                          WITH ROBES AND BOWL
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  
  
                               PREAMBLE:
           The Bhikkhu Life -- The Thirteen Austere Practices
  
  
      The Triple Gem or the Three Precious Ones are the highest ideals 
  of the Buddhadhamma. To the Lord Buddha, to the Holy Dhamma (Teaching) 
  and to the Noble Sangha (Order of Monks) are given veneration by all 
  Buddhists since they aspire to mould their lives according to the 
  qualities represented by these three ideals.[*]
      
  * [See 'The Wheel' No. 76:  The Threefold Refuge, by Nyanaponika 
       Thera.]
      
      
      In the English language, there are now a number of books 
  describing the life of the last Buddha, Gotama, also many explaining 
  what is meant by the ideal of Buddhahood. Likewise, we have an 
  ever-growing flood of literature, translations, commentaries and so 
  forth, to help us understand what is Dhamma. Much less information, 
  however is to be found on the Sangha, especially upon the bhikkhu-life 
  of the present day. Of course those living in the Buddhist countries 
  where the Sangha is established, will know more about it than will 
  those who follow the Buddha's Path in other lands. It is to give the 
  latter a picture of bhikkhu-life that this book is written, besides 
  keeping before the eyes of those living in Buddhists lands, the best 
  traditions of the Sangha.
      
      While Buddhadhamma is a way for everyone, bhikkhu or lay-follower, 
  naturally the bhikkhus, since they have fully devoted themselves to 
  its practice, have more opportunity to penetrate to the heart of the 
  Teaching. To do this, they must, as indeed anyone who wishes to do so, 
  obtain experience in its three trainings (//ti-sikkha//): Learning 
  (//pariyatti//), Practice (//patipatti//) and Penetration 
  (//pativedha//). These lead on one from the other, thus making both of 
  the first two necessary. Without Learning, one's Practice (of keeping 
  the Precepts, Meditation) is liable to stray away from Correct 
  Understanding (//samma-ditthi//). Without Practice, learning is just 
  barren as far as the fruits of Penetration are concerned.
      
      Commentaries written later upon the ancient Buddha-word give new 
  names to Learning and Practice, calling the former Book-work 
  (//gantha-dhura//) and the latter Insight-work (//vipassana-dhura//). 
  It may have been already in early times that a tendency appeared to 
  concentrate upon either one or the other as though they were 
  alternative ways rather than complementary steps. This tendency, which 
  has persisted into the present, seems to be an expression of human 
  frailty, for it is much easier to study the scriptures and become 
  learned,[*] while largely setting aside the practice, especially 
  meditation, than it is to get down and practice all that has been 
  learnt.
  
  * [For the life of the `book-work' bhikkhu, see Buddhism, Ch. V.3 
       edited by R. Gard.]
  
  
      This separation is however, far from absolute since many bhikkhus 
  gain a groundwork of Learning and then leave the city temples where 
  they have studied for a Meditation Teacher's forest dwelling, there to 
  take up the Practice which will lead, in due course, to Penetration of 
  the Dhamma.
      
      Although one may gather something of the life of the Insight-work 
  bhikkhus from ancient sources, nothing seems to have been written 
  regarding them in the present day. Hence this short account which 
  attempts to outline their life as found in Thailand (the position in 
  other Buddhist countries is unknown to the writer).
      
      A bhikkhu undertaking Insight-work bases his life upon the three 
  great foundations. These are: strict observance of the //Rules of 
  Training// (as contained in the Vinaya-Discipline) which he has 
  undertaken to keep at the time of his Acceptance (the higher 
  ordination -- Upasampada). He is one who takes the earnest exhortation 
  of Lord Buddha to heart:
      
            "Devoted to virtue should you dwell, O Bhikkhu, 
            devoted to the discipline of the Sangha and 
            restrained by that discipline! Perfect should be 
            your conduct and behaviour! Seeing danger in even 
            the slightest fault, you should train yourself in 
            the rules which you have accepted."
      
      Secondly, he follows his Meditation Teacher in the application of 
  the //Austere Practices// (//dhutanga//), being guided by him as to 
  how and to what extent he should practise them. The first foundation 
  above ensures purification and the removal of obstacles while the 
  second gives rise to strong renunciation and to contentment with 
  little. Thus both become good, indeed necessary, bases for the third 
  foundation of his life, the actual Meditation Practice (//bhavana//).
  
      Something should now be said about these Austere Practices.[*] 
  Lord Buddha refused to allow extreme asceticism, with which he had 
  experimented before his Enlightenment. However, he did recognize that 
  a certain degree of austerity would be useful in the training of 
  bhikkhus. For instance, we find that in the Four Nissaya (supports) 
  recited to a bhikkhu upon the occasion of his ordination, he is to: 
  (1) wear rag robes, (2) eat almsfood, (3) dwell at the foot of a tree, 
  (4) have fermented cow's urine for medicine.
  
  * [Fully described in the `Path of Purification' (//Visuddhimagga//), 
       Ch. II.]
  
  
      Further, we see from the lives of many bhikkhus in the time of 
  Lord Buddha that the Dhutangas were widely practised, for the early 
  Sangha was a community in which the wandering, meditative life was the 
  normal one. As examples we have the greatly venerated Maha-Kassapa who 
  was acclaimed by Lord Buddha as the foremost among those who lead 
  austere lives; while the first of his disciples to gain insight into 
  the Dhamma, Anna Kondanna, dwelt secluded throughout his life in the 
  depths of the forest.
      
      With the establishment of permanent viharas, which began even in 
  the Lord Buddha's days, together with the necessity of preserving the 
  Buddha-word, memorizing and learning came to have increased 
  importance. Not all learned bhikkhus practised and thus Dhutangas were 
  left for those who wished to practise meditation.
      
