“Cathy, let me explain that your brother has just returned after five years of rigid, celibate, monastic training. In the Theravada tradition, monks are not allowed to have physical contact with females, even their mothers or sisters. His behavior is normal for a monk, but even monks need to realize that they have to adapt to the context in which they live. In Theravadan countries, when a female drives, monks do not sit in the front seat. However, in the Western world, if you do not sit with the driver, it is an insult. I am positive that as time goes by, he will be more flexible in his thinking.”
I noticed that Cathy was still uneasy, perhaps even a bit angry, so I allowed her to talk.
“Bhante,” she began, “I hope Bob will continue to treat me like a sister. I can’t understand, though, that with all his strict discipline, he still seems to be smoking. I couldn’t help but smell the odor, and I had hoped that he had finally quit.”
I made no comment about Panno and his smoking, and Cathy bid me good-bye.
A few days later I was feeding the pigeons on the sidewalk when Panno approached me. He told me about his strict monastic training in Sing Buri, which lies in the outskirts of Bangkok. While we were talking, two young American men who were walking by stopped and stared at us. They were curious to know who we were.
While we were having a friendly conversation, Panno slipped away. I felt uneasy and looked around. Much to my disappointment, standing there near the house was Panno, smoking, his back to the three of us. The two visitors eventually continued on their way, and Panno stepped up, eager to know what we had been talking about.
Instantly I replied, “They were talking about you.”
“What about me?” he asked, surprised.
“Well, they seem perplexed to see a monk smoking. They questioned whether Buddhist monks are allowed to smoke.” “Bhante, what did you say?”
“I replied that monks must not smoke, as it is against the teachings of the Buddha.”
“Why did you let me down?” he asked, sadly.
“I did not let you down, Panno. I explained the Buddha’s teaching.”
“Bhante, in Thailand some monks smoke, and lay devotees even offer them cigarettes. This is a common practice. In fact, in the Vinaya I found out that the Buddha himself had allowed monks to smoke.”
“Panno, I know what you are talking about. In the Vinaya Pitaka the Buddha permitted the monks to inhale the vapor from herbal concoctions. This could be done only if they were sick, to give them relief. There was no mention of tobacco in this medicinal remedy.”
“Bhante, you strongly say that smoking is against Buddha’s teachings. Can you support your statement?” he asked challengingly.
“Of course. In the Middle Length Sayings, chapter 61, the Buddha advised his son Rahula this way, ‘You should reflect upon that same bodily action thusly: Does this action that I am doing with the body lead to my own affliction, or to the affliction of others, or to the affliction of both? If it is an unwholesome bodily action with painful consequences, with painful results, then you should suspend such bodily action.’”1
“Panno, I would like to further explain why I think that smoking is against the Buddha’s teaching. The American Cancer Society estimates that over four hundred thousand deaths occur annually due to smoking. Also, smokers are at increased risk for cancer of the larynx, oral cavity, esophagus, bladder, kidneys, and pancreas. Smoking causes a fivefold increase in the risk of dying from chronic bronchitis, and emphysema. Cigar and pipe smoke contain the same toxic and carcinogenic compounds found in cigarette smoke.
“Therefore, when you smoke, you are deliberately destroying yourself. This, according to the Buddha, is an unwholesome act.
“In addition, recent research has focused on the effects of environmental tobacco smoke, the effect of tobacco smoke on nonsmokers who must share the same environment. It states that exposure to secondhand smoke, which contains all the toxic agents inhaled by a smoker, causes cancer and can aggravate asthma, pneumonia, and bronchitis, and can impair blood circulation. It emphasizes that regular exposure to secondhand smoke almost doubles the risk of heart disease.
“A smoker doubles his unwholesome actions because he destroys himself as well as others. Unfortunately, even unborn babies, children, and other innocent people are affected by secondhand smoke.”
“Bhante,” Panno replied, “I want to stop smoking. Tell me how I can get over this destructive habit.”
