This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Guided Meditation: Sitting in Friendship; Poems of the Nuns (2 of 5) Kisagotami. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Guided Meditation: Friendship; Dharmette: Poems of the Nuns (2 of 5) Kisagotami - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on August 13, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Guided Meditation: Friendship

Hello everyone and welcome.

For this meditation today, perhaps I'll do a little less guiding and more setting a context for the meditation. Community, spiritual friendship, is very important and supportive for Buddhist practice. When I was living for about three years in a Buddhist Monastery, it was a very important time in my life. The practice was important, and I could not have done it without the support of the community. Being in a community with people, I would say I didn't have good friends in the monastery, but I had a village. I had regular social contact with people who were nice, and it was a wonderful place to be. I had this wonderful balance between spiritual friendship and the ability to also, at the same time, not have the social life complicate my life, which allowed me to settle into the practice.

Having my teachers—and that was a little bit slow to understand, but in retrospect, I've understood how important my early teachers were—their support and their encouragement was invaluable for me to continue. To this day, I feel very much that part of the fuel, part of the inspiration for my practice, is the spiritual communities that I'm part of: IMC, and now for over four years, here on YouTube with all of you coming here. There's something very valuable in the association, the connection, the shared practice that we have.

I feel very much that sometimes when I sit down to meditate, I appreciate that there are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people at this very moment engaged in Buddhist practice and meditation around the globe, maybe more. There's a shared community for this practice here and now. We don't know each other necessarily, but the fact that so many people are practicing is important for me. Then, if you go back through time—my many teachers, my teachers' teachers, their teachers—there have been people doing this practice for over 2,000 years. We're in the lineage, we're in the wave, we're standing on the shoulders of the people who went before us.

So that's the context for this meditation: to have that sense of mutual support, the circle of spiritual friends and spiritual community that are, in a symbolic way, around us all the time to support us, but not too much, not to complicate our lives, not to entangle us in the complexity of social life, social needs, and concerns. Ideally, the Dharma community is a community we feel supported by, but we don't invest so much in it or expect such a high thing from it that we get entangled in expectations. In that combination, some of the best relationships, some of the richest social connections can be in Dharma communities.

So, in this kind of symbolic way—I know some of you have had complexities with Buddhist communities—but in this symbolic way, we are not here without the support of others. To meditate today, have some sense that you're not meditating alone. You're meditating with this online community here. Don't let it be too much of a thinking thing that you think and fantasize about. But if you find yourself wandering off in thought, thinking about other things, as your means to come back to the here and now, appreciate the circle of spiritual community, the Dharma meditating community that is here with you. Appreciate that you're not alone doing this. Let that be the bridge to coming back, to feel that support, to feel that encouragement, to feel the inspiration. So whenever you wander off, wake up to the community, and through that, wake up here to your lived experience at this moment.

With that, today I'm going to have it be silent the rest of the time. Many of the guided meditations I do begin more or less the same way, and most of you have heard it many times. But the idea that you're inclusive of the community is new. So I'll just be quiet now, and for those of you who are inclined, let there be the support from all these circles of Dharma communities—past, present, here, and far away—that are here supporting us all. Thank you.

As we come to the end of this sitting, appreciate that coming out of meditation is to come out into a community. Though you may be meditating at home alone, there's all of us sitting here with this YouTube sitting, coming out of meditation together. Here to meet me again, to meet each other again. For those of you reading the chats, to read the chats and participate with each other, coming back into a community that has been continuous now for a long time.

And not to take this for granted, but the very existence of this YouTube community has allowed this YouTube practice event to live and occur, and for me and other IMC teachers to show up here and be inspired to teach because of all of you and how we come together. Every single one of you who's here contributes to that.

So, coming out of sitting into community, do so slowly, gently, without high expectation, but appreciating what we have here. Let it be an inspiration that this practice we do is for the benefit of our communities—this one, our neighbors, our friends, all the different communities, people strangers and known that we meet. May it be that we enter the world with more friendliness, ready to be friendly in simple, undemanding, generous ways for all beings that we encounter. May we be friends to the world.

