In Udon Thani, just as they had in other places, the local people often came to Ãcariya Mun with questions. While some of their questions were very similar to the ones that he had received many times before, the more unusual ones arose from the views and opinions of certain individuals. Among the more commonly asked questions were those dealing with past-life associations 3 of living beings who have developed virtuous qualities together over a period of many lives, and how such inherent character traits have continuity in their present lives. Other questions dealt with past-life associations of husbands and wives who had lived together happily for many lifetimes. Ãcariya Mun said that people had more doubts about these questions than any others.

As for the first question, Ãcariya Mun did not specify the exact nature of what he was asked. He merely mentioned the question of past-life associations in a general way and gave this explanation:

“Things like this must originate with the establishment of volitional intent, for that determines the way the lives of specific individuals become interrelated.”

The second question was more specific: How is it possible to determine whether the love between a man and a woman has been preordained by previous association in lives past? How can we distinguish between a loving relationship based on past-life connections and one which is not?

Ãcariya Mun replied:

“It is very difficult to know with any certainty whether or not our love for this person or our relationship with that person has its roots in a mutual affinity developed over many lifetimes. For the most part, people fall in love and get married rather blindly. Feeling hungry, a person’s tendency is to just reach out and grab some food to satisfy that hunger. They will eat whatever is available as long as it is sufficient for their day-to-day needs. The same can be applied to past-life associations as well. Although such relationships are a common feature of life in this world, it is not at all easy to find genuine cases of people who fall in love and get married simply due to a long-standing past-life association. The problem is, the kilesas that cause people to fall in love don’t spare anyone’s blushes, and they certainly don’t wait patiently to give past-life affinities a chance to have a say in the matter first. All the kilesas ask is that there be someone of the opposite sex who suits their fancy – that’s enough for passion to arise and impulsively grab a hold. Those kilesas that cause people to fall in love can turn ordinary people into ‘fighters’ who will battle desperately to the bitter end without respect for modesty or moderation, no matter what the consequences might be. Even if they see they have made a mistake, they will still refuse to admit defeat. Even the prospect of death cannot make them abandon their fighting style. This is what the kilesas that cause people to fall in love are all about. Displaying themselves conspicuously in people’s hearts, they are extremely difficult to control.

“Anyone who wants to be a reasonable, responsible person should avoid giving these kilesas their head, never permitting them to charge on ahead unchecked. So you must exercise enough self-control to insure that, even if you know nothing about your past-life associations, you will still have an effective means of reining in your heart – a means of avoiding being dragged through the mire and down a steep, dark precipice. Unless you are an accomplished meditator with an aptitude for perceiving various types of phenomena, you will find it very difficult to access knowledge about your past lives. Whatever the case, you must always have enough presence of mind to maintain proper self-control. Don’t let those offensive kilesas burst their banks, pouring out like flood waters with no levee to contain them. Thus you will be able to avoid sinking deep into the great quagmire of unbridled love.”

Questioner: “What should a husband and wife, who have lived together happily in this life and wish to remain together in the next life, do to insure that they’ll be reborn together in the future? Is it enough that they both hold the same desire for meeting again in future lives?”

Ãcariya Mun: “That desire merely creates the prospect of achieving one’s intended objective; but if that desire is not accompanied by concrete action it will not bring the expected results. Take the example of someone who desires to be rich. If that person is too lazy to go out and earn his wealth, then there is no way he’ll ever be rich. To stand any chance of success, an intention must be supported by a concerted effort toward reaching that goal. It’s the same with a husband and wife who wish to maintain their loving relationship, living together happily in each successive life. To avoid being separated, their viewpoints must be analogous, and they must remain faithful to each other. They must refrain from taking advantage of each other because this destroys their mutual trust and leads to dissatisfaction. They must cherish virtue, behave properly, and trust each other. By establishing a mutual understanding about their partnership and then making a sincere effort to foster their future together by doing what is beneficial to it, they can expect to fulfill that desire for it is well within their power to do so. On the other hand, should the opposite hold true – with either the husband being good while the wife is bad, or vice versa, with one or the other doing only that which pleases him or her – then no matter how many hundreds of resolutions they make together, they will all come to naught. Their very actions will perforce undermine their desire. And what about you? Do you cherish the desire to be together with your wife above all other wishes?”