“Panno, in the same chapter, the Buddha explained to Rahula how to overcome bad habits. He said, ‘Then, you should confess such a bodily action, reveal it, and lay it upon the teacher or your wise companion in the holy life. Having confessed it, revealed it, and laid it open, you should undertake restraint for the future.’
“According to the Buddhist way of training, emancipation is a gradual process. It cannot be done overnight unless you have a strong determination. As an example, when you learn swimming, you start at the shallow end. Then gradually you learn to swim in the deeper end. You definitely do not plunge into the deep end first.
“Panno, how many cigarettes do you smoke each day?”
“Two packets, Bhante.”
“When you sleep tonight, make a firm decision that you will smoke only thirty-nine cigarettes, not forty, tomorrow. Take out the first cigarette and put it in the trash can. The second night, before you go to sleep, appreciate your willpower and continue the same technique by reducing your cigarette consumption by two. The third day, reduce by three. In this manner you will be able to get over your habit within forty days. I am positive you will be proving your willpower as well.
“We, as Buddhist monks, must be mindful of every movement of our body, speech, and mind. We are the expounders of the doctrine of the Buddha. The Buddhist monks are the role models of the followers of Buddhism. We are the cynosure of the society; therefore, our lives must be exemplary.
“I recall a Jataka parable wherein a bodhisattva was admonished by an angel. The bodhisattva was taking a bath in a lake. He saw a beautiful lotus blossom near him, and without cutting, it he lifted it up to his face to enjoy its fragrance. This innocent action somehow annoyed an angel who was watching nearby. She reprimanded the bodhisattva for polluting the flower. Meanwhile, in the same lake, a man had bathed, plucked lotuses, and pulled up the roots. The bodhisattva asked the angel why his innocent act was questioned, while the man who destroyed the lotuses was not blamed. The angel replied that on a white cloth if there is a spot, it is easily visible. On a dark cloth, if there is a spot, it is invisible. Therefore, people who are held in high esteem by the society are expected to maintain their wholesomeness.”2
Panno held up his hands in a wai, the Thai sign of respect, and said, “Bhante, you have made me realize that I have to seriously clean up not only my act, but my unwholesome habit as well. I will abide by the program you suggested, but I will eliminate three cigarettes per day.”
Panno did, in fact, quit smoking as he had promised, and he speaks against it strongly even today.
The Dhammapada says,
By effort, by vigilance, by restraint, by control, let the wise man make for himself an island which the flood cannot overwhelm.3
EIGHTEEN
The Sunbather
People often wonder about the life of a monk, especially one such as me, who was ordained as a twelve-year-old child. I often find that devotees wish to prevent me from seeing things that might shock or embarrass me. I appreciate their caring attitude, but I also must say that monks, like all people, must face reality in whatever form it shows itself. However, I am quite sure that the desire to protect me was the underlying cause of an amusing set of circumstances on a hot summer afternoon in the desert in 1979.
As was his habit, Ron leaned over his desk at the office, as if balancing on a soapbox, right before asking me to do something for him.
“Bhante,” he said in a long draw of breath, “would you be willing to teach a group of us during a retreat this coming weekend?”
I was always happy to teach, but I wanted to know all the details. “Tell me about it, Ron, and I’ll decide,” I replied. Ron often got me involved in things that I might have said no to, had I been given the complete story.
“Well, it’s about ten of us, and we’re going to go up to Mojave to fast. It will mostly be new meditators. Are you game?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by “game,” but certainly if they were learning about Buddhism and fasting, they definitely wouldn’t be hunting wild animals. I figured I was safe in that respect. “I’ll be glad to go, Ron. It sounds all right to me. But I’m not sure about the fasting. I think I’d rather just eat moderately, if that’s OK,” I responded.
“OK with me, Bhante. I’ll pick you up on Friday around 10:00 A.M.,” Ron said as he jumped up and dashed out the door.
