Continued from Page 1 Advice for Buddhist Monks from Ajahn Taungrut

Also for a Buddhist monk I would say, don't forget simple things. I think most new Buddhist monks know about contemplating food when one is eating, they know one should try to be mindful here and there when one is walking and doing things. These things are very important. And although contemplating food may seem to give no results, steadily, steadily over time, they do give results. One gets results from it.

Another thing for new monks, one of the things very hard to control is ragatanha, sex. Now, probably the most effective way of controlling this is contemplation of the body. If one finds that ragatanha is arising, getting strong, contemplate the body, I mean traditionally, the thirty-two parts. See the asubha side of it. See the thing as a mess. See it as though it is all broken up. Think of corpses, that sort of thing. Although you won't see in yourself any special result, you'll find that the raga-tanha has dropped. There's a very good test for this. You watch your dreams. When one has a lot of raga-tanha, the tendency is for dreams of women and all the rest of it. When you do this contemplation, the women don't come near you in dreams. You may see them, but they don't come near you. Quite interesting, the effect it has. It's almost as though it's pushing them away in some way. I don't quite know how. I think this can work physically with women as well, if women are coming too close and becoming rather a nuisance, just contemplate the body. Think of them as a lot of bones and flesh and mess and blood and shit and so on, and all the rest of it. And you'll find that they're repulsed. This is a protection that Buddhist monks should have. Because women are very unstable and unpredictable, many of them, some of them, not all of them, only some of them. One needs some protection. That's an important one.

Q: Yes, I've had problems with that, problem with girlfriends and things, just kind of keep coming back up into my head. Is there any way of dealing with this?

Monk Ajahn Panna: Well, if the girlfriend's come into one's head, okay, cut her head off. See the blood coming out. Pull the meat off. Look at the bones. The thing is, you'll find a repulsion from doing that, you'll think "Oh, I mustn't do that with her." Why not? It's not harming her. It's just in the mind. What it's doing is damaging the image one has of her, that's all. It won't harm her at all. So, that's probably the best way to deal with that one. One has to make the determination to do it. If one just lets it come up and one doesn't make a determination, it won't have an effect. The thoughts will just go on.

Q (37:40): How does one know that one's efforts are having an effect in reducing the kilesas?

Monk Ajahn Panna: One finds that one's own estimation of one's own self importance, I don't mean in theory, but one's feeling of it, becomes greater, in the sense, by self importance, I don't mean in the bad sense, I mean one's own worth in oneself, quite regardless of whatever anyone else thinks, one's own worth in oneself, one doesn't feel that one's just like an old foot-rag. Inside, one feels that one has got something that's valuable, and one finds also that there's firmness inside. There's a firmness that is capable of fighting the kilesas, of going against them. All these things, they do show externally, but the external thing is not what matters. That's just a by-product. It's the internal thing that matters.

Q: I have had feelings of self-importance at times, but it is more in the sense of conceit, I think.

Monk Ajahn Panna: Yes, I don't mean self-importance where one is thinking about how important one is, it's just the feeling, one almost wonders, well, why do I feel like this? Is it a genuine thing or not? But at the same time it is there. And even though one questions it, it doesn't go. So you know it is genuine. If one has the usual meaning of self-importance in the world, if one questions that and investigates it, it bursts like a bubble.

Q: You mean that one has the sense that one is going the right way?

Monk Ajahn Panna: Yes, although one may not be able to see what way one is going, or one may not know what specific things one has done to go that way, which specific things have helped, yet at the same time, one knows that one has developed, and one can hardly put one's finger on it. Very hard to say what it is. The development has taken place and one knows it. One knows one has changed. I used to be like that, and one is no longer like that.

Continued from Page 1 - Buddhist Monks - Ajahn Taungrut

His Krooba Ajahn Monk repeated this two or three times in a similar manner. Fearing further reprimands from his teacher, Monk Tahn Taungrut took leave and returned to meditate for a few days. Taking into consideration how his teacher spoke to him, he reflected on what the best thing to do would be. Once he thought it through he went back to pay respects again.

