In the original Pāli, this sutta contains a play on words. The deva had found himself in a heavenly pleasure grove called Nandāna Vana, famous for its beauty. In his speech to the Buddha, he renamed it Mohana, from the word moha, delusion—a place that creates chaos and confusion in the mind.
The Way of Renunciation
From a yogi’s point of view, surely you can also appreciate the distracting quality of intense pleasure. Perhaps your goal is not arahantship, as this yogi’s was—or perhaps it is. Whatever results you expect from your meditation practice, surely you value the concentration and tranquility that meditation brings. To achieve these goals, a certain amount of renunciation is necessary. Each time we sit down to meditate, even for one hour, we renounce the possibility of seeking out an hour’s worth of pleasure and distraction. But we find some measure of relief from distraction itself, the suffering of the mind that chases after pleasant feelings. If we go to a longer retreat, we leave behind our home, our loved ones, and our pastimes. Yet many of us find these sacrifices worthwhile.
Though he complained of the heavenly conditions, the bhikkhu-deva was not really looking down on the devas’ way of life. Much more, he was disappointed in himself for not achieving his goal. It is as if you took a job in hopes of earning $1,000. You work hard, industriously and meticulously, but at the end of the day your task remains unfinished, and you are paid only $50. This would be a letdown. Not that you would despise the $50, but you feel disappointed at not meeting the goal you set for yourself. So, too, this yogi was angry with himself and compared himself to the boxer who had won a cabbage instead of a gold medal. His deva companions understood and were not insulted in the least. In fact, they were intrigued enough to follow him to the earthly realm, where they, too, benefitted from the Buddha’s instructions.
If you are well established in Dhamma, your interest in meditation will follow you wherever you go, even into devaland. If not, you will shortly become entangled in the pleasures offered by whatever environment you may inhabit, and that will be the end of your career as a Dhamma pilgrim.
Establishing Oneself in Practice
Let us investigate how this yogi became established in his practice. Before going alone into the forest, he was dependent on a teacher for five years and lived in community with other bhikkhus. He served the teacher in large and small ways, received meditation instruction, and perfected the Vinaya rules of morality. Each year he sat a three-month rains retreat and afterward participated in the traditional ceremony where monks discuss each other’s faults in a spirit of loving-kindness and compassion, so that each can correct his own shortcomings.
This man’s background is significant for all of us as yogis. Like him, all yogis should strive to fully understand the mechanics of observing the precepts, until purity of conduct is a full and natural part of our lives. We must also be aware of our responsibilities to each other as we live together in this world. We must learn to communicate in ways that are helpful and loving. As for meditation, until we have a high degree of skill, completing the whole series of vipassanā insights, it is also necessary for us to depend on a reliable and competent teacher.
Distinguishing the Essential from the Superfluous
This bhikkhu had a great virtue: total commitment to the Dhamma, to realizing the truth. For him all else was secondary. Extremely careful to distinguish the essential from the superfluous, he avoided external activities and spent as much time as possible trying to be mindful.
It is good for all of us to limit our responsibilities so that we have more hours for meditation. When at times this is impossible, we can remember the tale of Mother Cow. As you know, cattle are forever busy munching grass; they eat all day. Now, Mother Cow has a pretty young calf who is also quite frisky and mischievous. If she grazes on without a thought for her calf, the calf will surely run off and get into trouble. But if she neglects her own needs and only watches the calf, she will have to graze all night. So, Mother Cow keeps an eye on the calf and grazes at the same time. A yogi who has a job or a task to do should imitate her. Do your work, but keep an eye on the Dhamma. Make sure your mind does not wander off too far!
We know that this bhikkhu was an industrious and ardent yogi. During his waking hours he tried his best to be mindful, as all of us know should be done. The Buddha allowed monks to sleep four hours, through the middle watch of the night. But this bhikkhu’s sense of urgency was such that he put his bed aside and did not even think of sleeping. Furthermore, he ate almost nothing, content with his exercise of persistent energy.
I do not suggest that you should stop eating and sleeping. I would like you simply to appreciate his level of commitment. During an intensive meditation retreat it is advisable to sleep as the Buddha instructed, four hours, if one can manage this. More is necessary in daily life, but still it is not good to dull oneself with too much lying in bed. As for food, you should eat to your satisfaction, so that you have sufficient strength for your daily activities and for meditation practice, but not so much that you feel bloated and sleepy. The story of this bhikkhu points out the need to eat, for health, at least a sufficiency of food.
A person who dies in the process of meditation, or while giving a discourse on the Dhamma, can be regarded as a hero or heroine fallen in battle. Our bhikkhu was doing his walking meditation when he was struck down by the sharp knife of wind in his system. He woke up in deva-land. And so might you, if you die while meditating, even if you are not enlightened.
Even from a fortunate rebirth, you may wish for an escape route, a way to perfect freedom and safety. During his visit to the heaven realm, the bhikkhu-deva was frightened by his own capacity for desire. If he so much as set foot in the gate of his palace, he realized that his moral precepts might begin to erode. Enlightenment was still his first priority, and for this he needed to keep his virtue intact. He fled to Jeta Grove and blurted out his question.
