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Venerable Ajahn Sundara -
Freedom in
Restraint
When the
Buddha taught the First Noble Truth, he said that taking refuge in human
existence is an unsatisfactory experience. If one attaches to this mortal frame,
one will suffer. Not getting what you want is painful - that’s quite easy to
relate to. Getting what you don’t want can also be painful. But as we walk a
little further in the footsteps of the Buddha, even getting what we want is
painful! This is the beginning of the path of awakening.
When we realise that getting
what we want in the material world is unsatisfactory too, that’s when we start
to mature. We’re not children any more, hoping to find happiness by getting
what we want or running away from pain.
We live in a society that
worships the gratification of desires. But many of us are not really interested
in just gratifying desires, because we know intuitively that this is not what
human existence is about.
I remember many years ago when
I was trying to understand what I thought the truth was, but I had no concept
for it. I knew in a way that it was something beyond the reach of my thinking
and emotional mind, something that transcended this world of birth and death.
As time went on, the desire to
live a life that was truthful and real became the most important thing. As I was
trying to harmonise my thoughts, my feelings and my aspirations and come to a
place of peace I became aware that there was something in between my mind and my
aspirations. There seemed to be a huge gap between them and that was what I
called ‘myself,’ this body with its five physical senses. At the time, I
didn’t even realise that the Buddhist teaching presented human beings with a
sixth sense, the mind, the platform on which thoughts can arise.
Mind and body are a reservoir
of energy and I found that my energy fluctuated, depending on how I used them.
My way of relating to life and my understanding of it seemed also to be
dependent on the clarity of my mind, and in turn that clarity was very much
conditioned by the degree of energy I had. So I was quite keen to find out how
to live without needlessly wasting that energy.
Many of us have not been raised
up with a very disciplined life-style. In my family I was brought up within an
atmosphere that fostered a certain amount of freedom of expression. But
following one’s whims and fancies, doing what we want, when we want, doesn’t
actually bring much wisdom to our life, nor much compassion or sensitivity. In
fact, it makes us rather selfish. Despite not having been inculcated with any
great sense of discipline, as a child I appreciated the beauty of being alive,
the harmony of life, and the importance of not wasting it. Yet the idea of
living in a restrained and disciplined way was quite alien to my conditioning.
When I came across meditation
and the practice of insight, it seemed a much easier introduction to discipline
than following moral precepts or commandments. We often tend to look with alarm
upon anything that is going to bind us, any convention that is going to limit
our freedom. So most of us come to discipline through meditation. As we look
into our hearts at the way we relate to the world of our senses, we come to see
how everything is inter-connected. Body and mind are constantly influencing and
playing on each other.
We know well the pleasure
involved in gratifying our senses when, for example, we listen to inspiring
music or when we are looking at beautiful scenery. But notice how, as soon as we
attach to the experience, that pleasure is spoiled. This can be very painful and
often we feel confused by the sensory world. But with mindfulness we gain
insight into the transient nature of our sensory experiences and become
acquainted with the danger of holding on to something that is fleeting and
changing. We realise how ridiculous it is to hang on to that which is changing.
And with that realisation we naturally recoil from wasting our energy on
following that which we have little control over and whose nature is to pass
away.
Sense restraint is the natural
outcome of our meditation practice. Understanding the danger of blindly
following our senses, the desires connected with them, and the objects connected
with the desires is one aspect of discipline. Understanding naturally brings
about the application of this discipline. It is not sense restraint for its own
sake but because we know that sense desires do not lead to peace and cannot take
us beyond the limitations of identification with our mind and body.
When we first come to live in
the monastery we have to adopt the discipline of the Eight Precepts. The first
five precepts point to what is called Right Action and Right Speech: refraining
from killing, from stealing, from sexual misconduct, from lying and taking drugs
and intoxicants. The next three focus on renunciation, such as refraining from
eating after a certain time, dancing, singing, playing musical instruments,
beautifying oneself and from sleeping on a high and luxurious bed. Some of these
precepts may sound irrelevant in our day and age. What do we call a high or
luxurious bed today for example? How many of us have a four poster bed? Or why
is dancing, singing or playing an instrument not allowed as a spiritual
practise?
When we ordain as a nun or a
monk, we take on board even more precepts and learn to live with an even greater
restraint. The relinquishment of money, for example, makes us physically totally
dependent on others. These standards may sound very strange in a society that
worships independence and material self-reliance. But those guidelines begin to
make more sense when integrated into our meditation practice. They become a
source of reflection and put us in touch with the spirit behind them. We find
that they help us to refine our personal conduct and to develop a deep awareness
of our physical and mental activity and of the way we relate to life. So that,
when we look into our hearts, we can see clearly the results and consequences of
our actions by body, speech and mind.
Following such discipline slows
us down, too, and requires that we be very patient with ourselves and others. We
generally tend to be impatient beings. We like to get things right straight
away, forgetting that much of our growth and development comes from accepting
the fact that this human body and mind are far from perfect. For one thing, we
have kamma, a past that we carry around with us which is very difficult to shed.
For example, when we
contemplate the precept about refraining from incorrect speech, we have the
opportunity to learn not to create more kamma with our words and to prevent it
from being another source of harm and suffering for ourselves or for other
beings. Right speech (samma vaca) is one of the most difficult precepts because
our words can reveal our thoughts and put us in a vulnerable situation. As long
as we are silent, it’s not so difficult. We can even seem quite wise until we
start talking. Those of you who have been on retreats may remember dreading
having to relate verbally again with human beings. It’s so nice isn’t it
just to be silent with each other; there are no quarrels, no conflicts. Silence
is a great peacemaker!
