Autobiography 04
Phra Nirōdharaṅsī Gambhirapaññāvisiṭṭha
Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī
Wat Hin Mak Peng, Si Chiang Mai District, Nong Khai Province
1. The Pressure of the Degenerate Age Can Make the Mind Stray
During this period, thieves and robbers stealing cattle appeared in this region. Hooligans filled every village and town. Even children around ten years old and women were learning to be thieves. The authorities were weak. The villagers had to rely on themselves. Each household had to keep packs of dogs. At night, they took turns keeping watch. When cattle were stolen, the owner would follow to ransom them back. The thieves would extort a ransom as if they had a special privilege. If someone was bold enough to hunt them down like wild animals in the forest, that person would be somewhat happier. Doing that, the authorities seemed to approve and even support it. I, being small, also wanted to be famous like others. But not famous as a thief — I wanted to be famous for suppressing thieves. In my heart, I constantly thought: How can I become so invulnerable that people cannot kill me with weapons, so that I can then crush these criminals once and for all?
At that time, there was a boastful monk (forgive me for speaking without due respect to him) whom I was serving. His original home was in Ban Muang Khai, Wanon Niwat District, bordering Bueng Kan District. He must have struck my heart precisely, because he said: "After the Rains Retreat, come with me. At my home, there is everything — amulets, herbal magic, or any kind of invulnerability charm. I have it all." I was delighted, together with three grown young men: one of my older brothers and two of his friends. I, being younger than them, went with him after the Rains Retreat all the way to his home village. When we arrived, oh dear! It turned out he was a fake monk who had tricked us into escorting him. No one in that area respected him at all. He had ordained and disrobed, ordained and disrobed many times. Later I heard that he had disrobed, taken a wife, and both he and his wife smoked opium. The two grown young men who went with us tried to beg him to teach them various kinds of magic. He just made excuses, referring to this and that, defending himself just enough to get by. When we asked the monks at that temple, we learned the truth: he had no magic powers at all — he was just a talkative person.
We stayed with him about ten days, then left him and returned, disappointed. While staying with him, he would urge us to catch eels for him every day. He loved eels; he didn't like other fish. We traveled back, taking three nights to reach home. I personally felt very ashamed because I had set my intention that this time leaving home, I would go seek and study invulnerability magic until I was confident in my heart that I would not die by anyone's weapons, and only then would I return home. When I got back, my friends teased me in various ways. I felt even more ashamed. That was good, though — it caused me to lose my gullibility regarding amulets and magic from that day until now. No matter who comes and praises them, my heart remains neutral. When I was a novice, friends would invite me to study such things — even offering to pay the teacher and guarantee a trial — but my heart would not agree.
Count this as one piece of good fortune for me. I was born into a family with morality and was trained in the temple with monks who could be considered genuine. When the environment pressured me, it made my heart turn toward something bad. But the bad thing I wanted did not come to pass as I wished. If it had, who knows what would have become of me by now? One could say that kamma guided me, or that my merit and past aspirations protected me.
This was the first time in my life that I had left home to go far away. While we were staying at Ban Muang Khai, news was just breaking that World War I was about to erupt. Everyone who came to the temple talked only of war. I missed home and shed tears every day. Some nights I lay awake until late, thinking of my parents. When I returned home, I resumed serving the monks at the temple as before, except that I no longer slept in the temple regularly. Now I acted as a temple manager, liaising between the monks and villagers, and I did this very well. All the villagers seemed to like me even more because I was easy to use. At the same time, I was coming of age, so they both used me and teased me. I had been closely involved with the temple and monks for about six years, but no monk had ever taught me to keep the five precepts or eight precepts. In truth, it was understandable, because the monks of that time were extremely lacking in education.