Questioner: “I desire nothing more than the fulfillment of this wish. Wealth and all its trappings, rank, title, royal status, heavenly bliss, or spiritual attainment – none of these would mean anything without my wife, who is my one true love. This is the major focus of every person’s desire, so we must wish for a loving mate first of all; then other desires can be considered in due course. That is why I had to ask you about this matter first, although I was embarrassed and afraid you might scold me. Such is the reality of the world we live in, though people are often too shy to speak about it.”

Ãcariya Mun laughed: “That being the case, you have to take your wife wherever you go, right?”

Questioner: “I’m ashamed to say that it’s really concern about my wife that has prevented me from ordaining as a monk all this time. I am worried that she’d be awfully lonely with no one there to advise and reassure her. My children just bother her for money to buy things, making a nuisance of themselves all the time. I don’t see how they can offer her any security or peace of mind. I can’t help worrying about her.

“There’s another thing I don’t understand. The Dhamma teaches that the heavenly realms are inhabited by both male and female devas, much like the human world. Beings there live a blissfully happy existence, enjoying a variety of pleasures that make it a very inviting place to live. But, unlike here on earth or in the heavens, it seems that no distinction is made between male and female beings in the brahma realms. Doesn’t it get kind of lonely there? I mean, they have no one to cheer them up or humor them when they get in a bad mood. And Nibbãna is even worse – there is no involvement with anything whatsoever. One is absolutely self-reliant in every way. Without the need to depend on anyone or anything for help, there is no need for one to become involved with others in anyway. One is truly independent. But how can one possibly take pride in anything there? Ordinarily, someone reaching an exalted state like Nibbãna should expect to be honored and praised by the other beings who live there. At least in the world, a prosperous person who has wealth and social status receives praise and admiration from his fellow human beings. But those going to Nibbãna find only silence – there’s no question of receiving praise and admiration from their peers. Which makes me wonder how such total silence can truly be a state of happiness. Please forgive me for asking such a crazy, unorthodox question, but unless I find out from someone who really knows the answer, this dilemma will continue to trouble me to no end.”

Ãcariya Mun: “The heavenly realms, the brahma realms, and Nibbãna are not reserved for skeptics like you. They are reserved for those who can realize their own true inner worth. Only such people realize the value of the heavenly realms, the brahma realms, and Nibbãna because they understand that the value of each successive realm increases relative to the virtuous qualities inherent in those who would attain them. Somebody like you can hardly dream of attaining such states. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to go as long as your wife was still around. Were she to die, you would still be unable to stop yearning for her long enough to start wishing for a heavenly existence. The way you feel, even the exalted brahma realms and Nibbãna cannot compare with your wife, since those states cannot take care of you like she can. Thus, you don’t want to go, because you are afraid that you will lose the one who takes care of all your needs.”

Ãcariya Mun and his questioner both laughed heartily, then Ãcariya Mun continued: “Even the kinds of happiness we experience here in the human world vary widely according to individual preferences. It is comparable to the way our sense faculties, which coexist in the same physical body, deal with different types of sensations. For example, the eyes prefer to see forms, the ears prefer to hear sounds, the nose prefers smells, the tongue prefers tastes, the body prefers tactile sensations, while the mind prefers to perceive mental objects – each according to its own natural bias. They can’t all be expected to have the same preference. Partaking of a good meal is one way to find pleasure. Living happily married together is yet another form of pleasure. The world has never been short of pleasant experiences, for they are an indispensable part of life that living beings everywhere feel obliged to pursue. There are forms of happiness experienced here on earth; there are others experienced in the heavenly realms, and still others in the brahma realms. Then there is the “happiness” of Nibbãna which is experienced by those who have totally eradicated the vexatious kilesas from their hearts. Their happiness is something entirely different from the worldly happiness of those with kilesas.

“If the happiness you receive from your wife’s company is really all you need, then why bother looking at sights and listening to sounds? Why bother eating or sleeping? Why bother developing virtuous qualities by giving donations, maintaining morality, or doing meditation? All you need do is live with your wife and let that happiness be the sum of all happiness you would otherwise receive from these sources. You could save yourself a lot of trouble that way. But can you actually do it?”

