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Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry (2 of 4) - Ayya Santussika

The following talk was given by Ayya Santussika at The Sati Center in Redwood City, CA on February 15, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry (2 of 4)

Hello everyone, it's nice to be here again and see all of you. It feels so important and beautiful to be able to talk about this particular topic of dispelling delusion, the vipallāsas¹. I wanted to emphasize, in case you haven't thought of it this way, that the first three of these four distortions of perception, mind, and view were talked about by the Buddha over and over again throughout his forty-five years of teaching.

It started right from the beginning. His first teaching was the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta², where he talked about the Middle Way, the Noble Eightfold Path, and the Four Noble Truths. The second talk that he gave, the Anattalakkhaṇa Sutta³, is the one where he actually introduced this idea of seeing all the phenomena of this world as impermanent, and that everything that's impermanent carries dukkha⁴ (dissatisfaction) with it. When something is impermanent and ultimately unsatisfying, how could it be a self?

The first three of these vipallāsas are really those three characteristics. The Buddha didn't talk about them as "three characteristics," but he used that framework again and again. When you see in the suttas where someone is about to die, the questioning often is, "Is there anything that you see in the khandhas⁵—in the body, feeling, perception, mental activity, or consciousness—that's permanent?" And the person will say no. He goes through these same characteristics.

This is fundamental. It's foundational to seeing correctly. And it's more than that; this framework is often used to help people awaken, to take those first steps, but also the final steps to enlightenment. This is really what we're getting at here. How do we apply this? How do we change our perception, or recognize when we're imagining things to be permanent when they're not? When we imagine they are a source of happiness when they aren't, or aren't consistently a source of happiness? When we assume they are a self when they are not self? And then, of course, adding the fourth distortion: when we think things are beautiful when they're ugly, or vice versa.

Exploring the Second Vipallāsa Through Poetry

As we dive into number two, I'm going to share the screen here so we can look at some of the poetry. I'm really pleased to be able to explore this together with you. How do we take suffering as happiness? How is our perception distorted? How is our mind clouded? How is our view incorrect? We do this when we think something is comfortable (sukha), but it's really uncomfortable. When we think something is pleasant, but actually it brings pain. Or we look to something for satisfaction when it actually is unsatisfying.

We could start a little like we did last week, asking: can you recall examples of this in your own life? As we all do this, we see that this is a basic tendency for all of us. It's in some ways a coping mechanism to deal with the reality of life. We get happy and excited about the beginning of things—happy and excited about falling in love, for example—and then what comes later are the challenges that are often not so happy.

Sometimes people can view these teachings as being real downers. Is the Buddha really saying there's no value in the things that we take as enjoyable or happy in this life? Especially when you look at some of the poems of the monastics, where they're talking about never being enticed by sensual pleasures ever again. Well, I think we can also find examples of how much beauty and appreciation of natural beauty the ancient monastics talked about. But the main thing about seeing those things that we look to for happiness in a realistic way—by seeing the challenges and the suffering in them as well—is that we approach things differently. We enter a relationship in a way that's much more likely to bring depth and meaning to our life, even though it's not always satisfying, pleasant, or comfortable. There's something deeper there to cultivate.

Whether it's the way we use material things, the way we hold our relationships, or our work, if we go about our life in the world with our eyes wide open, without this distortion, then we're much more likely to be able to make use of every experience of our life as part of our practice. It becomes part of the development of wisdom, compassion, kindness, and patience. We greatly reduce the disappointment that comes with life when we make an effort to fulfill an ideal that cannot be fulfilled.

Reflections on Delusion

You might want to just take note: where have the times been in your life when you've fallen into this delusion? I can certainly name many in my own life. Falling in love, where that's all you can see: "Oh, I hope he's going to care about me, hope he's going to want to have this relationship with me," while being worried that it's not going to work out. Or wanting to get that job. Of course, we need to have a job to make a living in the world, but are we looking at it with a distorted view? I might focus only on getting this job, and then weeks or months into it, start getting into all the office politics and problems that are inherent in those situations.

Does anyone have any questions or comments about this part?

