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97. Dhamma Practice Principles

By Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī

October 21, 1983

All of us who have been staying for the Rains Retreat at this monastery — whether monks, novices, laymen, or laywomen, whether from elsewhere or from here, it's the same — have completed the three-month Rains Retreat. Today is the Pavāraṇā day, the end of the Rains. After this, everyone will go their separate ways to earn a living according to their respective duties. Each person has different responsibilities.

The term "Vassa" here refers to the four-month rainy season. But actually, "Vassa" simply means rain. Later, it became an important period. The monks and novices have been ordained for three months; the laymen and laywomen have come to observe the Rains in order to practice Dhamma, regarding it as something sacred and powerful. People understand the four-month rainy season as one Vassa. In truth, one Vassa is a count of age — after twelve months, that counts as one Vassa. Later, it was shortened to just three months, from the full moon of the eighth lunar month to the full moon of the eleventh lunar month as one Vassa. Whoever ordains and completes three months is said to have gained one Vassa.

Now, counting one Vassa or one year is not really important. I'm just mentioning it. Whether you count it or not is up to you; it's not that significant. What is most significant is that we have come to stay for the Rains, to practice Dhamma, to purify our own defilements and emotions. Since we have this opportunity, after the Rains we will have to separate and go about our various duties. I ask that you hold firmly to the principles of Dhamma that you have practiced throughout the Rains. However you have practiced, hold in your heart that this is the correct way. Grasp that principle firmly. That is extremely important.

Coming to practice Dhamma is like coming to contemplate, to investigate, to search for the truth within those Dhamma principles. That is what Dhamma practice is. Even if we have practiced for one Rains or many Rains, if we still haven't grasped the principle, haven't been able to investigate even a single Dhamma principle, then our practice becomes aimless, unstable, lacking a foundation — it's not yet good. To truly be good, we must have a stable principle of Dhamma practice in our own hearts, by investigating and finding the truth in those Dhamma principles clearly for ourselves.

Dhamma practice in Buddhism is doing good. Now, what principles underlie the good we do these days? In brief, they are: giving donations, observing precepts, practicing concentration, and then developing wisdom. These four things are called the principles of doing good in Buddhism. All the good we do never departs from these four principles. Wherever you do good, if it's in line with Buddhism, it must fall within these four principles.

First principle: Giving donations (Dāna). What is the fundamental principle we must hold to? Practicing giving requires faith (saddhā) as a stable foundation first.

Faith in what? Faith that doing good yields good results, doing evil yields evil results. Firm faith in this is called kammassakatā — faith in kamma and the results of kamma. When one has such firm faith and then gives, it will not go wrong; one will achieve all one's aspirations. What does it mean to say "it will not go wrong"? When one has firm, solid faith in one's heart first and then gives, that giving is excellent. That giving yields results for oneself without mistake.

The meaning of "dāna" — the teachers have taught that there are ten kinds of gift items (dānavatthu). Therefore, dāna requires gift objects — things to be given — and recipients of the gift (paṭiggāhaka), whoever they may be: monks, novices, laymen, laywomen, or even animals. Both the gift object and the recipient must be present for it to be called giving.

The ten gift items are: 1. Dānaṃ — giving food (rice) 2. Pānaṃ — giving water 3. Vatthaṃ — giving cloth/robes 4. Yānaṃ — giving vehicles 5. Mālā — giving flowers, incense, candles 6. Gandhaṃ — giving fragrant items, sandalwood, etc. 7. Vilepanaṃ — giving ointments for anointing the body 8. Seyyaṃ — giving bedding, mats 9. Āvasathaṃ — giving shelter, lodging 10. Padīpeyyaṃ — giving light, lamps

These are the ten gift items.

There is also another thing called cāga (generosity, relinquishment), which is different from the ten gift items mentioned above. Cāga means relinquishing with the heart, whether there is a material object or not. Or one could say that one has cāga first, and then the gift items follow. Cāga is very important; it must truly reach the mind and heart. Whether there is a recipient or not, cāga is still possible. For example, relinquishing greed, anger, delusion from one's own heart — no one receives that, yet one can relinquish it. Who would come to receive it? Everyone is already carrying a full load. All kinds of defilements, worries, and sufferings — everyone is already suffering. We relinquish them to be far away from ourselves. Who would want them?

Greed: the Buddha saw it as not good, so He relinquished it completely. When greed falls upon us of dull wisdom, we want this and that, competing for gain, status, prestige, one-upmanship — this is called fighting over things. When people fight, it leads to quarrels, disputes, and killing each other.

