6-4 Tigers Make the Best Teachers
老虎是最好的老師
若阿姜曼認為某項法門能夠幫助弟子的修行，他會直接向弟子提出建議。但對某些比丘而言，阿姜曼的建議似乎仍不夠清楚…
「比起住在寺院，直接到山洞裡修行對你的利益更大。像你這般粗獷個性的比丘，越是艱難越適合你。若能找到一隻老虎做你的指導老師，那還會更好些－對老虎的懼怕將會制伏你的心，迫使心進入平穩安寧的狀態。用這種方法，你將能品嚐到法味並獲得一些平靜。在寺院裡修行不適合你，固執的人們就是需要強硬方式來軟化，這樣剛強才能變成韌性。世上讓人害怕的事物莫過於老虎了，怕虎的人們都應該要找一隻老虎來做老師。比起一個你不害怕的老師，這方法要有效的多。若你最怕鬼，那麼你應該找一個鬼作老師，這會讓心更加警覺、更有規範。總之，自己最害怕什麼就該把那東西找來，將它視為老師，這就是智者完全投入修行的方法。」
這一位聽取建議的弟子有著相當粗獷的個性，出家之前他可是一位不苟言笑的硬漢。若他說出自己要做什麼事，那麼他絕對會將此事付諸實行。或許，他是一位固執過頭的俗家人，但以一位出家人來說，這種個性倒是恰當。所以，聽到阿姜曼的建議後，他當下就決定自己要如此修行了。他是這樣想的：像阿姜曼這樣厲害的老師是不可能叫弟子去送死的，既然老師說了，我就必須去住在那個山洞裡。如果住在那裡卻不幸死亡，我想我也只能接受了。而且，若真要發覺老師所教授的實相，我當然得置生死於度外。他又想：人們總是傳頌著：阿姜曼的每一句話語都有深意；在說話前，阿姜曼一定會先檢查每一種可能發生的情況；若能理解阿姜曼的教導，並將教導付諸實踐，那麼此人必能獲得極大的成果。所以，我得認真看待阿姜曼剛才所說的修行方式，這方式一定適合我這種粗人，也必能利益我的禪修。阿姜曼能觀察一切事物，他可以取出我的心由裡到外觀察，他比我還了解我自己，我怎能懷疑他說的話呢？若我對這個教導毫無回應，我怎能自稱自己是一位比丘，倒不如還俗做一個在家人罷了！所以，無論如何我都要去那山洞裡修行。若死在那裡，我會坦然接受；倘若沒死，那麼我或許有機會悟出更高一層的法。阿姜曼剛才說我是一位固執又倔強的人，這觀察真是正確，由此可知他的能耐。我想我百分之百是這樣的人，老師真是了解我！為了自己的利益，我無法裝作沒聽到這個以虎為師的修行方式。我必須照著阿姜曼的教導，全心全意地投入修行。
這位比丘的個性就像阿姜曼所說，固執又不肯聽從他人的意見。不過這次聽了建議後，他做出明智決定，並且他決定立刻出發至山洞裡修行。他很快把行囊準備好，接著，他走去向阿姜曼辭別。在還未開口告別時，阿姜曼先說話了：
「你現在要去哪裡？你看起來穿戴整齊，一副要去行軍打戰的樣子。」
「我要去死在你說的那個山洞裡。」
「什麼，我剛才怎麼說的！是死在那洞穴裡，還是去洞穴裡禪修？」
「嗯，你是叫我去那裡禪修，不是去死在那裡。然而，我聽同修們說過，有一隻大老虎就住在那山洞的附近。他們認為那隻老虎的窩應該是在上方的另一個洞穴裡，三不五時便會在那裡出現。我又聽說當老虎出去獵食時，出入路徑正好經過那山洞的前方，所以我不認為自己能夠活著回來。剛才，我只是隨口說出了我的擔憂。」
阿姜曼：「出於不同的機緣，過去已有許多比丘曾經住過那個山洞；這些人中，沒有一位被老虎攻擊、或者被老虎吃掉。為什麼現在老虎會特別想吃掉你？你的肉與別人的肉有何不同，為何你的肉特別能激發起老虎的食慾？這世界上要到哪裡才能找到這麼奇怪的老虎？對別的比丘都不會有食慾，但只要看到你，牠便會充滿攻擊欲望，牠便會把你一口吃下去？」
阿姜曼接著向那位比丘解釋，內心會如何欺騙行者－內心有數也數不清的把戲，行者只會被它耍得團團轉而已。
「如果沒有用謹慎且警覺的態度去檢視每一件事物，你一定會被內心種種把戲弄得精疲力竭，更別想馴服它的放蕩不羈了。你看你還沒離開寺院，老師的建議已被你心中煩惱說的話取代了，你怎可能照著我建議的方式嚴格訓練自己呢？」阿姜曼繼續教訓：「儘管全世界的人都注定死亡，但人們只要一聽到「死」這個字，就嚇得膽戰心驚。然而，導致死亡的源頭－「出生」，從未有人害怕過。每個人都喜歡出生，但我實在搞不懂大家是怎麼想的，因為只要一出生，就表示前方有多少的苦痛悲哀在等著啊！若人類繁殖下一代，可以像竹子這樣一發芽就是一大叢，那麼人們對「出生」的迷戀將會一發不可收拾。每個人都會有幾百個、幾千個孩子。之後，竹叢開花雖不常見，但它們是整叢一起開花，接著一起枯死。沒有人曾經想過，若在短時間內有大批人們死亡，這會造成怎樣的衝擊－世界一定會因為人們的大量死亡而陷入恐懼。」
「你是一名頭陀比丘，應該是一位訓練有素的心靈戰士。然而，你害怕死亡的程度甚至超過一般的在家人，你為什麼讓煩惱這樣控制你呢？你有正念與智慧，它們能保護行者，為何不拿出它們來？你應該拋棄被動的心態，主動出擊，將心中潛藏的煩惱們全都趕走。接著，你便能了解自己以前有多麼愚蠢，竟看不出煩惱在你心中頤指氣使，你充其量只是一名奴隸而已。一名戰士要取得勝利，關鍵在於他是否敢英勇死在戰場上。若還沒準備好從容就死，那麼你不該走去我說的那個山洞裡。要知道，唯有置生死於度外，才有擊敗敵人之可能。所以，若真的想看清楚苦痛、想超越苦痛，那麼你現在必須把對死亡的恐懼視為一種苦痛，並把恐懼視為你不共戴天的敵人－恐懼就是內心煩惱的產物。你只有挺身而出才能去除恐懼，也只有站到戰場上才能消滅敵人。這項修行是困難的，但你必須堅持下去。如此，你才能看清楚恐懼：它讓行者整天疑神疑鬼、痛苦難安。你得勇敢走出寺院，做出改變，別抱著恐懼不放。再讓恐懼燃燒下去，你就要受不了煎熬而喪失心神了。背水一戰吧，否則你的苦痛將永遠繼續下去！」
「你能夠把所有信心都壓在老師與法之上嗎？還是你只信任你的恐懼－貪瞋癡的小嘍囉，負責拆除你心中正念與智慧的間諜？正念與智慧是你擊敗貪瞋癡的關鍵所在。向四周看看吧！你似乎只看見老虎，而老虎會如同你的想像，找到你再把你大口吞下？」
「怎麼可能這樣？再想一想吧！我可以向你保證，我自己的修行總是沒有退路。正因為如此，我才能得到修行的善果。」
聽到阿姜曼的訓斥後，這位比丘反而渾身充滿了法喜。他感覺心中迸出了光亮，而勇氣源源不絕地湧出。阿姜曼的訓斥一結束，這位比丘就辭別老師，無所畏懼地朝山洞走去。
剛抵達山洞時，這位比丘仍沉浸在聞法的喜悅中，渾身都充滿勇氣。放下行囊之後，比丘開始在山洞附近走走看看；但不知為何，他的腦海突然閃過這可能是老虎巢穴的想法。一想到此事，他的目光便不自覺地往地面看去，果然他在山洞的前方看見了一個老虎足印！這影像讓他倒抽一口氣，恐懼瞬間傳遍全身。其實，這足印可能是許久前的老虎所留下的，也或許是別的動物的腳印。然而，他已被嚇到不知所措，腦中只是一片空白。在那一剎那，他忘記了老師、忘記了老師的訓斥、忘記了自己曾經勇氣十足。恐懼就這樣淹沒了他的心，而他根本無力反抗。最後他鼓起勇氣走過去，用腳抹平地上的爪印；可惜，恐懼無法被這舉動抹去。當然不用再看到爪印，他還是感覺輕鬆了一些。
從低頭看到老虎爪印的那一刻起，這位比丘就被嚇得魂不附體－他整晚躲在角落，動也不敢動。雖然他熬過了那晚，但恐懼並沒有消退。而且，他那晚的恐懼只是前菜而已，因為當黑夜再次降臨時，恐懼變得更加厲害－山洞的周圍似乎滿滿都是可怕的老虎！更悲慘的是，他之前的瘧疾又在那天晚上復發了，身體一陣高燒緊接著一陣寒顫。於是，這位比丘的身體與心靈都痛苦不堪，他感覺自己已一腳踏進了阿鼻地獄。難能可貴的是，儘管心中總會浮現一個叫他趕快放棄的聲音，他仍不願遵從這聽似簡單的指示，還能勉強自己待在山洞內。當然，高燒、寒顫、再加上對老虎的恐懼，這比丘早已失去了平靜，幾乎就要精神崩潰了。