2. Meeting Phra Ajahn Singh
In 1916, Phra Ajahn Singh Kanthayāgamo and Phra Ajahn Kham, who was a disciple of Phra Ajahn Mun Phurithatto, went on their tudong (dhutaṅga) practice and arrived at Ban Na Sida as the first monks there. Even though there were already monks in the temple, they asked to stay there. It was as if they intended to come and teach me and my father. When the two of them arrived, my father and I served them with great respect and devotion, because we saw that their conduct was different from other meditation monks (previously my father had practiced with Ajahn Sithat). In particular, they taught me various practices, such as what items should and should not be offered into a monk's hand.
They taught meditation, reciting "Buddho" as the meditation object. My mind became concentrated in samādhi to the point that I didn't want to speak to anyone. I first tasted the flavor of tranquility in meditation practice from that time and have never forgotten it. Later, when I went to study as a novice in a large group, at night when the air was cool and peaceful, I would practice meditation alone without anyone knowing.
They stayed with us about two months. At first they intended to observe the Rains Retreat there. But because Ajahn Singh already had jungle fever, when he arrived there his fever became worse. As the Rains Retreat approached, he left to observe the retreat at an abandoned temple in Ban Na Bong, Tambon Nam Mong, Tha Bo District. I followed him there for that Rains Retreat. He had fever throughout the retreat. Even so, in his free time he kindly taught me letters and gave me some training from time to time. Toward the end of the retreat, something arose in his mind — I don't know what. He said that after the Rains Retreat, he had to return to his home village. Then he asked me: "Will you come with me? It's far and very difficult." I answered immediately: "I will go, sir." With a few days left before the end of the retreat, I asked his permission to go home and take leave of my parents. My parents were very glad that I would be going with the teacher. They quickly prepared flowers, incense, and candles for me to ask forgiveness from my parents (this custom he taught me very well — when I ran away from home the previous time, he had me do the same).
That night, I asked my parents for forgiveness, then went to ask forgiveness from all the elder relatives. Every person I visited cried as if I were leaving to die. I myself was soft-hearted and could not hold back my tears. The next morning, my mother and aunt followed me to see the teacher. They stayed overnight. That day was the Pavāraṇā day, the end of the Rains Retreat. The next morning, after the meal, the teacher led me out to begin our journey. At that moment, my aunt and the villagers there again gathered around crying.
3. Leaving Home the Second Time, Following Phra Ajahn Singh
This may have been the first time in history for a child of that age in this region to leave home for a distant land, with no relatives or close friends to provide comfort. It also seems I was the first child to go on tudong following a meditation monk without any sense of worry or attachment.
We set out from Tha Bo, wading through water and mud, cutting through forests and rice fields in sequence. When the teacher had a fever, he would lie down on a rice-field hut or under a tree where there was no dampness. The next morning, he would still go out on alms round to feed me. We traveled for three nights to reach Udon Thani, then stayed at Wat Matchimawas for one night before continuing toward Khon Kaen Province, passing through Maha Sarakham, Roi Et, and Yasothon.
This journey, just the two of us and the teacher, took over a month to reach Ban Nong Khon, Tambon Hua Taphan, Amnat Charoen District, which was the home village of the teacher's mother. He stayed there to train his mother for about three months.
4. Novice Ordination and Further Studies
There, he had me ordained as a novice with Preceptor Lui at Ban Kheng Yai when I was nearly 18 years old. By this time, I could read somewhat more fluently. I read the book Trailokavithāra (Description of the Three Worlds), particularly the section on the decline of the world leading to an antarakappa (intermediate eon), which caused me great spiritual urgency. Tears flowed for many days. While eating, I hardly tasted the food. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the ruin and misfortune of all beings, as if I could see images appearing before me within the next day or two.
Then the teacher took me to stay at Wat Suthatsanaram in Ubon City, where he had previously stayed. I then entered the Thai language school at Wat Si Thong. After the Rains Retreat, he left me there alone. He himself went out on tudong, returning via Sakon Nakhon Province because at that time Ajahn Mun's group was still wandering in that area. The night before leaving, he gathered the monks and novices and told them he would be departing. At that moment, I felt such strong attachment to him that I sobbed openly in that large gathering. Realizing myself, ashamed of my peers, I quickly fled outside. Then I composed myself, recollecting the story of Ven. Ānanda crying when the Buddha relinquished his life force. My grief gradually lessened, and I re-entered the gathering. The teacher gave various teachings. I knew well that I was old and would not catch up with others in my studies.