Anger is the same. The Buddha and His disciples relinquished it completely. But people love anger. No one can hear anything displeasing; they love to receive it into their ears and then get angry. Sometimes the person we're angry at doesn't even know. We take that anger and brood over it alone.

Delusion, intoxication with various things — it's the same pattern.

Cāga is such a good thing. It can be done at any time. You don't need material objects, you don't need recipients. But if you can't resist, even you yourself might become a beggar receiving what others have relinquished.

Faith (saddhā) is also good and important. The Buddha taught: Saddhāya tarati oghaṃ — "Faith crosses the flood." That means having unwavering, firm faith is what enables one to cross the flood (ogha). The floods are compared to bodies of water: sensual desire, becoming, views, and ignorance. People who want to cross the flood must first have faith. Without faith, there's no way to cross. Thus faith is the most important. For example, faith in kamma and its results as explained. This faith is the basis for giving. If one has faith, one cannot resist giving. Wherever you are, you can give. Give much or give little, no need to choose the object of giving. Rice, water, food, betel nut, tobacco, anything can be given. Even a leaf, a banana leaf, a blade of grass can be a gift. We do it with the conviction that this action will benefit that person, and we feel joyful and pleased — that is merit. Faith makes us joyful, makes merit permeate the heart, never forgotten. That then becomes the cause and condition for crossing the flood.

Second principle: Observing precepts (Sīla). Precepts are the intention to abstain from certain faults. When one abstains from five faults, that is called the five precepts arising within oneself. Abstaining from eight faults is the eight precepts. Abstaining from ten faults is the ten precepts. Abstaining from 227 faults is the 227 precepts arising within oneself.

Precepts have intention (cetanā) as their foundation. If there is no intention to abstain, then no precepts exist in that person at all. Intention exists because that person first sees the danger in those faults and therefore abstains. The Buddha taught that intention alone is precept.

Precepts are very easy to observe. If one has firm faith that doing good yields good, results in happiness, and doing evil yields evil, results in suffering — don't all people want happiness? When you want happiness, you must observe precepts. And observing precepts doesn't require announcing it to others. You can do it alone, wherever you are. And you don't need material objects like with giving. As soon as you intend to abstain from a certain fault, you immediately become a precept-holder. Precepts don't need to be all five or all eight; even one precept is enough. Whatever precept you break, abstain from that one. Abstain genuinely, without lapse. If you still lapse, set your mind to observe it anew. Three months, six months, one year, two years — until the precept is complete and perfect. That is better than going to take precepts every Uposatha day but not being able to keep even a single one. You've been taking precepts for who knows how many years, yet you can't keep even the five precepts. This method of observing one precept at a time: suppose you observe one precept for a full year until it's perfected. The next year you observe the second precept. The next year the third. In five years you will have perfected all five precepts. Then those precepts can truly be called your own.

At that point, we don't have to protect the precepts anymore; the precepts protect us. We cannot violate them at all. If we are about to violate, the precepts protect us from doing so. For example, when you see an animal that could be killed, you feel loving-kindness, compassion, pity, as if seeing your own child in difficulty. When you see another person's possessions, you see them as your own. When you see another's child or spouse, you see them as your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles. How then could you violate? As for speech that should be lied or deceived, you see it as if you were about to open your mouth to take something vile into yourself. As for alcohol, fermented drinks, intoxicants, and drugs that you would drink and let pass your throat, you see it as if you were about to swallow poison.

Third principle: Practicing concentration (Samādhi). What is the principle for those training in concentration? Investigate the truth of concentration practice and you will see that it relates entirely to ourselves. For example, consider: Why do we practice concentration these days? To train in relinquishing and letting go. Relinquish what? The things that have come to stain and defile our minds and hearts. We must relinquish these things, must relinquish and abandon everything — this is cāga (generosity). This is the principle of concentration.

When we relinquish the things that cling to the mind and heart, then in the present moment concentration arises. As it is explained: abandoning directed thought, abandoning evaluation, abandoning rapture, abandoning pleasure, to arrive at one-pointedness. This is called the five-factored jhāna. "Abandoning" is the same as relinquishing. Relinquishment and generosity (cāga) are the same. When we relinquish the emotions that cling to the heart, the mind becomes clear, bright, pure, and concentrated. Everyone can do this and must see it with their own heart. Whatever you relinquish, you see it with your own heart.