"Excuse me Venerable sir, where are you going to have me spend pansa this year? It's already July, so please give the matter some consideration."
Buddhist Monk Luang Pu Mun sat and focused his mind internally, then said, "Pra Bot Cave, Tahn Taung. Go and stay at Pra Bot Cave, alright?"
"Pra Bot Cave! Everyone who goes and stays there dies. If they don't die they go mad. They become crippled. That's what they say. How can you send me there to stay? What will protect me?"
"The four Brahma Vihเras: ‘This is what should be done....’ Can you handle it, Tahn Taung?"
"Yes sir."
"O.K. That's the spirit. May your practice progress, Tahn Taung."

That pansa there was no choice but to go stay at Pra Bot Cave. He stayed in the cavern, meditating in solitude. If he heard the sound of owls calling each other he'd lay down to sleep. The forest birds signalled the beginning of a new day when they left to look for food, calling out to each other, " Jai jai". Emerging from the cave he'd walk cross-country through the mist about four kilometres and then some before he reached the place for going on alms round. If he walked briskly he could get there in an hour. Walking slowly, it took longer than that.
Time rolled by until the full moon of September. Traditionally on full moon days the villagers would go to the monastery to make merit. It was a bright clear night as Venerable Taungrut sat in meditation inside the cave. At that moment there occurred a loud noise-- loud crashing sounds. Fear began to arise. What could those possibly be stomping down the mountainside towards him? Whatever they were, when they reached the mouth of the cave they jumped down, grabbed each other and began to wrestle.

Their deafening yells reverberated throughout the mountain and it shook as if it were about to collapse. Monk Venerable Taungrut thought he'd go and have a look to see what was making the noise. He almost went. Then he thought, "If I go out there I'll probably die just like all the others in the stories I've heard. Further more, whatever they're doing, that's their own business. Whether it's an animal, a ghost, or an evil spirit--that's not my business. I came here to meditate, so I'll just carry on with my practice. We don't have to have anything to do with each other." Once he considered it in this way he could continue on focusing his mind. But every hair was standing on end. He sat there watching his mind. From that moment on Venerable Monk Taungraut's meditation became truly accomplished. The Dhamma gushed forth.

As the Dhamma arose so did an irresistible desire to teach the Buddhist Dhamma, so he sat there all alone giving a Dhamma talk. For seven days and seven nights he continued on. Even if someone had tried to sew his mouth shut, the needle probably would have broken. Or else his mouth would have ripped. He was proclaiming the dispensation of the Lord Buddha. He thundered against the corrupt monks of his time-- especially those who abused positions of power. It wasn't enough just to teach within the borders of Thailand, so as he taught his words reached foreign lands as well: Malaysia, England, and other western countries. The Buddhist Dhamma teachings flowed forth. Each day he only ate three bites of food: one for the Buddha, one for the Dhamma and one for the Sangha. He taught untiringly, with no need of sleep. Completely alone, he gave Buddhist Dhamma talks day and night like a maniac, getting thinner all the time.

"Tahn Ajahn, are you feeling sick?", a layman asked him on almsround.
"No."
"Are you able to eat alright?"
"Just fine."

Suspicious, the layman thought to himself, "I can't believe that if he's able to eat that he's not sick. He's so thin his eyes have sunken deeply. I'd better follow him and have a look."
The man secretly followed Venerable Monk Taungrut back, and sure enough he saw the monk eat just three mouthfuls of food: one for the Buddha, one for the Dhamma and one for the Sangha. The layman then protested, "How can you tell me you have no problem eating, that you're not sick? You only eat three bites! You're so thin your eyes are hollow and empty. Why did you deceive me?"

Listening to the man, Monk Tahn Ajahn reconsidered. With his hair standing on end, he suddenly realized, "I misled him", and he returned to focusing awareness on his citta. From that time on his heart had reached fulfilment, but he still had this desire to give Dhamma talks. He eagerly awaited the end of the pansa, so he could go tell Luang Pu Mun. It was only two days after the end of pansa before he arrived to see his teacher and recount all his experiences. He described the various states of mind that had occurred and all that had taken place.
Once he finished telling his story, Luang Pu Mun concluded,
"Mm. That's good, Tahn Taung. Your citta is now at the same level as my own. Now you can teach, Venerable Taung. Teach to your heart's content. Uncover your platter of rice for all to see. Teach the Buddhist Dhamma. There's now no need to fear teaching. Reveal it all--just as if you were serving a feast."

