89. The Ground of Vipassana
By Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī
All the Dhamma that the Buddha taught must be gathered together; only then is it correct. If it is not gathered together but remains scattered, it is still not correct. Today I will give a sermon about the khandhas. The khandhas are also a kind of collection. The khandhas consist of rūpa (form) and nāma (mind). They must exist together. If there is only rūpa without nāma, nothing can be done. If there is only nāma without rūpa, nothing can be done either.
Let us speak first about rūpa, because rūpa is easy to see – that is, our own body as it appears now. Religion is embedded within that very rūpa. What is called the rūpakkhandha (aggregate of form) refers to all forms whatsoever, whether small or large, coarse or subtle. They are all collectively called "rūpa." This rūpa is the cause for our clinging. The mind is the one that clings. From birth onward, the mind constantly clings firmly to rūpa.
Therefore the Buddha taught us to contemplate rūpa. The words pañcakkhandhā, rūpakkhandha, vedanākkhandha, saṅkhārakkhandha – these are called the ground of vipassanā (insight meditation). If there were no such ground as this, vipassanā would not arise. Vipassanā must arise from these five grounds.
For vipassanā to arise, it must arise from rūpa – that is, seeing rūpa as it really is. In truth, rūpa is already real, but we do not see it as it really is. Therefore the Buddha taught us to contemplate and see rūpa according to reality with our own mind.
How is rūpa real? All forms whatsoever – coarse, subtle, etc. – remain as they are, then decay, disintegrate, and cease. Even if we had not been born, they would remain as they are and then disintegrate and cease. After we die and cease, other people’s forms and other forms continue to arise in this world all the time. That is called "rūpa." Whatever anyone calls that rūpa, let them call it; but the thing itself is rūpa according to reality. It simply exists like that.
For example, we call it "a person." That is the rūpa of a person. If we don't call it "the rūpa of a person," whatever we call it – Mr. Black, Mr. Red, Mr. White, Mr. Short, Mr. Tall – the rūpa does not call itself. It is people who do the naming. In truth it is just one rūpa. Therefore, rūpa is real according to its own reality. No matter what anyone calls it, it remains the same. Whatever its shape and characteristics, those are its shape and characteristics. A human has one shape, an animal has another shape, all things are according to their own rūpa. It is we who impose names on various rūpa.
Once we have imposed names, we then cling to that rūpa. It becomes attached to the mind. Then wherever we go, that attachment remains with the mind. For example, the rūpa of a person – we call it this or that name. Even if someone else calls it – not us – we still go and cling to it. We cling to the words and names that others use. If they say it wrongly, we are displeased. We cling to that extent. If they say it correctly, we praise, honor, respect, and extol it – and then we become glad. It’s not the rūpa that is glad; we are glad – the mind is glad. This is not seeing things as they really are. It has to be like that.
Now, if someone criticizes and faults that rūpa, we become sad. They are speaking about the rūpa, not about the mind. But our mind clings to the rūpa and becomes angry. If what they say is unpleasant to the ear, we become angry. If it is pleasant to the ear, we become glad and praise them. This is called not seeing rūpa as it really is. Therefore it is called puthujjana – a person thick with defilements.
As for the Buddha or the noble disciples (ariya-sāvaka), they see rūpa as it really is. Whatever names people call rūpa, they are just conventions. When others praise, they don’t know where the praise is directed – they are praising that rūpa, but the rūpa is not affected. When others criticize, they criticize that rūpa, but the rūpa is not disturbed. That rūpa does not know anything about those matters. The mind of the noble one is separate. Therefore they are not angry; they pay no heed. Because they know the nature of rūpa, they understand that it is like this. Seeing truly with the mind like this is called vipassanā. That is why it is said: the ground of vipassanā is rūpa.
Anuloma-vipassanā (insight in conformity) – that is, thinking and conceptualizing – is not genuine vipassanā. Genuine vipassanā is something else, something separate. When the mind becomes tranquil and reaches true knowledge and true seeing, then the mind is in its natural state. The rūpa seen is also in its natural state. All things seen at that moment are seen according to their own reality, clearly and truly, with one’s own mind. Then one attains enlightenment – enlightenment in a single moment of consciousness. That is what is taught. One doesn’t need many things. In just that one moment of consciousness, clear and vivid knowledge arises, and all doubt about everything disappears. That is vipassanā. It is not fabricated, not thought up or concocted. When the mind reaches that point, it arises by itself, happens by itself. But it depends on the preliminary work – the practice, with samādhi as the foundation. When vipassanā is about to arise, it arises spontaneously, by itself.
After vipassanā has arisen, once one emerges from that state, one must contemplate again to see according to reality, exactly as it happened. Rūpa is just rūpa. Even if one does not go into fine detail, if the mind does not enter deeply enough to reach full vipassanā, still one should contemplate in conformity (anuloma) with what one has known and seen, that it is truly like that. Having seen that, one is released from clinging and attachment. One becomes at ease, free, completely unburdened, not heavy. Isn’t that what we want – freedom, release, non-clinging, non-attachment?
Some people, when the mind becomes free and open, don’t know what to do. They don’t understand because they have never experienced it before. The mind has become that way, but the owner himself doesn’t realize it, so he becomes confused. There are people like that. Nevertheless, if that happens, don’t be confused; don’t be deluded or bewildered. Understand that you still exist. If you understand according to reality, wisdom will arise, and knowledge and clarity will arise again. The confusion is because we don’t know, we have never experienced it before, so we become completely confused – afraid of going crazy, becoming insane, and so on. But when we bring mindfulness to bear, when we use mindfulness to know that the state is like that, the mind becomes steady, and knowledge arises again.