When we start talking, it’s
another ball game. We can’t really fool ourselves any longer. We tend to
identify strongly with what we think, and so our speech, the direct expression
of thoughts, also becomes a problem. But unless we learn to speak more skilfully,
our words will continue to be quite hurtful to ourselves and to others. Actually
speech itself is not so much the problem but the place it comes from. When there
is mindfulness, there are no traces left behind. Sometimes we say something that
is not very skilful, and afterwards, we think how we could have said it better.
But if we speak mindfully, at that moment somehow the stain of that self-image
that is so powerfully embedded in us is removed or at least diminished.
As you follow this path of practice, discipline really makes
sense. When you begin to get in touch with the raw energy of your being, and the
raw energy of anger, greed, stupidity, envy, jealousy, blind desires, pride,
conceit, you become very grateful to have something that can contain it all.
Just look at the state of our planet earth, it is a great reflection on the
harmful result of a lack of discipline and containment of our greed, hatred and
delusion.
So to be able to contain our
energy within the framework of a moral discipline we need to be very mindful and
careful because our mind’s deepest tendency is to forget itself. We forget
ourselves and our lives’ ultimate fulfillment and instead fulfill ourselves
with things that cannot truly satisfy or nourish our heart. This discipline also
requires humility because as long as we are immature and follow our impulses we
will feel repressed and inhibited by a discipline and consequently instead of
being a source of freedom, we will feel trapped by it.
We are very fortunate to have
the chance to practise and realise that our actions, our speech or our desires
are not ultimately what we are. As our meditation deepens, the quality of
impermanence of all things becomes clearer. We become more and more aware of the
transient nature of our actions and speech, and our feelings related to these.
We begin to get a sense for that which is always present in our experiences, yet
is not touched by them. This quality of presence is always available and isn’t
really affected by our sensory interactions.
When this quality of attention
is cultivated and sustained we begin to relate more skilfully to our energy, to
our sense contact and the sensory world. We discover that mindful attention is
actually a form of protection. Without it, we’re simply at the mercy of our
thoughts or our desires, and get blinded by them. This refuge of awareness and
the cultivation of restraint protect us from falling into painful hellish states
of mind.
Another aspect of discipline is
the wise attention and wise use of the material world. Our immediate contact
with the physical world is through the body. When we learn how to take care of
the physical world, we are looking after the roots of our lives. We do what is
necessary to bring the body and mind into harmony. This is the natural outcome
of restraint. Slowly, we become like a beautiful lotus flower that represents
purity and grows out of the water while being nourished by its roots in the mud.
You may have noticed how the Buddha is often depicted sitting on a lotus flower
which symbolises the purity of the human heart. Unless we create that foundation
of morality rooted in the world of our everyday life, we can’t really rise up
or grow like the lotus flower. We just wither.
In monastic life, the skilful
use of the four requisites — clothes, food, shelter and medicine — is a
daily reflection which is extremely useful because the mind is intent on
forgetting, misinterpreting or taking things for granted. These four requisites
are an essential part of our life. It is a duty for us monastics to care of our
robes. We have to mend them, repair them, wash them and remind ourselves that we
only have one set of them and that these robes have come to us through the
generosity of others. The same goes for the food that we eat. We live on alms
food. Every day people offer us a meal because we are not allowed to store food
for ourselves for the next day. So our daily reflection before the meal reminds
us that we can’t eat without thinking carefully about this gift of food. As
alms mendicants, we also reflect on the place we live in. You may not like the
wallpaper of your room, but the reflection on our shelter: ‘this room is only
a roof over our head for one night’ helps us to keep our physical needs in
perspective. We consider also that without the offerings of these requisites we
could not lead this life. This reflection nurtures a sense of gratitude in the
heart.
Taking care of the physical
world and what surrounds us is an essential part of the training of mind and
body and of our practice of Dhamma. If we are not able to look after that which
is immediate to us, how can we pretend to take care of the ultimate truths? If
we don’t learn to tidy our room every day, how can we deal with the
complexities of our mind?
To reflect on simple things is
very important, such as looking after our living place, and not misusing our
material possessions. Naturally it is more difficult to do this when we have
control over the material world and can use money to buy what we want, because
we easily get careless thinking: "Oh well I have lost this or I have broken
that, never mind, I’ll get another one."
Another aspect of discipline
and restraint is right livelihood. For a monk or a nun, there is a long list of
things we should not get involved with, such as fortune-telling or participating
in political activities, etc… I can appreciate the value of this more and more
as I see how, in some parts of the world where the Sangha has got involved in
worldly issues, monks find themselves owning luxurious items or even become
wealthy landlords.
Right livelihood is one aspect
of the Noble Eightfold Path which covers a wide range of activities such as not
deceiving, not persuading, hinting, belittling and bartering and not involving
ourselves in trades of weapons, living beings, meat, liquor, and poisons for a
lay person. These guidelines call for a careful consideration of how we want to
spend our life and what kind of profession or situation we want to get involved
in.
The reflections on the
precepts, the requisites, right livelihood and the discipline of our mind and
body are the supportive conditions within which the ultimate discipline can
manifest in our hearts. That ultimate discipline is our total dedication to the
Truth, to the Dhamma and the constant aspiration of our human heart to go beyond
our self-centred lives. Sometimes we can’t really say what it is, but through
the practise of meditation we can be truly in touch with that reality, the
Dhamma within ourselves. All spiritual paths and spiritual disciplines are here
as supportive conditions and means for keeping alive this aspiration to realise
Truth in our heart. That’s really their aim.
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