The Buddha’s Progressive Instructions
The Buddha’s response was unusually succinct. Generally he instructed people step by step, beginning with morality, progressing through the right view of kamma and concentration, before he began with insight practice. To illustrate this order of teaching, he once gave the example of an art master. Approached by a neophyte who wants to paint, the master does not just hand out a brush. The first lesson is stretching a canvas. Just as an artist cannot paint in empty air, so it is futile to begin vipassanā practice without a basis in morality and understanding of the law of kamma. Without these two things, there will be no surface, as it were, to receive concentration and wisdom. In some meditation centers, morality and kamma are ignored. Not much can result from meditation under these circumstances.
The Buddha also tailored his instructions to his listeners’ backgrounds or propensities. He saw that this unusual deva had been a mature bhikkhu and meditation practitioner, and that he had not broken his moral precepts during that abbreviated stop in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three Gods.
There is a Pāli word, karaka, meaning “a dutiful and industrious person.” Our bhikkhu had been one of these. He was not a yogi by name only; not a philosopher or a dreamer, lost in ideas and fantasies; nor a sluggard, gazing blankly at whatever objects arose. On the contrary, he was ardent and sincere. The bhikkhu walked the path with total commitment. His profound faith and confidence in the practice supported a capacity for sustained effort. Moment to moment, he tried to put into practice the instructions he had received. One might regard him as a veteran.
The Direct Route to Freedom
The Buddha gave this committed one a veteran’s instructions. “Straight is the path you have trodden,” he said. “It will lead you to that safe haven, free from fear, that is your goal.” The path in question, of course, was the Noble Eightfold Path. This deva had already begun walking on it, and the Buddha was giving him the go-ahead to continue. Aware, moreover, that the deva wanted to be an arahant in this very life, the Buddha was offering the straight path, straight vipassanā.
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br /> The Noble Eightfold Path is very straight indeed. It has no sidetracks. It neither curves, nor bends, nor wriggles. It just leads straight on toward nibbāna.
The Ten Types of Crooked Behavior
We can better understand this virtue of straightness by examining its opposite. It is said that there are ten types of unwholesome, or crooked, behavior. A person untamed with respect to these ten actions of body, speech, and mind is seen as crooked in the eyes of the wise. He or she is not honest, not straight, lacks moral integrity.
Crooked bodily behavior is of three kinds. The first is connected with feelings of hatred and aggression. If one lacks mettā and karuā, love and compassion, one can easily succumb to such feelings and translate them into actions on a physical level. One might kill, harm, or otherwise oppress other beings. Crooked behavior can also stem from greed, which, uncontrolled, leads to stealing or deceitful acquisition of another’s property. Sex is the third area of bodily crookedness. A person attacked by lust, interested only in his or her own gratification, may commit sexual misconduct without consideration for another’s feelings.
There are four kinds of crooked speech. First, one can lie. Second, one can speak words that cause disharmony, instigating the breakup of friendships or communities. Third, one can speak hurtfully, coarsely and crudely, obscenely. Frivolous chatter is the fourth kind of crooked speech.
On the level of the mind, three types of crookedness are listed. One might think about harming other people. One might covet their property. Or, one can have a wrong view of the law of kamma. Not accepting the law of kamma, believing inconsequential the good or evil one does, is considered an unwholesome attitude. In Buddhism, thinking is considered a form of behavior. Thoughts are very important, since actions proceed from them. Not believing in kamma can lead to acting irresponsibly, creating the conditions for one’s own suffering and that of others.
There are other kinds of mental behavior that are unwholesome though not included in this list, such as sloth and torpor, restlessness, and all the myriad subtle permutations of the kilesas. A person subject to these forces is considered to possess a crooked mind.
Dangers of Walking a Crooked Path
One who is not free from these inner and outer forms of unwholesome behavior is said to walk a crooked path. He or she cannot expect to arrive at any safe place. He or she is constantly exposed to many kinds of danger.
There is the danger of self-judgment, remorse, and regret. One may find a justification for a particular unwholesome action, word, or thought, or one might be unaware at first that it is unskillful. Later reflection brings a flood of remorse. One berates oneself, “That was really a stupid thing to do.” Remorse is painful, and it is not a feeling anyone else imposes on you. By walking the crooked path, you brought its suffering on yourself. Such an eventuality is fearsome anytime, but it is truly dreadful on one’s deathbed. Just prior to death, an uncontrollable stream of consciousness arises, a recollection of one’s life and actions. If you have many virtuous and generous actions to remember, your heart will be filled with warmth and calm, and you can die in peace. If you have not been careful in your morality, remorse and regret will overwhelm you. You will think, “Life is so short, and I misused my time. I failed to make full use of the chance to live up to the highest standard of humanity.” By then it will be too late to mend your ways. Your death will be a painful one. Some people suffer so greatly at this time that they weep and cry out as they die.
Self-judgment is not the only danger for a person choosing the crooked path. He or she must also contend with the blame and censure of the wise. Good-hearted people do not offer their friendship to the untrustworthy or the violent, nor hold them in high esteem. Unwholesome people end up as misfits, unable to live in society.