Holly: About fifteen years ago, when I was transitioning away from having my own horse (which was a big part of my life), I sought to become a 4-H judge. The program you had to go through to do that was long, arduous, dull, and expensive. When I finally got to do it, there was so much time spent in really hot arenas with problematic horse-rider pairs and interfering parents. There was a lot of good there, but I did it to keep a community—my horse community—which I feared losing. There was this craving, this belief in happiness that could come by becoming a judge, and a little bit of ego in there, too. After a couple of years, I realized I was away from home a lot, I was hot and miserable, and it wasn't really satisfying. I quit just before COVID. My sense was that I needed to make an opening for something better to arise, for a better way for me to spend my time, and it really did.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you, Holly. We look back on an experience like that, and the point is not to blame ourselves. It's not like, "Well, I was foolish in the past." It's more that we can approach things in a way where we're less bound up with them, less attached to them, and less caught up in them. We can let go easier if they're not working out in a beneficial way. We can enter into situations with a clearer intention of how we want to offer something into it, instead of that idea that I'm going to get some ego boost out of it.

As Holly pointed out, fear can drive us to make decisions about things. Stepping back, re-evaluating, and understanding what is really happening and what we want to do about it is key. If we're not present and reflective, we'll flip from one side to the other. We'll be "all in," and then we'll be averse. That creates big waves of highs and lows. As we practice more and develop more Right View and a right relationship to our activities, relationships, and experiences, the highs and lows start to mellow. We become more even, more happy, more content, and less vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life.

Early Buddhist Poetry: Dutiyakuṭivihārī Thera and Erakā Thera

Let's take a look at our first poem. It's very short. The monk is Dutiyakuṭivihārī Thera⁶, which translates to "the second dweller in a kuṭi" (the small shelter that monks and nuns live in). The reflection here is:

"This hut is very old. Do you desire a new hut? Give up that desire for a new hut, dear monk. A new hut means just another suffering."

This is one way of working with desire. Sometimes we can feel like we really want this new thing, even when we don't really need it. Of course, sometimes having the new thing is just fine, very useful, and helpful. But remembering that the new hut is just another suffering is a powerful practice. The Buddha gave a teaching in the Majjhima Nikāya where he said that when we love something or someone, that's a source of suffering. If you have one love, it's one suffering. Two loves, it's two sufferings, because of all the ups and downs and attachments we have. It's something very hard to see sometimes, and difficult to take in.

We'll go on to another short sutta. Both of these are translated by Venerable Bhikkhu Ñāṇananda from the book The Voice of Enlightened Monks, though I made a couple of changes in the translation here.

"Dear Erakā⁷, sensual pleasures are very painful. Dear Erakā, sensual pleasures are not happy. Dear Erakā, they who desire sensual pleasures, desire pain. They who do not desire sensual pleasures, do not desire pain."

Reflections on Renunciation and Attachments

Does anybody have any comments?

Paula: I do have some comments regarding the hut and this whole idea. If I'm completely honest with myself—and I would pose this question to you since you just got a new kuṭi—I recently got a new home. It's been almost two years, and for the most part, I'm very happy here. There are times when the house has problems, and that does cause suffering, but I don't see that as the overarching feeling that I have about having a home. I challenge you to say what about your kuṭi overall; I think it gives you some contentment. I want to be honest with myself, because if I'm not, this won't work. I do understand the concept of dukkha, but I don't quite agree with the idea that some things that give you a sense of ease and happiness are suffering. I don't get that.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you. So, my new kuṭi is wonderful. Before we moved to the forest, we lived in town, and then in the forest we had one cabin. It took a few years to be able to build the kuṭis, and this is the first time I have that private space. It is incredibly helpful to have the solitude, a space where other people aren't coming and going, to be able to practice. Your house is beautiful and wonderful, and it's wonderful to have that shelter, comfort, and safety. I mean, that's what shelter is for.

The danger is when we want it to be more than that. One of the things that I remind myself of frequently—not to discourage myself or become negative, but to be realistic—is that where we live in the Santa Cruz mountains, a fire could come through and take it all easily. This is what happens with all sensual pleasures: they're very unstable.

We can appreciate the hut, regardless of whether it's a six-bedroom house or a 5x8 kuṭi. We use it and care for it from a place of not owning it, not thinking it's going to give me some kind of ultimate safety or satisfaction. One thing that's very helpful in the holy life is that "it's not mine." If it manages to hold up and not burn down, after I die someone else will live there. We are encouraged in monastic life to think of the place where we're staying as, "We have this place for one night, and then that's all we can count on." You really can't even count on that, can you? Because we might die before we stay in the kuṭi again.

