’t eat the rice now. The scarecrow is helping us. Now the rice has a chance to ripen, then we can harvest it, and the job is done. But actually it was only a skeleton of grass and sticks. Once we’ve harvested the rice, we can discard the scarecrow there in the paddy. That’s all there is to it.