4-10 The Spiritual Warrior
心靈的戰士
在清邁府的荒野頭陀遊行時，阿姜曼難免會染上疾病，甚至有數次阿姜曼已嚴重到離死不遠的程度。若像大多數人一樣，阿姜曼只想依靠醫生與藥物，那他可能早就被疾病擊倒了。阿姜曼依靠的是正法，撐過許多次重大疾病完全憑藉著正法的療癒功能。阿姜曼說過，只要身體出現生病的跡象，法的療癒功能即會顯現出來。它會對疾病做出反擊，並立刻開始治療。這就是阿姜曼對醫療的一貫態度－他相信「正法的療癒功能」遠勝於世間的醫療方式。即使到晚年，各項身體機能慢慢退化，阿姜曼仍舊不願使用外來藥物，依然使用正法的力量來照料他的身體。
話說某次阿姜曼與幾位比丘一同居住在清邁的山區，而那裡是瘧疾的重災區域。所以很快地，一位比丘就感染上瘧疾。因為地處偏遠，比丘們找尋不到能治療瘧疾的藥物，那位比丘只得承受瘧疾帶來的一切折磨。症狀最嚴重時，他甚至是整日持續高燒。每天的早上與晚上，阿姜曼會去探視那位比丘的情況，並指導他如何修習「身念處」，好以此減輕因高燒而起的身體不適－阿姜曼一向是使用此法門來對抗瘧疾。但由於他們兩位在禪定上的差距過大，這名比丘無法使用身念處抵抗高燒。每一次高燒時，他都感覺到自己毫無對策，只能痛苦地等待高燒退去。於是，這名比丘沒能建立起面對疾病的正確態度，內心反倒充滿了怨恨與煩躁。阿姜曼察覺此事後，便前來訓斥他：
「看來你不過是徒具摩訶之名31，讀過的經文在需要時完全派不上用場。若你已打算半途而廢，那之前費盡苦心在巴利文考試上又有何意義？一般人讀書後或多或少都會有一些收穫，所以我實在想不懂你是怎麼讀書的？讀過的經文對你都沒有幫助？現在的你就快要因為高燒而死亡，竟然沒有一篇經文能夠安住你的心？你讀書到底是為了什麼？我實在是不懂啊！」
「我真是不懂啊！就我而言，我完全沒準備過巴利文考試－連最初階的書本我都沒看過。我受的訓練不多，不過就是受戒為比丘時，戒師為我傳授的五項頭陀行32－直到今日我仍在修習它們。雖然不多，但我只需它們就能夠照顧自己了，它們不會讓我像你一樣軟弱－你就像是幾張紙湊成的書一樣軟弱。事實上，沒受過教育的婦女們都比你堅強。丟臉啊！你可是一位男人，更是一位摩訶！為何你會如此軟弱？面對疾病，你的表現既不像男子漢，更看不出有一絲修行人的模樣。你乾脆去做變性手術，讓自己變成一位女孩。或許看到妳是位女孩，高燒就會放過妳，不讓妳這麼痛苦。畢竟，高燒也不想欺負一位弱女子吧？」
「來你這裡時，我看你都是一副自怨自艾的樣子，你的勇氣與決心跑哪裡去了？準備巴利文考試時，你讀過頭陀行吧？你現在該把它們拿出來複習了。你對「諸苦皆虛幻」這句話有何看法？它是叫你軟弱退縮嗎？是要你一發燒就哭著去找媽媽嗎？若你連高燒的痛苦都無法忍受，那麼真正危及性命的事件發生時，你會如何做呢？你肯定應付不來，只會坐著等死而已。發燒就能把你逼成這樣，你怎麼可能了解苦聖諦的真義呢？要超越世間的行者，都必須透徹了解苦、集、滅、道四聖諦的意義。現在不過是苦聖諦輕輕顯現，你就已經不知所措，躺在床上哀號連連。你的叫聲是在承認自己被擊敗了嗎？這樣做能有什麼成就呢？
做出一陣嚴厲批評後，阿姜曼不再說話，只靜靜觀察那名比丘。比丘已在低聲哭泣，臉上滿是淚水。看到他的個性如此軟弱，阿姜曼便不再多說什麼了。接著，阿姜曼告訴他不用擔心，病很快就會好了。阿姜曼還告訴他，剛才他只是用言語來激勵他。說完後，阿姜曼就回去了。
當晚思索之後，阿姜曼決定對這名弟子採用不同的方式。其他比丘能夠接受嚴厲的教訓，但是這一位不夠強壯，他無法服用這樣的苦藥。第二天早上起，阿姜曼收起了嚴厲的表情，臉上只有對他的關懷與同情－完全無法想像阿姜曼會以這種態度對待弟子！
每天早上與晚上，阿姜曼都會去探望他，鼓勵他趕快好起來。這樣的話語就像焦糖，讓整個小屋充滿了濃郁的甜香味道－這與那比丘的孱弱搭配得恰到好處！阿姜曼密切觀察他這位病人的狀況，早晚不忘補充蜜糖膠囊給他服用。這種治療方式有其功效，至少那名弟子與其他比丘都感覺良好。就這樣，那名比丘慢慢地康復，幾個月之後他的身體回復了正常。這種療法對他真是有效啊！
以上可看出一位充滿智慧的醫生是如何治療病人的：他必須根據手邊擁有的資源、病人的情況，靈活調整治療方式。阿姜曼無疑是我們的楷模，有志追求智慧的人們一定可從他的靈活與智慧中學到許多訣竅，這就是我記錄下這故事的原因。重點在於一位智者不會讓自己被問題困住，他一定會仔細思惟，想出各個方案並一一評估利弊得失，直到解決問題為止。
當危機產生時，阿姜曼不會讓自己只處於被動，他會以正念與智慧去分析、判斷情況。譬如在他身染重病時，或是他突然發現以前未曾注意到、陰險狡詐的煩惱潛伏在內心時，這些就是危機的顯現。一般人或許會得過且過，但阿姜曼不容許這些情況干擾他的修行。他會日夜不停地思索，從正面找不出解決方法，那就從側面、從反面、從上面、從下面找尋，直到尋得一個善巧方法來對治危機。阿姜曼就這樣克服了一個又一個的難關，持續向目標前進。縱觀他整個修行過程，阿姜曼總是以這種方式獲得了最好的成果。
若有跟隨他修行的比丘生病，阿姜曼也是建議他們以觀禪來減輕病症的不適。這樣做，比丘們就不會過於依賴藥物，而且還有個重要目的，阿姜曼希望他們能在生病的當下好好觀察正法。阿姜曼知道，身體或心靈的病痛即是苦聖諦的顯現。因此，弟子們更該在生病的當下探究什麼是苦。他們不能閃躲，應該要直接面對病苦，直到能將「苦」看個一清二楚。阿姜曼不希望弟子們面對「苦」只會擺出順從的態度；若是如此，他們與未修行過的人們有何差異呢？
阿姜曼從自己的病痛中學到了許多觀禪技巧。阿姜曼不會束手就擒；阿姜曼會持起「觀禪」，將它作為手術刀，一刀又一刀地切開病痛。切開後，阿姜曼還要把每個切面都看個一清二楚才肯罷休。在生病的時刻，阿姜曼相信最重要的事情不是去醫院就診，而是竭盡全力去探究病痛。這個時刻是評估自己的正念與智慧的絕佳時機。若仍有不足，就表示行者還需要訓練正念與智慧，至少它們得強大到足以應付眼前的病痛為止。當行者以高度焠煉的正念與智慧審視隨病苦而來的各種苦受、情緒時，心會了解到這就是「苦」，這就是「苦聖諦」。這時候的心不會痛苦，它不會與身體的苦受混在一起。正念與智慧全力運轉，一一化解四面八方襲來的苦受與雜念。強烈的苦痛中，正念與智慧仍可保持心念向內探索。最後，心將完全聚焦在四聖諦之上。行者必須堅決地將所有氣力灌注在念、慧、信、與精進之上，毫無保留。這項修行雖然艱辛但至關重要。也因此，阿姜曼時常提醒弟子們，他們一定得深究自己的苦痛，直到了解每一個苦痛的花招為止。這樣當大苦來臨、身體分崩離析時，他們也不會生起一絲的恐懼。
以上述的方式探究苦痛，行者可以清晰地了知身體與覺受的實相。在世時，他可以平安喜樂；死時，他無所懼怕。這種修行是一位心靈戰士的必經之路，唯有通過後，他才是一個勝利者。他戰勝自己，超越了身體的限制－他已達安穩之地。
在修行各個面向上，阿姜曼都是我們弟子們的最佳典範。他的精進、毅力、勇氣、簡樸、與全方位的智慧皆可說是當世第一。弟子們要想在其中任一項達到阿姜曼的程度已相當困難，遑論要想超越他了！阿姜曼擁有天眼、天耳、他心通等神通。譬如他心通33，它是與動物、人類、鬼、天人、梵天、夜摩、蛇神等等有情直接心靈溝通的能力。除了明顯可見的動物、人類之外，阿姜曼可經由他的天眼看見不具肉體的鬼眾與各界天人。任何人在阿姜曼面前都是無可遮蔽的，人們內心的喜好與厭惡他知之甚詳，他甚至還能讀出人們內心深處的每一個念頭與想法。