From that point on, Tahn Ajahn Taungrut wandered about looking for situations to teach the Buddhist Dhamma. Around the villages of Tahnton and Poojan there were large communities and large audiences for his Buddhist Dhamma talks. At that time he became a constant companion of Luang Pu Sao. He felt a debt of gratitude to his teacher for all he'd given him. Whenever Luang Pu Sao asked him to accompany him, he'd go. Wherever he was asked to stay, he'd stay.

Having gone to Ubon, Luang Pu Sao requested Tahn Ajahn Taungrut to spend the pansa at Seetuan, saying, "There are many good people there. There are many bad as well." Until Luang Pu Sao's passing away, Tahn Ajahn Taungrut attended on and served him.
When I later asked the Buddhist Monk Tahn Ajahn Taungrut about his practice experiences during that 10th pansa in Pra Bot Cave, the answer was brief.

"It was like I had climbed to the top of the tallest tree. There was no where else to go."
"How would you describe the citta of a person who had finished their spiritual work?"
"Sati-passaddhi: Mindfulness and tranquillity. Sati is ever-present. The deep peace of passaddhi is ever-present. In the citta there are no thoughts of harming. It's just like a water buffalo that has been trained to plow the rice paddies. When it's time to turn around it turns by itself. You don't have to pull on its rope much. For anyone who's cared for their citta to this extent...the citta then takes care of itself."

Q: The only thing I was interested in, Monk Ajahn Panna, was how you've seen quite a few Buddhist monks come and go, and I just wondered what advice you had for new monk. What surprised me at Wat Boworn, I've seen so many come and go and...When I was ordaining, David Panatello was just disrobing. I've seen quite a few come and go now. I don't know what it is that makes a Buddhist monk ...what it is that keeps one going, why it is

Ajahn Panna: I would say one of two things. One of them you can do nothing about and that's kamma. There is one other thing, that a new monk should, within the first year of him being ordained, I would say, try to get to a good teacher and try to work as hard as he can on samadhi; because until one has a taste of samadhi in meditation, one doesn't know the value of the Buddhist Dhamma and the teachings. If a Buddhist monk doesn't get any samadhi, he gets no experience of it, then he doesn't see the value of it. He reads the books, but paper is not very tasty food, paper and printed ink, and after a while the citta gets rather tired of it. And after that one thinks, well, what am I doing this for? I'm just making difficulties for myself and I'm not getting anything for it. So he gives up the robes. Whereas if a person gains samadhi in mediation, then they know the taste of that, they know that this is right and this is good, and they've had the experience of something which is more happiness than they've had before. If they can only get to that and maintain it, then things are okay. So I would say the best advice for anyone who becomes ordained is get out of Bangkok as soon as you can, get to a wat where there is good teacher and get down to the practice; do the practice as hard as you can, for a long time, and don't stop doing it. There's a great temptation in many ways to stop. Having got some experience, one thinks "Oh, I'd like to talk about this with other people," and so talks with other people all the time about it, and it just fritters away. The thing one has to do is practise, to learn the method and not talk to other people about it. There's a well known experience that when a person gains something or they find out something or they come to know something, if they share that with other people, it's as though it spreads. This is found with bad things. If a person has got some bad things in their past, and they've got some guilt about it and feeling bad about it, they talk about it with someone else, it spreads, it eases it. Well the same thing happens in the opposite way with good things. If you talk to others about it, it becomes much more ordinary. It loses its taste and one doesn't feel it's so valid. So the business of keeping these things to oneself is very important until one has a lot of experience, until one is strong inside. So I would say, do one's samadhi practice, and don't talk about it. If you gain something, some method of your own that works very well, that works well with you, don't go telling other people. Not until you have enough experience with it that you are well used to that method and you know it works well, then maybe, but not until then. This is very important. But the important thing for a new Buddhist monk is to get some experience with the practice. Because if they don't have that, then there's nothing really to hold them, otherwise its just theory and ideas and so on, and they've been doing that all their life. So I would say, get to the practice, get to the samadhi. There must be samadhi. It's no good thinking about things. You've got to keep on to one thing like Buddho, Buddho, Buddho, just that, or anapanasati, keeping the breath here, and stopping thoughts, stop the thought entirely. When one has stopped the thoughts, then one is in the position to determine to use them properly. Until one can stop one's thoughts, one hasn't got control of them, one can't control them, they go everywhere, that's just weak. But having learned to stop thought, then one can learn to put them where one wants them. To make use of them, they become strong. So, the thing is to begin with, stop the thoughts. Learn to gain calm. People in the West need calm. They come from an environment which is a hell of a mess. And because they have been influenced by the environment, mostly, they are a hell of a mess too. It takes a long time to settle down, to allow thought to settle out, and they have to realise they haven't got very long. I mean they haven't got long before their kilesas start coming up and saying "Hey, what are you doing here, This isn't doing you any good." So they've got to work hard at it. They've got to go to a place where they don't have all the distractions, where they can get down to doing the practice properly.