那天晚上是特別的漫長與難熬。偶爾，他會想起阿姜曼的慈悲教導；也只在這時，他心中炙熱燃燒的地獄之火才會稍稍退卻。隨著時間逼近深夜，這比丘的病況是越是強烈，他不禁懷疑起自己能否活過今晚。他回想自己來到山洞修行的緣由：不過兩天前，我還誇口自己要在這裡為正法捐出性命。那時阿姜曼問我要去哪裡，我馬上大聲回答，我要去死在這個山洞裡。而我走來這裡時，步伐輕盈，心志堅定，我是抱著不成功便成仁的決心來的！為什麼我人身在山洞、而死神站在洞外時，我卻改變心意，只想著要活著回去？我現在這麼怕死，怕得我根本無暇顧及威儀，我還是之前的那個我嗎？我應該沒有跟某個膽小鬼交換內心吧？為什麼我變得這樣懦弱？人在寺院時，我可以裝出從容就死的態度；人在山洞後，我卻只想著如何能夠逃回去。所以，到底是要逃跑還是從容就死？快點做出決定，別再浪費時間了。啊，倒不如我就走到懸崖的最邊緣處禪坐吧？若正念不足以讓我維持盤坐的姿勢，我便摔落山谷而死。接著，禿鷹與蒼蠅會處理我的屍體，不必再麻煩村民們埋葬我，一個無用比丘的屍體不該讓任何人碰觸。除了浪費時間外，村民們還可能會受到感染－我的「無用病」不該再傳染給任何人。不然，我也可以在老虎出入的路徑上禪坐。這樣老虎獵食時會方便些，牠可以直接咬斷我的脖子，把我吞下肚當作點心。快點，這兩種方式你要選哪一個？快點下定決心，別再猶豫不決。
這位比丘的決心再次增強了。他走到山洞洞口，一邊深呼吸一邊思考著。考量這兩種方式後，比丘決定採行第一個選項：走去懸崖最邊緣處禪坐，若稍失正念、維持不住端坐姿勢，後果就是死在深谷底端，讓禿鷹與蒼蠅飽餐一頓。心念決定後，他便向前走到最邊緣、再多一些就將跌落之處。比丘面向著深谷坐定，他的背後不遠處其實也是老虎出入巢穴的必經路徑。比丘開始用功在「buddho」上；同時他心中明白，只要一時失神，他便會摔下慘死。繫念在「buddho」後，比丘再次觀察自己的內心，檢視哪一項的恐懼比較熾盛？是害怕摔下懸崖多些，還是害怕老虎多一些。在這清明的狀態下，他清楚看到自己對懸崖的恐懼較為熾盛。接著，他將正念集中在他平時經常修持的兩個禪修業處其中之一：「buddho」或是「死亡」－若內心生起「buddho」，他即檢視「buddho」直至入定；若生起「死亡」，他便檢視「死亡」直至入定，看當時這兩個業處哪一個會在心中生起。在死亡的邊緣反覆思惟與入定後，比丘的心漸漸匯聚在單一焦點之上；突然間，他的心在下一個瞬間便進入了完全寂靜，那不是一般的定境，而是甚深的安止定。9 也就在那一瞬間，比丘從心中的烈焰地獄裡脫身了。折磨人的種種想法已不見蹤跡，留存下來的，只有心「能知」的本質－它獨立於萬物之外，完美無缺，光彩奪目。這名比丘對死亡的恐懼瞬間消失了。
比丘是在那晚的十點鐘證入安止定，他沒有策劃這個過程，它突然就發生了。那是無以倫比的寂靜，他的心深受撼動。安止定持續了很久，到隔天的上午十點，比丘才從安止定中退出。還未打開眼睛前，比丘不知道時間的流逝；打開雙眼後，他才發覺太陽已高掛天空。考量時間已近中午，這比丘便不去村落托缽－他決定禁食一天。退出定境後，比丘注意到自己毫無懼怕。原本心中擺放恐懼的位置，現在滿滿都是勇氣，那是真實的勇氣，絕非之前的暴虎馮河之勇。另外，身體的高燒悄悄退去了－他的瘧疾完全痊癒，之後再沒有復發！經歷了這些，這名比丘完全相信是正法發揮療效，正法治好了瘧疾與他對老虎的恐懼。從那天起，他不再受瘧疾或恐懼的蹂躪，他終於可以放下顧忌，自在遊行於山林之間－就算老虎也不再是阻礙了。
在山洞修行的那段期間，他偶爾會希望老虎突然現身，這樣他才能測試內心有多堅定。比丘會在心中琢磨，自己平靜走向老虎的過程。回想這次的修行之旅，比丘不禁充滿感激。阿姜曼的教導看似嚴厲，實是慈悲。出於嚴厲的修行方式，比丘才能看清恐懼的面貌。現在他已知道心如何運作，他也完全認同唯有嚴厲的方式才能規範住自己的心。從那時起，若要禪修，這比丘一定會選擇當地最恐怖或最危險的地方修行。人還在山洞的日子裡，比丘持續嚴格要求自己，會特別留意最恐怖、最易於促進他禪修的場所。在確定老虎出入巢穴的路徑後，他會特地在那條路境的正中央處禪坐。就算人只在山洞內禪坐，比丘也決定自己不再放下傘帳，因為他發覺人在傘帳內會降低對老虎的畏怖之心；而缺少恐懼這個要素，他的心就不易進入禪定所需要的平靜狀態。總之，他每一次禪修的位置都不盡相同，他會評估幾個可能的地點並且檢視自己的心，找出當時最合適的禪修地點，好讓內心快速進入深層禪定。
有一天深夜，這比丘走到一片開闊荒野中禪坐。此次的過程不順利，他已嘗試各種方法，他的心依舊四處遊走，不肯向內收聚。他洩氣地坐在原地，不知如何是好。突然間，他想起這裡正是大老虎經常出沒的區域。於是，他思索著：不曉得老虎在哪裡？若牠能來這裡幫助我，我就不會這樣辛苦了。看到老虎走過來的樣子，我的心就不敢拿翹－出於本能，心一定會快速落入寧靜。
想起他的朋友後大概半個小時吧，這位比丘就聽到了一個大型動物走動的聲響，聽起來動物是朝向老虎巢穴走去。這樣的情節，似乎是老虎朋友已答應了請求前來配合演出。當時大約是凌晨二點。隨著老虎越靠愈近，他對自己發出警告：現在老虎過來了，難道你真的無所謂嗎？你不擔心牠一口咬住你的脖子，把你大卸八塊？若不想成為老虎的食物，那麼你最好趕快去到你的皈依處躲著吧！
想到這裡，他的腦海裡也開始想像老虎撲到他身上的畫面：老虎張開血盆大口，尖銳的牙齒刺進脖子裡。當他專注這個影像時，他的心同時迅速地收聚，接著心向下墜，直接跌落最深層的安止定。一瞬間，所有事物都從他的意識裡消失－自己、老虎、內在外在的一切皆消失不見！留存下來的只有寧靜與祥和－心與法融合為一，成為一種無法以文字形容的完善狀態。他的心安住於完善，足足有八個小時之久－從凌晨兩點到隔天早上十點，心都如如不動。從安止定退出後，比丘才發覺日頭已高。於是，他同樣不去托缽，當日不進食了。接著，比丘走到昨晚聽到有老虎腳步聲的地方，檢查地上是否有跡象能證實老虎從他的面前走過？或許，那些聲響只是耳朵與心念聯合起來造出的幻覺？檢視地面後，他看見了兩排腳印。無疑腳印是來自一隻老虎，而且人與老虎之間最短的距離只有十二英尺遠。足跡是筆直的一條線，方向朝向上方的老虎巢穴。看起來，老虎對住在附近的比丘朋友很是習慣，完全沒有要檢視的意圖。整個事件似乎不像真實，相當不可思議！
在安止定中，心凝聚並進入內心最底層的過程，行者會依各自的不同心性而有不同的體驗。有些行者的心性會讓他在此過程中觀察到一種快速的凝聚與縮小，同時會覺得自己身處在一個跌落深井的過程。在此跌落過程與之後的安止定時期，行者的感官暫停運作，行者將覺察不到外在世界發生的任何事物。我們討論的這名比丘，他收攝內心並進入安止定的過程即是如此。任何行者，只要他的心進入了安止定，他對外在世界的一切感受必然會戛然而止。所以，就如同這位比丘所敘述，當他的心完全凝聚時，所有與心相關、需要心處理的事物會在一瞬間消失不見；只有從凝聚狀態退出後，他才回復至可覺知事物的意識狀態。然而，這名比丘也注意到，若缺少外在危機，他很難把心導入凝聚。一個真實且強烈的危機才能逼迫他的心凝聚－眨眼之間，心便能抵達最深層之處。這比丘曾經對我們說過，為何他總在最恐怖場所修行的緣由：
「我發覺我在恐怖場所修行最能夠加速我的禪修了。若聽到哪座山嶺有老虎出沒，我就會去那裡居住與修行；若當地已無老虎，我便會離開。你們應該也能理解：有許多猛獸的荒山野地正適合我這樣的粗人－老虎是修行的好幫手，而這就是我喜歡老虎的原因。」