那些缺乏正念、思緒總是到處遊蕩的比丘們，常常是在聽到阿姜曼責備的聲音後，才了解到自己又放縱於無益的思緒之上。還有些比丘更是誇張，他們甚至魂不守舍到不知道阿姜曼已在責備他們！阿姜曼的神通極為廣大，他在不在現場都能讀到弟子們的心思－所以只要與他同住在一處，弟子們就該謹言慎行了。若有比丘認為阿姜曼不在眼前就可心猿意馬，那麼只要下次遇到阿姜曼，阿姜曼肯定會與他當面聊聊他那時候的綺思。在阿姜曼面前仍敢放肆的比丘們，無疑會接收到最嚴厲的斥責。不論阿姜曼當時在做甚麼都沒有差別－或許前一刻他還在開示、與人交談、處理日常生活雜事，下一刻他就會扳起面孔訓斥某個犯錯的弟子。有時阿姜曼也不一定開口責罵，但他一定會採取作為好讓弟子找回正念。只有在他評估認為無可厚非時，他才會放過弟子們的雜亂心思。
根據多位資深弟子們的口述，阿姜曼對天眼、天耳、他心通等神通相當精熟，甚至已到會令人害怕的程度。阿姜曼的他心通不僅能覺知，它還具有震攝人心的力量。弟子們都有過自己才一開始胡思亂想，就在耳邊聽到一個霹靂響起的奇怪經驗。因此，跟隨阿姜曼修行的比丘們必需時時守護根門。若有一瞬間失神，阿姜曼肯定會知道。他們猶如處在全時監控的環境，因為阿姜曼穿透性的覺知能力是無處不在。
曾經，有一位比丘出於恐懼，他開始思索阿姜曼對他的呵斥。想著想著，他竟然覺得阿姜曼實在太過惡毒。下次，阿姜曼一遇見他，阿姜曼便開口向他說：
「生活中大部分的物品，如食物或袈裟等，都是從原料經過處理與製造後，才能成為可堪使用之物。稻米必需經過種植、收成、與煮熟後才成為米飯；布料必需編織、縫合後才能做成袈裟。這些沒錯吧？米飯與袈裟不會憑空出現，它們都是經過許多製程後才成為我們可食用或方便使用的樣子。人們都需要食物與住所，但它們不是現成的，而是人們工作的成果。世上只有一種人不用工作，那就是死人。他們動也不動地躺在地上，不必再為生活而忙碌奔波。他們也不必改正自己的言行，因為死都死了，再怎麼變，也只能是白骨而已，不再需要老師了。然而，你還活著，你仍需要老師的教導。現在，你沒由來地懼怕老師，並以老師的斥責作為你不想面對自己缺點的藉口。你好好想一想，如果老師不為你指出該改進的地方，那麼將來你面對自己的悲慘境界時，你可能會指責老師失責吧？總之一句話，你對任何事物都不滿意。你的念頭漂浮不定，跟在枝頭上跳個不停的猴子一模一樣。你知道若跳個不停，猴子終究會跳到一根就要斷掉的樹枝，最後便會摔到地上去吧？兩種情形你想選哪一個：你想成為摔在地上的猴子，還是想成為一位有老師教導的比丘呢？」
有時候，阿姜曼會把胡思亂想者叫來面前訓斥，好讓他更加警惕。有時候，等事情過了一陣子後，阿姜曼才會對比丘的錯誤做出間接性的揶揄。不管狀況為何，阿姜曼的目的都是為了警惕弟子們，讓他們瞭解到心尚未調伏，心念可能隨時會走偏。而聽到訓斥後，弟子們也能明確知道自己還有哪些錯誤，未來他們便能夠以更多的心力去控制念頭。
也有一次，為了激勵弟子們能更勤於修行，阿姜曼便以他自己修行的經驗作為開示的主題。他激昂慷慨地解說，不畏生死的修行能夠為行者帶來怎麼樣的成果：
「若你們因為恐懼死亡而止步、不肯以破釜沉舟的決心精進修行，那麼你們註定會困在輪迴裡，出生後死亡，死亡後出生。只有那些不畏生死、不顧一切精勤修行的行者，他們才能減少自己在輪迴裡生死的次數。若持續修行下去，他們還能夠永久超越生死，再也不必背負輪迴重擔。我也是這樣一路走來的。面對修行的極度痛苦與壓力，我甚至昏死了三次之多－醒來之後，我又繼續奮戰。最後，死亡沒有先把我帶走，而我也成為了你們的老師。然而，你們沒有一個人勇於修行，總在關鍵來臨之前就草草收手。為何這麼膽小怕死？若不曾體驗什麼是修行到快要死掉的程度，你們如何能看見正法之美呢？不論我現在說的話聽起來有多麼離譜，但那就是我體悟正法的方式。因此，我是不可能教導你們只要放輕鬆。吃飽、睡飽、整天懶懶不做事－難道這樣就可以把煩惱趕走嗎？不，我不會教你們這些的！這樣的修行不能讓煩惱們害怕，只會讓它們竊笑：「聽說這裡有實修比丘，我們原本有些害怕。但看看他們，他們的修行竟然是整天睡覺？這與屍體有何不同？只會呼吸的死人們實在不必懼怕啊！」
阿姜曼說完後，在場的一位比丘就開始胡思亂想，他認為要堅持到昏死的程度實在太離譜了：如果修行那麼痛苦，還必須堅持到快要死亡的程度，那我絕對不要證得涅槃。我寧可像世間人們一樣，忍受著輪迴的苦痛與折磨－因為這樣子的人很多，我不會寂寞。若證得涅槃就是得逼迫自己到昏死的程度，那麼我很歡迎別人去做，我會替他們加油，但我不要這麼傻。世間的生活無疑是苦的，但至少不是那種明知痛苦卻又不得不堅持、還得堅持到昏死過去的程度。另外，若要先昏死過去才能夠證得涅槃，這是否意味著打麻醉藥而產生的昏迷與涅槃差不多呢？誰想要這種昏迷一般的涅槃？我絕對不要，我才不想昏過去！我從小就怕看人昏倒，更何況是我自己昏倒。
以上想法才閃過腦海，阿姜曼便開口了。他嚴厲的斥責狠狠敲醒了這名比丘的胡思亂想。
「哼，你不相信我？你以為我說這些是在逗你嗎？如果你不相信我說的話，請趕快離開，別成為我們的累贅。之前，你來這裡是你自己的意願，我可沒有請你過來；現在，你可以自行離開，別讓我趕你出去。反正你留在這兒也沒有用－佛陀教法不是為你這種笨蛋說的。你的想法與你身上的袈裟完全不配，身為一位佛教比丘應該要對教法堅信不移，但是你剛才的想法卻背離了佛陀的解脫之道。顯而易見，你不相信我、也不相信教法。請你離開這裡，你可以走到別處，快樂地吃飽睡、睡飽吃，不用強迫自己跟著我辛苦修行了。若你能用你自己的方法證悟法，則勞駕你回來教教我這個愚癡的老比丘。那時，我必會對你的慈悲憐憫而感動不已；我會雙手合十，向諸天感謝你的功德。」
「剛才，我說每位要超越苦的行者都必需無懼死亡地修行，這是千真萬確的事。但是，你不相信我，還認為留在輪迴裡生死、繼續承受苦痛比較輕鬆。你若想過這種生活，沒關係，你請自便。但是，別賴在僧團裡恣意批評佛陀教法。若如此，你就是通往佛陀道路上的荊棘與絆腳石，想要追隨佛陀的行者將會因為你的存在而失敗。你已經開始走向歧路了，若之後某一天，你決定向他人宣說你的錯誤信念，那麼你將會成為佛教界的公敵。你前來找我時，我沒看清楚你的目的，我單純地以為你是為了教法與實修而來尋求我的指導。我沒料到你來這裡竟是想毀滅自己，還想要拉著佛教、與所有佛教徒一起陪葬。既然我現在已知道你的目的，你最好趕快改變心意，別想破壞任何事。否則，終有一天你會毀掉自己，還會連累許多無辜的人們－那可是極其嚴重的錯事啊！」
「經典記載，佛陀在覺悟前也曾因修行而昏死了三次之多，所以你同樣不相信這回事？若不相信，你或許臆測佛陀的言行只是在騙騙世人而已。像你這樣，不相信佛陀、不相信教法卻受戒成為比丘，實在不配你此生得到人身的機緣。你的想法讓我想到了剛才我說過的活死人－一種仍在呼吸的死人，什麼事都不做，只求一日度過一日的活死人！你覺得如何？這一生你要選擇哪一條路呢？若留在這裡，除了我曾經走過的修行道路外，我不會教導別的道路的。這道路我知之甚詳，它是佛陀與所有阿羅漢聖者曾走過的路。你也不必再找更簡單、或更深奧的道路，就只有這條路了。我從受戒以來一直走在這條路上，它也是我了解正法、繼而教導後進比丘的根源所在。」
以上是阿姜曼激勵人心的開示中的一個代表－慷慨激昂又直擊痛處。我記述的只是一個大概，完全比不上他開示時的詳盡豐富。另外，我也傳達不出聽聞時所感受到的震撼力。我們每個人都被徹底震懾，渾身顫抖到幾乎坐不住。這樣的開示一生難得幾次聽聞－阿姜曼表情嚴厲，話語中似乎透出熊熊火燄；但內容條理分明且一語中的，聽眾完全可由聽聞而一瞥修行的實相。所以儘管大家都畏懼老師的威嚴，但聽著聽著，每一個人逐漸忘記恐懼，只專注在聞法之上。
