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Once Ãcariya Mun was wandering dhutanga in the Chiang Mai mountains with two other monks, Ãcariya Khao of Wat Tham Klong Phen monastery in Udon Thani province and Ãcariya Mahã Thongsak of Wat Suddhawat monastery in Sakon Nakhon province. As they reached a narrow gap in the path leading up the mountain, they chanced upon a large, solitary elephant whose owner had released it and then wandered off someplace. All they could see there was a gigantic elephant with huge six-foot tusks searching for food – quite a fearsome sight. They conferred among themselves about how to proceed. This was the only path up the mountain, and it allowed no room for going around the elephant. Ãcariya Mun told Ãcariya Khao to speak with the elephant, which was eating bamboo leaves at the side of the path. Standing about twenty yards away with its back to them, it had yet to notice their approach. Ãcariya Khao addressed the elephant:

“Big brother elephant, we wish to speak with you.”

At first, the elephant didn’t clearly hear his voice, but it did stop chewing the bamboo leaves.

“Big brother elephant, we wish to speak with you.”

Clearly hearing this, the elephant suddenly swung around to face the monks. It stood stock-still, its ears fully extended.

“Big brother elephant, we wish to speak with you. You are so very big and strong. We’re just a group of monks, so weak and so very frightened of you, big brother. We would like to walk past where you’re standing. Would big brother please move over a bit so that we have room to pass by? If you keep standing there, it really frightens us, so we don’t dare walk past.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the elephant immediately turned to the side and thrust its tusks into the middle of a clump of bamboo, signaling its intention to let them pass, unharmed. Seeing it facing the clump of bamboo, Ãcariya Mun told the others that they could continue on as it would not bother them now. The two monks invited Ãcariya Mun to walk between them, Ãcariya Khao walking in front and Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak following behind. They walked past in single file only six feet from the elephant’s rear end, without incident. But as they were walking away, the hook on Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak’s umbrella got tangled by chance in some bamboo just a few yards past the elephant. It defied all attempts to extricate it, so he was forced to struggle with it for quite some time. Terrified of the elephant – which was now looking right at him – he was soon drenched in sweat. Fighting desperately to disentangle the hook, he glanced up at the eyes of the elephant, which stood there like a huge stuffed animal. He could see that its eyes were bright and clear. In truth, its countenance inspired affection rather than fear, but at that moment his fear remained strong. When he finally did get free, his fear subsided, and he realized that this elephant was a very endearing animal. Seeing that they were all safely past, Ãcariya Khao turned to the elephant.

“Hey, big brother, we’ve all passed-by now. Please relax and eat in peace.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of crunching, breaking bamboo filled the air.

Later the monks praised this intelligent elephant, agreeing it was an animal that inspired affection and sympathy. The only faculty it lacked was the ability to speak. As they were discussing this, Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak was curious to hear Ãcariya Mun’s reaction, so he asked:

“Were you able to read that elephant’s mind the whole time, from the moment we spoke to it until we passed clear of it? Since it was so endearing, I’d really like to know. When it first heard us call out, suddenly turning around to face us in an agitated fashion, I was sure it was about to charge and crush us to pieces right then and there. But as soon as it understood the situation, it had a change of heart – almost like a person in an animal’s body – and quickly thrust its tusks into the middle of that clump of bamboo, standing very still. Clearly it seemed to be telling us: ‘You little brothers can come now. Big brother won’t do anything. Big brother has put away his weapons. Believe me, come along.’ “

Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak then teased Ãcariya Khao:

“Ãcariya Khao is really amazing, speaking with an animal as though it was just another human being: ‘Big brother, your little brothers are frightened and dare not pass. Please make way so that we can go by without fearing big brother.’ As soon as it received this bit of flattery, it was so pleased that it immediately prepared to make way for us. But this little brother was really clumsy. I got past big brother only to get my umbrella hook caught up in the bamboo. Try as I might I couldn’t get it free. It was determined to keep me there with big brother. My heart sank at that moment – I was afraid that big brother wouldn’t play fair.”

