This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry (1 of 4). It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry (1 of 4) - Ayya Santussika

The following talk was given by Ayya Santussika at The Sati Center in Redwood City, CA on February 07, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry (1 of 4)

It's really a great pleasure to be here, and lovely to see everybody's faces or photos showing up. I really want to welcome you all. We're going to be diving into a very profound teaching of the Buddha that, of course, like most of his teachings, has a connection in different ways to the rest of the body of the Dhamma. Looking at these delusions or distortions that we commonly carry in our perceptions really helps us to develop insight and wisdom.

So, we're going to dive right in. I'm going to share my notes with you so that you can follow along, and I'm also going to be asking you some questions. It might be good to have something next to you to write on, just to give you a chance to think about this a little bit before we dive into some of the poetry of the enlightened monks and nuns from the time of the Buddha.

Introduction to the Vipallāsa Sutta

We've got four parts to this series because there are four delusions that we're going to deal with. This sutta right here at the beginning is a little introduction to the whole topic: the Vipallāsa Sutta¹.

Vipallāsa is a Pali word, and what it means is "distortions." Sometimes it gets translated as "inversions" or even "perversions." I'm not too keen on those two; it seems like "distortion" is a little bit easier or more clear in my mind. We're going to use Bhikkhu Sujato's translation here. I put it in the notes because I did change it—I think he uses "perversions," and Bhikkhu Bodhi² uses "inversions," but if you look at what the meaning of vipallāsa is, it also can be "distortions."

Any Pali word may not necessarily translate perfectly into an English word. If you happen to have more than one language at your disposal, you probably know things in one language that you can't neatly replicate in the other language. That's what we have often with Pali and English. If we think of these as distortions, it's a distortion in our perception.

The Buddha says here, "These are four distortions of perception, mind, and view." It's interesting—it's a distortion of perception, it's a distortion we hold in the mind itself, and our view is wrong; we don't have Right View.

1. Taking impermanence as permanence. Tonight, we're going to delve into this one more deeply. Where do we assume that something's permanent when actually it's not?
2. Taking suffering as happiness. We are pursuing something that we think is going to bring us happiness, and what it actually brings us is quite a lot of suffering. Maybe a little bit of happiness, but then there's a lot of suffering there, too. We will look at this deeply next week.
3. Taking not-self as self. We assume something is "me" or "mine," and it's not at all. Therefore, we can't gain what we want to gain from it as if it were "mine" or if it were "self."

Those three are frequently referred to together—impermanence, suffering, and not-self—as the Three Characteristics. That's not a phrase you find in the early Pali suttas, but you do see those three being referred to frequently together. We are encouraged by master teachers again and again to really use those three as reflections in order to go deeper into our understanding of reality.

4. Taking ugliness as beauty. The Buddha adds this last one because this is also something that we frequently do. We see something as beautiful, we're very attracted to it, we're really interested in it, and we don't see the unbeautiful side.

The Buddha says that there are those four distortions, and then there are four corrections. The four corrections of perception, mind, and view are thinking impermanence is impermanence. If something is impermanent, we know it's impermanent. We really have that awareness deep in our mind, in our view, and the way we see things, the decisions we make, and our perception of what we see, hear, taste, touch, smell, feel, and think. We take suffering as suffering. We take what's not-self as not-self. And we take ugliness as ugliness, or what's not beautiful.

The unbeautiful, when we look at the unbeautiful in our own body, say. We'll be getting into those pretty deeply throughout this series.

Then the Buddha went on to say—and by the way, these look like paragraphs, but they are actually verses used in the suttas:

"Perceiving impermanence as permanence, suffering as happiness, not-self as self, and ugliness as beauty, sentient beings are ruined by wrong view, deranged, out of their minds."

It seems a bit strong, don't you think? If you start to really think about it, that's what we can experience: being out of our minds, ruined by wrong view, going through our whole life not understanding the way things are and not knowing how to live.

"Yoked by Māra's³ yoke, these people find no sanctuary from the yoke."

We're tied up. I don't know if you can imagine what it would be like to be in a harness like a yoked oxen together, and not have the freedom, liberty, or ability to be free of that. That's what he's saying. We are caught up in saṃsāra⁴ and tied to it.