那位胡思亂想的比丘在聽聞阿姜曼的開示後，心意漸漸柔軟下來，並開始順著阿姜曼的開示而思惟。最後，他放下自己錯誤的心思，完全接受了阿姜曼的教導。比丘心念改變後，阿姜曼的語氣便不再那麼嚴厲，表情也溫和了許多。等到確知比丘完全接受教導後，阿姜曼便停止訓斥，並離開了現場。
阿姜曼離開後，比丘們仍待在原處不肯散去。每個人都很好奇，是誰這麼大膽，敢在老師面前胡思亂想？難道不知道阿姜曼一定會把他逮住，當面痛罵一頓嗎？弟子們都知道，一定是在場的某人用錯誤的念頭去挑釁，否則阿姜曼不會無緣由地呵斥弟子。而且那必然是相當偏差的想法，阿姜曼才會以嚴厲的態度去責備犯錯者。一陣詢問之後，那位比丘坦承了一切，並說出當時自己的錯誤想法，內容就如同我剛才所記述。
一般說來，頭陀比丘彼此間是有問必答的，他們不會對同修隱藏自己的想法或意見。若他們一時的妄念成為阿姜曼斥責的對象，只要有同修詢問是誰犯錯，他們都會坦然承認過失。看到同修被阿姜曼修理，其他比丘們當然會覺得有些好笑；但更重要的是，比丘們也會檢視自己是否有缺失、夠不夠警覺。
比丘們的妄念最容易在托缽的時候、或因雜務而必須離開寺院時出現。在這些場景，比丘們總會遇到一些讓他們分心、或能勾起愛戀之事物，於是他們的心就被雜念纏住。像這種不恰當的雜念，常常就是阿姜曼在集會時開示的主題。若集會中又有人失去正念開始胡思亂想，那麼下一秒大家就會聽到暴雷般的呵斥聲、或是看到阿姜曼銳利的眼神掃過全場。犯行者在阿姜曼與全場同修面前旣羞愧又害怕，全身顫抖到幾乎要坐不住，眼睛只敢往地面看去。等到集會結束後，比丘們彼此詢問是誰犯錯，總會有一位比丘出面坦承，阿姜曼果不其然是針對他胡思亂想的內容而訓斥。說來弟子們也有些可憐，因為他們當然不是故意要惹阿姜曼生氣，他們只是修行中的比丘，依舊有著煩惱，也像一般人會受到四周事物的影響。弟子們的正念還追不上自己快如閃電的心思－阿姜曼經常需要呵斥弟子們。
阿姜曼的他心通可用雷電作譬喻，急如閃雷又威力強大。關於這件事的真偽，跟隨他修行的比丘們完全沒有懷疑。阿姜曼能讀到我們錯誤的心思，一字一字地說出之後再加上一頓訓誡。很偶爾，在阿姜曼寧願保持靜默的場合時，他才會放過這些胡思亂想而不做任何評論。所以，雖說他常常斥責我們，但有時他也會放寬標準，好讓我們喘息一下；不然，我們弟子們或許都會窒息而死。特別是我，個性莽撞躁進，我無疑是最常被呵斥的那一位弟子！但只要撐過剛開始的辛苦、長時間跟隨老師學習之後，我們自然能在禪修時發現自己的進步，也會更樂於禪修。在老師全天候的要求與訓練之下，我們在心中已漸漸建立起一個穩定的基礎。持續的警覺與隨之而起的強大克制力，則讓我們培育出正念與智慧，足以抵抗四周環境出現的誘惑。我舉個比喻，在泰國學習魔術是這樣子的：學徒必須先學會所有基本技巧，再經由老師親自出題考驗學徒。在了解子彈刀劍的危險與閃避技巧後，學徒自然能以沉靜與自信的態度面對這些事物的攻擊。通過這些考驗後，學徒才能真正出師34。對應在禪修，這表示弟子們必須以堅毅的態度面對誘惑與情緒的挑戰，心念不會被拉走或產生掉舉。換句話說，在各種情況下內心都要像是處在涅槃之中。
向世人描述涅槃是困難的，因為大多數人不知何謂涅槃。而且在稍作解說後，人們對涅槃更提不起興致。聽到愛情或金錢時，人們的精神很好；但聽到涅槃，他們不會有什麼好心情的。人們對於涅槃沒有經驗，他們或許認為涅槃比整理雜物還要無聊。對涅槃不感興趣不只是這一代，我們的父母、祖父母世代同樣不感興趣，長輩們不會告訴你該留意涅槃這回事的。最多，長輩們會勸家人到附近的寺院裡走走，聽些師父的開示，了解何謂佛法。也或許，長輩會勸家人練習些禪定，好讓家人身心較為平靜，家庭氣氛和樂些。當然，我們都知道長輩們不是只叫家人去聞法、去禪修而已。他們會建議這、又建議那，人們根本不知道他們的重點為何？於是，在大多時候人們只是禮貌性聽聽而已，他們不會採納這些建議的。
另外，大多數人對涅槃有既定的成見。他們認為涅槃是死寂之地，那裡沒有音樂或娛樂設施，人們只能無聊地活著，沒有任何事物可作消遣。人們也視涅槃為乏味無趣的代言詞，因此他們根本不想與涅槃有關聯。人們猜想進入涅槃就有如墜落至一個最恐怖的地獄：沒有家人與朋友、周遭一片死寂、天空沒有小鳥飛翔、地上看不見一輛車子、歡樂與悲傷全都消失。他們無論怎麼想，涅槃都是一個毫無吸引力的地方。所以，只要對世間仍有冀求，人們就不會想親近涅槃。即便有人誓言要證得涅槃，實際上也是空談而已。因為對世間成就的渴望總會拉著人們，讓他們持續走在世間的道路上。
真正能證入涅槃的是那些不再有牽掛或世間冀求的聖者們。他們既不熱情、也非冷漠，不放鬆也不緊繃，他們在兩個極端間維持著平衡，他們的道路即是「中道」。聖者們沒有欲求或世間成就的渴望，世間風行的娛樂活動與聖者們毫無相干－那些只會干擾內心並帶來更多的挫折而已。聖者們總是泰然自若，內心安住在絕妙的寧靜之中。聖者們的喜樂與世俗人們所追求的快樂截然不同。世間的快樂絕非純淨，快樂中總會參雜著痛苦；世間的快樂不可依賴，它們總是轉瞬即逝。那就像是一灘污穢且看不見底的池水，也像是加了許多調味料、酸甜苦辣全混在一起的整鍋食物。把它吃下肚，除了會昏昏欲睡之外，肚子肯定會疼痛。是的，人們是應該多花心思在自己每天遭遇到的事物上，仔細觀察並加以測試，才能知道哪些事物能帶來利益、而哪些只會造成傷害。接著，人們該漸漸遠離那些不善的事物，留一些空間好讓心能夠喘息。不這樣做的話，人們內心將被各種會招來惡運的事物塞滿。於是不論如何求神問卜，惡運總在他們前方等著。
說到修行，聖者比我們這些平庸俗人要厲害的多了。在證得聖果之前，這些行者的心念絕不搖擺，一舉一動只向著既定目標前進。他們依循實相、持續精進修行。若獲得成就，聖者們不會自滿得意；若遭遇自己仍有缺失的情況，他們會迅速找出隱藏的危險，記取教訓並努力改進。在修行的道路上，我們與聖者們實在是相差太多了。若能效法聖者的修行之道，人們將逐漸了解何謂中道，並成為一位依循實相而修行的行者。我們將勇於挑戰內心深處的貪瞋癡，儘管它們自無始起就已稱霸我們的心。但只要持續下去，貪瞋癡必將逐漸失去權勢，心會證得一定程度的安定－我們能夠自知自證。到那時，即便沒有百萬存款，但心靈上的滿足與些許的金錢，就足以讓我們過著平安喜樂的生活了。
聰明人對於生活的看法應該如此：快樂的生活不需建築在金錢上，人們不必整天忙著賺錢，而是該去尋求能讓生活安定的條件。財富可以帶來一定程度的快樂，但絕非全部。尤其是以不正當方式獲取財富的人們內心必有虧欠，他們無法安享自己的財富，他們遠比不上那些不富足但以正當方式獲得金錢的人們快樂。再來說到財富，或許你能將偷搶拐騙而得的財富漂白，獲得合法的所有權；但在真實義上，物品的所有權可不是看法律證件，而是由業果法則來決定。偷搶拐騙不是獲得財富的因，反倒只會招來未來的惡果。智者們認真看待每一件事物，謹慎評估是利是弊；相反地，我們平庸之輩卻隨順慾望，不顧一切地攫取爭奪，沉迷於享樂之中。但愈是追求財富與享樂，我們卻愈得不到那恬靜、心滿意足的安定感。
........................................................................