「除了體悟到深層禪定的重要外，我也培育了幾項特殊的覺知能力。因此，我在那山洞裡遭遇過一些不尋常的事件。譬如說，某幾個夜晚，當地的地居天人們來到山洞拜訪我，我們還交談了一會。另一個奇怪、而我完全不知前因後果的能力是：只要有某人在附近村莊過世，我總在事情發生的當下就知道有人去世。這就像我的心中有一個告示牌，它會自動出現某人已去世的資訊，而且這資訊總是正確無誤－我會特別留意並加以查證，直到今日都沒出錯過。雖然山洞離村莊大約有五英里遠，村民們仍會前來拜訪並請求我為喪家舉行葬禮，這可是一件麻煩事呢！所以，此項能力就是讓我能知道村莊內有人去世、讓我提早做準備－明天要多走一段路，前往村莊另一邊的墓地主持喪禮。這資訊總是正確無誤，而村民們就像是照劇本演出，隔天一早就出現在我住的地方。我試過幾次，但每一次我都推不掉這份差事。村民們會說，在山區很難找得到比丘，無論如何都要請我幫忙。村民們相信有比丘主持喪禮，能讓死者獲得更大的利益。出於對喪家的哀矜，我必須答應他們的請求。若喪事在一般日子裡，那倒沒什麼關係；若在我不去托缽、想加強禪修的日子裡，我當然不希望有事發生。然而，通常就是在這些日子裡，我才會遇到事情。」
「住在山洞的那段時期，我的老虎朋友總是會規律地激勵我、讓我更加精進修行。因為每隔一個晚上，老虎會離開巢穴去尋找獵物。離開巢穴的路徑只有一條，所以牠每次都會從我身邊經過。然而，雖然牠肚子餓、雖然牠會先看到我，這位朋友從未想過要把我吃掉。」
從那一次山洞修行後，我們這位同修便養成了相當特別的修行習慣－在深夜時離開居所，前往懸崖峭壁上禪坐。他現在一點都不擔心荒野是否有猛獸出沒，於是他能夠順著自己的天性，獨自一人在荒野中修行與遊方。我在此記載了這個故事，是因為它有許多值得人們深思之處。儘管恐懼，這名比丘仍堅持老師所交付的修行，而他也終於看見自己那一顆不受控制的心；接著，他訓練並制伏他的心，讓它完全服從命令。而看似危險的事物，譬如老虎，反而變成幫助他禪修的好朋友。野生老虎原本是人們最不可預測、最應敬畏的一種生物，但這名比丘成功扭轉情勢，他利用老虎來激勵禪修，並獲得了極大的利益。
在班農修的寺院安頓好後，阿姜曼十分滿意這裡的環境。附近有山區能讓弟子們出外修行；寺院內的空間夠大，雨安居期間能容納二、三十位比丘一起生活。雖然阿姜曼曾經想過僧眾人數過多可能會引起紛爭，但這幾乎沒發生過。每位比丘都專注在自己的修行上，不會去計較彼此間的差異。比丘們擁有相同的志向，互信互助，大家猶如是住在大家庭裡的親兄弟。每天早晨，比丘們平靜地走進村落托缽，這莊嚴祥和的景象，任何人看見都會心生歡喜。村落廣場上放置了一張長板凳，比丘們接受食物供養後會坐在板凳上，為村民們誦經祈福。接著，比丘們走回寺院，按照戒臘高低就座與進食，這些都是在寧靜中進行。用餐後，每位比丘清洗自己的缽，徹底晾乾，以乾淨的布覆蓋，再整齊放好。等到早上的雜務完成後，他們分別散開，各自走進寺院四周的森林，在一個僻靜的小徑上，或是禪坐或是經行。比丘們在森林裡的修行會持續到下午四點鐘，那是屬於下午例行工作的時間。比丘們走回寺院，開始打掃與整理寺院四周環境。工作完成後，比丘們一起走到水井提水，回寺院填滿院內裝水的容器－有裝飲用水的水壺、洗腳用水、清洗缽具的水桶等等。接著，比丘們在水井邊快速地清洗身體。洗浴後，比丘們又繼續回去禪修。在沒有集會的夜晚，比丘們通常是整晚不間斷地用功。若停下來休息，那便是他們躺下就寢的時候。正常說來，阿姜曼是每七天舉行一次僧團的集會；但若需要個別指導，弟子可在任一天前去請教阿姜曼。當然，請教問題的時間也需注意，弟子不宜在阿姜曼做例行功課的時段前去請教。適宜的時段有：上午用完餐之後、剛過中午的那一段時間、下午五點、或著是晚上八點左右。
在傍晚的集會時分，阿姜曼會為大眾說法並回答比丘們的提問。每一次的問與答，都是我們的心靈饗宴。在這樣的集會，來自周遭地區的弟子們會提出一些他們無法解決、且相對少見的特殊問題。其中的一些問題是關於行者在禪定中現起的現象，這些問題偏向內在世界；另一些則是關於外在世界的問題，譬如是與天人梵天相關的議題。這些平時在荒野修行、集會時前來請教問題的比丘，他們通常都具備高深的禪定與神通能力，因此他們的問題相當特殊。我們弟子眾對這些問題充滿興趣，一心專注在阿姜曼的回答。每個人都希望這樣的問與答越多越好，因為這些經驗與教導，能夠對治並改善我們的禪修技巧，每一個人都覺得受益匪淺。
若時機恰當，阿姜曼在集會中還會聊起他過往的一些故事。阿姜曼向我們說過，他早年未出家時的生活、出家的過程、沙彌時的經歷、與成為比丘後的種種事蹟。一些故事還真是有趣，我們聽聞後都不禁哈哈大笑；有些則充滿艱辛，聽聞後甚至會流下眼淚；而他敘述證得最後果位的過程，則是精采異常！長時間與一位好老師同住，明顯有著許多利益。有老師做為榜樣，弟子會時時留意言行是否適宜，並改正自己錯誤的舊習。另外，看到老師的諸多能力，弟子們會更加精進，期許自己也能證得相同的能力。跟隨老師的時日一長，弟子們自然是依照老師的方式生活與修行，並能獲得重大成就。阿姜曼為弟子們提供了一個安全的環境，這意指弟子們在修行路上不會有步入歧途的可能。弟子們時時聽聞阿姜曼的教導，內心自然親近正法的理路。而阿姜曼令人害怕的覺知能力，促使弟子們培育持續的警覺心，進而加強了他們的正念與智慧。這一類型的恐懼，能逼迫人們不斷檢視自己的言行意，於是人們能免於過度自滿的陷阱。我當然相信每一位比丘都盡了最大的努力在控制心念上，但阿姜曼仍可以捉住我們的失念，並且他會在集會時公開說出這些不當的遐思。聽到自己的念頭被公開，這是非常尷尬的經驗。然而，身為僧眾的一員，比丘們必須坦然接受未能守護根門的後果與教訓。
身為有學的比丘，我們很慶幸自己能跟隨阿姜曼生活，這真是充滿喜樂的修行過程。然而，若行者不肯放棄自己錯誤的見解，那麼喜樂將被挫折所取代，因為錯誤見解總是會拉著行者，不讓行者繼續前進。我不知道其他人的狀況，我只能舉自己為例。我向來是一位浮躁不安的弟子，可想而知我極度依賴阿姜曼對我的砥礪錘鍊。當心中的貪瞋癡開始蔓延時，我便會趕緊回想阿姜曼的教導，這總能讓我找到一絲喘息的空隙。因為，我每一次聽到阿姜曼講述他在各修行階段的情況時，我都會跟著振奮起來，身體的沉重感瞬間消失，我似乎可以直接往天空走去！只可惜，我在禪修時無法重現這種輕盈的感覺，身體有如被須彌山壓住，四周盡是迷霧，我哪裡也去不了！像這樣的時候，我實在會對自己感到灰心，甚至還想把頭埋在沙子裡好埋藏我的羞愧。然而，這沒什麼好抱怨－我這麼不受教，遭遇挫折也是剛好而已。
希望讀者在聽到我粗鄙不受教的個性後，能夠了解到，只要行者的內心仍有不善根，心便會漸漸沉淪、而行者想把心拉回時又需要耗費多大的努力。今生，我們很慶幸能生得人身；更難得的是，我們已聽聞佛法。若不把握這個機會去改正缺失，那麼無論我們身世多麼顯赫，那不善的傾向終究會引導我們至水深火熱的苦難裡。因此，修行是個刻不容緩的議題，行者必須時時鞭策自己。若有行者成功馴服了心、去除了那自無始起就主宰內心的貪瞋癡習性，無疑此位行者就已經解脫了束縛－已證得全然自由，堪受世間一切供養。佛陀與阿羅漢聖弟子們正是典範。
我有絕對的信心宣說，阿姜曼同樣是佛陀的阿羅漢聖弟子，他是當代的聖者。阿姜曼勇猛無懼，認真奉行每一天的頭陀生活，他從不屈服於煩惱的蠻力之下。即使到了晚年，當他所作皆辦，應可降低修行強度時，阿姜曼仍一如往常地長時間禪坐與經行－年輕的比丘們甚至無法做到阿姜曼每天經行的距離。阿姜曼以極大的慈悲肩負起教導比丘的責任，他總是對他的弟子們充滿信心與期待。阿姜曼勇猛無畏的個性可從他平時對我們的告誡中得知，他期許弟子們都能成為一名無所畏懼的心靈戰士。阿姜曼的話語充滿力量，撼動著我們的內心，我們的勇氣與決心往往是在聽聞開示後被激發起來，於是我們能全心全意投入修行。阿姜曼是一位嚴厲的老師，他不會放任我們的缺失不管；只在特殊狀況下，阿姜曼才有可能對弟子稍微放寬標準。面對有缺失的弟子，阿姜曼絕不是那種會睜一隻眼、閉一隻眼、還會哄著說一切都會變好的好好先生。