"Sentient beings continue to transmigrate with ongoing birth and death."

This is something I'm going to want to hear from you about because there are lots of folks, especially in our culture in the West, who didn't grow up thinking in those terms. It can be an interesting area of contemplation if we haven't really seen for ourselves that the reality of rebirth is there.

"But when the Buddhas arise in the world, those beacons reveal this teaching that leads to the stilling of suffering. When a wise person hears them, they get their mind back. Seeing impermanence as impermanence, suffering as suffering, not-self as not-self, and ugliness as ugliness, taking up Right View, they've risen above all suffering."

Q&A: Perspectives on Ugliness and Beauty

I'd like to stop sharing right there and see if you have any comments or questions at this point, because that is the encapsulation of this investigation. There might be something in there for some of you that's a little surprising, confusing, off-putting, or delightful.

Carrie: I'm wondering if you could say a little bit more about "ugliness," just because in lay circles it's not a word I hear teachers use. I'm just curious where beauty and ugliness fit and what those words would have meant to them.

Ayya Santussika: The main striking example is probably the human body, and how it is glorified and sought after. In so many ways, whether it's wanting to be attractive or perceived as being attractive by others, people put effort into that to be beautiful. And yet, we're covering up a body that has all kinds of unpleasant aspects—smells, for example. Calling it "ugly" is maybe not covering all the possibilities, but there are not very beautiful aspects to the body. We can easily get deluded and obsessed not just by trying to beautify our own bodies, but in being attracted to other people and their bodies. When we're attracted on that superficial level of how people look, that can lead us to doing things we shouldn't do, or losing our mind, as he said.

It can be other things too. You might feel like, "Wow, that's a really beautiful house, I want a house like that. The one with six bedrooms and seven bathrooms." And then we don't think about the taxes, the cleaning, going into debt, and all the other things that make it difficult. The Buddha really wants us to think about things realistically.

Olivia: To be able to think about things realistically, shouldn't we be able to see both sides of the picture?

Ayya Santussika: Absolutely. The Buddha talks about seeing the beauty in ugliness, and seeing what's ugly in the beautiful. Being able to look from all perspectives realistically. Trying to see beauty and ugliness is a little different, isn't it, from the permanent and impermanent, or self and not-self. Because if we're thinking something belongs to me that really doesn't, that's just pure delusion. Whereas with beauty and ugliness, you can see the beauty in aging.

One time I was walking with an elder Bhikkhunī⁵, and we walked past some rose bushes. I asked her, "Which of these roses do you think is the most beautiful?" They were all at different stages of beautifully blooming, dying, and deteriorating. She made a comment that the dying and deteriorating ones were the ones she thought were the most beautiful.

This is something we can observe in ourselves and in the world. The purpose of looking at things clearly and seeing the way they are is that we don't get caught up in desire for them to bring us happiness when they can't. We don't lose our minds. We have Right View. We have a clarity of view. When we see the way things actually are, we are more equanimous, resilient, accepting, loving, grateful, and generous.

Carrie: I'll stay tuned. I just feel that it's a question of trying to figure out what the desire is and where we cling or crave too much. I don't know if it's the object itself.

Ayya Santussika: Well, the Buddha is talking about the perception, the mind, and the view. So it's not about the object. It's about our perception of it. That's where the craving comes from. Good point.

Reflection Exercise: Facing Impermanence

We're going to start looking at impermanence, and we're going to look at a few poems. But before we start, this is where I'd like to ask you a question for your contemplation, and just jot down the answer. I find that if I ask people to write something down, they come to more clarity; it's not just a vague idea.

We're probably all pretty aware that there are things we know are impermanent, but we don't act like it. Like, we all know we're going to die, but we don't spend our days making decisions in such a way that that might happen anytime. A lot of the time we waste time. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with doing things for the long term, because we might live a long time and we do have to prepare for that. But I want you to think: even though you know something is impermanent, I'd like you to write down three things that, if they happened to end tonight, would be devastating. It would feel like a blow to your security or safety.