This is the nature of rūpa: it arises, then remains like that, exists like that, then decays and ceases. It arises and ceases, arises and ceases, constantly.
Now, nāma (mind) – this refers to vedanā (feeling), saññā (perception), saṅkhāra (mental formations), and viññāṇa (consciousness). It is exactly the same as rūpa, completely similar. So I will give a sermon on the khandhas – that is, to make us know about the khandhas, which are our own selves. We do not know our own selves, therefore there is no Dhamma. When we know and understand our own selves, that is called knowing Dhamma. Then we live with Dhamma. Whether standing, walking, sitting, lying down, or going anywhere, we contemplate Dhamma as our abiding. That is called Dhamma. Dhamma is not somewhere else. No matter where anyone searches for it, if they do not bring it back into the khandhas, they will not reach Dhamma; they will not understand the rūpakkhandha, vedanākkhandha, saññākkhandha, saṅkhārakkhandha, viññāṇakkhandha. Even if they see other things, those things are not their own self; they are external. That is not seeing Dhamma; it is seeing external things. But when one sees internally, knows clearly and sees truly, that is called vipassanā. Let this explanation suffice for today. Now sit in meditation.
(Luang Pu Thate gives a preparatory instruction.)
It is better for us to practice Dhamma... Having listened, do it immediately, so it does not fade away. If you do not do it at once, leaving it aside for a long time, you will forget. In the Buddha’s time, when he gave a sermon to the monks or to laymen and laywomen, they listened and then practiced accordingly. They did not listen and then leave it to do later. No, they did not do that. They listened and practiced right away – that is, they fixed their minds at that very moment while listening to the sermon.
Having listened, they firmly established their mind, completely absorbed in that one place. Then they knew clearly and saw truly according to the Dhamma discourse, and thus many of them attained the paths, fruits, and Nibbāna. As for us, when we listen or read books, or read various texts, after listening or reading we store it away, and soon it is forgotten.
In those times, they completely let go of paññatti (concepts) and sammuti (conventions). Paññatti means assigning names and labels. Sammuti and paññatti are similar. They did not hold onto those conventions; they held onto the truth. For example, "person" – what is a person? Or "human being" – what is a human being? They did not take the ordinary human as we understand – standing, walking, sitting, lying down, moving about – that is what we call a person. That is our understanding. That is what people generally respect and honor. Therefore, when others say "good" or "bad," "wrong" or "right," we experience pleasure and displeasure with regard to the things we cling to.
But the noble ones do not cling like that. What is a human being? Where is the real, true human being? They go deep into the essence. The real human being does not name itself; it is we humans who name it. If people did not name or label it, what would it be? It would simply be as it is, neutral. They contemplate and go deep into the real thing; they reach the core. The mind must be like that. When one reaches it, there is nothing; there are no conventions or concepts either. In ancient times, there was no study or learning in the way we think. The Buddha gave a sermon to the monks or to laymen and laywomen. They listened and practiced right away; their minds became firmly established.
What we call dhātu (elements), khandha (aggregates), āyatana (sense bases) – these are all later conceptual designations. In truth, one who practices and trains does not cling to these concepts. They hold to the truth, to the real state as it is. As I have said, listen: when the mind emerges from that state of reality, there are conventions and concepts everywhere. People in this world must have conventions and concepts all around; without them, we could not communicate. But Dhamma is not conventions or concepts; it is truth. Nevertheless, we have to relate it to conventions and concepts in order to speak to one another and be understood.
Therefore, it is said: make the mind attain samādhi, make it unified, make it reach Dhamma. Dhamma is all things in general. The word Dhamma means "that which upholds," "that which exists according to reality." When one reaches reality, that is Dhamma; there are no conventions or concepts. Contemplate until you reach that very Dhamma.
Our mind is not Dhamma. It thinks, wanders, fabricates. It gives rise to perceptions and moods, all chaotic. That is not Dhamma. Since it is not Dhamma, we let it go; we don't need to cling to such things. Then everything becomes empty. When everything is empty, some people might wonder: "Where do I go?" When you let go, you reach the heart, and then you are at ease.
The word "at ease" is also a convention, another concept. Actually, when you reach the heart itself, you don't know whether it is at ease or not at ease. It is a certain state, so they coined the term "at ease" for that state. The word "at ease" is a convention, coined to correspond to that feeling. "At ease" is that kind of state. It is not that you know first and then practice. Most people think: know first, study and understand first, then practice. "If you don't study, how can you practice?" But in truth, it is a different matter. Practice first; after you obtain the result, then concepts arise.
Pariyatti (study), paṭipatti (practice), paṭivedha (penetration) – these are the three. They are taught in that order, so people understand that pariyatti means one must study and learn first, then practice. Practice according to what one has learned, then paṭivedha arises. I tell you that paṭivedha must arise first. If paṭivedha does not arise, how can you formulate concepts? You must practice until paṭivedha – clear knowledge – arises first; then you can formulate concepts correctly. The Buddha formulated the Dhamma and Vinaya. Both Dhamma and Vinaya – if He had not first attained enlightenment to the paths, fruits, and Nibbāna, He could not have formulated them correctly. He had to know first, then formulate correctly. After He formulated them, others practiced accordingly. If we speak according to truth, it must be that way.
Paṭivedha comes first, then pariyatti arises. If you know pariyatti but remain idle, that won’t do. You must practice daily, and only then can you live rightly. Everything, all things, require practice. In daily life, everyone practices. They practice according to the paṭivedha they have known.
All right, now set your mind to continue practicing.