While studying Thai, I divided my time to chant, study the Dhamma curriculum, and learn the third level of Naktham (Dhamma studies) as well. But I did not take the exam because the Ecclesiastical Governor of the Circle had ruled that those under 20 could not sit for the third level. In the third year, I took the exam and passed. I also memorized Pāli and along with that memorized the Pātimokkha, because I loved the Pātimokkha very much. I finished Thai school only at the Prathom Boribun level (because government schools then only went up to Prathom 3).
After leaving Thai school, I applied myself to Pāli. But in that academic year, it happened that Phra Maha Pin Paññāphālo, the younger brother of Ajahn Singh, returned from Bangkok to begin teaching the second level of Naktham as the first such course in the provincial towns of the Northeastern Region. So I enrolled. However, I did not finish either Pāli or second-level Naktham, because that year Ajahn Singh returned to stay the Rains Retreat at Wat Suthatsanaram again. After the retreat, he took me together with Maha Pin out on tudong before the exams.
5. A Novice Who Became a Government Millionaire
That is, Novice Thate. At that time, the government planned to create one millionaire in Thailand each year. So they issued a lottery once a year, with a first prize of 700,000 baht — just enough to fit the status of a Thai millionaire, so that the country would not lose face before other nations. It happened one night that Novice Thate couldn't sleep because he had won the first prize lottery. He then began arranging to build a huge, grand building, a three-story concrete house, decorated with fine, modern furniture, right in the middle of the commercial district. He had his servants bring in all kinds of goods to fill it. He was happy and at ease, thinking of nothing else. He lay on a long chair, blinking, watching the beautiful young women who flocked in to buy various goods as they pleased. Whichever one glanced at him and smiled, he would smile back happily. In his 18 or 19 years of life, there had never been a happiness greater than this. He had become a millionaire as the government desired, in the blink of an eye — even though he still had nothing at all.
But alas, his millionaire status suddenly vanished from his mind most regrettably, because he came to his senses late at night, during his sleeping hours: "Eh? What's this? The lottery hasn't even been drawn yet, and I haven't even bought a ticket. So how have I become a millionaire? I must be going crazy." That night, he felt a sense of shame toward himself that was beyond words. If some wise person had known about this, what would they have said? Then he slept and rested until dawn. When he woke up, he still felt ashamed of himself — and he never told anyone about it.
Anyone can become this kind of millionaire, not just Novice Thate. The reason I call him a millionaire is simply that he had a mental image of immense wealth, but he knew contentment. That is still better than those who have both mental images of wealth and material wealth, yet lack contentment and suffer distress. What benefit would that be to such a person? Being rich or poor while being happy — that is the thing. It is not because one has a great deal of possessions. Therefore the Buddha said: Contentment with what one has is a great treasure. It is because I have faith in the Dhamma and Vinaya, the Buddha's teaching, that I ordained and practice according to his words, seeing the truth of what the Buddha pointed to when he showed a bag of treasure to Ven. Ānanda: "Ānanda, poison is not poisonous only for a contemplative who gets involved with it. Even a layperson can be poisoned if they use it incorrectly for its purpose. Yet it is necessary to have it, because the conditions of lay life differ from those of a contemplative. Moreover, if a wealthy person uses their wealth unwisely, they are no different from someone holding a stick of firewood with fire at one end — the fire will inevitably spread and burn their hand."
I had been a novice for five Rains Retreats when I received full ordination as a bhikkhu. This gave me a great advantage in terms of long temple residence, knowing the ways of the temple well. Compared to those ordained in the same year as me, I had the advantage in chanting and in knowing the Pātimokkha, etc.