I want to tell you a story about someone who had this experience. He's actually a fairly famous person, but I'm not going to tell you who it is. His parents were both in their 80s, and one night they were using their fireplace and they both died from carbon monoxide poisoning. This son really took it hard. He later said, "You know, I knew I would probably have to live through the death of my parents. But I wasn't prepared to have them both go in that way at the same time."

We can all appreciate that and have compassion for that. But I think the Buddha is often, in his teachings, trying to encourage us to reflect in a way that we're ready for whatever might happen. Not in a morbid way, not in an anxious way, but in a calm, collected, and realistic way. None of this is to say that we should be hard on ourselves. These are natural reactions. This isn't like we're going to have perfection around this, or that we have to ever feel bad about how we feel when something happens. It's understandable. It is an opportunity to think about, "What might I do to hold things in a way that I'm closer to that peace, regardless of what happens?"

Participant Reflections

Olivia: I thought about it as you were speaking. If I did not have a chance to have some small idea of what this Right View is, that would be quite a big blow. If you have a small notion, then there is an impetus to keep learning or thinking and evaluating. And that would be my second and third choice.

Ayya Santussika: That's an interesting way to look at the question. What I would like you to do, not in real-time here, is instead of considering your theoretical makeup and level of Right View, think of three concrete things. Like if you lost your house, if you lost a friend. See if there's a way to get closer to a real feeling of what that might be like.

Doug: I put down the obvious ones for me. Three works out fine because I have Sarah here, and then two adult children. So that's pretty easy. What's staggering to me is how inexhaustible this list could be. I just started writing and I could just keep going on and on. Just the health of the people that I'm close to, and certain friends. A big one is my faith in the Dhamma. I also find the more I'm drawn to the Dhamma, the more precious that feels.

Ayya Santussika: Yes. I put the Dhamma in that different category, isn't it? Because that's where our Right View is. It's seeing things more clearly as they actually are, and it's not something we lose. We can forget certain things, we can forget a certain insight that we've had, and it's good to train the mind to remember those things. But that's an interesting different category that actually carries on, regardless of what gets lost in the sensory world.

Doug: And being in the Dhamma is what makes knowing that the people closest to me could not be here tomorrow survivable. But isn't the Dhamma permanent in a way? Isn't that our refuge?

Ayya Santussika: Yes. It is the way things are. So that doesn't change lifetime after lifetime, realm upon realm. Nibbāna⁶ is the Dhamma. It's very clear that that's how the Buddha sought, that's what he experienced, and that's what he taught. That's where we put our trust. We put our trust in what actually doesn't end.

Sometimes people talk to me about whether or not they should have children. One of the reasons they sometimes want to is because then when they get old, their children will take care of them. I try and tell them there are no guarantees. I know people with children who are getting older and their children never see them. There are people who outlive all their children. Any kind of placing a refuge, safety, or security on the things that really belong to the natural world—which is the world of the khandhas⁷, the world that falls apart—is a false sense of security.

Mariah: Really what would be very hard is if my son went psychotic and lost the Dhamma. I'm not talking about the 72 hours; he went psychotic in Thailand, and again within a day he was back to talking with Luang Por Pramote. If they lost the Dhamma, I can't give that to them. I have no control over that. If I'm not feeling okay and then they worry and get how to take care of mommy—so if I woke up and was so dysregulated that I lost the capacity to meditate or chant. Dhamma has to be front and present to get through the next half hour. Life is incredibly uncertain for me right now, and it's really beautiful, but it's still a clinging. I'm clinging to the fact that they have devotion.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you, Mariah. We want the people in our life to be safe. We want them to have what's most meaningful from our perspective—which is the Dhamma, which I would agree is crucial. But those people in our life, none of them are ours. They're out of our control. We lose our minds because we want to change things that we can't change, control things we can't control. That comes from the distortion of thinking that we should be able to.

Mariah: There's the wisdom faculty that comes in all the time with this investigation. Yes, we must make plans, we must try. If I don't go get food, I won't have it for tomorrow. The perceived survival versus the proliferation around survival. What can I control? This grasping. I always think of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and everyone's whirling around. My therapist once said it's as though you're trying to take anchors from each of these things that are whirling around. So I think of this uncertainty and try to be leveling—where's the wisdom, where are my duties? It's an interesting balance or dance.