Another thing I would advise, for anyone who is trying to practise meditation for samadhi, stop reading. Don't read. Particularly news magazines or anything of that sort. One has to realise, whatever one reads, whatever one hears, it all goes in, it all goes into the citta, and that's food for it. And it develops in the way that food goes in; I mean, if it is food about the world, it thinks about the world and goes out to the world. If it is food about bad things, it goes into bad things and thinks about bad things. Even if it is good things, it goes in and starts thinking about good things. But if one is trying to stop thought, none of it is any use. So the best thing is to stop all contact and reading, and talk with other people as little as possible. Keep to oneself. Keep away. More Information at this website - Buddhist Monk

Q: I found myself now, I don't know if it is typical of monks, but I talk too much, I think. About stupid things, about petty things. I realise I'm talking about it but I can't seem to....

Monk Ajahn Panna: Yes, one should watch oneself talking, and then reflect on one's talking, and reflect, did that talk do me any good? What good did I get from it? What value? Did the other person get any good? One should really think like this. I mean, we all make mistakes I know. We all forget quite often. All of us, except the real Ajahns, haven't got enough mindfulness, but one has to apply this often and often and often until it starts to have an effect. Then one thinks one's going to talk about something and then one thinks "Why? What's the point of it?" to oneself. Then the teaching is beginning to have an effect.

Also for a monk I would say, don't forget simple things. I think most new monks know about contemplating food when one is eating, they know one should try to be mindful here and there when one is walking and doing things. These things are very important. And although contemplating food may seem to give no results, steadily, steadily over time, they do give results. One gets results from it.

More advice from Ajahn Panna for aspiring Monks: Advice for Buddhist Monks - Continued

Tahn Ajahn Taungrut Kantasilo was a Buddhist Monk disciple of Luang Pu Mun Bharidatta and Luang Pu Sao Kantasilo. He was of the same generation of disciples as Buddhist Monks Tahn Ajahn Sing Khantayamo and Tahn Ajahn Deu Acaladhammo.

He was born at Sampong Village and ordained as a Buddhist Monk at the village monastery. He stayed there five pansas and learned the patimokkha; however he still had some doubts regarding the vinaya. Because he couldn't understand the meaning of some of the rules, he began to search for a Krooba Ajahn who could clarify the matter. After hearing of the reputations of Luang Pu Mun and Luang Pu Sao he set off travelling to pay respects to, study with and converse with them. Both the teachers explained the essentials of correct practice--practice in line with Buddhist Dhamma and Vinaya, from the Patomsompot (a 19th century Thai commentarial classic in verse form) and the Vinaya texts--until MonkVenerable Taungrut understood. He was so satisfied with the explanations that he asked to become their disciple and stay at their monastery. Both of the Monks Venerable Ajahns trained him, instructing him to practice in accordance with the Vinaya in all its details.

Concerning the practice of meditation (bhavanเ), Luang Pu Mun and Luang Pu Sao recommended that Monk Venerable Taungrut go and find a place in the forest suitable for bhavana—especially a place with tigers or that was rumoured to have a malevolent ghost. The best would be a cremation ground that had corpses carried in each day, so that the heart (citta) would become unwaveringly firm and Buddhist Dhamma would quickly arise.

They recommended that he study the Buddhist texts Visuddhimagga and Moon Mahเ Kan. These were to be studied only in order to have a well-rounded understanding, not to be memorized in order to give Buddhist Dhamma talks. Both of the Ajahns reiterated, "Don't go giving Buddhist Dhamma talks, Venerable Taung. First meditate until you're accomplished in bhavanเ. If you're in too much of a hurry to give Buddhist Dhamma talks, the Buddhist Dhamma inside won't have a chance to do any teaching." Tahn Ajahn Taungrut then practised, strictly following their advice.