Ãcariya Mun laughed heartily hearing Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak teasing Ãcariya Khao about being clever enough to talk to an elephant. He assured them that he had been paying attention to the elephant’s mental state.

“Of course I was focusing my attention there. I’ve read the minds of birds and monkeys with far less reason than this. This was a matter of life and death, how could I avoid it?”

Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak wanted to know what the elephant was thinking when Ãcariya Mun focused on it.

“When it first heard us, it was startled – that’s why it turned around so quickly. It thought only of preparing to fight. But seeing us dressed in yellow robes, it knew instinctively that we could be trusted, for it’s quite used to seeing monks. Its owner has long since trained it not to endanger them. So when Ãcariya Khao addressed it in a pleasant tone, calling it ‘big brother’, it was hugely pleased and immediately got out of the way.”

“Did it understand every word that Ãcariya Khao said to it?”

“Of course it did. Otherwise, how could it be trained to haul logs down from the mountains? If it couldn’t understand, it would probably have been disposed of as useless long ago. This kind of animal must be trained until it knows man’s language well before it can be made to perform various tasks. This particular elephant is over a hundred years old. Look at its tusks – they’re almost six feet long. It must have lived among people for a long time. Its owner is relatively young, yet he’s still able to drive it to work. How could it not understand human speech? It’s certain to have no problem.”

“What was it thinking when it turned and stuck its tusks into the clump of bamboo?”

“Well, it understood the situation, as I said, and so was giving way to us. It didn’t think of doing anything else.”

“Did you focus on its mind the whole time we were walking past it? What was it thinking just as we walked by?”

“All I saw was the elephant giving way. It wasn’t thinking about anything else.”

“The reason I asked: I was worried that as we were walking past it might have thought it would like to attack us – just for sport, as animals sometimes do.”

“You have an uncommonly prolific imagination, Mahã Thong Sak. If you enjoyed thinking and asking probing questions like this about matters of substance then you could certainly expect to transcend dukkha one day. But you’re like most people– you insist on wasting your time thinking about inane matters instead of useful ones, and you probably don’t care to change. Are you going to keep pondering this matter, asking about that elephant all night without the slightest regard for Dhamma?”

With this warning, Ãcariya Mahã Thong Sak dropped the whole affair. He was afraid that pressing the matter further would result in an even more severe rebuke.13

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MANY MONKS WERE REBUKED for speaking carelessly to Ãcariya Mun or speaking without good reason. Some even went mad afterwards. One rather obtrusive monk lived with Ãcariya Mun for a short while. When Ãcariya Mun made a comment, this monk liked to chime in expressing his own views. When he first arrived, Ãcariya Mun frequently warned him to mind his own business. He advised him to keep a close watch on his thoughts and restrain the impulse to speak out. Monks dedicated to the practice must know how to properly conduct themselves. Those who are mindful will see the inadequacies of a mind that wants to flow out. But it seems that this monk was not as interested as he should have been in Ãcariya Mun’s teaching.

Ãcariya Mun had a unique habit of taking the animals, or the people, that he encountered on almsround as objects of contemplation, using them to teach the monks walking behind him. He commented out loud on what he observed, as though speaking to no one in particular. One day, he spied a cute little calf playfully running around its mother. At first it didn’t see the monks approaching; but as they came abreast, it looked around startled and raced to its mother’s side, nuzzling in under her neck, then peering out to look at the monks with fear in its eyes. Seeing the calf run up to her, the cow quickly turned her head to look in the direction of the monks, then remained impassive, as animals do when they are accustomed to seeing monks daily. But the calf remained under her chin, staring out distrustfully. Observing them, Ãcariya Mun commented in a general way about the difference between the reaction of the calf and that of its mother.