Ayya Santussika: When we're grounded in truth, when we're grounded in Dhamma, then we can see how we need to operate on a practical level of planning, maintaining wealth and keeping it safe, maintaining relationships, giving advice when appropriate, and helping each other get through hard times. The Buddha was extremely practical, and he would give teachings on how to operate in the world responsibly. And yet he's also teaching that anything that can be lost, can be lost. Anything that can be broken, can be broken. The Dhamma supports us in living in the world sensibly, and it supports us in having the inner strength, clarity, wisdom, and trust that allows us to be equanimous throughout whatever happens.

Deborah: Mine still has to do with people, well, to some extent. I feel like I cling to Dhamma people and things now quite a lot. Teachers, Kalyāṇa-mittas⁸, as my social circle expands more within the Buddhist realm. What would happen if something happened to me and I couldn't meditate? I'm finding I'm actually clinging a lot to Dhamma-related things. I was listening to Ajahn Brahmali⁹ last year, and he said something like, "Wow, what will it be like when Ajahn Brahm dies?" You could tell that that was going to be something really hard for him.

Ayya Santussika: These are good things to reflect on. What if something happens to my body or my mind that I can't meditate? That's why the Buddha says over and over again: meditate now while you can meditate. Don't regret it later.

Shan: My three things: health, ability to communicate, my mother.

Ayya Santussika: What's the value of thinking about these things and how they might be taken away? It gives us an opportunity to look at where we find grounding and support. I have the opportunity to talk with people going through serious health issues frequently. One of the things that's really interesting is that sometimes when things actually happen, there's a kind of spiritual resource that just arises in us as the result of our practice. When things happen, sometimes we're really surprised to feel that equanimity, that patience, that groundedness arise in us.

I've had this happen to me a few different times: once when my daughter was in a very bad car accident, once when my son got hit on a bicycle and was in the hospital, once where my granddaughter had a ruptured appendix. The practitioner comes up against this reality in such a real and personal way, feels what they feel, and has this upwelling of spiritual comfort.

Shan: While listening to you, two things got off my list, but still one thing remaining is my ability to communicate. I don't know if I can still choose to die or live at that moment. What if I may lose my mental capacity, physical capacity, I couldn't move, couldn't talk, but I'm not dead.

Ayya Santussika: It's a good thing to think about. Our mind and our body really are separate. When we die, the body disintegrates and the mind continues unless we're enlightened, and then it all goes still. But consider what it's like to communicate in a way beyond this physical ability to talk or to write. The Buddha really encouraged solitude. What is it like to be inside and not communicate?

I want to encourage not just imagining every horrible thing that can happen to us, but to instead imagine, like, if my ability to communicate ended—and of course, for me as a teacher, this is so much a part of my practice, one of the ways I'm able to help people and be generous. But what if that were gone? The conditions might still allow some development in my own mind in a way that's actually spiritually beneficial for others.

Poetry of the Enlightened Elders

We're going to start looking at some poems. Thank you for participating and reflecting on this.

The first one is from a monk named Venerable [Nandagutta?]. I have two translations side by side. The Voice of Enlightened Monks is a publication you can find online. And Bhikkhu Sujato has his translations on SuttaCentral.net. I'm going to read the one on the left first:

No existence is permanent, No formation is everlasting, Again and again, your five aggregates of clinging Will arise and cease repeatedly.

I realized this danger, I don't need anything that belongs to existence, I am detached from all sensual pleasures, I have achieved enlightenment.

These are the verses of enlightened monastics, and it's through this reflection that enlightenment came to this monk: realizing the danger of clinging to the five aggregates (body, feeling, perception, mental activity, and consciousness). If we look at the translation on the right, it's the same Pali that it comes from:

No life is permanent, And no conditions last forever, The aggregates are reborn and pass away, Again and again.

Knowing this danger, I have no need for another life. I’ve escaped all sensual pleasures, And attained the ending of defilements.