Life in the jungle was one of extreme impoverishment. The four requisites were in short supply. There were no cups, no kettles. He had to use a section of bamboo and drill a hole in it to thread a shoulder strap. He had to filter his drinking water. On alms round he'd only get plain rice. When it was time to eat, he chewed it thoroughly. On those days when he'd get one banana, he'd be elated. The villagers weren't very clued in. Generally they understood that meditation monks didn't eat meat, that they only ate sesame seeds like people from India. He'd go on alms round to four or five houses, get enough rice to fill him up, and then quit. He didn't have a glot'. If there were lots of mosquitoes then he would cover himself with his robe folded in half. Go here for more information... Buddhist Monk

The sanghเtใ was used in place of a pillow or blanket. Sometimes he would sleep with his head resting on a tree root or on his own fist. On those times when he'd stay near where the villagers threshed their rice, he could ask for some old rice stalks to roll up in a bundle, cover it with a folded cloth and use that as a pillow. If a villager happened by, he could help by breaking off a branch so the leaves could be used. He would even take some vines, tie them up together and cover them with a bathing cloth, and that would substitute for a pillow. Lying down he would focus on his bhavanเ.

Sometimes the water buffalo herders would pass by, and finding him sitting in the cremation ground, they'd tease and make fun of him in various ways:

"Is this monk crazy or what? He's been sitting here for two or three days!"
Some people would approach, bow to him, then pretending to be serious, ask in jest,
"Would you like to chew some betel nut? Do you smoke cigarettes, Ajahn?"
Monk Ajahn would respond; "If there is some, I chew it. If not, I don't. If there are any, I smoke them. If not, I don't."

This is just one example. But they were just asking to ask. Not once did they actually offer him anything. There were a few occasions when some villagers would come and request Buddhist Dhamma teachings.

"Teach us some Buddhist Dhamma, Venerable."
"I'm still new to the practice. My Krooba Ajahns won't allow me to give Dhamma talks yet."
"Well, what about that book you've got there? Give us a Dhamma teaching from the book,"
"They gave me this book simply for me to read, telling me not to use it for Dhamma talks. They told me to wait for the Dhamma inside to express itself, then start teaching others,"

he explained to the villagers—in the same way as his Krooba Ajahns had stressed so emphatically with him. He did however, give the villagers the five precepts, so that they would be satisfied with having made merit.

The Monk Venerable Taungrut practised and developed meditation like this for four years. Only very rarely did he go to pay respects to his teachers, and then for only two or three days or maybe a week. Once he'd heard some Buddhist Dhamma teachings, they'd chase him back out there to meditate, and the places they'd send him to were all fear inspiring.

Staying in the forest for extended periods of time, his possessions became old and worn. His bathing cloth was ripped. His robe (jiwon) was disintegrating. No one offered to provide him with requisites (pavเranเ), and he didn't have any relatives there. He couldn't ask laypeople to provide things because it was against the vinaya. So when his robes ripped, he'd mend them. There were patches everywhere. He spent a lot of time sewing and the thread he'd brought with him ran out. When he found some yellow bark on a tree that had recently died, he'd take a knife and gently pare it off. Once the bark was stripped off he'd weave it into the robe. Each time he bathed he had to wait until there were no women in the area. He'd bathe in the forest, hopping just like a frog.

As things got increasingly worse, Buddhist Monk Venerable Taungrut began to think of his home. He missed his two younger sisters and his older brother, a government official at Sampong Village. He came up with the idea to return and spend the pansa at his home village. That way he could ask for some cloth from his younger sister. But when he went to respectfully present the idea to his two teachers, Luang Pu Mun immediately scolded him.
"Ha! So you said you wanted to receive some Buddhist Dhamma from the teachers Mun and Sao, but after a little bit of practice you get homesick. Your house's pillars at Sampong are firmly sunk into the earth. Whenever you go back they'll be there for you to see. What's difficult is this practice of Buddhist Dhamma—that is, if you haven't yet realized Dhamma. Your house is just the same as it always was. You want to attain magga- phala. Do you think that longing for your home while meditating will do the trick?"

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