阿姜曼對佛法有著最崇高的敬意，他花費一生精力，徹底專研佛法的理論、實行、與其內在的意涵。在現今這個年代，要找到一位如同阿姜曼這樣通達佛法的尊者，幾乎是不可能之事了。
特別的是，他處的佛教行者似乎已經遺忘十三頭陀的修行，阿姜曼卻是相當重視。頭陀行原本是佛教的重要修行項目，但不知從何時開始，少有人們再提起頭陀行了。這情勢一直沒有改變，直到阿姜韶與阿姜曼兩位尊者在泰國東北重新奉持頭陀行之後，才開始有了轉變。時至今日，頭陀行已成為森林頭陀比丘的一個重要修行項目，這都是因為阿姜韶與阿姜曼重新提倡的結果。十三頭陀的每一項，阿姜韶與阿姜曼兩位尊者都曾經修持過。其中一些頭陀行，這兩位尊者是每天奉持，我在前面的章節已經交待過了。有一些頭陀行需要環境的配合，譬如墓地住或樹下住，這些不適合每天奉持；但不管如何，兩位尊者仍會不時奉持這些項目，他們也完全了解其意義與重要性。今日東北地區的頭陀比丘們仍奉持著頭陀行，他們可說是這兩位尊者的嫡傳弟子。
阿姜韶與阿姜曼體認到頭陀行的諸多利益，也意識到這對實修比丘們會有多大的助益。尊者們知道煩惱會在比丘內心的何處引爆，而十三頭陀的任一項苦行都能有效地從源頭截斷煩惱之流。頭陀比丘若沒有以頭陀行來約束煩惱，那麼「頭陀比丘」名稱中隱含的「梵行」含義，恐怕只是空言而已。若頭陀比丘不奉持頭陀行，一般人民也會對頭陀兩字感到困惑吧？藉由奉持頭陀行，頭陀比丘們無需太過擔憂自己的言行，因為其言行必不致於惱怒他人。每一項頭陀行可以對應並滋長比丘心中的一項德行，因此比丘可以評估自己的需求，選擇合適的頭陀行奉持之。奉持的過程必然艱辛，但這種艱辛能促使行者捨棄自己過往的邪見，並讓德行順利滋長。因時時保持警覺之故，頭陀比丘能夠察覺出內心任一時刻的疏失。接著，他培育出不間斷的正念，在疏忽發生之前預先控制住心念。綜觀全部的項目，頭陀行實在是針對各種煩惱而制定出來的修行，每一項各有其功效。若頭陀比丘能了解他所奉持項目的意涵，並且正確持守之，那麼他必能輕易擊垮內心殘留之煩惱。十三支頭陀行的威力強大，任何煩惱都無法承受住它們的全力一擊－沒有任何煩惱能夠逃過十三支頭陀的攻擊。
若行者持守頭陀行後卻畏懼所遭遇到的困難，那麼煩惱們就不需要害怕了。這是常見之事：行者遺忘了自己在沒有持守頭陀行時有多麼痛苦，只感受到目前持守頭陀行的艱辛。行者們會抱怨頭陀行太過困難，甚至會認為它們是不合時宜的修行。就在我們成為自己最大敵人的同時，貪瞋癡煩惱返回了王座，它們靜待我們再行跪拜之禮。最後，我們只會表達自己的臣服，卻看不見這之中的弔詭。顯而易見，放棄與臣服是多麼可怕的惡習啊！
認真持守一項、乃至多項頭陀行的比丘，必然具有莊嚴的氣度，人們望之即會生起喜悅與尊敬之情。頭陀行者的生活不需準備什麼，食物或睡覺之處從來不是他憂心之事。簡單的隨身資具就足已應付每一天的生活，何須多餘器具？如此，頭陀比丘們能最大量地降低外物與內心的羈絆，身體與內心都可以感受到無負擔的輕盈。即便是在家人亦可效法頭陀比丘，選擇並奉持其中幾項頭陀行，人們一定能從這樣的行持中獲得利益。因為貪瞋癡是共同存在於在家人與比丘眾的內心，而頭陀行旨在對治煩惱，各行各業的人們當然都可以用頭陀行來對治煩惱。儘管有一些頭陀行看似平凡，但頭陀行所牽涉到的法是難以想像的深奧廣大，要徹底了解可是一件困難的工作。
不提別人，我自己對頭陀行的知識也是有待加強，還望讀者們能原諒我在這方面的缺失。我只能以我個人理解的方式去奉持頭陀行，並期許自己盡量做到最好。畢竟這也是事實，頭陀行具備了太多細微與深刻之處，我或其他比丘又如何能詳細解說呢？我只能說，只要行者精勤不倦地奉持頭陀行，那麼頭陀行就足以帶領行者由最根基處一路向上走去。事實上，沒有哪一項道果是位在頭陀行無法觸及之處。身為老師，阿姜曼總是透過身教以身作則，他鼓勵弟子們與他一起奉持頭陀行。整個修行生涯，阿姜曼從未放下頭陀行的修持，即使在生命的最後一天也不例外。只當身體用盡所有氣力之後，阿姜曼才放下身體、放下了頭陀行。顯而易見，對希求盡斷心中所有煩惱的行者來說，頭陀行是基本且完善的修行，這根本無庸置疑。
雖然我還想繼續說明每一項頭陀行的重要，但我該就此打住了。有意願的行者們，歡迎親自奉行之，你們該自行發覺其中的優勝之處。旁人的解說再多，都比不上你們自己的體驗。在身體力行中，你們便能發覺出頭陀行的微細精妙，當然也能獲得更多更大的利益。成為一位森林頭陀比丘後，我很快便奉行了其中一些頭陀行，並從中獲得益處。時至今日，我依然能從頭陀行中學習，我一直把它們視為我修行的重要功課。所以，想親證內心煩惱終結的行者們，不論個性為何，你們絕不可輕視頭陀行，它們絕對擁有對治煩惱的能力。
9. 安止定(Appanã samãdhi)，或「完全的收攝」。行者完全專注在自己所選定的業處之後，他的心會「收縮至最小」或者「下墜至心的最底部」，這時心是處在一種完全寂靜的狀態。而只要內心下墜至最底部之後，行者就不再覺知到業處、自己的身心、與四周的一切事物。(參見第二章第七節註釋34)
When Ãcariya Mun believed that a specific kind of advice would help one of his students, he spoke to him directly about it. He could be very blunt in his advice to certain monks.
“You’d be better off going to meditate in that cave than you are living here in the monastery. Characters like yours prefer tough, coercive measures. Better still, find a tiger to be your teacher – fear of it will subdue your citta, forcing it to enter into calm. Realizing Dhamma in this way, you can gain some contentment. Living here in the monastery is not right for you. Stubborn people need hard things to soften them up and make them more pliable. Since tigers are such good tormentors, anyone fearing them should take one as a teacher. It’s much better than having a teacher you don’t fear. If you are afraid of ghosts, you should take ghosts as teachers to enforce mental discipline. Take as a teacher whatever your heart most fears. This is how a clever person forces himself to submit to the training.”