Once you've let go of everything, not clinging to anything anymore, not a sense of self, not a desire to be reborn, it's the ending of all defilements. It's the ending of realms of rebirth.

One of the reasons for showing you two translations is that sometimes a verse will really strike us as something we would like to reflect on over and over. "No existence is permanent, or no life is permanent." Right there we can reflect on: my life isn't permanent, my grandson's life isn't permanent, my daughter's life isn't permanent. Can I recognize that whether that beloved one goes on from here to another birth, or goes still in the bliss of Nibbāna, how can I be supportive of that continuation? How can I have equanimity, acceptance, a sense of love and caring in the face of that? And how can I see the danger of clinging, the danger of the desire to be reborn, the danger of wanting to continue to experience sensuality? Let that percolate in the mind in a way that we turn more and more towards what's actually trustworthy, reliable, the true escape.

Ambapālī’s Verses on Aging

Now we're going to look at the Therigatha. This is a bhikkhunī, Ambapālī¹⁰, and her verses. I'm going to look at Bhikkhu Sujato's translation here at SuttaCentral.net. This is a long poem, it has 20 verses, and it's all about her body aging.

Ambapālī, according to the commentary, was born spontaneously under a mango tree in the royal garden. We might accept that as a reality, or we might figure somebody abandoned a baby in the royal garden, and that baby was found by the gardener and she was raised in the palace. She was extraordinarily beautiful, and many princes wanted to marry her. Because there was such a contention for her hand, the court decided that she would be a courtesan. She became a follower of the Buddha, and she gave a mango grove to the Buddha. You'll see there are a number of suttas that take place in Ambapālī's mango grove. Then she became a bhikkhunī and she became enlightened.

When she became enlightened, she spoke these verses:

My hair was as black as bees, Graced with curly tips. Now old, it's become like hemp bark. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

And that's the refrain on every verse. What the Buddha said is true, and I can confirm it by my own experience. For each of us as we age, no matter how old you are, you can see the changes in your body. We can also confirm it. By the way, I turned 70 yesterday! [Laughter] Yeah, the seventh decade is certainly different than the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and the sixth.

Crowned with flowers my head was As fragrant as a perfume box. Now old, it smells like dog fur. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My hair was as thick as a well-planted forest; It shone, parted with comb and pins. Now old, it's patchy and sparse. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

With plates of black and ribbons of gold, It was so pretty, adorned with braids. Now old, my head’s gone bald. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My eyebrows used to look so nice, Like crescents painted by an artist. Now old, they droop with wrinkles. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My eyes shone brilliant as gems, Wide and indigo. Ruined by age, they shine no more. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My nose was like a perfect peak, Lovely in my bloom of youth. Now old, it's shriveled like a pepper. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My earlobes were so pretty, Like lovely crafted bracelets. Now old, they droop with wrinkles. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My teeth used to be so pretty, Bright as a jasmine flower. Now they're old, they're broken and yellow. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My singing was sweet As a woodland bird wandering in the forest groves. Now old, it's patchy and croaking. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My neck used to be so pretty, Like a polished shell of conch. Now old, it's bowed and bent. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

By the way, my friend said last night, "Oh, I'm really seeing that your scoliosis is progressing." One of the things that helps is she's just delighted that I'm becoming old. I'm officially old now at 70, she tells me, and she loves old people! I really recommend this attitude. It doesn't mean that you shy away from seeing the aging happen, but we can enjoy it too.

My arms used to be so pretty, Like rounded crossbars. With age they wrinkle and sag like a paṭalī tree. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My hands used to be so pretty, Adorned with lovely golden rings. Now old, they're like red radishes. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My breasts used to be so pretty, Swelling round, close and high. Now they droop like water bags. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My body used to be so pretty, Like a polished slab of gold. Now it's covered with fine wrinkles. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

Both my thighs used to be so pretty, Like an elephant's trunk...

I don't know, I'm having a little trouble with that comparison! [Laughter]

Now they're like bamboo. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

My calves used to be so pretty, Adorned with cute golden anklets. Now old, they're like sesame sticks. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

Both my feet used to be so pretty, Plump as if with cotton wool. Now old, they're cracked and wrinkly. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

This bag of bones once was such, But now it's withered, home to so much pain, Like a house in decay, with plaster crumbling. The word of the truthful one is confirmed.

