22. Relying on Oneself

By Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī

February 4, 1985

A practitioner must make themselves the principal focus. When we do this, we will see that everything in our environment originates from within ourselves. All things, every single one, come from the self. What we call "self" includes both the physical body—both its internal and external aspects. That is why the Buddha taught us to contemplate kesā (head hair), lomā (body hair), nakhā (nails), dantā (teeth), taco (skin). These five are the foundation of all meditation subjects, the basic meditation.

For beginners, after ordination, we start with these five meditation subjects as the initial cause. Contemplate just this group—no need to go far. Contemplate within your own body, the things that arise from it. If we firmly establish ourselves here, we will see clearly. For example, when we contemplate hair, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, sinews, bones—once we see our own body clearly and distinctly, we realize that other people's bodies are the same. Whether we see them as unattractive and loathsome (asubha, paṭikūla), or see them as impermanent, suffering, and not-self (aniccaṃ, dukkhaṃ, anattā)—whichever way we see, it's fine. Once we have seen our own body, we see others' bodies in the same way.

This seeing is not with diṭṭhi (view, opinion) in the sense of mere perception; it is seeing truly with the mind. Diṭṭhi as perception sees with the eyes. But seeing with the mind sees through knowledge and understanding, through intuitive insight (ñāṇa). When we see both externally and internally with the mind, it is called ñāṇadiṭṭhi—both knowing and seeing. Whatever we see, we know accordingly, and that knowledge is true in every way.

Take the contemplation of asubha and kāyagatāsati (mindfulness of the body) as taught. That asubha is not something far away. When we see head hair as truly repulsive and loathsome—originating from filth, from pus and blood, as the basis for hair—we contemplate it as genuinely unattractive. Or when we contemplate the skin and so on as truly loathsome, filled with decay—this is not seeing through paṭibhāga (mental image or counterpart sign).

Seeing through paṭibhāga is another thing. For example, when we contemplate the body as decaying, we may suddenly have a flash of insight that sees everything as loathsome and filthy. That kind of seeing is temporary, occasional. That asubha vision is called paṭibhāga—it arises from time to time.

But genuine, true seeing is seeing with one's own mind: the body really is decaying, loathsome, filthy. We have to bathe and clean it every single day. We clearly see its decay and filth for ourselves. That is one example. All other things are seen the same way, including bile, phlegm, blood, pus—they are all the same. People want to see, but to see clearly they need to see it as asubha. The asubha that arises as a paṭibhāga is exaggerated—you deliberately focus to make it appear foul, and it does; you focus to make it decay, and it does.

But this kind of seeing is not about forcing it to decay. It is seeing clearly according to reality. When we see according to reality like this—seeing every day, at all times—then when we see other people, we see them the same as ourselves: loathsome and filthy, just like us. This clear, distinct vision becomes the cause for disenchantment, dispassion, and a sense of spiritual urgency every single day. This is called seeing clearly according to reality, not the asubha that arises as a mere paṭibhāga.

This accords with the principle of yathābhūtaṃ ñāṇadassanaṃ—knowing and seeing things as they truly are. However things truly are, we see them accordingly. That is called seeing according to reality.

The Buddha taught yathābhūtaṃ ñāṇadassanaṃ—seeing according to reality—and that is called clear seeing, true seeing. Seeing the paṭibhāga is also true seeing, but it is excessive, it goes beyond. Sometimes it can cause such disenchantment, disgust, and aversion that it leads to perversion and distortion. The kind of seeing described here—seeing clearly according to reality—does not cause excessive weariness, because these things are inherent in our own body. Wherever we go, we cannot escape them. We must clean and tend to them every single day. This is it: contemplating our own body in this way has no end. We contemplate it at all times. As long as we are alive, we must keep contemplating. We may feel disenchanted, we may feel disgust and urgency, but we don't know where to throw it away. We contemplate like this without end, throughout our entire life, continuously. This is how we contemplate our own body—to see it like this.

Now, when we turn to contemplating the mind: it is by contemplating the body that we gradually see the mind. Having seen the body like that, what is our mind like? Do we hate it? Are we disenchanted? Are we pleased and delighted with it, or displeased? When we see our own mind clearly, then—having contemplated the body—we see the mind. The one who contemplates the body is precisely that mind; it is not using anything else to contemplate. Does our mind delight or resent? Do we like it or dislike it? We see truly with the mind, with our own heart. Once we see the mind, whether it delights or resents, likes or dislikes—other people's minds are the same as ours. Having seen our own, we see others clearly as well.

If there is delight and satisfaction, it manifests. Delight means being pleased, then enjoying, then delighting in it. That gives rise to pleasure. Resentment means displeasure. These manifestations of delight, resentment, satisfaction, dissatisfaction—they are expressed externally. They reveal a great heap of defilements. For example, when we see a form, if the mind sees it clearly but does not see it as repulsive or loathsome, then satisfaction arises. We want to see, to look, to admire. When the mind is pleased, that will manifest as various external behaviors, clearly visible to others. Others see it clearly, but we ourselves do not see ourselves.

Letting others see it clearly is truly ugly. It displays our enjoyment, delight, and satisfaction through bodily and verbal actions and reactions. That becomes a cause for others to see clearly. They can see it directly. If we are displeased, disenchanted, or disgusted, that too will be clearly manifested externally. Therefore, we must be very careful at this point—do not let others see.

Maintaining an even, stable composure in the face of satisfaction and dissatisfaction is extremely difficult. If we can maintain it, that is truly excellent—excellent for a monastic, excellent for anyone. Keeping one's behavior and manners consistent is a great virtue. As they say in the Northeastern region of Thailand: "Like an axe used to smooth wood." Normally, an axe smooths wood, making it even and beautiful. But the axe does not smooth itself; it only smooths others. "The axe that chops wood and planes it—has no handle to hold it" (i.e., it only works on others, not itself). That is how behavior manifests. Isn't that so? The axe smooths wood, but the axe does not smooth itself.

If we can maintain consistent behavior, that is very good here. Even if there is delight, resentment, satisfaction, dissatisfaction—let them be for now. They are not yet free of defilements. Set that aside for the moment. But maintain your manners evenly, guard them beforehand, do not let them show externally. Defilements are not difficult to see—they are easy to see. When we contemplate our own body, we can easily see ourselves. But if we don't contemplate and see ourselves, they leak out and become apparent to others, while we ourselves don't see them. This is especially true among friends and close companions. When living together in a group like this, any behavior we show is clearly visible to one another.

But for those who see it, they must also be careful. Having seen it, be mindful of yourself—do not let such behavior appear. The matter of that other person is their own affair; our affair is another matter entirely. We must contemplate our own affairs.

One who contemplates themselves in this moderate, restrained way is very calm and well-composed. Living among friends is comfortable, and friends living with that person are also comfortable—both oneself and others find ease. If we seek comfort within the Dhamma and Vinaya, we must contemplate right here to find that comfort. If we do not see this, then it is still there—the thorns and splinters appear in the mind in various ways, as described.