在清邁人間遊行的那些年間，阿姜曼時常收到來自烏隆府菩提辛森寺的信件。寄信者是達瑪恰迪長老，他在年輕時曾經接受過阿姜曼的指導。而在每一封信中，達瑪恰迪長老都會詢問阿姜曼是否考慮回到烏隆府，他衷心期盼這件事能夠成真。對於這些信件，阿姜曼從未回信，也沒向弟子們表示過他是否會回去烏隆府。接著，在西元1940年，達瑪恰迪長老親自來到了清邁府。他找到阿姜曼居住的偏僻村落，當面邀請阿姜曼前往烏隆府。達瑪恰迪長老的出現，給了阿姜曼一次回答信件與邀請的機會。阿姜曼告訴達瑪恰迪長老，信件他都有閱讀，只是因為沒什麼大事所以他並未回信；特別的是，現在信件不重要了，因為他收到了一個真人大的「包裹」。看來，是該給個明確回答了。阿姜曼說完後，兩位尊者都相視大笑。
在這一次的時機，達瑪恰迪長老懇切邀請阿姜曼回到烏隆府。阿姜曼多年前曾在烏隆府遊行，在那兒有著許多曾接受過指導的弟子與在家居士。他們都十分思念阿姜曼，他們請達瑪恰迪長老做為他們的代表，一定得邀請阿姜曼回到烏隆府。這一次，阿姜曼難以拒絕－他接受了烏隆府的邀請。於是，達瑪恰迪長老建議這次的旅程由烏隆府的弟子們安排與護送。他們一起定出時間表，預計會在西元1940年5月初啟程。
突然間，阿姜曼就快要離開這地處清邁山區的隱居地了！一群又一群的地居天人們都特地前來拜見，懇求他能留下來。天人們表示，自從阿姜曼來到這裡後，出自他日夜不息、向四面八方散發之慈心的力量，所有境界的天人們都感到身心輕安、四周一片祥和。是因為阿姜曼的居住這裡才會是一塊福地，天人們都了解此事，也深深感激著。天人們不願看到阿姜曼離去，因為他們知道這種輕安祥和的感覺會因阿姜曼的離開而漸漸消失，甚至天人之間的凝聚力也會受到影響。
阿姜曼則告訴天人們：他已做出承諾，他一定會離開了。這件事已是必然－聖者不會違背諾言。這與世間人們的情況大不相同，比丘必須對他說過的話負責，他的話語即是誓約。比丘將戒德放在首位，他必須說到做到。若比丘食言而肥，那麼他比丘的身分就會蒙羞，戒德也隨之消退，比丘必會維護戒德之潔白純淨。
五月一到，阿姜曼與一些將一同前往烏隆府的比丘們就離開了山區的靜修處。接著，他們一路步行到距離甚遠的清邁市。在那裡，他們住在市區裡的柴迪隆寺。大約在同一時間，來自提帕雅拉榻那尼米寺的阿姜奧也帶著一群在家信眾抵達了清邁市，他們是來迎接並護送阿姜曼前往烏隆府的隊伍。阿姜曼待在柴迪隆寺大約有一個星期之久。在那一個星期，許許多多的信眾前來拜訪，每一位都懇求阿姜曼能否為了當地居民的利益而留在清邁。然而，既已接受烏隆府的邀請，阿姜曼就不會再做改變了。
在阿姜曼離開前，羅傑卡怡長老邀請阿姜曼為即將來臨的衛塞節35做一次演講，好讓清邁廣大的信眾得聞開示，以後信眾也可以此開示來思念阿姜曼。當時，我正為請求阿姜曼的指導而來到了清邁，我有幸參與了那場盛會。那一天，阿姜曼整整講法三個小時，內容精彩絕倫，令我永生難忘！以下便是那次開示的一個大概：
「今天是衛塞節，是慶祝佛陀誕生、證道、與般涅槃的節日。佛陀的誕生是值得紀念的大事，那完全不同於其他眾生的誕生。在成長過程中，佛陀觀察到了生老病死。不昧於傳統觀念，佛陀勇於向所有舊有教義提出了質疑與挑戰。更進一步，佛陀經由實修獲得了甚深智慧。於是，佛陀才能撥開層層迷霧，看清生、老、病、死的實相，證得最殊勝的境界－那即是「證道」。對於身心諸蘊，那曾幫助他度過生死瀑流的夥伴－當聚合因緣已盡，佛陀便放下自身諸蘊，進入了無餘涅槃－這是完美無暇的「善逝」。早在逝世之前，佛陀詳細解說了正法與修行之道，讓「教法」能夠傳承於世間，持續教化人心。這莫大的贈禮值得我們全心信任、值得我們做出任何犧牲。」
「正如你們知道的，今天我們能夠誕生為人類，是因為自己過往累積的善業才有此善報。然而，我們不應把「身為人類之福」視為理所當然，不該只顧著享樂就忽略了此生的責任，我們仍須培育善業以為未來做準備。否則，我們現在所享用的人類境界可能只是曇花一現，轉瞬間我們就會轉生至一個卑微且陰暗的境界。要知道，不論我們的地位是高或低、享用的是普通或最頂級的歡樂、承受的是最輕微或是千刀萬剮之痛苦，這些都不是上天的安排，而是我們自己所造之業的結果。千萬不要認為，投生於畜生或餓鬼道的都是些倒霉鬼，我自己是不會得到這種際運的。事實上，悲慘境界是輪迴各個面貌之一，每一個人都曾經、未來也都可能會經歷到。只要還在輪迴裡，曾做過與這些境界相應的惡業，我們就有可能會轉生至悲慘境界。因此，佛陀教導人們不應該蔑視他人、或其他悲慘境界的眾生。看到社會上貧病交加的人們，我們應該做出如下的反思：我沒有比他們高尚，我自己有一天也可能會有此際遇，甚至是更為悲慘的狀況。只要因緣成熟，隨業而來的果就必定出現，沒有人能夠避開。而我與他們一樣，曾經造出善業與惡業，所以他們不必然卑下、我也不必然優勝，人的際遇隨時可能改變。真是善哉斯言啊！佛陀宣說之法，正適合拿來當作審視他人與自己的標準。只要依循教法，我們總能做出最好的選擇，得以在紛亂的世間繼續前進。佛陀教法真是世上最好的寶藏啊！」
「在身為比丘的這些年來，我總是致力於修行，時時注意每一個從心中浮出的念頭，仔細分別它們是善是惡。時至今日，我已確知「心」就是所有因緣的源頭，它是一切業行的煽動與籌劃者。換句話說，我們所享用、所需承受的一切都是來自我們的心。業果不是別人所賜予，而是自己栽種－這根本不用懷疑！那些不信業果者，自然也不肯相信自己所經歷到的一切都是以往業行的結果，不相信自己本該負責。他們無知地看待自己的處境，籌劃著該如何及時行樂；他們揮霍無度，直到一無所有後才開始後悔－可惜總是為時已晚。雖然有父有母，這些人們看不出父親母親的偉大，那是他們生命與各種必需品的提供者。他們自私的眼睛除了看見自身的存在，看不到別的事物。一出社會，他們便忽略細心撫養自己長大的父母，不在乎逐漸年老的父母親的需求。這種自私的人生真是糟糕啊！孩子都是依靠父母的餵養，一把屎一把尿拉拔長大的。若父母對你們的細心照顧不是業力，那麼它們又是什麼呢？若平平安安地長大成人不是善果，那麼它又該稱作什麼呢？」
「所有的善或惡、快樂或痛苦，都是有因緣的，它們不是無因而起。假設有人因為一個衝動的想法，就輕率地自我結束了生命。在他的想法與行為的背後，我們總可以找出更多的緣由。這些緣由，我們稱之為「業」。業在每一個人的內心運行，它的影響力可以驅使人們做出了結性命的行為，但人們卻不了解業、不相信業的影響力。人們豈能說自己知道任何事呢？」
「業是所有眾生生命中的一部分。每個時刻我們都在創造新的業；同時間，以前的業也不斷地成熟、影響著我們當下的一舉一動。如果你懷疑業果、總是宣稱除非有明確證據否則絕不相信，那麼你已陷入一個死胡同了。因為業不是我們的隨從，不是一隻緊緊跟隨主人的狗。相反的，我們每一個想法、話語、行為都是業；而業的果報就是眾生經歷到的各種不同程度的快樂與痛苦。眾生都受業的影響，不相信業無法改變任何事。當然，對業的無知也是一種業的果報。」
一直以來，我對阿姜曼充滿了崇敬之情；而在親自聽法後，我對阿姜曼與他所說之法更是充滿信心，我歡喜到似乎身體已飄浮在天空，我真希望那天阿姜曼的開示能夠一直持續下去啊！我知道各位讀者無緣親自與會，因此我替大家將要旨記述於此。或許在閱讀後，讀者們便能夠對業與業果有多一些的了解與關心。業並非神秘事物，所有眾生都與業緊緊相扣，你們當然可能親自體悟到業的存在。
在說法結束之後，阿姜曼便從座上起身，向大廳裡的佛陀法像頂禮。接著，羅傑卡怡長老起身向阿姜曼表達感謝。他表示，這是一篇精闢且雋永的開示，在場的聽眾真是何其有幸啊！阿姜曼則回答，由於他年事已大，這次可能就是他最後一次在清邁的公開說法，他之後應該不會再回到清邁了。阿姜曼就是以這樣的方式告訴在場的每個人，他之後不會再回來清邁了。而歷史也果然如此，阿姜曼就此沒再回來過清邁。
在柴迪隆寺再待幾日後，阿姜曼便啟程前往曼谷了。那一天，清邁僧團領袖頌德帕摩訶維拉翁長老、多位大長老、與許許多多的在家眾一起陪同阿姜曼走至清邁市的火車站。其實在現場的還不止這些人們，因為空中有著數也數不清的天人們。阿姜曼表示，天人們也想護送他離開清邁，於是他們都出現在清邁市的天空中。在阿姜曼抵達車站後，天人們仍一直在空中等著，他們一定要等到阿姜曼真的搭上火車後才肯回去。這樣的場面肯定有些混亂，因為阿姜曼必須問候聚集在車站的比丘與在家眾，同時他也想為天空中的天人們散發他的慈心與祝福。最後，等到他終於與現場眾多的民眾道別、並坐進火車之後，阿姜曼才能夠調整心念，好將他最後的祝福散發給天上的眾多天眾。而那時，火車已經緩緩駛離清邁市站了。
阿姜曼說他也不免為清邁的天人們感到悲傷。因為天人們是如此尊敬著他，當然不願看到他的離去。天人們與人們一樣，他們同樣有著悲傷。甚至火車已加速前進，許多天人們還繼續追著火車，他們就是不捨阿姜曼的離去。最後，阿姜曼覺得這樣下去不是辦法，他才告訴天人們該回去各自所屬的天界了。於是，天人們依依不捨地目送阿姜曼離去，心中還期盼著將來能再次看見阿姜曼出現在清邁。結果，天人們的期盼還是落空了，因為阿姜曼再也沒有回到清邁。之後，阿姜曼也未對我們說起，清邁的地居天人們是否來過烏隆府或色軍府，是否曾前來探望過他。
31. 「摩訶」在巴利文是偉大的意思。泰國國家僧伽考試以巴利文作為考試科目，共有九級考試，第九級為最高。通過四級以上考試的比丘，即賦予「摩訶」頭銜。文中的這位比丘具有摩訶的頭銜。
32. 頭陀行—在這裡指的是身念處的五項身不淨—髮、毛、爪、齒、皮。新進比丘在受戒時，會由他的戒師領受此五項不淨處，以作為禪修時思惟與入定的法門。
33. 他心通，亦同ceto-pariya-ñãõa，是能知曉他人內心與念頭的一項神通；也可說是一種閱讀他人念頭與心靈溝通的能力。
34. 這裡指的是泰國古代的術法。修習者以紋身與咒語抵抗子彈、刀、劍的攻擊，不讓身體受到重大的傷害。
35. 衛塞（Visãkha）是第六個陰曆月的名稱，通常對應為陽曆的五月。根據經典，佛陀的誕生、成道、與涅槃都發生在衛塞月的月圓之日。於是，全球佛教徒均在每年五月的第一個月圓日舉行盛大的慶典活動，以紀念釋迦牟尼佛的誕生、成道、與涅槃。
Ãcariya Mun became seriously ill on many occasions while living deep in the wilderness areas of Chiang Mai – sometimes he came very close to death. Had he been like most people, totally dependent on doctors and their medicines, he would probably have succumbed long before. But Ãcariya Mun was able to survive by using the curative powers of Dhamma to treat himself. He said that as soon as the symptoms of illness began to appear the ‘therapeutic qualities of Dhamma’ immediately arose in response and began to effect a cure. Such was his temperament that normally he showed little interest in conventional medicines. Even in old age when his vitality was steadily declining, he continued to prefer the ‘therapeutic qualities of Dhamma’ to maintain well-being in his body elements.