6. Ordination at Wat Suthatsanaram
When I was 22, I was ordained within the sīmā at Wat Suthat itself, with Phra Maha Rat Raṭṭhapālo as my Preceptor, and Phra Maha Pin Paññāphālo as the kammavācācariya (the monk reciting the ordination proceedings) on 16 May 1923, at 11:48 p.m.
That year, Ajahn Singh Kanthayāgamo, our teacher, led a group of 6 — 4 monks and 2 novices — to observe the Rains Retreat at Wat Suthat. This was the first time that meditation monks had stayed the Rains Retreat in Ubon city. The reason he returned to Ubon for the retreat was that he heard that Maha Pin (his younger brother) had returned from Bangkok and was staying there. He intended to come and take his younger brother out on tudong as well.
Earlier, before Maha Pin went to study in Bangkok, he had made a resolution to Ajahn Mun: "I will go study first, then I will come out and practice afterwards." Ajahn Singh, upon hearing that his younger brother had arrived, was delighted and thus came to stay the Rains Retreat at Wat Suthatsanaram. After the retreat, when the Kathina period had ended, Ajahn Singh led our large group out on tudong. This tudong included new participants: besides Maha Pin and me, there were Phra Kham Phuay, Phra Thon, and two other novices — 12 in total. (Phra Maha Pin Paññāphālo, a Pāli grade 5 scholar, was the first Mahā (senior scholar monk) in Thailand to go on tudong in that era. Most scholar monks considered tudong a shameful thing. If Ajahn Singh had not been our leader, we would never have gone on tudong. Once we ran away, the Preceptor had to recite the Pātimokkha himself.)
7. The First Time I Truly Knew the Flavor of Attachment
I had been at Wat Suthat, Ubon, for six full years, previously without any relatives, friends, or close companions. Later, people brought their children to entrust to me as disciples — four of them: two novices and two young boys. They had been with me since I was still a novice, until I became a bhikkhu. We regarded each other as father and son.
When I was about to leave them, they cried in sorrow for me. I myself could hardly hold back my tears. But I was their teacher; if I cried, I would be ashamed before them. So I gritted my teeth and restrained myself, not showing any attachment. Even so, my voice became hoarse. At that moment it was not so bad, but after we set out on the journey — that was something else. It made me despondent for a long time. Whether walking, standing, sitting, lying down, even speaking or eating, my mind was filled with longing for them — thinking how they were doing, what they were eating, whether they had enough, who would teach them, or whether anyone would oppress or harm them. This kind of worry had never arisen in my life before; this was the first time.
I reflected back and forth: They are not my own children or relatives; they just came to stay with me. Moreover, I had trained and protected them as best I could. Why then was I so attached to them? At this point, I thought of those who have children and wives: "Oh, if they were my own flesh-and-blood children, how great would the attachment be?" I saw the danger of attachment this time. It sank deeply and stuck in my heart, never to disappear. Human beings are no different from baby monkeys — unable to live alone without their mother. It made me fear attachment to the point of being almost speechless. Attachment brings suffering both when present and when separated. How can one become independent within oneself?
8. Leaving Ubon as a Tudong Group
Our group — 8 monks and 4 novices, 12 in all, led by Ajahn Singh — departed from Ubon city in the 12th lunar month. We traveled, stopping along the way, until we reached Ban Hua Taphan. We rested there for quite a while, then moved to stay at Ban Hua Ngua. After preparing our requisites, we set out on tudong again.
This tudong, although not as secluded as it should have been because we traveled together as a large group, still gave us a taste of tudong life to some extent. One night, after we had arranged our dwelling places, hung our umbrella-tents and mosquito nets, paid homage to the Buddha and chanted, rain poured down with a strong storm. We couldn't sleep. Sitting, the water still flooded our seats. We gathered up our requisites and fled to take shelter in a village temple. To make matters worse, we got lost and couldn't find the village, walking back and forth near the edge of the village for several hours.