Questioner: “Oh no, Sir! How could I possibly do that? What about all those times when we quarrel with each other? How could I make all my happiness dependent on her alone? That would just complicate my life even more.”

Ãcariya Mun said this man had a rather bold, forthright character and, for a layman, he had a very keen interest in moral virtue. He was deeply devoted to Ãcariya Mun who usually made an effort to give him special attention. This man used to come to see Ãcariya Mun and casually start up a conversation when there were no other visitors around. Normally, other people could not bring themselves to ask Ãcariya Mun the kinds of questions he did. He was extremely fond of his wife and children, while his fond devotion for Ãcariya Mun made him a frequent visitor at the monastery. If he came and found Ãcariya Mun with visitors, he would simply pay his respects, then go off to help the monks with the air of someone who feels quite at home in a monastery. He chose those occasions when no visitors were present to ask the questions that intrigued him. And Ãcariya Mun was kind enough to oblige him nearly every time.

Ãcariya Mun was exceptionally clever at recognizing a person’s basic character traits; and treated each individual according to his assessment. Whether speaking casually or giving a discourse, he always tailored his remarks to fit the audience, as you can no doubt see from what I have written so far.

WHILE ÃCARIYA MUN lived at Wat Non Niwet monastery in Udon Thani, numerous monks came to seek his guidance, and many spent the rains retreat under his tutelage. In those days, Wat Non Niwet monastery was a much quieter place than it is today. There was very little traffic back then and very few people came to visit. By and large, people who did come to the monastery were those with a genuine interest in making merit and developing virtuous qualities – unlike nowadays when people tend to come and disturb the monks’ peaceful environment whether they intend to or not. Back then, monks could practice as they pleased without disturbance. Consequently, many monks developed themselves spiritually, becoming a source of contentment not only to themselves, but also to the local people who looked to monks for refuge.

Ãcariya Mun instructed the monks in the evening. He usually began with a general explanation of moral virtue, followed by samãdhi and then wisdom, going briefly through them stage by stage until the highest level of absolute freedom – the essential goal of Dhamma. He then went back and gave a comprehensive exposition of how a monk should practice to attain the various stages of Dhamma that he had outlined. For monks engaged in meditation practice, he always emphasized the vital importance of mindful adherence to the monastic code of discipline.

“Only a monk who is firm in his discipline and respectful of all the training rules can be considered a full-fledged monk. He should not transgress the minor training rules merely because he considers them to be somehow insignificant. Such negligence indicates someone who feels no shame about immoral behavior, and it may eventually lead to more serious transgressions. A monk must strictly adhere to the monastic code of discipline to make sure that his moral behavior is not punctuated with unsightly blemishes or gaps. In that way, he feels comfortable and confident living among his peers. He need never be concerned that his teacher or his fellow monks will be critical or reproachful. For the inner monk in your heart to reach perfection, starting from Sotãpanna and progressing to Arahant, you must be steady and relentless in your effort to attain each successive level of both samãdhi and wisdom. If you persevere in this manner, these faculties will arise and continue to develop until they are able to scrub clean that filthy mess of defilements in your heart.

“A monk’s conduct and speech should be absolutely above reproach. His citta should be absolutely superb by virtue of the Dhamma qualities that he develops step by step: samãdhi, paññã, vimutti,  and vimuttiñãõadassana.4 A monk  should never be dreary or sad. He should never appear undignified, shunning his fellows because a guilty conscience is eating away inside him, troubling his heart. This is contrary to the way of the Lord Buddha, whose splendid internal conduct and external behavior were irreproachable. Following in his footsteps, a monk must muster the resolute courage to abandon all evil and do only good. He must be a man of integrity who is honest with himself and his peers while being faithful to the Dhamma and the Discipline. He will thus be supported by his exemplary practice everywhere he goes. The brightness of his mindfulness and wisdom will light the way as his heart will be suffused with the taste of Dhamma. He will never find himself trapped in a state of delusion with no means of escape. Such are the characteristics inherent in a true disciple of the Lord Buddha. Study them carefully and take them to heart. Adhere closely to them as the basis for a bright, trouble-free future when you can claim them as your own valuable, personal possessions.”

This was how Ãcariya Mun usually instructed practicing monks.