Anger, greed, delusion are all defiling things that darken the mind, causing it to cling to those matters endlessly. People who are attached to becoming, attached to birth, for a long time — they are attached precisely because of these things. Being attached to becoming and birth for so long becomes a habit, binding them to these things.

Therefore, in this present life, now that we have awareness, we should train to relinquish, to abandon, to uproot, to let go of unwholesome things, to let them gradually diminish. Only then can it be called training in concentration — training for the sake of relinquishment. Concentration has relinquishing and letting go as its principle.

Fourth principle: Wisdom (Paññā). Knowing things thoroughly, knowing anything at all — even knowing a little — falls within the domain of wisdom. Knowing good and evil, coarse and subtle, falls within the domain of wisdom. This is ordinary, conventional wisdom first. Don't speak of higher wisdom yet. Worldly wisdom (lokiya paññā) is wisdom that knows how to earn a living rightly, conduct business honestly, not envy others, etc. Wisdom on the Dhamma side (dhamma paññā) is: when you investigate anything, it becomes Dhamma. For example, greed: if you investigate it as Dhamma, even greed is good. Investigate to see that this greed is actually good and useful — because if there were no greed, we would have no opportunity to relinquish greed. The same with anger: because there is anger, we come to train in relinquishing anger. If there were no anger, what would we relinquish? Delusion is likewise good. If there were no delusion, we wouldn't relinquish delusion. This is how it is Dhamma.

As for those who don't see it as Dhamma, when greed arises they become distressed and anxious, wanting only to get — no way to free or remedy themselves. With anger it's the same; they just get distressed and anxious over that anger, darkness closing the path with no way out. Wherever they investigate, it's covered by anger. Delusion is the same. People don't understand that these are Dhamma, so greed, anger, and delusion dominate them completely. That is the world, not Dhamma.

But when you investigate until you see the danger and suffering in them, then they gradually become Dhamma. When you can relinquish them, you see the value of those things. This is called wisdom — ordinary wisdom in the context of Dhamma.

If wisdom is higher and more excellent than that, it is insight wisdom (vipassanā paññā). That kind of wisdom arises on its own. No one can teach it or point it out. You can only teach this basic wisdom. When it is time for it to arise, it arises by itself when the mind has let go of everything, even the thoughts and notions in the mind that wish for such a state — let go completely. It arises at that moment as a clear knowing. One sees all things in the world as impermanent (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and not-self (anattā), all of the same nature. This is the limit of the world. Buddhism teaches only up to this point. No matter what anyone meditates and sees, if it doesn't settle into impermanence, suffering, not-self, then it's not finished. That's all.

Today I have explained the principles of doing good. To summarize:

There are two kinds of Dhamma wisdom. The first is ordinary wisdom in Dhamma: seeing the world as Dhamma, as explained — that greed, anger, delusion, though they bring danger and suffering to the mind, are also good in that if there were no greed, anger, delusion, we would not relinquish them.

The other kind of wisdom is higher and more excellent than that, called insight wisdom (vipassanā paññā): seeing all things as impermanent, suffering, not-self. Those things are worthless, dangerous, harmful, and threatening to the mind. Therefore one lets go, abandons all concern for them. This is the supreme, excellent wisdom, because one becomes free from the world by seeing the limit of the world — that is, seeing impermanence, suffering, not-self. Not by guessing or assuming, mind you. One must see clearly with one's own heart, truly touch with one's own heart. If you just think it, that's not insight — it's pseudo-insight (vipassanūpakkilesa). Once that thinking stops, it will revert and attack you again. If you truly see clearly with your own heart, penetrating to impermanence, suffering, not-self, then you relinquish everything. This is the culmination of Buddhism.

Now that the Rains Retreat has ended, everyone will go their separate ways to earn a living according to their duties. Please make an effort to grasp these principles of Dhamma practice. Don't let the training we have done in meditation go to waste. If you take something bad to spread around, you'll just embarrass yourself. All people want good things. They come seeking good things as explained here. After the Rains, when you return home, take this goodness to give to your siblings, friends, and relatives. When others see it, they will respect and admire you. That is very good. It means we have received goodness and bring it to give to others, so that our companions become good as well.