When we finally reached that temple, some laypeople had already gone there to sleep — six people traveling on business. They had seen the clouds in the evening and said, "We won't sleep; we'll go into the village for shelter." When we arrived, they helped arrange sleeping places as best they could — no pillows, no mats. Then they hurried back to fetch the teacher and the other 7–8 monks. Once we had stored our requisites, we just lay there quietly because the hut was soaking wet throughout. No mats or pillows — it was an abandoned temple. But when exhaustion set in, we managed to sleep for a while, even while lying wet. Moreover, the next morning on alms round we got no food — just some bananas and water, plus cooked rice. We ate rice and bananas, one leaf each, then continued our journey.
The teacher led us cutting through forests and wilderness, passing through Roi Et and Kalasin, crossing Ling Dong (Monkey Forest) and coming out in Sahatsakhan District, entering Kumphawapi District, Udon Thani Province. But we did not go into the city. Instead, we stayed at Ban Chiang Phin, west of Udon, to await the arrival of the Ecclesiastical Governor of the Circle from Bangkok. The teacher's purpose in having us wait in Udon this time was that he wanted Maha Pin to be based in Udon, because Udon did not yet have a Dhammayuttika presence. However, when the Ecclesiastical Governor came from Bangkok that time, Phraya Ratchanukul (later Phraya Mukhamontri) had invited Phra Maha Chum Phanthulo (later Phra Thammachedi) to come along in order to establish him at Wat Phothisomphon in Udon. So when the Governor arrived, we went to pay respects to him. He then changed the plan: he would take Maha Pin to Sakon Nakhon, and have me stay with Phra Maha Chum, because "no one else is here, and you are from the same region. Moreover, you have studied some. Stay and manage the people, help look after ecclesiastical affairs together." I took the opportunity to say to him: "Venerable sir, I ask permission to go out and practice in order to repay the Buddha's grace, because practitioners are few and hard to find. There are plenty of scholars and administrators; they are not hard to find." He then allowed it and suggested that I stay to help Maha Pin.
9. Meeting Ajahn Mun for the First Time
After the arrangements were settled, Ajahn Singh led our group to pay respects to Ajahn Mun at Ban Khor, Ban Phue District. At that time, Ajahn Sao was also there. So I met both teachers and paid respects to them for the first time in my life.
That night, Ajahn Mun gave a Dhamma talk and instructed us with full-hearted delight at seeing us for the first time — especially seeing Maha Pin, who had made his resolution before going to study in Bangkok. (When he had listened to Ajahn Mun's Dhamma teaching together with Ajahn Singh in Ubon, he had said: "I will go study in Bangkok first, then I will come out and practice under Ajahn Mun later.") As for me, the teacher must have learned about me from what Ajahn Singh had told him. Beyond that, he probably knew nothing.
That night, after the instruction, they engaged in suitable Dhamma discussion. It ended with Ajahn Mun making prophecies about Maha Pin and myself regarding various abilities. At that moment, I felt extremely embarrassed in front of the group, because I had just recently ordained, and looking at myself, I saw nothing worthy of his attention. In truth, from the evening — as soon as I entered the precincts of his temple — I already felt awkward. I don't know about others, but seeing the place, the conduct of the monks and novices, and even the laypeople in the temple — how polite and gentle they were! Each had their own daily routines and practices. When he prophesied about Maha Pin and then about me, it multiplied my embarrassment. But Maha Pin probably felt nothing other than examining his own abilities against the prophecy.
The next morning, after the meal, Ajahn Singh led our group to Ban Na Sida. We stayed there four nights, then returned the same way, staying one more night with Ajahn Mun, then returning to Udon. From there we traveled to Sakon Nakhon as agreed with the Ecclesiastical Governor. But things did not go as the Governor intended, because Maha Pin fell ill and could not take up the assigned post. So that Rains Retreat, Ajahn Singh led our group to stay at Wat Pa Nong Lat. This greatly displeased the Governor, who then sent Phra Bun, a first-level Naktham scholar, to Sakon Nakhon instead.