This isn't to add stress, but to relieve stress. When we're practicing and we feel that letting go, we feel a relief. When something happens to the house, it's not as important as it would have been if I were very attached to it. We can take our temperature of attachment based on how upset we get when something goes wrong. It's just feedback; a reminder that, "Oh, my view is distorted around this, that's why I'm suffering over it."

Suffering isn't inherent in what we have or what we use. It's not about the objects; it's all about our mind. How do we hold it? How do we relate to it? If we can relate to the people that we love with an unconditional kind of love, that really comes from the practice. We're going to see as we look through this that with developing the depth of our practice, we naturally let go. What we're reading here are the words of monks who are enlightened. They are enjoying the pleasure of spiritual energy and spiritual happiness. They know that's the way to real peace and happiness. So they're saying, "Sensual pleasures? Nah. I'm really enjoying the beauty of deep meditation, the peace of not having anything, the unburdening of letting go."

What does the enlightened mind do with sensual pleasures? If it's beautiful, it's beautiful! There are lots of poems in the Theragāthā about how beautiful nature is. Mahākassapa⁸ was like the toughest of the tough monks, and his poem is like, "I love this mountain!" He goes on and on about the peacocks, the elephants, and the clouds. There is a joy there, but there's a not-self; there's no attachment. It's really just appreciation. You can appreciate the house, you can appreciate all of the help you and your family have gotten, but hopefully not think of it as "yours." That really helps reduce the stress.

If we keep trying to find safety by going from one thing to another, or by finding one thrilling experience after another, all we do is wear ourselves out. But if we step back, let go, and care for things without attachment, and recognize that we can be completely safe and grounded in our morality, meditation, and wisdom, then we can move through this world without experiencing so much suffering.

Paula: That helps a lot. Thinking of it more in terms of "it has the potential for suffering" rather than "it is suffering." Last week when you asked what we would feel badly about losing, the thought that came to me was my home. And it is impermanent. So that was an acceptable explanation. Thank you.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you for asking. It's our questions and our inquiry into these things that really help open it up to understand it. You read these texts and it sounds like pushing things away; it sounds full of aversion, perhaps. But it's not coming from an enlightened lens. We have to peel it open to really understand it.

Early Buddhist Poetry: Khemā Bhikkhunī

Let's go on to the next one. This is Khemā bhikkhunī⁹, from the Therīgāthā. Here I've kind of mixed some of what Bhikkhu Bodhi uses and what Bhikkhu Ñāṇananda uses in their translations. She was the bhikkhunī that the Buddha said was the greatest in wisdom. She was actually compared with Venerable Sāriputta¹⁰. She's in the forest right now, going to meditate, and this guy comes along.

"Dear Khemā, you are still young and beautiful. I am also young and in my prime. Come, let us enjoy sensual pleasures and delight in sweet music."

In the translation by Bhikkhu Ñāṇananda in The Voice of Enlightened Nuns, he puts in brackets that this was spoken by Māra¹¹. This could be any guy who really wants to seduce this nun. Her response is:

"This body is rotting, ailing, and frail. I am horrified and repelled by it, and I've eradicated sensual craving."

In other words, not only am I not interested in you, but I see my body as something not to be interested in at all. She goes on:

"Sensual pleasures are like swords and stakes; the aggregates are their chopping block. What you call sensual delight is now no delight for me. Relishing is destroyed in every respect, and the mass of darkness shattered. So know this, Māra: in this case, you are defeated."

This darkness that gets shattered is all of the ignorance, all of the wrong view. It means she is enlightened. Then she says:

"Worshipping the stars, serving the sacred flame in a grove, failing to grasp the true nature of things—foolish me, I thought this was purity. But now I worship the Awakened One, supreme among men. Doing the teacher's bidding, I am released from all suffering."

Her previous religious practice consisted of rituals, not the teachings of the Buddha. We want to remember that these poems are the verses these enlightened monks and nuns put together after they were enlightened, usually contrasting the past with their enlightenment experience. She's drawing a sharp contrast between what Māra wants to entice her with, where she had been in the past, and where she is currently—free from any kind of temptation.

Her view changed. It changed from finding joy in sensuality, and it also changed from spiritual practices that didn't bring the kind of awakening she found through the Buddha's teachings. For any of us practicing, we can see that transformation happening in us. The things we see differently now compared to before we were meditating or keeping precepts. Part of that change is really seeing the danger in attachment to the sensual world, and the escape.

Reflections on Pleasures and Safety

Any comments or questions?