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be free. May all beings be peaceful. And may we be friends to all beings.

Thank you.

Dharmette: Poems of the Nuns (2 of 5) Kisagotami

Hello and welcome to this second talk, where I'm reading from my translations of the poems of the ancient Buddhist nuns, the first disciples of the Buddha. In Pali, it's called the Therigatha.¹ This poem is by Kisagotami, and it's a very touching poem. It involves a conversation between Kisagotami and Patacara.

I think in the modern West, a fair number of people know about Kisagotami, but not so many know about Patacara. We have a beautiful statue of Patacara at IMC. There are about five different photographs that cycle through on the IMC homepage, and one of them is of a beautiful wooden statue that was made for us and given to us. So, these are two famous early Buddhist nuns.

Kisagotami is known for the mustard seed story. Kisa means frail, so she is "frail Gotami." Maybe she's not that well, maybe somewhat weak or sick. She's certainly poor. She has the circumstance of being married into a family, probably an arranged marriage back then, and her status was very low. In Ancient India, the status of a bride who joins not just a husband but the husband's family was often quite low and difficult; she was often expected to be almost a servant. We don't know exactly what the circumstances were, but then she had a son, and that changed her status. Then she had a place in the family, she had a status, because back then male progeny was really important. The mother probably loved her son, but it also put her in a secure place in the family and society. Then the son died as a baby.

She was distraught and refused to believe the son had died. She went around carrying the dead baby, asking everyone for help, for medicine. Someone finally said to her, "There's someone who has medicine, and that's the Buddha." With great hope, she went to the Buddha, and the Buddha said, "Yes, go around and collect mustard seeds"—which was a very common spice that people had in their kitchens in Ancient India, so everyone had mustard seeds they would grind up for cooking—"and gather a mustard seed from all the households that have not experienced death."

She started going around and discovered that every household she came to had experienced death—of children, of parents, of siblings. Somehow, death has been part of everyone's life. At some point, she realized this, and she realized the universality of death and that she could accept the death of her baby. She went back to tell the Buddha this, and he taught her. She ordained and attained awakening.

But Patacara, the second person in this conversation, also had a tragic death of family, but it was a massive death all at once. At the same time she was giving birth to her second child, she wanted to go back to be with her parents' family home. But she started giving birth during that walk, and the husband went out to try to find some grass to create a cushioning or bed for her to make her comfortable. He came across a snake that bit him, and he died.

Distraught, Patacara then gave birth and was going to go to her family's house, crossing a river. She first crossed over with her baby and put him on the other shore. On the way back to get her other child, some big bird of prey came and grabbed the baby and flew off with it. While she was trying to yell and do something about that, the younger one ventured into the river and drowned. She then went back to her home village only to discover that her mother, father, and brother had all died and were currently on the funeral pyres being cremated.

A tremendous amount of suffering all at once. Whether this story is a fable or something that actually could have happened back in Ancient India, we don't know, but I can imagine it could have happened, these kinds of horrible tragedies. So these two women had huge tragedies. Both of them became nuns, both of them became enlightened, and they were friends. This is a conversation between them.

It's important to understand as you hear this poem that they are both enlightened; they're both free. What they talk about, they do so not with the burden of their suffering, but seeing it clearly, knowing it clearly, and knowing that they now have a degree of enlightenment or freedom.

The poem begins with three introductory verses. It was probably chanted in the ancient world, and there were probably three voices that chanted it, so it's a little bit of a performance meant to highlight something. The first three verses are probably chanted by a chant leader or someone, and it sets the stage for the conversation between these two nuns. The first two are quite lovely in their sentiment about spiritual friendship.

In this world, the sage has taught and praised spiritual friendship. By associating with a spiritual friend, even a fool can become wise.

Associate with good people, and wisdom will grow. By associating with good people, one will be freed from all suffering.