10. Third Rains Retreat: Staying at Ban Nong Lat (1924)
Before the Rains Retreat, I had a very good spiritual friend named Phra Klom from Loei Province. We went up to practice at Tham Phuang (Cave of the Gourd) on Phu Lek (Iron Mountain) twice: once for four nights, once for six nights. The village headman, On Si (later becoming Khun Prachak, then a bhikkhu, and died in that same monastic status), sent people to arrange food for us regularly. I have recorded his kindness in my heart and never forgotten it to this day.
Ajahn Mun commented that this village headman was clever and adept at everything — whether in speech, debate, work, or socializing — in tune with every situation and time. Especially regarding matters concerning monks, he was the best. Whatever was needed, without even speaking directly, just hinting, he would arrange it perfectly. We had all four sappāya (favorable conditions) and then began our practice with utmost exertion. The more we practiced, the more we recollected the kindness of the headman and the villagers as inspiration. Food: dried chili powder with a single lump of sticky rice the size of a quince fruit each day. I managed to practice without dying.
When I reduced food and increased effort, my body became light, my mindfulness improved, and samādhi was not difficult. I exerted great effort, my mindfulness became better and more stable. I trained mindfulness there to be continuous throughout day and night, not letting it lapse and go out to external objects. I kept it established on the body and mind alone. However I set it before falling asleep, upon waking it remained that way. Only while eating did I sometimes lose it.
The more I exerted effort, the more recollection of the villagers' kindness followed as a shadow. I knew well that I was a monk, my life entrusted to the villagers. Therefore I would exert effort to repay the debt of kindness to the villagers. And I was confident that in this practice, I had completely fulfilled the duty of a debtor.
Approaching the Rains Retreat, I went to stay the retreat together with Ajahn Singh at Ban Pa Nong Lat. This retreat, as a newly ordained monk, I had no other responsibilities except to perform my duties toward my teacher and then exert effort. The teacher himself gave us special permission. I practiced according to the same approach I had used on the mountain throughout the retreat. Additionally, I experimented with yogic practices: I reduced my food intake from 70 lumps of sticky rice down to 3 lumps, then increased to 30 lumps, then reduced again to 5 lumps — going back and forth like that for periods of 3–4 days. I did this throughout the retreat. The longer period I maintained was 15 lumps. I also ate only vegetarian food. My body was already thin and became even more gaunt, to the point that villagers found it strange. Whoever saw me would ask what was wrong. But I had the strength to continue my duties and practice as usual.
After the retreat ended, I began eating meat and fish again. But oh! How fishy it was! Human beings — we eat the flesh of others and make it our own flesh. It's like snatching and eating filthy things. That's why devatās cannot approach humans — we stink. Yet humans still embrace and kiss corpses. After the retreat, Ajahn Singh and I (two of us) went up again, this time for 9 nights. Ajahn Singh fell ill and had us call others up. Seeing that the place was not convenient for nursing him, we all moved down to stay and treat him at Pa Nong Bua (now a village). Just then, Ajahn Mun sent word for us to go meet him at Tha Bo District. So I took leave of Ajahn Singh and went as instructed. I happened to meet Ajahn Mun and Ajahn Sao, who had been invited to Wat Phothisomphon in Udon.
At that time, Grandma Noi (mother of Phraya Ratchanukul) came for the binding of the sīmā at Wat Phothisomphon. Grandma Noi met and heard Ajahn Mun teach for the first time, and from then on she became devoted. I stayed with Ajahn Mun for several days, then traveled back to Tha Bo with him.
11. Fourth Rains Retreat: Staying at Ban Na Chang Nam (1925)
This Rains Retreat, I stayed at Ban Na Chang Nam, not far from Tha Bo where Ajahn Mun was staying. Ajahn Un and I frequently went to listen to his Dhamma talks. This retreat, I had no other responsibilities except personal effort. Other duties, such as receiving guests, I delegated entirely to Ajahn Un, because he had previously been a teacher. He had ordained in the Mahānikāya for 9 Rains Retreats and had only recently been re-ordained in the Dhammayuttika order.