Before ordaining, the monk he was addressing had been a real tough guy with a bold, no-nonsense sort of character. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. He was a rather stubborn person, but stubborn in the way of a monk. As soon as he heard Ãcariya Mun’s resolute advice, he immediately decided to follow it, reasoning something like this to himself: Surely a monk of Ãcariya Mun’s caliber would never send me to be killed by a tiger. I must go and live in the cave he mentioned. If that means death, I’ll just have to accept it. If I want to see for myself the truth of what he said, then I must have no qualms about dying. I’ve heard that he always has very sound reasons for what he says; and he’s careful to thoroughly examine every situation before speaking. Anyone who can understand his teaching and put it into practice is bound to get good results. I must take what he just said very seriously – it came from an insight into my character, and a genuine concern for my well-being. It is as though he plucked out my heart and examined it, and has found out all about me. How can I doubt his advice? If I fail to act on it now, how can I call myself a monk? I might as well be a lay person. I’m going to live in that cave – whatever happens. If I die there – so be it. If I don’t, then all I ask is a chance to realize some amazing Dhamma while I’m there. It’s obvious that he was talking about me when he referred to being stubborn and recalcitrant. It’s a true measure of his genius: he knows me better than I know myself. I know I’m that type of person, one hundred percent. For my own good, I can’t afford to disregard his advice about tigers. I must do what he said and subject myself to this agonizing practice.
This monk truly was a stubborn character, reluctant to accept advice from anyone, just as Ãcariya Mun indicated. After considering Ãcariya Mun’s remarks and reaching a definite decision, he went to take his leave. As he approached, Ãcariya Mun immediately asked him where he was going.
“Where are you off to? You look all dressed up, and ready to march earnestly into battle.”
“I’m going off to die in that cave you told me about.”
“What! What did I say to you: go die in that cave, or go meditate there?”
“Well, you told me to meditate there, not die there. But I know from the other monks that there’s a tiger living in the cave above the one I’ll be staying in. They say that the tiger’s cave is just close by – it comes and goes there all the time. When it goes out to hunt for food, it will pass right in front of my cave, so I have my doubts about remaining alive there. I was simply voicing my apprehension.”
“Many other monks have already stayed in that cave, on many different occasions, and none of them were devoured by tigers. So, why should a tiger suddenly decide to come gobble you up? What’s the difference between your flesh and the flesh of those other monks that makes it so much more likely to whet a tiger’s appetite? Where did you get this savory flesh tigers like so much that they are waiting to pounce on and devour only you and no one else?”