Retreats. Weekend fixers. Trees take time to grow, and so do their cousins: people. Perceptions can change in a weekend, but that’s not consciousness. Drugs can also change perception, but never consciousness. Changing consciousness is a matter of enrichment and experience over time, not merely the altering of perceptions or points of view, which can change with every passing second. I thought about our actions, the things we actually do as human beings, and how they create what winds up being the results or consequences of our lives. Our combined experiences are eventually distilled into understanding, and understanding eventually births vision and enlightenment. That’s more than a weekend retreat can do, but I always feel that perhaps a seed can be planted at a retreat that might in time grow into a tree. These were my thoughts about the value of retreats before we set out for the desert.
Ron arrived Friday at 10:00 A.M. Joining us on the journey was a young American monk named Bill, who was recently ordained in Thailand. We packed up the car and took off.
The trip in midsummer was unbearably hot, even for a Sri Lankan. Everyone came outside to meet us when we arrived. There were about twelve people who approached me as I got out of Ron’s car, and they all introduced themselves to me. They seemed like a nice bunch of young people, and they all indicated that they were very keen to practice meditation.
As I approached the solitary house, which seemed to be miles from its nearest neighbor, I noticed that it was surrounded by huge rocks, cacti, and acres of desert sand. When I went inside, I got the feeling that the house wasn’t as clean as it probably would have been if it were a permanent dwelling for a family, rather than just a weekend rental.
We sat down in the living room and discussed the schedule for the retreat. Afterward, everyone went their own way to complete their final round of cleaning and setting up, and then we had a short rest. As scheduled, I began chanting in Pali around 6:00 P.M., and then we meditated for two hours. After a short dhamma talk, and since it was late and everyone was exhausted, we all headed for bed. I don’t, however, think I was the only hungry one. We hadn’t stopped for food during our trip.
The next morning we began our meditation at dawn. Since the group was fasting, there wasn’t a breakfast, and as the morning drew on, I was really getting hungry. At the eleven o’clock break I asked Bill if he could prepare something for me to eat before noon.
“Of course” he replied, “but you must not go outside. And don’t look out the windows either, OK? Don’t ask me why. Just stay here and I’ll fix something for you to eat. What did you have in mind? There’s fruit, some rice . . .” Bill continued to rattle off a list of available luncheon items, but my mind wandered in another direction. I thought, Why can’t I go outside? What’s going on? It was a real curiosity. I can’t look out the windows? Something good? Something bad? Something’s definitely going on, that much I knew.
“. . . And Bhante, it looks like there’s some cabbage, and here’s a tomato,” Bill said, as he continued to run off the menu possibilities. I pretended to be listening, but actually I was becoming very curious.
“Bill, I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute, OK? Just fix me anything. I’m so hungry, it doesn’t matter.”
I went to the bathroom and slowly slid the window open. It was over the toilet, so I closed the lid and stood on the seat to get a better view. Determined to find out just what was going on, I got an unexpected eyeful! There in the yard, in full and plain view, lay a sunbather—completely nude. It was one of the meditators, a woman. I quickly closed the window and quietly hopped down off the toilet. No wonder Bill insisted that I not go outside.
I opened the bathroom door and walked back into the kitchen, all this taking only a few moments. Bill wouldn’t even look up at me as he busily fixed my lunch. His face was bright red, but whenever I spoke to him he responded only “yes” or “no.” As soon as he finished fixing my lunch, he hurried out of the room. I thought that maybe I should have taken more time in the bathroom. In fact, I realized he probably knew what I’d been up to when I remembered I didn’t even “fake” my visit by flushing the toilet.
The next session started at 2:00 P.M. Bill started to give a lecture with a raging, thunderous voice. He shouted, “Friends! Your behavior is shameful! You must understand, things are very different in Asia than they are in America. The Theravada tradition is different from Western religious systems. The monks come to this country, but they don’t know anything! Especially Bhante Piyananda. He became a monk when he was only twelve years old. He has no experience, from a worldly perspective. You had better behave yourselves. I warn you all! Nude sunbathing is not allowed here!”