Monita: I think it's okay to enjoy sensual pleasure, but not attach to it. Otherwise, our lives become so dry as lay people. But as we practice, we realize there is a further happiness that doesn't depend on outside things. As a monastic, they enjoy not having it—the happiness of renunciation. As lay people, if we keep in mind that there is more happiness in renouncing and letting go, it's okay to enjoy small things. But keep in mind that there is a greater pleasure beyond this.

Ayya Santussika: That's exactly right. As we experience pleasure, we are also thinking, "Yes, there's a greater pleasure beyond this." Instead of just being caught up in the food or the pleasure. Regardless of whether we're living in a monastic form or lay form, we have the same opportunity to practice with what we've got in front of us. Having this in your mind is a process we're all going through, probably for lifetimes, but it leads to more and more happiness, less disappointment, less despair, and less depression.

Monita: I just want to point out, don't be discouraged. We can enjoy the beautiful sunset, but since we haven't reached the happiness of complete renunciation yet, we can still enjoy this while working on it. Further in practice, we realize that the happiness of not depending on anything is a greater happiness.

Ayya Santussika: Yes, we certainly don't want to look at a beautiful sunset and go, "Yeah, well that's impermanent," and get negative and grumpy. We can see it, enjoy it, feel it, and know the truth about it. I've seen people go a long way in lay life with renunciation, being able to let go of things. Regardless of whether we're in lay life or monastic life, we're all going to let go of everything at the end of this life. If we really let go of most of the attachment and craving, then we're going to have less of that burden in the next life.

Deborah: I found that letting go just happens naturally sometimes. Last winter, somebody on a Discord group put out a challenge to clean out your whole house of everything you don't need, and I did that. I spent my winter break getting rid of things, and it was so great. I still enjoy clothes, but this year I bought just a few things that I really liked and keep wearing them, instead of twenty sweatshirts. It feels better, and it was a natural kind of renunciation. Then there's other renunciation that happens without our wanting it. I got COVID at the end of 2019, lost my smell and taste, and haven't gotten them back. The sense of taste doesn't bother me so much, but I feel like I'm missing out on the smell of the ocean. So I see that things will renounce themselves (like I can't ski anymore), but with other things, the house feels cleaner and lighter without the clutter.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you. It's so true, and what a wonderful thing that you're engaged in a community of practitioners that give each other challenges to help us go deeper into the practice. It's our experience of things that really teaches us.

Kedwin: I was really resonating with the idea of looking for happiness "out there." That was how it was for me in relationships—worrying "does she love me, is she going to leave?" When the pandemic happened, my whole world opened up with access to monastics and retreats online. For me, relationships had become a distraction, and I made a decision to continue living a solitary life. I decided to move into a van because my living situation was toxic, and it was not helping my mind. I get so much pleasure from driving my van down to the water, watching and listening to the birds. It's a sensual pleasure, but it relieves my mind, gives my mind ease, and makes it easier for me to practice. Sensual pleasures are fine if they lead me to a better place where I have more ability to practice.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you for expressing that. That is right on. When I was doing walking meditation today by the creek, the rushing water was so beautiful and calming. It's supportive of the practice. We notice when something is supportive of the practice, or when it's distracting, upsetting, or disturbing. That doesn't mean we just turn away from everything that's hard.

In terms of relationships, some monastics ask why people want to get into relationships because it's so much trouble. But I see people in relationships where the two of them together are stronger, more balanced, and able to do things in the world—like generosity and support for others—that they couldn't do on their own. We have to look at how we approach it: what do I want to put into it, or what do I want to get out of it? It can lead to something wonderful, or to being extremely disappointed. We want something from the world that it can't provide, something that gives us stability from something unstable. This is what the Buddha is saying: look at what's actually going to bring happiness.

Early Buddhist Poetry: Raṭṭhapāla Thera

Now we're going to go on to the next one. This is Raṭṭhapāla. The full story about Raṭṭhapāla can be found in the Middle Length Discourses, number 82 (the Raṭṭhapāla Sutta)¹².

Raṭṭhapāla was the only son of the most influential, wealthy family in his kingdom. He decided he wanted to become a monk. The Buddha said he needed his parents' permission, and they were not happy about that. He became a monk, became enlightened, and then went back to see his parents. They really tried to entice him back to lay life with mounds of gold and with his former wives all dressed up and very alluring.