Ãcariya Mun then explained about the deceptive nature of the mind that deludes people in ways that are far too numerous to easily keep up with.
“If you don’t examine everything and test it out with a critical, discerning attitude, you will be tormented by the mind’s myriad tricks and never learn to tame its unruly nature. You have yet to leave, but already you trust the whisperings of the kilesas more than the advice of your teacher. How will you ever manage? Although people the world over have yet to die, they are all terrified of death. But birth, the enticement luring them into death, is feared by no one – everyone craves birth. I cannot figure out why people are so infatuated with birth. Just one birth in a physical body means immense suffering and anxiety. Suppose human beings could send up shoots like a clump of bamboo: their eagerness for birth would increase rampantly. Each person desiring to branch out into hundreds, or thousands, of additional people, without giving thought to how the combined fear of so many people dying at once might affect them. The whole world would become tumultuous with the fear of death and there would be no safe place to live.
“You are a practicing monk, a trained spiritual warrior. Yet your fear of death surpasses that of the untrained laity. Why do you let the kilesas harass you in this way? You have the mindfulness and wisdom needed to defend yourself, so why don’t you use them? Go on the offensive. Chase out the devious kilesas lurking there in your heart. Then you will realize how stupid you’ve been, blindly serving their interests, unaware of the power they have over you. A warrior’s victory depends on his willingness to brave death on the battlefield. If you’re not willing to die, then you shouldn’t enter the battle zone. Only by braving death will you be able to defeat your enemies. If you are truly determined to transcend dukkha, by realizing its true nature, you must view your fear of death as one form of dukkha – a product of the kilesas stored in your heart. You can only resolve this matter by making a stand on a battlefield conducive to victory, like the one I just indicated. Persevere, and you will come to realize fear’s harmful effects: it stirs the emotions and demoralizes the spirit, always giving rise to suffering. It is better to take a defiant stand now. Don’t simply keep clinging to that fear, hugging it tightly to your chest and burning your heart until you cry out in agony. Fail to act decisively now and your suffering will continue indefinitely.
“Will you believe in the supreme sanctity of your teacher and the Dhamma? Or are you going to trust that fear the kilesas have released into your heart which is depriving you of the very mindfulness and wisdom you need to defeat it? Looking around, you seem to see only tigers, all coming to tear out your flesh and make a meal of you.
Why is that? Please reflect deeply on the matter. I assure you that I have used the same combative training method to good effect in my own practice.”
Such was his delight in the Dhamma he heard that the monk said he felt his citta glowing bright with courage as he listened to Ãcariya Mun’s strong rebuke. When Ãcariya Mun finished speaking, the monk took his leave and immediately prepared to go to the cave.
He arrived at the cave still buoyed by a sense of courage and rapturous delight. He put down the belongings he carried with him and began to survey the surrounding area. Then, by some mischance, the thought arose in his mind that the cave was home to a tiger. With this thought in mind and his eyes scanning the ground in front of the cave, he spied a tiger’s paw-print in the dirt. Never considering that it was probably made long before, the sight of it sent shock waves of fear through him, nearly scaring him out of his wits. In that instant, he completely forgot his teacher and the sense of courage that glowed so brightly while he sat listening to him in the monastery. Fear overwhelmed his heart and he was helpless to prevent it. He walked over and erased all traces of the paw-print with his foot, but the fear persisted. Still, he did feel a little better not having to look at it anymore.
From the moment he glanced down to discover the tiger’s paw-print, he was terrified – a paralyzing fear lasting all night. Even during the day, his fear remained; but it became especially intense once night fell, as he imagined the whole area around his cave to be teeming with huge tigers. To make matters even worse, he had a sudden recurrence of malaria, with fever and chills. He felt as though he had fallen into a living hell devoid of any physical or mental comfort whatsoever. To his great credit, he was tough enough mentally to resist the temptation to give up his painful attempts at finding a means to overcome his fear. The worsening fever, combined with his agonizing fear of tigers, did unsettle his composure, however, nearly driving him crazy.
Once in a long while he thought of Ãcariya Mun’s kindness and the advice he had given, which temporarily helped to douse the fires of misery burning in his heart. As symptoms of the malaria became more and more intense, he reflected back on his earlier intention to sacrifice his life in that cave: Previously, I made a decision to sacrifice my life here. When Ãcariya Mun asked me where I was going, I immediately announced that I was going off to die in this cave. And as I hiked up here, I felt as though I was walking on air, such was my determination to brave death. So, why is it that upon reaching the cave and actually entering the jaws of death, I have now changed my mind and decided I don’t want to die? Now, I’m so afraid of dying I can hardly hold my own. I’m exactly the same person I was then. I didn’t exchange my heart for the heart of some coward. So why do I seem to be a new person with a cowardly attitude? In the monastery, I was prepared to die. Now that I’m actually here, I’ve changed my mind. Which is it going to be? Make up your mind right now – don’t wait any longer. How about this? I’ll go sit in meditation at the overhanging edge of a steep precipice. If my mindfulness falters, then let me fall to my death at the bottom of the ravine where the vultures and the flies can take care of my corpse. There would be no need to trouble the villagers about it. No one should have to dirty their hands handling the corpse of a useless monk – my futility might prove contagious. Then again, I could sit in meditation right in the middle of the path leading to the tiger’s cave. I’ll make it easy for that tiger when it goes out hunting for food. It can just sink its teeth into my useless neck and have me for a snack tonight. Which will it be? Make up your mind quickly – do it now!
His resolve bolstered, he walked to the front of the cave and stood for a moment, awaiting inspiration. Weighing his two options, he finally decided to go with the first one: to meditate, seated precariously on the brink of the steep precipice near his cave. Any slip in mindfulness, and vultures and flies would be there to take care of his remains. That decided, he walked over and sat down, facing a deep gorge with his back to the path the tiger took to and from its cave. He began repeating “buddho”, intensely aware that, if careless, he could die in an instant. Seated there meditating on buddho, he kept a vigilant watch on his mind to see which fear predominated: that of falling down the precipice, or that of being attacked by a tiger. As soon as it became apparent that fear of the precipice was the greatest, he gathered his mindfulness and focused intensively on one of his two meditation themes: either the repetition of buddho or the recollection of death – depending on which one arose in his mind at any one moment. Meditating thus, poised on the brink of death, his citta soon gathered itself into one point of focus, and then suddenly dropped down to the very base of appanã samãdhi, 9 rapidly converging into a state of total calm. In an instant, he was oblivious to all the fiery turmoil that had engulfed his mind for so long. All that remained was the essential knowing nature of the citta – existing alone, by itself, in all its amazing splendor. Fear of death had utterly vanished.
The hour was ten P.M. when the monk’s citta converged’dramatically into appanã samãdhi, an experience so profound that he did not withdraw from that state until ten o’clock the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw the sun halfway up the sky. Since it was already too late for morning almsround, he didn’t bother to go to the village – he simply went without food that day. Withdrawing from samãdhi, he was aware of a complete absence of fear. In its place was an amazing sense of courage he had never before experienced. His fever was gone as well – completely cured that night, and he never again suffered a recurrence of malaria. He was convinced that the ‘therapeutic powers of Dhamma’ had cured both his malaria and his fear of tigers. From that day on, his body was never again plagued by malaria, his mind never again ravaged by fear. No longer terrified of tigers, he could go anywhere, live anywhere – unperturbed.