“That cow is quite unperturbed, but its calf is so frightened it looks like it wants to pick her up and flee.14 As soon as it got a glimpse of us, it ran bawling to its mother for help. People are just the same – they rush to find a reliable refuge. If they are near their mother, they will run to her. If they are near their father, they will rush to him. People invariably lean on family and friends for support. Rarely do they think about relying on themselves. When we are young, we expect to rely on other people in one way; when we grow up, we expect to rely on them in another way; and when we grow old, we still expect to rely on others in yet a different way. Very few of us turn inward, looking for support within ourselves. By constantly looking for someone else to lean on, we tend to foster our own weakness and so never allow ourselves to become truly self-reliant.

“We monks are the same as lay people. Having ordained, we become lazy about studying. Worrying that it will be painful and difficult, we become lazy about practicing the way. We never seem to finish what we start, for no sooner do we have a good idea and begin to put it into practice than laziness creeps in, blocking our progress. Lacking the ability to help ourselves, we have to look to others for support. Otherwise, we couldn’t carry on in this life. The maxim: attãhi attano nãtho – oneself is one’s own refuge – is meaningless for us if we cannot breath through our own noses. Dhutanga monks who are dedicated to the practice shouldn’t always have to depend on others for life and breath.

“Listen to your teacher, think about what he teaches, and commit yourselves to attaining it. Don’t let his teaching just slip through your grasp to no avail. Be persistent. Consider what he says and follow his example until you see the benefits within yourselves. Then you no longer need to lean on him for support. You’ll be breathing through your own noses, meaning you will have developed the knowledge and wisdom needed to rid yourselves of dukkha. Gradually, you will become more confident, more self-reliant, until finally you become full-fledged, fully-independent monks in your own right.”

Ãcariya Mun brought up this matter to give the monks on almsround with him something to contemplate. As he paused for a moment, the rather obtrusive monk began to prattle away on his own without considering the impropriety of such an intrusion. Perhaps this monk’s idiocy struck a dissonant chord deep within Ãcariya Mun, for he turned around and gave him a severe rebuke that took the other monks aback, making them all somewhat apprehensive.

“You must be mad! You’re like a rabid dog that pounces and chews furiously on any old piece of wood tossed at it. Why don’t you look inside yourself where this madness arises. You’ll go crazy if you don’t curtail this sort of mindless prattle.”

Ãcariya Mun then turned around and walked back to the monastery without another word. Arriving at the monastery, the monks noticed something peculiar about the obtrusive monk – he seemed stunned, eating very little. Seeing his odd behavior, the monks kept quiet, as if nothing had happened. They were afraid he would feel embarrassed. For the rest of the day life in the monastery continued as normal, each monk applying himself to his meditation. But later, during the night when all was quiet, they heard someone cry out in a deranged, incoherent voice. They immediately rushed over to find the monk lying in his hut, tossing deliriously about, mumbling something about being sorry for offending Ãcariya Mun so rudely. Shocked by this sight, some of them hurried off to get the local villagers to help take care of him. They brought some herbal remedies for him to take, then massaged his limbs for a while until he finally calmed down and fell asleep for the rest of the night. The next morning someone took him to a doctor for treatment. His condition soon improved, though he did have occasional relapses. When he was well enough to travel, they sent him home. There was no further news about his condition after that.

Ãcariya Mun’s reprimands varied with circumstances. A mild scolding was usually sufficient to promote mindfulness in the present and increase vigilance in the future. However, if someone did something that prompted a severe reprimand, but lacked the good judgment to make use of it, then it could well be damaging, as we have seen. So monks living with Ãcariya Mun tended to be exceedingly vigilant and always self-controlled. Just because they had lived with him for a long time didn’t mean they could expect to get overly familiar with him, for he was the type of person who didn’t readily countenance familiarity in anyone. His students could never afford to be complacent – sometimes even the deer that’s wary of hunters gets shot.

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