Any thoughts on reflecting on these images, or using similar images of our own body developing, or our parents? One of the things that was helpful to me was watching my mother age and practicing with that. Those phrases from the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta¹¹ where the Buddha talked about internal/external reflection on the body: reflecting on the internal (my own body), reflecting on the external (my mother's body). I took care of her as she was dying, and her body and my body are so similar in size and shape. Just to know that my body was like her body; it will go through the same thing. To bring myself closer to the truth, to really feel it. When we feel the truth, that's when we open up to insights, really changing our clinging into caring. The less we cling, the more we can care with compassion and without attachment. The more we can love unconditionally.

Participant: I recently hit 40, and I thought, "Oh my God, I never thought I'll be one of the 40-year-olds." Reflecting on these things has made it normal. In society, everyone likes to dress up very nicely, and somebody I saw on YouTube called makeup "face paint." Bringing that thought that behind all of that surface appearance is old age has been very helpful.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you for your reflections. It's really interesting how much our culture pushes us in the opposite direction. There's so much covering up of death. When someone dies, you can whisk the body away, look at a photograph and some memories, and not ever see the body. I recently went back to Indiana to my cousin's funeral, and they had an open casket. What's it like to die, what happens to the body, and how the mind separates from that? Our culture wants to hide it. We don't often talk about it. How do we support the mind in becoming clear about it and accepting of what the truthful one has told us?

So much effort and money goes into trying to forestall aging—even people trying to get frozen and reawakened when cures are available. This clinging to this world and to this life. The Buddha says it's madness. There's no peace in it, there's no security and safety in it. And yet, when we really take in the Dhamma in its entirety and embody it, we are more secure in every condition, in every situation.

Heidi: When you started reading, I had an uncomfortable feeling. But with your description of your mother, I was reminded of curiosity. I kind of enjoy seeing my body change, and it brought me to a place of acceptance. "The word of the truthful one is confirmed" could be read as a downer, but it can also be a joy or a learning. We're learning that it's okay to die, and it's okay to die in whatever way we die.

Ayya Santussika: Yes. Sometimes people have an idealized perception of how they want to die, and it doesn't work that way. I tell people to expect it to be different than you think. I also tell people that when they want to ordain as a monastic, expect it to be different than you think! Because the body belongs to nature, and it does its own thing. It's going to take whatever time it needs to take, and it's going to go in whatever way it goes, and we can't control it. We really understand it's not ours; it was just on loan.

When we know this body is just on loan, we want to take care of it and make use of it to do good and develop good qualities, because those continue with us when we die. There's a passage where the Buddha talks to a very old man who's come to see him, and the man talks about falling apart: pain, illness, and deterioration. The Buddha said, "Just make sure that when the body suffers, the mind doesn't suffer. When the body is sick, the mind isn't sick." That's really what's available to all of us. We don't have to be sick mentally when the body is diseased. We don't have to be connected in that way where we think, "That's who we are, that's ours."

When my mom was dying, I lived with her for the last three months to take care of her, and she died at home. At the end, she didn't eat or drink for the longest time—longer than anyone thinks is possible to stay alive. But the body has its own timing, and I felt very much like she and I were waiting for the miracle. We can easily acknowledge that there's a miracle when a child is born, a consciousness enters this body created by two parents. But when we die, it's also a miracle: consciousness leaves this body that's become completely incapable of continuing, and it goes on with its karma. It can go on to what's even more beautiful because of the beautiful qualities we cultivated. It's a miracle that we're not inhibited by the body anymore. At that time of death, all the pain from the body is gone completely in a nanosecond, and we're free of it.

Deborah: I found that letting go of caring about visible aging has been the most freeing, liberating thing ever. I had a surgery about a decade ago, and suddenly I was like, "I'm done. I'm not counting calories. I'm not doing botox. I'm just aging naturally." During COVID, my mom stopped dyeing her hair and she looked great. I'm like, "Okay, I'm done with that too." It is so freeing right here in this lifetime.