But if you collect bad things instead — bad things being what others have already relinquished and thrown away — and you gather them into bags and bundles to take home, then when you open them at home, there will be nothing good at all, only the rubbish others have discarded. That rubbish is like scraps of paper, fruit peels, bits and pieces — nothing usable. You've collected them and put them in your bag. This is like practicing Dhamma without any correct principle or foundation to hold onto. You've come to practice but wasted your time.

Therefore, don't let the benefit of being born as a human being with the opportunity to train and practice Dhamma go to waste. Make yourself useful and valuable. Teach and train yourself to understand your own nature. Since we have come here, what should we take back? Choose only the good and valuable things worth taking. Don't take scraps and rubbish; they bring no benefit. When others relinquish anger, greed, and delusion — don't take what they've thrown away as your own possession. That's not good. Evam.

Now, sit in meditation.

(The teacher gives instructions beforehand.)

Today is the last day of the Rains Retreat. We must sit in meditation to pay homage to the Triple Gem. All kinds of pains — leg pain, back pain, aches in various places — offer them all as homage. Don't regard them as yours. Laziness, fatigue, the emotional signs that disturb your own heart and mind, making you restless — today you must relinquish them completely, because this is the last day of the Rains. You must pay homage. If you don't pay homage today, they will follow you and then multiply, giving birth to offspring, spreading far and wide. Therefore, set your mind to pay homage to the Triple Gem completely.

The practice of concentration has the principle explained earlier: relinquishing and letting go of everything while sitting in meditation. Nothing is lost. Your possessions, money, gold, home — they don't disappear while you sit. But you willingly relinquish them without worrying about such things.

For basic meditation, we need a meditation word as our foundation. You can use "Buddho" or mindfulness of breathing. Choose one. Without a meditation word, the mind doesn't know where to stay because the mind has no fixed self or substance. It needs a meditation word to have an abiding. When you establish the meditation word, the mind goes to hold onto that word, focusing on it. The mind is not many things; the mind is one thing. When it focuses like that, it doesn't worry about other distant matters. It becomes still and fixed in one. When you relinquish and let go of thoughts and evaluations, leaving only the mind itself, that is concentration. Everyone practices to attain concentration.

Once you have concentration, then keep it until you are skilled. Maintain it for as long as you can — a year, ten years — keep it first. Don't rush to want to know or see anything else. If you want things, your concentration won't become skilled; it will revert to chaos as before, becoming many things, many minds, many hearts again. Then it's not concentration.

Those training in concentration must first know their own mind (citta). The mind is the thinker, the evaluator, the one that has been wandering endlessly. If you don't see the danger and suffering of thinking and wandering, you won't reach concentration. We train wanting to achieve concentration. Therefore, investigate to see the danger in the mind's restlessness and wandering. Become disenchanted, then willingly relinquish, leaving only the mind itself. We know that the mind is the thinker, the evaluator. But don't take the thinking as your object. Catch the one who thinks, the one who evaluates, the one that wanders. When you catch that one, it will stop wandering and converge into "heart" (citta as knowing). Mind and heart are different in this way: citta (mind) is the thinker, evaluator, wanderer, fabricator. When you don't think, don't evaluate, don't wander, remaining still, that is "heart" — the knower. That is how you achieve concentration.

If you want to observe and know the "heart," do this: hold your breath for a moment. While holding your breath, there is no thinking at all. It's completely neutral. But you know the neutrality. That neutral one is the "heart." That's a way to catch the heart. Once you've tested this, when you release your breath, the mind becomes distracted and wanders according to its stories, becoming citta again. The "heart" is the one that is neutral, neither good nor bad. Suppose good is the left path, evil the right path; the heart is in the middle. That middle one is the true heart. Anything that is central is called "heart" — the heart of the hand, the heart of the wood, the heart of a person — pointing to the middle of the chest. If you want to know the heart, you must understand this to find it correctly.

We train in meditation (kammaṭṭhāna) because we want to train the mind (citta) — not to train the heart. We do so by establishing mindfulness to control this mind. Whether standing, walking, sitting, lying down, in any posture, we observe the mind as it thinks, evaluates, wanders. Whether it becomes concentrated or not, that's fine. It is already concentration in itself.

Training in meditation is only this much, nothing more. We want only to see the mind. Wherever it goes, whether entering or exiting, stopping or becoming still, we see it constantly. When we see it like that, given the right opportunity, the mind will converge into the heart, as explained. When it converges, you don't even know where it is. There is no thought of wanting to converge or not. There is just a neutral knowing, not thinking. That is what meditators seek. Alright, let's meditate to find the heart.

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