In the verses, he tells them:

"See this fancy puppet, a body built of sores, diseased, obsessed over, in which nothing lasts at all. See this fancy figure with its gems and earrings, its bones encased in skin, made pretty by its clothes. Rouged feet and powdered face may be enough to beguile a fool, but not a seeker of the far shore... A rotting body, all adorned like a freshly painted makeup box, may be enough to beguile a fool, but not a seeker of the far shore. The hunter laid his snare, but the deer didn't spring the trap. I've eaten the bait and now I go, leaving the trapper to lament."

He goes to stay in the royal grounds, sleeping under a tree. The King, who knew Raṭṭhapāla all his life, comes to him and says: "People usually become monks when they've lost something—their health, wealth, friends, or youth. But you're young, healthy, your family has money, you're rich, and you have tons of relatives. What is it that you saw that caused you to leave all that?"

Raṭṭhapāla replies:

"I see rich people in the world who, because of delusion, give not the wealth they've earned. Greedily they hoard their riches, yearning for ever more sensual pleasures."

It's like there's never enough. He points out to the King:

"A king who conquered the earth by force, ruling the land from sea to sea, unsatisfied with the near shore of the ocean, would still yearn for the further shore."

He asks the King if he would conquer more lands across the ocean if he could, and the King admits he would. Raṭṭhapāla says there is no end to this wanting to amass more.

"Rich reach death, not rid of grieving. They leave the body still wanting for in this world sensual pleasures never satisfy... The heirs take your riches while beings fare on according to their deeds. Riches don't follow you when you die, nor do children, or partners, or wealth, or your kingdom."

He continues:

"Longevity isn't gained by riches, nor does wealth banish old age, for the wise say this life is short, it's perishable and not eternal... Therefore wisdom is much better than wealth, since by wisdom you reach consummation in this life."

"As fruit falls from a tree, so people fall, young and old, when the body breaks up. Seeing this too, I went forth, oh King. The ascetic life is unfailingly better... My going forth wasn't wasted; I enjoy my food free of debt. I saw sensual pleasures as burning gold, as a cutting blade... Knowing this danger, I was struck with a sense of urgency. I was stabbed, but then I found peace, attaining the end of defilements."

Final Reflections

I hope you find this as inspiring as I do. Are there any comments?

Mariah: I do think as a lay person, it is important to keep the subtle chasing of sensual pleasure in the forefront. It's easy to say our lives can become dry and we need to enjoy them, but as one who watched her house burn down, that is really a gift. I must make a decision every single time: if I want to use something, am I really going to clean it, or am I going to do without it? Simplifying makes meditation even brighter by contrast. It's harder to do when you're comfortable.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you, Mariah. That's beautifully said. Before becoming a monastic, I was going through the process of simplifying my life. I didn't know how to do it at first. We want to challenge ourselves enough. Can we let go a bit more at our own pace? Sometimes, like in your situation, it's not at your own pace—it just happens to us. That happens to everyone eventually, whether it's our health or someone we love passing away. How do we reach for those things we really can count on? Our virtue, our kindness, our compassion, our wisdom, our spiritual friendships, our peace of mind.

Jean: This is very timely for me. After living in my home for 50 years, I'm in the process of trying to get ready to move, so I'm relearning all of this renunciation stuff. The hardest things to part with are the papers, as I used to be a librarian. It seems like the perfection of life is that things can be very timely.

Jerelle: I recently got a Dhamma partner where we talk every two weeks about our practice with the precepts. I love practicing the seventh precept—refraining from dancing, singing, music, and entertainment. I love art and music, but I noticed how watching certain things triggers sensual thoughts. When I practice taking that precept, those thoughts are not stimulated as much. I also recognized I engage in a lot of sensual pleasures because I have felt very unsafe my whole life. I take in outside pleasures to help me feel comfortable or safe. Recognizing that has been helpful in creating safety internally.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you very much, Jerelle. There's one more short sutta to finish with:

"I don't need sensual pleasures; I'm pleased and delighted by the flavor of the Dhamma. Having drunk the best drink, the sweetest drink, the drink of sweet Dhamma, I will never taste the poison of sensual pleasures again. And truly my body is very light, my mind feels a great joy and happiness. My body floats in the sky as if it were cotton blown by the wind."

If any of you have had that experience from meditation, or if not, open your mind to the possibility that the body can be that light, that much happiness.

That's the end of the poems for tonight. If anyone wants to take this deeper, I'll be teaching an in-person retreat at the Barre Center for Buddhist Studies the first week of April. Next week we will talk about self and non-self, which is the defining concept of the Buddha's teachings. Thank you all so much.