Occasionally, he wished a tiger would show up to test his mental fortitude. He imagined himself calmly walking right up to it without the least apprehension. Reflecting on the whole experience, he felt immensely gratefully to Ãcariya Mun for so kindly teaching him about the corrupting power of fear. Now that he understood how his mind worked, he persistently used this coercive style of practice. Preparing to meditate, he preferred looking for the most frightening places he could find. For the remainder of his stay there he continued this training, making a special effort to seek out frightening locations for conducting his meditation. Noticing that tigers regularly used a certain path, he made a point of sitting right in the middle of it. While meditating in the cave, he resolved not to lower his mosquito net because sitting inside a lowered mosquito net gave more protection from the threat of tigers. Minus that element of fear his citta was reluctant to drop into the desired state of calm. Where he sat depended each time on where he felt his citta was most likely to rapidly ‘converge’ to the very base of samãdhi.
Late one night as he sat out in the open, his citta refused to drop into calm despite his best efforts. He sat there frustrated for a long time until he finally thought about the huge tiger that came and went frequently in the area: I wonder where that tiger is today. It would be nice if it came by here to help my citta drop into calm. If it passed by, I wouldn’t have to struggle with my meditation like this – the citta would just instinctively drop into calm.
Not long after thinking of his friend – perhaps after half an hour – he heard the footsteps of that huge animal walking towards its cave, as though right on cue. The time was approaching two A.M. Hearing the tiger draw nearer, he roused himself with a timely warning: Here it comes, right now! Are you really so casual? Aren’t you afraid it will sink its teeth into your neck and make a meal of you? If you don’t want to be tiger food, then you better hurry up and look for a safe place to hide.
As he thought this, he conjured in his mind an image of the tiger pouncing on him, its gaping jaws closing in around his neck. The moment he fixed his attention on this mental image, his citta ‘converged’, dropping rapidly until it reached the very base of appanã samãdhi. Instantly all external phenomena completely vanished from his awareness – himself, the tiger, everything. What remained was serenity and tranquility – the union of citta and Dhamma as they melded into one essence of indescribable wonder. His citta rested in that sublime state for a total of eight hours – from two o’clock that night until ten o’clock the next morning. Upon withdrawing, he saw the sun was already high, so he again canceled his almsround and went without food. He then walked over to inspect the place, where he heard the tiger approaching, to see if there were any signs that a tiger really had passed by. Or had his ears merely been playing tricks on him? Looking at the ground, he saw the tracks of a huge tiger, about twelve feet behind the spot where he had been sitting. The tiger’s tracks continued in a straight line all the way up to its cave, never veering off to the direction where its friend was sitting in meditation. The whole incident was strange, and quite amazing.
The experience, in appanã samãdhi, of the citta fully ‘converging’ into its true base, is an experience that varies according to the natural inclination of each individual. Some people are inclined by temperament to experience a very rapid convergence, feeling as though they are falling down a well. The internal sense faculties cease to function at that time, meaning they are totally unaware of all external sense impressions. This monk’s citta was one such case: when it fully ‘converged’ in samãdhi, all awareness of external phenomena ceased as a consequence. As the monk explained it, the moment his citta fully ‘converged,’ everything that was involved with it in any way vanished instantly. Only when he withdrew from that state did his normal awareness of things return. But, he found it difficult to attain this state unless he was under duress by some external threat. A real threat of danger forced his citta to ‘converge’ very rapidly – in a split second it reached its true base. He said this was the reason he liked to seek out frightening places.
“I find this the most convenient way to develop my meditation: practicing in places that arouse fear. I actually prefer wild mountains that have caves frequented by tigers, and tend to shy away from those that don’t. As you can see: tiger-infested areas are perfectly suited to a rough character like me – that’s what makes me so fond of them.
“I had other strange experiences while living in that cave. Besides realizing my goal to attain deep meditative calm, I also developed several unusual kinds of psychic awareness. For example, terrestrial devas came some nights to visit and converse with me. Even stranger still, when someone in the local village died I always knew about it immediately, though I’m not sure where this knowledge came from. It simply arose spontaneously in my heart. And it was invariably correct – never did I find reason to doubt it. My cave was located about five miles from the village, yet those people still insisted on coming to request my help in performing the funeral rites, which was very troublesome for me. As soon as someone died in the village I was aware of it, knowing straightaway that the next day I’d have to make another long trek to the village cemetery. And sure enough, the villagers came once again to bother me. Nothing I said could dissuade them. They told me that monks were scarce in that area, so they had no other choice but to disturb me. They believed that the deceased would benefit if a monk performed the funeral. I sympathized and felt sorry for them, so I had to go. During periods of fasting, which I found conducive to intensive meditation, I didn’t want anything to interfere with my practice; but something usually did come up.
“While living in that cave I always relied on my friend the tiger to give my meditation practice a timely boost. Every other night it ventured down in search of food, as all hungry animals do. But it never showed any interest in me, even though it walked right past me on its way out. There was only one way down so it had to go that way.”
This monk had the rather unusual habit of leaving his cave late at night to go sit in meditation on stone outcrops high up in the mountains. He appeared wholly unfazed by the danger from wild animals. By temperament, he preferred to wander alone through the wilds. I have included his story here because it teaches some valuable lessons. He practiced with unwavering purpose until he managed to expose the truth of his unruly mind, thus disciplining it and bringing it under his control. Things once viewed as threats, like tigers, became friends instead, assisting his practice. He managed to make use of a wild tiger – a most unpredictable creature – to inspire him in his meditation practice, thus achieving remarkable results.
ONCE ÃCARIYA MUN had settled in the monastery at Ban Nong Pheu, he was contented to encourage the community of dhutanga monks practicing under his tutelage. As many as twenty to thirty of them joined him there during retreat periods. Despite the increasing numbers, however, conflicts, that might have caused him concern, seldom arose. Each monk was determined to focus diligently on his own practice. A harmonious sense of fraternity existed among the monks who all lived together in unity of purpose. Peacefully walking together to the village for alms each morning – they were an impressive sight. A long bench had been constructed in the village where the monks sat to chant a blessing after receiving offerings of food. Later, back in the monastery, they ate together in silence, seated in rows according to seniority. Once they finished eating, each monk washed his own bowl, dried it thoroughly, replaced its cloth covering, and put it neatly away. When their morning duties were completed, they separated, each monk walking into the extensive forest surrounding the monastery to find a secluded meditation track where he concentrated on his meditation – walking or sitting, as he preferred. Remaining in the forest until the afternoon chores began at four P.M., they then returned from their meditation sites to help each other sweep the monastery grounds clean. Once they finished sweeping, they worked together to carry water from the well to fill the various water barrels – water for drinking, water for washing feet, or water for washing their alms bowls. A quick bath at the well was followed by a resumption of meditation. On nights when no meeting had been called, they continued to practice as usual until it was time to retire. Normally, Ãcariya Mun called a general meeting once every seven days, though any monk, who wished personal advice, could see him on any day. Monks wanting to ask questions about their practice were advised to approach Ãcariya Mun at a time during the day when he was free – usually just after the morning meal, in the early afternoon, at five in the afternoon, or at eight o’clock at night.
Hearing Ãcariya Mun discuss Dhamma and answer questions in the quiet hours of the evening was a very pleasant experience. Then, many unusual questions were asked by disciples who came from various locations in the surrounding area to seek his advice. Some of these questions dealt with internal matters that arose in the course of a monk’s meditation. Others dealt with external phenomena, such as devas. The monks who arrived to discuss their practice with him had varying skills and abilities in meditation. Some had unusual meditative experiences to relate. We listened eagerly, so mesmerized by his replies that none of us wanted the sessions to end. Each time we learned valuable lessons that led to practical methods for improving our meditation and thus gave us great satisfaction.