MONKS WHO HAD DOUBTS or questions about their practice could consult individually with Ãcariya Mun during the day when the time did not conflict with his daily routine. His daily life had a regular pattern which he tended to follow without fail wherever he stayed. Rising from his meditation seat early in the morning, he walked meditation outside his hut until it was time to go on almsround. After collecting alms food in the village and eating his morning meal, he again walked meditation until noon and then took a short rest. Once rested, he sat in meditation for awhile before continuing his walking meditation until four P.M. At four, he swept the open areas around his residence. When he finished, he bathed, and again practiced walking meditation for many hours. Upon leaving his meditation track, he entered his hut to do several hours of chanting. Following that, he again sat in meditation late into the night. Normally, he slept no more than four hours a night. On special occasions he went entirely without sleep, sitting in meditation until dawn. When he was young, he displayed a diligence in his practice that none of his contemporaries could match. Even in old age he maintained his characteristic diligence, although he did relax a bit due to his strength, which declined with each passing day. But he differed significantly from the rest of us in that his mind showed no signs of weakness even as his health gradually deteriorated.

Such was the life of a great man who set a perfect example for us all. He never neglected his personal responsibilities, nor did he relax the relentless effort which had been such an important source of strength, spurring him on to that gratifying victory deep in the mountains of Chiang Mai, as we have seen. As human beings, we all possess attributes that should allow us to duplicate Ãcariya Mun’s achievement. In actual practice, those able to achieve the kind of unqualified success that he did are far and few between. Despite the fact that the world is now grossly overpopulated, very few people indeed will see their hopes fulfilled by attaining this exalted goal. In the present age, such an attainment is very rare.

The outstanding difference between someone like Ãcariya Mun and the rest of us is the degree of diligence and determination he applied to the pursuit of knowledge and understanding, an effort firmly grounded in the four iddhipãda: chanda, viriya, citta, and vimaÿsa. And when the causes are so different, the results are bound to be radically different as well – so much so that it’s almost unbelievable how varied they can be from one person to the next. But the good and bad results that people receive from their actions are evident everywhere in the world around us, and they cannot be denied. We must acknowledge the obvious: that a mixture of goodness and evil, happiness and suffering arises in each and every one of us. There is no way we can divest ourselves of them.

Among modern-day ãcariyas, Ãcariya Mun’s life story is splendidly unique. A rich story, it flowers and bears fruit from beginning to end. Magnificent every step of the way, it is a life worthy of everyone’s heartfelt respect. He is now revered far and wide in places where people have heard about his excellent reputation. It’s a great shame that so many Buddhists who were keenly interested in Dhamma never heard of him while he was still alive. Although they might have very much wanted to meet a man of such exceptional virtue, they never had a chance to do so. This was largely because he did not like to frequent crowded places like towns and cities. He found life in the mountains and forests far more satisfactory his entire life.

Many monks who were dedicated to the practice of Dhamma also experienced great difficulty in reaching him. The dirt roads were hardly passable in those days – and anyway, there were no vehicles. They had to hike for days in order to reach the places where he liked to stay. Those who were unaccustomed to hiking just couldn’t manage it. Their excuses for not going varied. Some monks were simply not courageous enough to accept the plain truth about Dhamma that he taught. Some were afraid that food and other necessities would be in short supply and of poor quality. Some were afraid they could not eat just one meal a day as he did. Where Ãcariya Mun was concerned, monks tended to create any number of obstacles for themselves, most of them appearing insurmountable. Although their aspirations were sincere, such concerns amounted to self-imposed barriers that prevented them from gaining the benefit of their good intentions. In the end, they realized the kind of monk he really was only long after he had passed away and they heard the story of his life. He epitomized the sãsana which has preserved magga and phala from Lord Buddha’s initial attainment down through the countless number of Arahants who have maintained magga and phala to this day. The essence of the sãsana has been transmitted by means of supaåipanno, uju, ñãya, sãmïci paåipanno sãvakasangho 6 as practiced by all those who have attained magga, phala, and Nibbãna. They are like a vast stream of the great deathless ocean of Nibbãna, shimmering forth from the pristine nature of those who have practiced to perfection what the Buddha taught.