Ãcariya Mun once stayed with several other monks in a mountainous area full of malaria. One of the monks happened to contract the disease, but not a single medicine was available to treat it. When the fever was at its worst, it raged continuously all day. Ãcariya Mun visited the monk every morning and evening to instruct him in the use of investigative techniques for reducing fever – meditation methods he himself always used with good results. But since their levels of spiritual attainment were so different, this monk was incapable of investigating in the same way as Ãcariya Mun could. Each time his fever intensified, he had to simply wait for it to abate on its own. He had developed no effective methods for bringing it down himself. Eventually becoming rather exasperated, Ãcariya Mun scolded him:
“It seems you’re a Mahã in name only, since the knowledge you have learned is obviously of no help when you really need it. What’s the point of studying to be a Mahã if you’re just going to waste a lot of paper and then come away empty-handed? The knowledge gained from studying should benefit you in some way, so I cannot figure out what you’ve been learning that’s so completely useless. Here you are virtually dying of fever, but your learning can’t help alleviate your condition even a little bit. What’s the purpose of all that learning anyway? It doesn’t make sense to me.
I can’t figure it out. I haven’t learned any grade of Pãli studies – not one. I have learned only the five kammaååhãna 32 that my preceptor gave me at my ordination, which I still have with me today. They are all I need to take care of myself. They don’t make me weak like you – you’re as weak as you are educated. In fact, you are weaker than a woman with no education at all! You’re a man and a Mahã, so why all this weakness? When you get sick, you exhibit no manly characteristics, nor any indication of the Dhamma you learned. You should take all your masculine equipment and exchange it for a woman’s, thus completing your metamorphosis. Maybe then the fever will abate a bit. Seeing that you’re a woman, the fever may be reluctant to torture you so much.
“Instead of seeing some reassuring signs of defiance and courage when I visit you, all I see is a weak display of self-pity. Why don’t you investigate those kammaååhãna in the Pãli studies you’ve learned? What does dukkhaÿ ariyasaccaÿ mean to you? Does it mean weakness? When having a fever, just cry and long for your parents, is that what it means? If you cannot bear even the painful feelings arising from a fever, in a truly life-threatening crisis you’ll be overwhelmed and unable to cope. Even now you can’t manage, so how can you ever hope to understand the true nature of the Noble Truth of Dukkha? Anyone wanting to transcend the mundane world must realize unequivocally the truth inherent in each of the Noble Truths. But as soon as the Truth of Dukkha awakens and begins to become a little active, you lie down and admit defeat. What do you expect to gain from that?”
Having given this fiery piece of advice to probe the monk’s character, Ãcariya Mun paused quietly for a moment. He then noticed that the monk was sobbing, tears streaming down his face. So Ãcariya Mun quickly found an excuse to leave and return to his hut, telling the monk not to worry – he would soon get better. He assured him that he had only pretended to give him a hard time.
Reconsidering the matter that night, Ãcariya Mun decided to try a different type of medicine, since the remedy he had just prescribed was probably too harsh for the patient – he just was not strong enough to take it. From the next morning onward, he changed his approach completely, never again displaying any fierceness with that monk. From then on he assumed a sympathetic, comforting attitude, pampering the monk in a way that was very uncharacteristic of him. His speech was sweet and gentle, like large quantities of molasses being poured out every morning and evening, until the whole area seemed sweet and fragrant, suiting that monk’s outbreak of weakness perfectly. He watched over his patient’s progress, giving him these sugarcoated pills every morning and evening until it was clear that both the patient and his fellow monks were contented. The patient continued to improve with each passing day until finally he made a complete recovery, a process that lasted many months. Obviously this particular medicine was effective beyond all expectations.