On timely occasions, Ãcariya Mun recounted edifying stories about his past. He told us about his early years in lay life: how he ordained, first as a novice, then as a monk. Some of these stories were so funny they made us laugh; some made us pity him for what he had gone through; and some, the ones about his attainments, were just incredibly amazing. Living continuously with a good teacher for a long time had many distinct advantages. Following his example, his disciples gradually altered their basic attitudes and ways of behavior, adjusting their outer conduct and augmenting their inner skills little by little to match his, until eventually their characters naturally harmonized with his as much as possible. The secure environment he offered to his disciples meant that their practice was unlikely to go astray. Constant exposure to his inspirational teaching gradually allowed the essence of Dhamma to penetrate deep into their hearts. His intimidating presence promoted the kind of vigilant self-control that reinforces mindfulness and wisdom. Fear prevented his disciples from becoming complacent by forcing them to be extremely circumspect in their behavior and their thoughts. Even then, despite their best intentions, he could still catch them napping, and then expose their shortcomings for everyone else to hear. It was extremely embarrassing to have one’s personal failings exposed like this; but a monk had to accept the consequences of failing to be properly circumspect.
We all experienced an indescribable sense of joy, living and practicing with Ãcariya Mun. But if we held unreasonable opinions, our delight could easily turn to frustration, for those wrong views became a constant hindrance. I cannot speak for others, but I’ve always had a rather rough disposition, so I relied on Ãcariya Mun to pound me into shape. In that way, I managed to find some breathing room when the kilesas began to suffocate me. Hearing him recount the various stages of his own practice, my spirit was so energized I felt I could float up and walk on the clouds. While listening to him, my whole being felt light as a wisp of cotton. But later, when I tried to duplicate this buoyancy on my own in meditation, I felt as though I was laboring under the weight of a mountain. I met nothing but heavy resistance. I became so frustrated with myself I wanted to bury my head in the ground to hide my shame – a fitting humiliation for such a vulgar character who was loath to accept advice.
I have mentioned my own coarse, callous nature here to let the reader know just how low the heart can sink when loaded down with destructive influences, and how hard it can be to pull it back up again and discipline it in the proper way. If we do not make a supreme effort now, eventually this tendency will plunge us into the depths of disaster, regardless of who we are or where we live. Effort must be used to discipline the heart. Any person who succeeds in subduing the unruly nature that has burdened his heart from time immemorial and who is thus living in total freedom – that person deserves the highest respect. The Lord Buddha and his Arahant disciples are shining examples of this achievement.
Likewise, I am absolutely convinced that Ãcariya Mun was one of the Lord Buddha’s present-day Arahant disciples. He was courageous and masterful in the way he lived his life, and was never in danger of succumbing to the power of the kilesas. Even in old age, when he could be expected to rest and take it easy, no longer needing to exert himself in meditation practice, he still did as much walking meditation as he always had – so much so that the younger monks could hardly keep up with him. Fulfilling his teaching obligations with great compassion, he never lost hope in his students. His exhortations reflected his resolute character, and he invariably preferred the rhetoric of a warrior. He delivered his talks forcefully, aiming to arouse in his disciples the strength and courage needed to completely transcend dukkha. He rarely compromised or made allowances for their shortcomings. He did not want to lull to sleep those very monks who already had a deplorable tendency to show weakness in their practice.
Ãcariya Mun had utmost respect for all aspects of the Buddhasãsana, from the theory and practice of Dhamma to its inner realization. And this in an age when genuine disciples of the Buddha are hard to find.
He placed special emphasis on the thirteen dhutanga observances, which Buddhists everywhere had long since lost interest in. No one thought to restore them to the prominent position they deserve. The fact that they have now become such a significant part of a dhutanga monk’s practice is a direct consequence of the earnest efforts that Ãcariya Sao and Ãcariya Mun made to revive their use in Thailand’s Northeast region. Both Ãcariya Sao and Ãcariya Mun observed all thirteen of these ascetic practices at one time or another in their lives, although only the ones I’ve mentioned earlier were practiced on a daily basis. Other dhutanga observances, like staying in a cemetery or living out in the open at the foot of a tree, were practiced so often that these two ãcariyas became thoroughly familiar with them. Dhutanga monks in the Northeast today are descendants following directly in their footsteps.
Ãcariya Sao and Ãcariya Mun were keenly aware of the practical value the dhutanga observances had for practicing monks. They clearly understood that each of these thirteen practices was an extremely effective means of closing off the outlets through which kilesas of dhutanga monks tend to flow. Without the restraining influence of ascetic practices to stem the flow from those outlets, dhutanga monks are ‘ascetic’ in name only, their kilesas being free to roam at will, causing considerable annoyance to everyone. With the help of the dhutangas, monks can rest assured that their conduct will not be offensive to others. Each dhutanga practice promotes a virtuous quality, while its observance reminds a dhutanga monk not to be careless by thinking in ways that cotradict the very virtue he is trying to develop. On guard, he immediately becomes conscious of any lapses in judgment, which in turn fosters mindfulness to catch such oversights in the future. Considered in its entirety, dhutanga asceticism is broad in scope, each separate practice having a very distinct purpose. Provided a monk understands the true purpose of each dhutanga he undertakes and then observes them properly, they are easily capable of totally eliminating his kilesas. They are powerful enough to deal a decisive blow to every type of kilesa – no kilesa is beyond their reach.
As long as we dread the hardships involved in observing ascetic practices, then the kilesas have little fear of us. The hardships that the kilesas cause us, when there are no ascetic practices to suppress them, are somehow forgotten, opening the way for us to accuse these practices of being too difficult – or even obsolete. When our own thoughts become our enemies, the kilesas are secretly held in high regard; but in our rush to admire them we fail to realize this. The harmful effects of this supportive admiration are plain, and plainly infinite in scope.
The monk who truly practices any one or more of the dhutangas inevitably presents a pleasing, dignified appearance. His basic needs are easily taken care of. What he eats and where he sleeps are never a problem for him. He is always contented with the simple belongings he possesses. Unencumbered by emotional attachments and material possessions, he feels mentally and physically buoyant. Even lay people can benefit from undertaking some of the dhutanga practices, just as the monks do, since both monks and lay people are burdened with the same kinds of kilesas. The dhutanga practices are, after all, designed to counteract the kilesas, so people from all walks of life should try their best to make use of them for this purpose. The dhutangas comprise qualities of Dhamma so supremely profound that it is difficult to fully comprehend their true magnitude.
I myself do not have as comprehensive a knowledge and understanding of the dhutanga practices as I should, but in my own unsophisticated way I have tried my best to do justice to them. I hope you will forgive my shortcomings in this regard. In truth, the dhutangas are so profoundly subtle it would be virtually impossible to fully elaborate on all their outstanding qualities. They have the capacity to take someone, who is truly devoted to their practice, from the basic levels of Dhamma all the way to the highest ariya levels. In fact, no Dhamma attainment is beyond the scope of the dhutangas. As a teacher, Ãcariya Mun always led his disciples in observing these ascetic practices, right until the last days of his life. Only when his strength was completely exhausted did he let go of them, along with his physical body. Clearly the dhutangas are essential practices for those intending to purify their hearts of all vestiges of the kilesas – this truth is undeniable.
I shall refrain from giving a detailed explanation here of each ascetic observance with its distinctive merits and importance. Anyone interested in looking into them can uncover these attributes for themselves. You may discover a degree of subtlety that proves to be more beneficial to you than simply reading someone else’s explanation. I have been looking into these practices since my early days as a dhutanga monk and I continue to gain good results from them to this day. I have always considered them an essential part of my overall practice. Anyone intent on seeing an end to the kilesas, from the most vulgar ones to the most refined, should never overlook the dhutanga observances, thinking them incapable of doing the job.