So two verses promoting the value of spiritual friendship, being around good people. "Good people" here, in the context of the ancient tradition, means people who are ethical and know about the spiritual life, who can help support you to understand, address, and learn about the core Buddhist teaching, which is presented in the third verse:

One should know suffering, the arising of suffering, and its cessation, and the Noble Eightfold Path.

These are usually called the Four Noble Truths, and it's slightly different than that here, but this is the task of our spiritual friendship, our spiritual support from wise people: to really know suffering, and to know the arising of it, the cessation of it, the ending of it, and the Noble Eightfold Path.

Now we begin the conversation between the two nuns. It starts with Kisagotami, and this may be difficult to hear, but it speaks to the tremendous difficulty of ancient life. We're talking about the Bronze Age, before medicine and hospitals and doctors, when people giving birth had to do so maybe alone, without any help or with just local support. Kisagotami and Patacara are going to demonstrate that they know these core Buddhist teachings. They know suffering, they know its rising, its cessation, and the Noble Eightfold Path. So you'll witness now how the conversation is a demonstration of spiritual friendship between these two friends, and that both of them really understand the whole point of what the Buddha was teaching.

Kisagotami says:

Womanhood is suffering, declared the trainer of people to be tamed. Being a co-wife is suffering. And for some, so is giving birth even once. Some women cut their throats; those who are discreet eat poison. Some fetuses within are killers, with misery for both mother and fetus.

For some in the ancient world, being a woman was very difficult, for biological reasons and for social reasons.

Then Patacara responds, and now she's talking about herself:

Walking around about to give birth, I found my husband dead. Before I reached my house, I gave birth on the road. For miserable, miserable me, two children died, a husband dead on the road. Mother, father, and brother burning on one funeral pyre.

Then Kisagotami, speaking about Patacara, responding to her friend:

Miserable, with family destroyed, your suffering was immeasurable. You have shed such tears for many thousands of births.

But Patacara answers, and now she continues talking about her suffering:

After the death of my family, I lived in the middle of the charnel ground, where my children's flesh was eaten. With family killed, I was despised by all. But then, with husband dead, I attained the absence of death.

And then Kisagotami speaks and replies similarly, that she also has attained:

I cultivated the Noble Eightfold Path leading to the absence of death. I have realized release, my translation of Nibbana.² I have realized Nibbana and have looked into the mirror of the Dhamma. I removed the arrow, laid down the burden, and done what had to be done.

These two women, who had for some of us unimaginable suffering, great difficulty, experienced and knew suffering, that's for sure. They show that this is something they know. They knew the arising of it; they saw it, they experienced it appear, and they experienced the end of it, the cessation of it. They were not stuck in their suffering. There was a way out, there was a possibility of freedom. And then they knew the Noble Eightfold Path. Sometimes that's understood as being the path to that freedom, and sometimes it's understood as the path one lives, how one lives after experiencing that freedom, that Nibbana, that absence of death, that attainment of freedom from clinging, absence of clinging.

They're explaining it very confidently. They have attained, pulled out the arrow, laid down the burden, done what had to be done. In this conversation with two friends, they're sharing with each other, "Yes, we understand the Dharma, and we've seen it to the end, both of us." They are spiritual friends for each other, having this Dharma conversation, and they speak about their attainment with confidence. With that, they're able to look back and talk about the horrendous suffering they had with freedom, with clarity, with matter-of-factness, without suffering anymore. Because they had once suffered so badly, they were free.

I find this poem very touching. It's meant to demonstrate spiritual friendship, these two good people having this conversation about the Dharma, and a conversation about what's possible as an alternative to living a life that is so difficult. We can lay down the burden, pull out the arrow, and we can experience the absence of death—a very strong metaphor, a very strong symbolic idea of the absence of suffering, absence of clinging.

May you see this path to the end of your suffering. May you be able to stand there and be present and talk about the suffering you have had with the same clarity and honesty and directness that is untroubled by it. Just, "this is how it was, and now I'm free."

Thank you.