Somewhere along the crooked path, you may find yourself crossing swords with the law. If you break the law, the law gets even with you. The police nab you and you will be forced to pay for your misdeeds, with a fine, or a jail sentence, or perhaps even capital punishment, depending on the crime. The world at this present age is filled with violence. Many, many people break the law out of greed, out of hatred, and out of delusion. They do so not just once, but over and over again. There is no limit to the depth to which a person can sink. We read about rampages of killing. When the law finally catches up with such criminals, they may have to pay with their lives. Thus, it is said that one who walks on the crooked path is in danger of punishment.
Of course, if you are intelligent you might get away with a crime and even commit it by legal means. One may indeed avoid punishment at the hands of external authorities, but there is no escape from the self-punishment discussed above. The honest knowledge that you have done wrong is very painful. You are always your own best witness; you can never hide from yourself. Nor is there escape from miserable rebirths, as an animal, in hell realms, as a hungry ghost. Once an act has been committed, kamma has the potential to bear fruit. If the fruit does not ripen in this life, it will follow you until sometime in the future. The crooked path leads to all these kinds of danger.
The Noble Eightfold Path
No crookedness exists in the Noble Eightfold Path. With its three divisions—morality, concentration, and wisdom—it brings integration, straightness, to every aspect of a human life.
The Morality Group of the Noble Eightfold Path
Sammā vācā, or right speech—literally, thorough or perfect speech, according to the meaning of the prefix sammā—is the first member of what is known as the morality group of the Noble Eightfold Path. This means truthful words, of course. Yet there are further criteria to be met. One’s speech should lead to harmony among beings. It should be kind rather than hurtful, pleasant, sweet to the ear and beneficial, not frivolous. Practicing right speech, we are freed from the four types of unwholesome behavior through speech, which were discussed above.
Right action, called sammā·kammanta in Pāli, is the second factor of the morality group. Right action involves restraint. We must refrain from the three types of immoral behavior manifested through the body: taking life, stealing, and sexual misconduct. The last member of the morality group, sammā·ājīva, is right livelihood. One’s livelihood should be decent, legal, and free from any sort of blemish. One should not practice a crooked occupation.
Eliminating crookedness in these three areas, one can easily keep at bay the grossest forms of the kilesas. Kilesas are our enemies. They should be considered and recognized as such. Free from enemies, one is free from danger.
The Concentration Group of the Noble Eightfold Path
The concentration, or samādhi, group is the next division of the Noble Eightfold Path. It contains three factors: right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.
This segment should be familiar to you if you have followed the meditation instructions. When you try to focus attention on the abdomen, this is right effort. It has the power to push aside the kilesas. When right effort is put forth, mindfulness is efficiently activated and will be able to observe the object. Mindfulness, too, acts as a protector. Effort moves the kilesas out of the way, and mindfulness closes the door on them. Now the mind can become focused. Moment to moment it remains with the object: collected, unscattered, calm. This is right concentration.
With these three factors present, we say the samādhi group is well developed. At this time, mental defilement, mental crookedness, is kept at a distance. This samādhi group is directly opposed to crookedness of mind.
The Wisdom Group of the Noble Eightfold Path
Moment to moment, your mind can become pure and peaceful through your own effort. In one minute you can have sixty moments of a mind free from crookedness. In two minutes you can have one hundred twenty moments. Think how many moments of peace you could activate during an hour, or even an entire day. Every second counts!
In each such moment, you will see that the mind falls directly onto its target, the object of meditation. This is right aim, a factor of the
Noble Eightfold Path’s wisdom group. When the mind is accurately aimed, it sees the object clearly: wisdom will arise. Wisdom’s clear seeing, or knowing of phenomena as they really are, constitutes another Noble Eightfold Path factor, right view.
If the mind falls precisely on the target, wisdom will arise perceiving the mechanism of conditionality, the cause-and-effect relationship that links mental to physical phenomena. If the mind falls on impermanence, the mind will clearly perceive and know impermanence for what it is. Thus, right aim and right view are linked.
This right view, resulting from right aim, has the power to uproot the seed of the crooked mind. The seed of the crooked mind refers to extremely subtle, latent defilements, which can only be uprooted in wisdom’s presence. This is very special. It can only happen in the moment, in a way that is real and practical, not by one’s imagination.
Perhaps now you can better appreciate why the Buddha said the path was straight. Crookedness of body, speech, and mind are overcome by this threefold training of sīla, samādhi, and paññā found in the Noble Eightfold Path. Walking straight along this path, one transcends crookedness and is free from many dangers.
Nibbāna as Haven and the Path as Haven
The Buddha further promised the bhikkhu-deva that this straight path leads to a safe haven. The word “haven” is discussed at length in the commentary on this sutta. It actually means nibbāna, where not a single danger, nothing fearful, remains. Old age and death are conquered; the burden of suffering falls. A person who reaches nibbāna is completely protected and can therefore be called “the fearless,” the one without danger.
In This Very Life Page 23