This retreat, there was a pitiful and stirring incident. Phra Ajahn Tha, an elder monk and seemingly one of Ajahn Mun's first disciples — if I recall correctly, about 16–17 Rains Retreats — had originally gone to study in Bangkok but did not succeed. When he heard the reputation of Ajahn Mun, praised by Chao Khun Upāli (Chan Sirichantho), he came out to follow him. That retreat, he went to stay at Tham Pha Bing (Cliff Cave) in Loei Province with Ajahn Khan. He experienced saññāvipallāsa (perversion of perception) and fled to Ajahn Mun in the middle of the Rains Retreat, saying that he had committed a pārājika offense (the most serious, entailing automatic disrobing), that his whole body was burning, that he saw the yellow robe as firewood and flames. Upon questioning about what he thought was wrong, there was no basis in reality. It was just that he suspected some small thing and then became distressed.
One thing that troubled him greatly was: while practicing at Ban Phon Sawang, his samādhi became powerful, producing great brightness. Whatever Dhamma category he tried to investigate seemed to become completely purified and settle into the heart alone. He then concluded for himself: "I have reached the end of the holy life." He even declared this in the midst of the Saṅgha. Later, that condition faded, and he doubted himself: "I have declared a superhuman state — that is a pārājika offense." Even though others explained to him that he had spoken out of wrong understanding, and the Vinaya does not penalize that, he would not believe. In truth, this anxiety and distress had been with him for several years, but he had endured it. By this Rains Retreat, he could no longer bear it. He wanted only to disrobe. Ajahn Mun could not help him, so he left him to stay with Ajahn Sao. The following year, Ajahn Sao could not handle him either. In the end, he disrobed. After disrobing, he disappeared into the blue sky and clouds — no one knows where he went to this day.
Seeing this made my heart shrink and filled me with a sense of spiritual urgency: Even an elder who had practiced for so long could become so deluded. What about me? How could I escape such delusion? Thinking this, I became afraid for myself. I took that worry to Ajahn Mun. He said: "That's right — you must be careful of yourself and not stay far away from wise people. Whenever something arises, go quickly to consult with them." After the Rains Retreat, Ajahn Mun and his group set out traveling down toward Sakon Nakhon.
11.1 Returning to Help My Mother, Aunts, and Older Brother
I missed my mother, so I returned home to help her, and succeeded in my intention: I advised her to wear white and observe the eight precepts. This time, my aunt, my male uncle, and my older brother also gained faith. They all took to wearing white and observing the eight precepts as well. My older brother, who already had a family and an infant child, even ordained. So that they could associate with fellow practitioners and be trained by several teachers, I had them leave home to follow those teachers. Later, my older brother, my uncle, and I followed after. We caught up with them at Ban Pla Lo, Phanna Nikhom District, where Ajahn Singh was staying the Rains Retreat. He then took us to establish a practice center at Ban Akat Amnuay. Not long after, Ajahn Mun arrived, and he had us follow him to establish a center at Ban Sam Phong. Living close to a great teacher was very good — one was constantly mindful and careful.
One day, the novice who attended to the teacher was away, so I went to sleep on the porch of the teacher's kuṭi in his place. Normally, the teacher would wake up at 3 a.m. every night to practice. When he woke and struck a match, I had to get up before him to go in and attend to him. I slept there for several nights until the teacher, surprised, asked me: "Thate, don't you sleep?" I replied: "I do sleep, sir." In that place, the climate did not agree with me. I ate, but had no strength. My whole body ached and was stiff all the time. Yet my effort did not flag. After eating, I would enter the forest to find seclusion and practice tranquility alone, all day and night, walking meditation. Then I would go listen to the Dhamma talk from 8 p.m. until 10 p.m. If there were many monks, the teacher would preach until midnight or 2 a.m. He would give Dhamma instruction like this regularly. All the disciples had courageous hearts and practiced accordingly. After Ajahn Mun left, Ajahn Sao came to stay in his place for three Rains Retreats. I heard that several monks died there. Phra Ajahn Phu U also died there the same night.