Deirdre: During the pandemic, you'd start to become so careful not to be around other people, and I would feel fear that I might catch it. That's a really good indication: "Okay, I'm clinging to something here that's creating this discomfort." Instead of thinking, "I've been a nun for 18 years, I shouldn't feel like this," just be with it and appreciate that this is quite natural. We don't want to shove away whatever we're feeling because that doesn't work. We want to hold it, observe it, be present with it, but not own it. Watch it go through its natural unfolding. Not feed them with wrong view; feed them with Right View.

Ayya Santussika: Yes. "I might get sick." Well, I will get sick. I have gotten sick, and you get better or you don't. Ajahn Brahm tells the story of living with Ajahn Chah¹² in the forest and coming down with this horrible scrub typhus, which is very deadly. He was put in the hospital. Hospitals in rural Thailand weren't the greatest at the time. He asked, "Where's the nurse?" "Oh, it's after 5. There's no nurse till morning." He heard Ajahn Chah was going to come see him in the hospital, and he thought, "Great, the master is going to come see me and give me encouragement." What Ajahn Chah said to him was: "Well, you're either going to get better or not, and you have to be comfortable with both." Ajahn Brahm said that was the greatest teaching; it made a huge difference to his wisdom development.

That might feel like it's a little rough, but when you sign up to be a monk or a nun, you're kind of asking for it. And when you sign up to be a practitioner and take on what the Buddha taught, you're asking for it. And it's good when it comes.

Verses on Clinging and Letting Go

Let's look at another sutta. These are the verses of Bhikkhu [Isidinna?]:

I've seen some lay followers who are experts in the Dhamma, And they say, "Sensual pleasures are impermanent," But they cling to jewelry, partners, and children, And they wish for them again and again.

Truly, these lay followers don't know the Dhamma as it really is. Even though they say sensual pleasures are impermanent, They have no power to cut off their desire. Because of that, they cling to children, partners, and wealth.

Sometimes I think, you know, all these verses were spoken 2,500 plus years ago, and the human condition is still about the same. We're still doing the same things. Of course, it's through our desire to awaken that we want to take a look: "Am I clinging? How can I see the truth about this and let go of that attachment?" That part can sound so negative, but what comes in that letting go is the development of a much greater, unconditional kind of love. When you let go of the clinging, you're so much more available to those children and partners. You can use the wealth so much more beneficially for others in a practical sense. It's the letting go that's the freedom that opens the way for something much more profound and beautiful to develop.

I have one last poem to share with you that's quite short. This is the enlightened monk [Sīvaka?]. It's a lovely two-verse poem:

Houses are impermanent. On and on, life after life, I've been searching for the house builder. Painful is birth again and again.

I've seen you, house builder! You won't build a house again. Your rafters are all broken, Your ridge pole is shattered. My mind is released from limits; In this very life, it will dissipate.

I don't know if you'll ever find it, but there's a beautiful song by Reverend Heng Sure¹³. He was a folk singer and songwriter before he became a monk. He occasionally writes Buddhist songs, and he wrote one about the house builder. It's really quite lovely. This idea that we can find the root of our desire for becoming something, and let go.

Final Remarks

Mariah: I just wanted to ask if it would be possible to get the documents shared over a Drive. The last poem, full stop, was lovely. It would be nice to be able to glance at them, because it will rekindle the affection of this meeting. Sometimes that's how I move through the day. I think these contemplations for me must also be tempered with this lightness of heart. I love beauty, and I really respond to beauty and light. But I'd like to reflect to just uplift the heart. The beauty of the breath uplifts the heart. Sometimes you can just feel the breath while you look at a poem and know it's going to be different the next moment, but a moment of breath is really nice.

Ayya Santussika: Yes, I will see if we can work something out around creating a space on Drive and send a link for the materials as they become available each week.

Thank you everyone. I hope you found this session useful, and I look forward to seeing you next time. I really wish you well and hope that during this week you'll have an opportunity to reflect on impermanence. You can really see it everywhere around you. This whole world is full of things that are falling apart, and I think seeing the beauty in it too is really valuable. And the humor, and the love. Take care, everyone.