Such are the therapies of a clever doctor who always has the intelligence to adjust his treatments according to the circumstances and then administer them appropriately. Consequently, he is an excellent example for the rest of us who are searching for wisdom, which is why I have included the preceding incident. Those who are interested should be able to gain some benefit from reading it, for it concerns the skillful means of a clever man whose wisdom was so sharp that he was never stymied by any turn of events.
Rather than remaining passive in a critical situation, Ãcariya Mun instinctively preferred to analyze the crisis with mindfulness and wisdom. When he was sick, or when his investigations uncovered some particularly insidious kilesas that he found to be especially obstructive – these constituted critical situations. Instead of feeling resigned, his citta responded by circling the problem day and night until he found an ingenious method to deal with the crisis, allowing him to overcome it gradually and move on unhindered. From the beginning stages of his practice to the very end, he invariably experienced good results from this approach.
When the monks living with him became ill, he usually advised them to develop meditative techniques for relieving the symptoms so they would not become overly dependent on medications. At the same time, he wanted them to develop those techniques into methods for investigating Dhamma. Ãcariya Mun believed that physical and mental pain are direct manifestations of the Truth of Dukkha; and as such, they should be investigated until that Truth is understood. He did not expect his monks to simply succumb to pain as though they had never before received training in Dhamma.
Ãcariya Mun acquired many techniques from the illnesses he suffered. He never let the pain of his illness subdue him without probing into the nature of that pain as best he could. At such times, he believed it imperative to investigate pain to the very limit of one’s ability in order to determine whether or not mindfulness and wisdom can cope with the task at hand. When found to be deficient, they could be modified and improved until their performance is deemed satisfactory. When the highly trained forces of mindfulness and wisdom enter into combat with feelings of severe pain, the heart will not be apprehensive as it con-fronts the Truth of Dukkha – which is a genuine Truth. Mindfulness and wisdom are then fully up to the task. They remain unshakable while being buffeted on all sides by an onslaught of pain coming from every conceivable direction. In the midst of this intense pain, they are able to narrow down the scope of their investigation until it focuses sharply on the very principles of Truth. Such mental training employs the factors of mindfulness, wisdom, faith, and effort, instilling them with greater strength and courage. For precisely this reason, Ãcariya Mun liked to emphasize the investigation of painful feelings to his disciples. When the moment of truth arrives and the body is about to break up, one should experience no fear of the agonizing pain that emerges at that moment. Investigating as prescribed, the meditator clearly perceives the true nature of both body and feelings, meaning that he lives in comfort and dies triumphant. Such is the path of the warrior who emerges truly victorious to become a superior individual. He conquers himself, becomes superior within himself – and is fully contented.
Ãcariya Mun was an exemplary teacher in every aspect of his practice. His persistence, fortitude, courage, frugality, and all-round ingenuity were outstanding qualities that put him in a class of his own in the present day and age. It would be very difficult for any of his disciples to surpass him. He possessed celestial hearing and celestial sight, as well as paracittavijjã: the ability to communicate psychically with beings as diverse as animals, humans, ghosts, devas, brahmas, yamas, and nãgas.33 He could see not only animals and humans with their gross physical bodies, but also the subtle nonphysical forms of ghosts and devas. He knew the intimate joys and sorrows of human beings and could read their innermost thoughts.
Monks who lacked mindfulness to supervise their thoughts, letting their minds wander constantly, often became aware of those thoughts only when they heard Ãcariya Mun give voice to them. Some of the more pathetic ones were so bemused that they did not realize Ãcariya Mun was referring to them. It wasn’t necessary to be in his presence – just living together with him in the same monastic community was sufficient reason for caution. Any monk mindlessly giving rein to wild thoughts was sure to hear something unusual from Ãcariya Mun when eventually they met. But especially at risk were those who dared to let their minds wander in his presence. It didn’t matter what he was doing at the time – he might be instructing the monks, or having a conversation, or whatever. He would give the culprit a tongue-lashing or use some unusual ploy to get his attention. Only when he felt disinclined to respond did he allow such thoughts to pass unchallenged.
According to the accounts of many senior disciples who lived with him in Chiang Mai, Ãcariya Mun’s mastery of such faculties as celestial hearing, celestial seeing, and thought reading, was so amazing it could be frightening. His ability to read thoughts was so lightning quick that those entertaining unwholesome thoughts almost invariably heard about it. Consequently, monks who lived with him needed to guard their sense faculties very carefully. If not, they certainly got caught for they could not elude his penetrating genius and find a safe way to hide.
Once, due to his fear of Ãcariya Mun, a monk thought about the ferocity Ãcariya Mun’s admonitions. When the monk next saw him, Ãcariya Mun immediately addressed the question.
“Almost everything we use – from our food to our requisites to the robes we wear – must pass through various stages of preparation before being turned into useful items. Rice must be planted, harvested, and cooked; wood must be cut, sawed, and planed; and cloth must be woven and sewn into robes. Isn’t that right? These things don’t become finished products ready for use or consumption unless a lot of work is done on them. Food and shelter are the product of man’s labor. They do not simply materialize from nowhere. Only corpses are totally inactive, lying lifeless and having no need to provide for their own livelihood. With no reason to adjust their behavior, they have no need for a teacher to scold them and give instructions. But you are alive and still seeking a teacher’s guidance. Yet you’re unreasonably afraid of your teacher, citing his fierce admonitions as a rationale. Then again, if your teacher simply kept his mouth shut, you would probably accuse him of failing to teach you and thus be even more upset. In the final analysis, nothing quite suits you. Your thoughts jump around like a monkey jumping up and down in the trees. If it keeps jumping about long enough, it will jump on a rotten branch and end up in a heap on the ground. Which do you want to be? Do you want to be a monkey jumping on a rotten branch, or a monk with a teacher to guide you?”
Sometimes, he confronted the culprit directly, motivating him to become more mindfully aware of his own thoughts. At other times, he simply made some oblique, sarcastic reference to a monk’s thoughts. The objective in either case was to warn a student that his thoughts had not passed into oblivion, but could return again to haunt him. He was made aware of his mistake so that in the future he could exercise more restraint in his thinking.
Sometimes, in order to inspire his disciples in their practice, Ãcariya Mun gave a fiery discourse in which he offered himself as living proof of what could be achieved through perseverance and courage in the face of death.
“If you allow the fear of death to stop you from practicing meditation with uncompromising diligence, you will be obliged to come back and die time and time again in future births. Those who can overcome their fear of death will be able to reduce the number of future births until eventually they transcend birth and death altogether. Never again will they return to bear the burden of dukkha. While persevering unflinchingly in the face of excruciating pain, I myself passed out three times – yet I did not die. I managed to survive and become your teacher. None of you have ever persisted in your efforts to the point where you passed out, unconscious. So, what makes you so afraid of dying? If you don’t actually experience what it’s like to die, it is unlikely you’ll ever see the wonders of Dhamma. Whether you believe it or not, this is the method I used to realize Dhamma. So there is no way I can teach you to merely take it easy: Eat a lot, sleep a lot, and be lazy – then the kilesas will take fright. I cannot teach that because that’s not the way to instill fear in the kilesas. Such an attitude will only amuse the kilesas: ‘We thought these monks had come to be diligent, so why are they lying around like breathing corpses? These breathing dead are hardly worthy of admiration’.”
After Ãcariya Mun finished speaking, a certain monk in the audience thought to himself that persevering to the point of passing out was excessive: If I have to reach the point where I pass out, unconscious, I don’t want to go to Nibbãna yet. I’ll just put up with the pain and suffering of this world like everyone else. I’ve got lots of company. If going to Nibbãna means pushing oneself to the extent of passing out, then whoever wants to go is welcome to do so, but I’m not going – that’s for sure. Life in the world is surely painful, but not nearly as painful as being rendered unconscious. Besides, if we have to pass out before we can attain Nibbãna that means there’s not much difference between Nibbãna and a drug-induced coma. Who wants that? I certainly don’t. I have no desire to pass out. Just seeing someone else faint scares me to death, let alone having it happen to me.
Before long Ãcariya Mun began speaking again, this time in heated tones that penetrated forcibly into the monk’s reverie.
“You don’t believe me, huh? Do you think I’m lying to you just for fun, or what? If you do not trust me, please leave! Why stay here being a burden on this monastery? I did not invite you to come here – you came on your own, so you should leave on your own. Don’t wait to be thrown out! It’s useless for you to stay here anyway – the Buddha’s teaching wasn’t proclaimed for idiots like you! Your way of thinking is entirely inappropriate for a monk wearing the yellow robes. A Buddhist monk is one who puts his faith in Dhamma. But since your ideas contradict the Lord Buddha’s path to liberation, it is obvious that you don’t trust me or the Dhamma. You are welcome to go anywhere to eat and sleep in comfort without having to trouble yourself with meditation practice. If you come to realize the Truth of Dhamma using this method, please come back and have mercy on this stupid old monk. I shall raise my clasped hands to the heavens to honor your gracious majesty’s benediction!
