32. The Ultimate of Sīla, Samādhi, Paññā
By Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī
July 17, 1985
Today I will explain just this matter of sīla, samādhi, paññā — no need to explain anything far off. Rather, I will explain the ultimate end of sīla, of samādhi, of paññā. Because the Buddha’s religion teaches that it has an end. If there is no end, where would it finish? The Buddha’s religion says, "This is the end of the religion." But where does it end? We don't know; we never see the end. People have been maintaining sīla for ages — 227 precepts, and even more than that, countless. The miscellaneous additional rules are also many. Samādhi has many kinds and forms. Especially in this era, it becomes distorted; people invent all sorts of things according to their own views and preferences. Paññā is even more confusing than anything else — it has no end.
In Buddhism, the Buddha taught that there is an end to the religion, that it ends in the holy life, that it ends in the religion. He said that. Where does it end? Let's consider. The five precepts, the ten precepts, the 227 precepts — fine, they are many and vast. But sīla is not something the Buddha brought along with him. Even after he passed away into parinibbāna, he didn't take it with him. Sīla arises from the conduct of the monks themselves. If they misbehave a lot, that's how much sīla there is. If the Buddha were still alive today, who knows how many tens or hundreds of thousands of precepts there would be. Whenever a transgression occurred, the Buddha would prescribe a rule based on that offense.
The Buddha taught that sīla is just one thing — just one: the intention to abstain. That is the most important point.
When we undertake sīla, whether it's five precepts, eight precepts, ten precepts, or whatever, if we have no intention — just reciting "samādiyāmi" for each rule but lacking the intention to abstain from those actions — then it's just empty words. We don't really know sīla or where its ultimate end lies. The same applies to the 227 precepts. The Buddha laid down each rule because a particular monk committed an offense. Therefore, that cetanā (intention) is the crucial point. If we have that intention, it stops right there; we don't need to commit further offenses. That particular offense ends right there. It's just a single intention — the intention to abstain is only one thing.
Some teachers or preachers say that sīla is the initial means for restraining and extinguishing defilements — guarding body and speech, suppressing and alleviating defilements at the outset. They only mention body and speech, not the mind. That is wrong, because it contradicts the Buddha's teaching that intention is the essence of sīla. Consider: Can a dead person keep sīla? Without a mind, can they keep sīla? Without a mind, what would they abstain from? A dead person has never kept sīla, never undertaken sīla. When monks give sīla during funerals or ceremonies, it's not the dead person who keeps sīla — it's the living. The living request the sīla, the living undertake it, and only then does it become sīla. Without intention, it cannot be sīla.
In the Buddha's time, they never undertook sīla before listening to a sermon. The Buddha would not preach about sīla to the monks. He would preach about just samādhi. When the mind reached that point, when it became pure, sīla would arise by itself, spontaneously. No need to undertake sīla, no need to maintain it. Take Aṅgulimāla: the Buddha taught him to let go right at the mind, just that, and he attained magga, phala, and Nibbāna. But we are deluded, just clinging to sīla, just clinging to preliminary sīla, the ultimate ends, and various other things — thus we get into a huge mess.
If we listen to the Buddha's teaching with the aim of making the mind pure, that pure mind itself is sīla, samādhi, and paññā all at once. So sīla has its ultimate end: intention is the ultimate of sīla.
The ultimate of samādhi is bhavaṅga or appanā samādhi (absorption concentration). It can also be called appanā jhāna. It has vitakka (directed thought), vicāra (evaluation), pīti (rapture), sukha (bliss), ekaggatā (one-pointedness) or upekkhā (equanimity) with one-pointedness. After equanimity, that's the end. Even if one goes on to the form and formless jhānas, it all culminates in the appanā mind. That mind in appanā is the ultimate of samādhi. Jhāna is exactly that — appanā jhāna, appanā samādhi. For those who enter nirodha-samāpatti (attainment of cessation), where perception and feeling cease completely, paññā is not used — there's no need. It ceases entirely. It's just that same one thing — that single mind — the cessation of that single mind. That is called the ultimate of samādhi.