Ãcariya Mun was one of the Arahants of this present age. He passed away not so long ago on November 10, 1949, about 20 years ago. 7 The story of his passing away will be described later when we reach the final chapter of his life. In any case, physical death has existed since time immemorial and will continue to exist as long as some form of conventional reality still remains. What arises must pass away. What remains unconditionally is the prodigious wonder of the Lord Buddha’s infinite compassion, wisdom, and absolute freedom, all of which are enshrined in the sãsana. Such intrinsic qualities being exactly the same, Ãcariya Mun’s  unqualified compassion, wisdom, and absolute freedom remain unchanged in the same way as those of the Lord Buddha. For us, it is essential that we faithfully practice the way laid down by the Buddha – the degree of success we have will depend on the amount of time and effort we put into the practice. This is something we should all take an interest in while we are still alive. Without making an effort to practice, no results can be achieved, and the opportunity will be irrevocably lost.

ONE OF THE ANSWERS that Ãcariya Mun gave to the people of Nakhon Ratchasima especially caught my attention. Here is a summary of what he said:

“Don’t think and act as if you, your family and friends, and the society you live in will never have to face the cemetery. Otherwise, when death comes – as it does to everyone in the world – you will find yourself hopelessly unprepared and so risk sinking into the kind of unfavorable state no one would wish for. Whatever you think, say, or do should be accompanied by some recollection of the cemetery, which symbolizes death, for cemeteries and kamma go hand in hand. Reflection on death will encourage reflection on kamma, which in turn will cause you to reflect back on yourself.

“Don’t get cocky, thinking you’re so smart, when in truth you are always at the mercy of kamma. Such arrogance will merely lead to your own misfortune. You should never take the attitude that you are smarter than the Buddha – that great, all-knowing teacher who, unlike people with kilesas who feel very cocky, never relied on conjecture. In the end, such people become trapped in the bad kamma that their own arrogant assumptions have created for them.”

Such straight talk can be quite startling in its effect, inducing the listener to submit wholeheartedly to the truth about kamma. It cuts through all the self-importance that causes us to overlook our true place in this world. I have revisited the subject of kamma here for I feel that what I previously wrote on the subject is inadequate, since it failed to capture the full impact of what Ãcariya Mun taught. This oversight has just come to my attention, which shows just how unreliable our memories are. In fact, they easily mislead us, blocking the truth from view. So please forgive me for going over the same material again from time to time.

ÃCARIYA MUN HAD the knowledge and the ability to confer Dhamma excellence on his monk disciples. As a result, many of them developed into veritable Bodhi trees8 in their own right. This type of Bodhi tree is extremely difficult to plant and nurture to maturity for it tends to be surrounded by hazards. Many disciples of his who became senior ãcariyas are still alive today. Some of them I have already mentioned by name. Ãcariya Mun’s senior disciples include such well-known ãcariyas as Ãcariya Sing and Ãcariya Mahã Pin from Ubon Ratchathani, Ãcariya Thet from Tha Bo in Nong Khai, Ãcariya Fan from Sakon Nakhon, Ãcariya Khao of Wat Tham Klong Phen in Udon Thani, Ãcariya Phrom from Dong Yen village of Nong Han district in Udon Thani, Ãcariya Lee of Wat Asokaram in Samut Prakan, Ãcariya Chob and Ãcariya Lui from Loei province, Ãcariya Sim and Ãcariya Tei from Chiang Mai, and Ãcariya Kongma from Sakon Nakhon. 9 There are still many others whose names I cannot recall. Each of these ãcariyas possesses certain exceptional qualities setting him apart from the rest.

Each is outstanding in his own distinct way, and all are worthy of the highest respect. Some being quite famous, they are well-known to monks and lay people across the country. Some by nature prefer to live in quiet seclusion. There are senior disciples of Ãcariya Mun possessing exceptionally virtuous qualities who remain virtually unknown because they naturally prefer to live in anonymity.