“I teach the truth when I say that anyone expecting to transcend dukkha must be fearless when facing death. But you don’t believe it’s true. You figure it is better to die and be reborn in this world so you can continue carrying your burden of misery wherever you go. If you want to go on like this, that’s your business. But, don’t come here and contradict the teaching of the Lord Buddha. If you do, you will be a thorn in the Buddha’s side and an obstacle blocking the path of those truly wishing to follow him. Opinions like yours are not only wrong, but, should you decide to give voice to them, you will become an enemy of Buddhism and religious people everywhere. I assumed that you came here to develop yourself spiritually and so uphold the sãsana. I never imagined you were going to ruin yourself and then destroy the sãsana and devoted followers of the Lord Buddha as well. But now I realize that you have come like an executioner to destroy everything. You’d better change your attitude right away. Otherwise, you will certainly ruin yourself and take a lot of other people with you – and that would be a terrible shame.
“The Lord Buddha is said to have passed unconscious three times as he strived to attain enlightenment. Don’t you believe it is true? If you don’t, perhaps you suppose the Buddha was lying to us. A person like you, who ordains as a dhutanga monk but still refuses to trust the Buddha and his Dhamma, is someone devoid of intrinsic human value. Your opinions make you no different than a breathing corpse – a living, stinking corpse that somehow manages to keep breathing from one day to the next. What do you say? Which path are you going to choose for your own safe passage? I have no better path to offer you than the one I have already specified. It is the path that the Lord Buddha and all the Arahants have taken. There is no easier, more esoteric path. I have followed this path from the time of my ordination up to the present, and it is the source of the Dhamma that I teach to all my disciples.”
This was one of the most impassioned declamations ever given by Ãcariya Mun – right to the point and full of fireworks. What I have recreated here is merely a sample, not the full substance of what he said by any means. Those listening were so shaken and intimidated they nearly sank through the to floor. Never in their lives had they heard anything like it. By going straight to the point, these fiery expositions caused his audience to see the truth of his words, and thus submit to it, even as they felt frightened to death of him.
Realizing the truth of what he heard, the monk, whose thoughts provoked this barrage, gradually acquiesced until he accepted it totally and without reservations. As that happened, the intensity in Ãcariya Mun’s voice gradually subsided until he sounded quite conciliatory. When he was convinced that the monk had accepted the truth, he finished speaking and adjourned the meeting.
As it disbanded, there was a stir of excitement. The monks asked one another who had dared entertain thoughts so perverse to have elicited such a fierce response from Ãcariya Mun that his voice raged furiously, like thunder and lightning. There must have been some provocation. Otherwise, he would never have given a blazing admonition like that. Those thoughts must have affected him so acutely that he couldn’t resist unleashing the full force of his reason. Eventually, the monk in question owned up to the thoughts that I have mentioned before.
Normally dhutanga monks did not conceal their thoughts and opinions from one another. If their thoughts became the subject of Ãcariya Mun’s rebuke, they invariably admitted their lapses in judgment when they were questioned later. Although the monks usually found it amusing when a fellow-monk was roasted by Ãcariya Mun, they also became conscious of their own shortcomings. Such shortcomings could be easily exposed on alms-round, or on some other errand outside the monastery, where a monk encountered an emotionally stimulating object that stuck in his mind and became a preoccupation. Such indiscretion was likely to elicit the kind of fierce response that frightened everyone within earshot and prompted nervous glances all around. Terrified of Ãcariya Mun, ashamed in front of his friends, the culprit was usually shaking as he sat, rooted to his seat, with his head bowed and not daring to look up. When the meeting was over, the monks would ask around and find out that, as always, there was indeed one in their group whose thoughts caused Ãcariya Mun’s rebuke. It was rather a pity, for those monks had no intention of offending Ãcariya Mun. Like people everywhere with kilesas, they were emotionally susceptible to things in their environment. Their mindfulness was simply too slow in catching up with the lightning quickness of their minds – thus, Ãcariya Mun’s frequent scoldings.
Ãcariya Mun was extremely quick at reading other people’s thoughts. Monks who lived with him had no doubts whatsoever about this. He was able to read our errant thoughts and then caution us about them with unerring accuracy. Only on occasions, when he could not be bothered to say anything, did he remain quiet. Though his rebukes were frequent, he did relax occasionally to let us catch our breath. Otherwise, we’d probably have suffocated to death. Because of my incurable restlessness, I myself was chastised more often than most. But those of us who endured and lived patiently with him over a long period of time were usually energized in our meditation practice. We developed a firm anchor in our hearts as a result of his exhortations which constantly forged, tempered, and beat our practice into shape. Constant vigilance, and the restraint it fostered, made it possible to cultivate the mindfulness and wisdom necessary to resist incidental temptations. In the context of the art of magic, it can be compared to learning the necessary skills and then testing them out against the teacher until one is impervious to attack. Calm and secure in the knowledge that their harmful potential has been neutralized, one can withstand guns and swords, unperturbed. 34 In the context of Dhamma practice, it means one can stand firm in the face of evocative emotions and temptations that normally arouse desire, without fear of being influenced or seduced. In other words, remaining unperturbed in all situations.
The trouble is, most people react to talk about Nibbãna by feeling oddly dejected and dismayed. It doesn’t put them in a good mood as does talk about worldly matters. Having no personal experience of Nibbãna, they probably think that it’s not as enjoyable as the humdrum things they are accustomed to. Not only has the present generation lost interest in Nibbãna – even our parents and grandparents were not much interested, nor did they encourage others to take an interest. At most, they may have encouraged their family to go to the local monastery from time to time to take the precepts and hear Dhamma. Perhaps they sometimes encouraged their families to do meditation practice to calm them down a bit and keep their behavior within acceptable limits. Of course, one way or another they did manage to advise their family and friends to do just about everything else, until fed up with hearing their advice, most people no longer bothered to take it.
Undoubtedly, most people have already decided that Nibbãna must be a very silent place, there being no music or entertainment and no one to indulge them in their favorite pastimes. They probably see it as a place devoid of anything stimulating or exciting, and therefore, they don’t want to go there. They fear dropping into a still, silent hell without a soul in sight: There would be no family, no friends, and no sounds, ever, of birds and cars, or laughter and crying. It appears to be a rather bleak, undesirable place in every way. So people who still harbor ambitions do not want to go to Nibbãna. And even if they did, they would be unable to go, for their ambitions would hold them back and make them hesitate.
People who can truly attain Nibbãna are those who have absolutely no worldly ambitions or involvements. Being neither passionate nor impassive, neither relaxed nor tense, but remaining perfectly balanced, they are naturally centered in the Middle Way. Having no desires, no expectations, and no longings, they take no enjoyment from worldly pleasures, which merely agitate the heart and cause frustration. Always imperturbable, they experience only an exquisite, serene happiness that contrasts sharply with the happiness of those whose hearts are corrupted by worldly concerns. Such mundane happiness, being ambiguous and fluctuating, is always fleeting, and unreliable. It resembles murky, muddy water. It’s like food that’s spicy, sour, bland, and salty all at once. Besides causing indigestion and uncomfortable drowsiness, it is not very appetizing. So people should carefully examine the things they encounter every day and test them to discover which ones are advantageous and which are not. Then they can filter out the unwholesome elements and prevent them from piling up in their hearts until their numbers overwhelm and there is no room to store them all. Otherwise, wherever they look, they will see only this accumulation of misery that they’ve collected.
When it comes to self-discipline, the wise are much more clever than we are. Everything they do, say, or think is directed precisely toward achieving their intended objective. They are not at odds with the Truth, nor arrogant or conceited about their achievements. When cautioned, they quickly take the warning to heart as a useful lesson, which is quite different from the way the rest of us react. By following the example of the wise, we will become reasonable, moderate people who refuse to follow those desires that have ruled over our hearts for so long. Our efforts to overcome those desires will thus transform our hearts in a way that definitely results in a degree of contentment that’s clearly evident to us. Even without millions in the bank, our own exemplary conduct, plus what little wealth we do possess, will be sufficient to keep us happy.
Clever people manage their lives in a way that is conducive to peace and security. They don’t feel the need to rush around trying to make vast sums of money in order to maintain a sense of happiness in their lives. Wealth may bring a measure of happiness, but those who enjoy a moderate amount of wealth, righteously acquired, will inevitably be far more contented than those who acquire their wealth by unscrupulous means. Though its actual ownership is not disputed, dubious wealth doesn’t really belong to its owner in any genuine sense. For under the laws of true justice, kamma condemns such gains, bestowing fruits of misery as just rewards for the future. Wise people view this prospect with great trepidation, but we, of lesser intelligence, still prefer to scramble headlong after our desires, selfishly indulging in pleasures that come along without ever getting enough to satisfy our appetites. No matter how hard we try, we never seem to experience the kind of contentment that we long for.