Whatever anyone does, whatever they practice — nowadays, many teachers have their methods: rising and falling, sammā arahaṃ, buddho, ānāpānasati, maraṇasati, and all the rest — they are all done to bring the mind to its ultimate, to samādhi, which is just appanā. Appanā is not a matter of using skillful means or wisdom; it's simply resting the mind. These methods — training and cultivating the mind from the beginning, what we call vitakka, vicāra, etc. — are all ways of training the mind. Bhavaṅga or samādhi, whatever, are all training methods. When you reach the ultimate, there is nothing else. The ultimate of samādhi is appanā. When you reach it, it stops right there. Nothing remains; everything ceases. It stops just at that point.
Where does paññā arise? It arises precisely from appanā — when you come to upacāra (access concentration) that's where it arises. The upacāra that emerges from appanā, not the upacāra that enters. "Entering upacāra" involves suppressing and calming down the initial disturbances; it moves internally but does not go outward. It rambles internally, investigating internally — this is called "upacāra entering."
"Upacāra emerging" is when you come out of appanā. The mind is steady in a single object, contemplating that single object. Whatever you contemplate, you contemplate just that. That is called upacāra emerging. Upacāra emerging from appanā is also beneficial. Upacāra entering is beneficial, and upacāra emerging is beneficial as well. But upacāra emerging is more refined because you have gained initial appanā as a foundation, then you come into upacāra. It is precisely this state that gives rise to paññā.
Some people say, "Sitting with eyes closed doing samādhi — what do you get from that?" Oh, they've never experienced it — such people have never gotten anything from it. It is extremely beneficial. Sitting with eyes closed doing samādhi is very beneficial indeed, to the point they don't even realize it. It's highly beneficial. Anyone who can do it is said to have gained great mental strength. It's called resting the mind at that moment. The longer you rest, the greater the strength. When you emerge from appanā and contemplate, you have mindfulness and thorough understanding. You know everything — past, future, present — and contemplate clearly and vividly. Without samādhi as a foundation, no matter what you contemplate, you cannot stop; you become scattered and confused without any bounds.
But when you have a foundation — having appanā as your base, having samādhi as your base — then contemplate away. Whatever you contemplate, it will eventually come to an end, culminating in aniccaṃ (impermanence), dukkhaṃ (suffering), anattā (non-self). Then it returns to its original state: calming down in the mind, remaining still and neutral. You can contemplate or not — it's up to you. This is called the mind being under control. Because you have samādhi as a foundation, you are skilled in samādhi. This is called "samādhi has an ultimate" — that ultimate is appanā. Whatever anyone does, they cannot go beyond that.
Now, paññā — what is its foundation? What is its ultimate? Through the power of having trained samādhi from the beginning, having trained sīla and samādhi from the beginning, when you contemplate all things, everything must end in the tilakkhaṇa (three characteristics) — aniccaṃ, dukkhaṃ, anattā. Where else can it go? When you reach aniccaṃ, dukkhaṃ, anattā, where else is there? There is nothing beyond this in this world. It all converges into that one thing, culminating in aniccaṃ, dukkhaṃ, anattā. Then it lets go, enters the state of sabhāva (reality). Arriving at aniccaṃ, dukkhaṃ, anattā is the state of sabhāva. That is the ultimate of paññā.
Understand this ultimate point clearly. Any teaching that lacks an ultimate is not Dhamma — it's worldly. When you contemplate worldly things, you take delight and never get enough, never feel satisfied. But if it is the Buddha's teaching, in line with his words, it must all converge. After contemplating outwardly, when it's finished, it must converge back to the original, back to the mind. In simple terms, we call it the "mind." It does not think, does not concoct, does not ramble at all. You can have it contemplate or not — either way, you can use it. You can use the mind. The mind is under your control. Then it's all done. What else is there to do? The mind that is not under control, that you make think and investigate without bounds, without knowing an end — how could it ever end? Therefore, the religion has an end like this. The worldly path has no end. That's all.