More than any other teacher in the Northeast region of Thailand Ãcariya Mun was able to firmly establish monks in bodhi-dhamma. Bodhi means wisdom. The Bodhi of the Lord Buddha is called Enlightenment; but in the case of these ãcariyas I would prefer to simply call it bodhidhamma, as befits their humble status and the forest tradition to which they belong. Establishing a monk in bodhidhamma is very similar to raising a child. First the monk is taught how to develop a firm basis in moral discipline. Then he’s taught how to use that moral excellence as a basis for his meditation practice, focusing inward to develop sufficient knowledge and understanding that will allow him to safely look after himself. The spiritual development of each and every monk represents an extremely difficult challenge because implanting virtuous qualities deeply into the heart of someone who is oppressed by the kilesas is always a very demanding task. The teacher must be on his guard at all times, exercising complete mastery over every type of kilesa so that the student remains earnestly motivated to undergo the training. Persistent practice under a good teacher allows the student a chance to bring his own character into harmony with Dhamma and so steadily grow in confidence and determination.

On our own, we all suffer from kilesas. Everyone coming to train under a teacher is equally full of kilesas. So it is difficult for them to find the strength necessary to drag one another to safety. I believe the most difficult task any human being can undertake is that of trying to transform an ordinary monk into a monk who’s truly worthy of the highest respect. That task is further complicated when the teacher tries to encourage the student to shift from his original, mundane position up to the transcendent levels of Sotãpanna, Sakadãgãmï, Anãgãmï and Arahant. 10 The degree of difficulty increases dramatically with each successive level of attainment. In all likelihood, insects will come along and chew at its roots, boring into them until the whole tree topples to the ground before the nascent Bodhi tree has a chance to sprout and branch out, developing into a useful specimen. This is what we usually see happen. Seldom do the roots grow deep enough to resist the ravages of wind, rain, and insects. When we plant an ordinary tree in the ground we can expect it to soon bear fruit. When, however, we try to establish a monk in Dhamma, he always appears on the verge of falling over. Even if no apparent dangers are on the horizon, he will go out looking for something to trouble him, thus causing himself a lot of harm. All of which makes developing a monk difficult indeed. If you don’t believe me, just give it a try: ordain as a monk and try following the monastic discipline laid down by the Buddha. What’s the bet you’ll be hungry for supper before the sun has even set. Forgetting all about your newly-shaved head, you will be itching to travel about all the time, sight-seeing, listening to sounds, smelling this, tasting that, and touching things that are nice and soft. Morning, noon, and evening – never will there be enough to satisfy your appetite. Soon you’ll forget all about your status as a monk. It’s unlikely that you will ever take an interest in cultivating that inner Bodhi tree, for your heart will never accept reason and persevere with the monk’s training long enough to gain genuine peace of mind.

Left unattended, the Bodhi tree of the heart will gradually wither and shrivel up. Harmful influences will then have the upper hand. What Bodhi tree could stand erect against such an onslaught? The bodhi of a monk is sensitive to those influences, so his heart may easily be swayed by such discordant elements. If his bodhi cannot withstand the pressure, it will topple hopelessly to the ground. Thus it is an extremely difficult task to establish bodhi properly. Those who have never tried to establish bodhi in their hearts don’t know how potent those negative influences can be. They attempt to fertilize the nascent Bodhi tree with substances that only serve to stunt its growth, eventually ruining it altogether. Consequently, such Bodhi trees tend to have a dreary look about them, as if they were going to die at any moment from a profound shortage of noble virtue.

I have experience in planting such Bodhi trees and looking after them. And due to a lack of sound judgment, I’ve had my share of disappointments. So I am well aware of how difficult they are to establish and take care of. They always seem to be on the verge of withering up and dying. Even today I cannot say for sure whether or not this Bodhi tree of mine will grow and mature nicely, or simply deteriorate, since as a rule it threatens to take a turn for the worse. In fact, I haven’t seen enough progress to be able to gauge the level of decline – steady decline seems to be the norm. Preferring to look for stimulation that is invariably harmful, this type of bodhi can easily destroy itself without any outside help.

Anyone who makes the agonizing effort to oppose his heart’s natural inclinations until it submits to the authority of Dhamma is able to develop bodhi to perfection. Such a person is truly worthy of veneration. Ãcariya Mun was a classic example of a teacher who develops bodhi so thoroughly that he becomes a reassuring source of comfort to all his disciples. Ãcariya Mun carefully cultivated his Bodhi tree until the trunk was strong, the branches extensive, the foliage thick, and the fruits and flowers abundant. It was always a peaceful source of shade for those who sought to shelter there. Although he has already passed away, just reading the story of his life is enough to arouse faith in him and the Dhamma he practiced. It’s almost as though he never passed away at all.

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