As he spoke I knew the cat was out of the bag, and no one was in the dark about what was going on. Ron broke the silence and stood up to apologize. “Bhante, on behalf of everyone present, I’m sorry about this embarrassing situation. We never intended for you to break your precept, or to humiliate you. Please forgive us.”
Bill rocked back and forth as if to find his center of balance, nodding silently.
“Well,” I said, “as you know, we have been practicing awareness here at the retreat.” The group smiled in agreement. I think they were relieved to sense that I was not upset. “So, as we watch our breath arising and falling, we become aware of the rising and falling of all things. This stage of insight is known as vipassana.”
Everyone seemed to be wondering where I was going with my talk. I proceeded, “As we continue our practice, we become more aware of what is going on inside our bodies. Then we slowly see our bodies as neither a permanent entity, nor as a person. We see how different phenomena rise and fall, that our bodies, even our cells, are constantly in movement and change. We therefore do not become attached to anything. Our craving eventually is transformed into understanding and awareness. The impermanence of the body is completely realized, as is the creation and destruction of all things.”
Diane spoke up and said, “Bhante, what you say makes perfect sense. The concept of impermanence, that’s a big one. Could you expand on this, and tell us about the elements and how they relate to the idea of impermanence?”
I was impressed by this girl’s question, so I paused a moment to focus before responding. “Life is basically expressed through five elements: earth, water, fire, wind, and space. The head, hair, nails, skin, flesh, teeth, sinews, bones, bone marrow, and organs are the elements of earth. All of these, and other bodily parts that are solid in nature, are designated as elements of earth. As for water, any bodily component that is fluid in nature would be designated water. The element of fire is of the nature of heat within the body. This is provided by what we eat, drink, chew, or taste. Also, anything else in the body that has a heating characteristic is designated as the fire element. As for wind, this element embraces the characteristic of the upward and downward flow of air. Finally there is another element, which is called space. This is present in all the empty spaces and cavities of the body.”1
Bill raised his hand, as did the others. I called on Bill because I could see that he was particularly eager to ask his question. “Bhante, how do these five elements relate to attachments? Can you answer this in ter
ms of attachment to a particular craving or person?”
“Well,” I continued, “it is true that people become attached to each other. Mothers and fathers become attached to their children. Children become attached to their parents. And in other relationships, such as a man to a woman, or a woman to a man, it is quite normal for them to become attached to each other. But when we examine our bodies, as we separate all the elements—the earth, the fire, the water, the wind, and the space—we see beyond our bodies to a deeper understanding of ourselves.
“We begin to realize that our bodies are constantly moving in a kind of cosmic dance. Then those concepts that underlie the definition of ‘me and mine’ completely dissolve and we see ‘emptiness’ as the activity that is really occurring, in all its immensity and beauty. At this point we are then nothing and free to roam anywhere in the cosmos, without the illusion of craving. We are able to go where we are led to go, to love each being unconditionally, and to move within our universe as we please. These ideas are expressed by scientists nowadays in a multitude of scientific perspectives such as those in quantum physics.”
A timid voice arose in the room, which had become quiet, the group deep in thought about what I had just said. “Bhante, do you have a meditation that would develop the kind of insight you speak of? Could you share any ideas that might help us to see these awarenesses?”
I responded, “Sure.”
“Please show us!” another voice piped up, excited with expectation.
“I will teach you a technique that involves concentration on your inhalations and exhalations. While you are practicing this, look into your body and begin to remove each element from your body, one at a time. Take out all the earth, and then the wind, and then the water, and then the fire. When you have visualized the disposal of all these elements, then you will see that what is left over is nothing more than empty space. Also, you can do the same meditation by removing all the elements of your persona, such as your job, where you are from, your relationships with others, and in general, all of those kinds of labels and ego definitions. You will eventually begin to understand, in the universal sense, that you are undefined, empty, and totally free.
Saffron Days in L.A. Page 14