DURING HIS YEARS in Chiang Mai, Ãcariya Mun received numerous letters from Chao Khun Dhammachedi of Wat Bodhisomphon monastery in Udon Thani province. In his letters, Chao Khun Dhammachedi, who had been a disciple of Ãcariya Mun since his youth, always invited him to return to Udon Thani. Ãcariya Mun never replied to those letters, nor did he accept the invitation. Then in the year 1940, Chao Khun Dhammachedi traveled from Udon Thani all the way to the isolated region where Ãcariya Mun lived to invite him personally, and thus gave him a chance to answer all the correspondence he had received. He told Chao Khun Dhammachedi that he had read all his letters, but he reckoned they were small and insignificant compared to the ‘big letter’ that had just arrived; so, now he was ready to reply. That said, both monks laughed heartily.
At the first opportunity, Chao Khun Dhammachedi personally invited Ãcariya Mun to return to the province of Udon Thani where he once lived so many years before. Chao Khun Dhammachedi informed him that his disciples in Udon Thani, missing him very much, had asked him to invite Ãcariya Mun on their behalf. This time he could not object – he had to accept. Chao Khun Dhammachedi suggested they work out a timetable for picking up Ãcariya Mun and escorting him back to Udon Thani. They decided on the beginning of May 1940.
As his departure from the mountain retreat became imminent, large groups of terrestrial devas pleaded with him to stay. Being very reluctant to see him leave, they told him that devas from all realms experienced peace and contentment while he lived there, due to the power of loving kindness which emanated from him and issued in all directions – day and night. Feeling very happy in his presence, they all greatly revered him. They were unwilling to have him leave for they knew that their sense of contentment from his presence would soon fade. Even their social cohesion could be affected as a result.
Ãcariya Mun told them that, having given his word, he must leave. He must honor his promise – he couldn’t possibly renege on it. Unlike most people, a monk’s word is a solemn covenant. A monk is a man of virtue so he must remain true to his word. If he goes back on a promise, his virtue immediately disappears and his worth as a monk is then devalued. So a monk must preserve his moral integrity.
When May arrived Ãcariya Mun and the monks accompanying him to Udon Thani left their mountain retreat and began the long trek to the city of Chiang Mai where they stayed at Wat Chedi Luang monastery. Ãcariya Oon of Wat Tipayaratananimit monastery arrived with some lay supporters at about the same time to receive Ãcariya Mun and to escort him to Udon Thani. Ãcariya Mun remained at Wat Chedi Luang monastery for about one week. During that time, a large group of his local devotees came to persuade him to extend his stay in Chiang Mai for the benefit of everyone there. But having accepted the invitation to Udon Thani, he could not delay his departure.
Before he left, Chao Khun Rãjakawi asked him to give a special talk on the occasion of Visãkha Pýjã 35 to serve as a remembrance for his many devotees. At that time, I had just myself arrived in Chiang Mai and so listened to this discourse with great interest. He spoke for exactly three hours that day; and what he said was so impressive that I have never forgotten it. Here is the essence of what he said:
“Today is Visãkha Pýjã. It celebrates the day the Lord Buddha was born, the day he attained enlightenment, and the day he passed away into Parinibbãna. The birth of a Buddha stands in marked contrast to the births of all other beings. In being born, the Buddha did not succumb to worldly illusions about birth, life, or death. More than that, through the power of his all-encompassing wisdom, he was able to realize the true nature of birth, life, and death – attaining what we call ‘enlightenment’. At the appropriate time he bid farewell to his khandhas, which were the tools he relied on to develop virtue to perfection; and then passed away – sugato, as befits a world teacher who is absolutely beyond reproach. Before departing his physical body, which had reached the end of its natural life, he bequeathed the Dhamma to the world, intending that it represent him and fulfill the role of teacher in his stead. Such a gift is worthy of our complete faith, and worthy of any sacrifice.
“As you know, we are born as human beings because we possess sufficient inherent goodness to make it possible. But we shouldn’t take ourselves and our inherent goodness for granted by neglecting to develop virtuous qualities in this life to enhance our future lives. Otherwise, the human status we enjoy may disappear to be irrevocably eclipsed by a low, undesirable birth. Be it high status or low status – with happiness of every possible degree up to the Ultimate Happiness, or pain and suffering of every possible degree down to the most excruciating – we ourselves are responsible for our own life circumstances. Don’t think that only those presently affected by adverse circumstances experience such things. As potential life situations, they are shared in common by everyone, becoming our own personal heritage if and when we create the conditions for them. For this reason, the Buddha taught that we should never look down on other people, holding them in contempt. Seeing someone living in misery or abject poverty, we should reflect on the possibility that one day we could also find ourselves in such a position, or one even worse. At the moment of reckoning, none of us has the power to avoid the consequences of our actions. All of us share the same capacity to make good and bad kamma, so it’s possible that some day we will be in their position and they will be in ours. The sãsana is a doctrine that we can use to examine ourselves and others, enabling us to correctly choose the best possible way forward. In this respect it has no equal.
“Throughout my many years as a monk I have remained firmly committed to the practice of examining myself, striving always to discriminate between the good and the bad things arising within me from moment to moment. I now clearly realize that the heart is the principal instigator in the creation of kamma. In other words, our hearts are the source of all kamma – kamma that belongs solely to the one who makes it. There should be no doubt about this. Those doubting the existence of kamma – and so, disbelieving of its effects – blindly take their own situation for granted until they’re beyond redemption. Although they’ve been born and raised by their parents, such people fail to see the value of the mother and father who gave them life and sustenance. They look no further than their own selfish existence, unaware of how awful it really is, for they care little that they were born and raised by parents who supported their growth and development in every way. A child’s body is nourished by the food and drink its parents provide, allowing it to grow up strong and healthy. If such actions are not kamma, what then should they be called? And if the nourishment the body receives in this way is not the fruit of kamma, then what else, in truth, could it be?
“Obviously there is a root cause for all the goodness and evil, all the happiness and suffering experienced by people everywhere in the world. When someone’s reckless thinking leads him to commit suicide – there’s a reason behind it. The root cause, kamma, manifesting itself within the heart, can have such an impact on a person that he actually takes his own life without realizing that the kamma he has already created is playing a role. What is that but total blindness?
“Kamma exists as a part of our very being. We create kamma every moment, just as the results of our previous kamma arise to affect us every moment. If you insist on doubting the existence of kamma and its results, then you are stuck at a dead end. Kamma is not something that follows us like a dog following its master. On the contrary, our very thoughts, speech, and actions are kamma. The true results of kamma are the degrees of happiness and suffering experienced by all beings in the world, including those beings who live out their lives unaware of kamma. Such ignorance is also a karmic consequence.”
I myself listened to this talk with heartfelt satisfaction as I had long been keenly interested in Ãcariya Mun. I experienced such a deep sense of joy about him and his Dhamma that I felt as if I were floating on air. I felt that I simply couldn’t hear enough. I have given you the gist of what he said so that all of you, who had no opportunity to hear him speak, may understand something about the nature of your kamma. Kamma being something common to us all, it is possible you may recognize you own kamma in his words.
When he finished speaking, Ãcariya Mun rose from his seat and prostrated himself in front of the main Buddha image. Chao Khun Rãjakawi told him how much everyone had enjoyed the outstanding discourse he had just delivered. Ãcariya Mun replied that it might well be his “final encore” since he probably wouldn’t return to give another talk due to his declining years. This was his way of telling everyone present that he would not return to Chiang Mai again before he died. As it turned out, this was true – Ãcariya Mun never again returned to Chiang Mai.
After remaining several more days at Wat Chedi Luang monastery, Ãcariya Mun finally left, heading first for Bangkok. Somdet Phra Mahã Wirawong and the other senior monks, together with scores of lay supporters, escorted him from the monastery to the train station. Also present was a host of devas. Ãcariya Mun said that devas filled the sky around him in every direction as they, too, came to escort him to the station. They remained, hovering in the sky, even after he reached the station, waiting to send him off before returning to their respective realms. A chaotic scene ensued as he had to greet the scores of monks and lay people who were gathered there, while he simultaneously tried to psychically bestow his blessing upon all the devas who hovered in the air for a final blessing from him. In the end, he was able to turn his undivided attention to the devas and bestow his final blessing only after he had finished speaking to all the people and the train began pulling out of the station.
He said he truly felt sorry for those devas who held him in such high esteem that they were reluctant to see him leave. They showed all the same signs of distress and disappointment that human beings do. Some even continued to hover behind the train as it sped down the tracks, until finally Ãcariya Mun felt it necessary to tell them to return to their respective realms. They departed reluctantly, wondering if he would ever come back to assist them again. In the end they were to be disappointed, for he never did return. He never mentioned whether the terrestrial devas of Chiang Mai came to visit him later on when he lived in the provinces of Udon Thani and Sakon Nakhon.