      It was also stressed that for a person whose character was 
  strongly rooted in hatred (//dosa//), these Austere Practices would 
  not be appropriate, being liable to increase self-hatred. On the other 
  hand, with characters rooted in greed (//lobha//), faith (//saddha//) 
  and mixed-rooted (so-called `balanced') characters, the dhutangas 
  could help greatly in the cultivation of renunciation and contentment.
  
      The differences between a thudong bhikkhu and one who practices 
  severe asceticism (some yogis in Hinduism, some Christian monks, etc.) 
  are worth noting. The latter start with some species of view that 
  there is a permanent spiritual entity (//atman//, soul) enclosed in, 
  or even imprisoned by, the fleshly body begotten of and begetting 
  further the so-called `lusts of the flesh.' Holding to such a view, 
  the body becomes something despicable and then hateful as it seems to 
  thwart one's search for the spiritual. Then follows `mortification of 
  the flesh' to quell the evil arising from the possession of such a 
  body (see for instance, the case of Henry de Suso (Heinrich Seuse) 
  related in William James' //Varieties of Religious Experience//). Such 
  attempts to `control' desires are really only extreme examples of 
  repression effected by means of self-inflicted torture. To begin to do 
  this, one must hold a view which hates the body and the outcome of 
  such asceticism will be greatly increased body-hatred. Masochistic 
  tendencies, where present, will also be gratified. All this can hardly 
  be said to indicate a healthy psychological state and Lord Buddha has 
  many times criticized these ways as unskilful (//akusala//). His words 
  found in the Dhammapada (verse 304) show the insufficiency of 
  `exterior' asceticism, which must fail to accomplish salvation.
      
            "What is the use of your matted hair, O witless 
            man! What use your garment of antelope's hide? 
            Within you is a tangle (of passions); outwardly 
            you clean yourself."
      
      In Buddhist Teaching, the inter-dependence of mind-body 
  (//nama-rupa//) is emphasized. Moreover, it is the mind which has 
  charge at the helm, while materiality (//rupa//) is a passenger. As 
  the Dhammapada stresses in its first and second verses: "Mind precedes 
  all states and is their chief, they are all mind-wrought..."
      
      A Buddhist knows that he has acquired his present body through his 
  own craving (//tanha//) and that it is in the //mind// that one must 
  look to find the source of all unskill including all types of greed 
  and all hatred whether for self or other. The Dhutangas are therefore 
  a mainly physical discipline with a psychological basis and are 
  invaluable as a complement to the greater part of the Dhamma which is 
  a psychological discipline based on materiality (i.e., the 
  `possession' of a human body). The thudong bhikkhu thus makes use of 
  these practices in so far as they help him to discipline himself in 
  the promotion of skilful mental states like renunciation and 
  contentment.
      
      These thirteen Austere Practices allowed by Lord Buddha [*] have 
  been characterized as a moderate and sane ascesis; they are as 
  follows:
      
  * [The //Buddhist Dictionary// notes: `These 13 Ascetic exercises are 
       all, without exception, mentioned in the old sutta texts but 
       never in one and the same place; Majjh. 5, 112; A. v, 181-190" 
       Niddesa has 8 of them at M. Nid 1, p.188 P.T.S. edn.]
  
  
      I. Refuse-rag-wearer's Practice (//pamsukulik'anga//) -- wearing 
           robes made up from discarded or soiled cloth and not 
           accepting and wearing ready-made robes offered by 
           householders.
      
      II. Triple-robe-wearer's Practice (//tecivarik'anga//) -- Having 
           and wearing only three robes and not having additional 
           allowable robes.
      
      III. Alms-food-eater's Practice (//pindapatik'anga//) -- eating 
           only food collected on pindapata or the almsround while not 
           accepting food in the vihara or offered by invitation in a 
           layman's house.
      
      IV. House-to-house-seeker's Practice (//sapadanik'anga//) -- not 
           omitting any house while going for alms; not choosing only to 
           go to rich households or those selected for some other reason 
           as relations, etc.
      
      V. One-sessioner's practice (//ekasanik'anga//) -- eating one meal 
           a day and refusing other food offered before midday. (Those 
           Gone Forth may not, unless ill, partake of food from midday 
           until dawn the next day.)
      
      VI. Bowl-food-eater's Practice (//pattapindik'anga//) -- eating 
           food from his bowl in which it is mixed together rather than 
           from plates and dishes.
      
      VII. Later-food-refuser's Practice (//khalu-paccha-bhattik'anga//) 
           -- not taking any more food after one has shown that one is 
           satisfied, even though lay-people wish to offer more.
      
      VIII. Forest-dweller's Practice (//Arannik'anga//) -- not dwelling 
           in a town or village but living secluded, away from all kinds 
           of distractions.
      
      IX. Tree-root-dweller's Practice (//rukkhamulik'anga//) -- living 
           under a tree without the shelter of a roof.
      
      X. Open-air-dweller's Practice (//abbhokasik'anga//) -- refusing a 
           roof and a tree-root, the practice may be undertaken 
           sheltered by a tent of robes.
      
      XI. Charnel-ground-dweller's Practice (//susanik'anga//) -- living 
           in or nearby a charnel-field, graveyard or cremation ground.
      
      XII. Any-bed-user's Practice (//yatha-santhatik'anga//) -- being 
           satisfied with any dwelling allotted as a sleeping place.
      
      XIII. Sitter's Practice (//nesajjik'anga//) -- living in the three 
           postures of walking, standing and sitting and never lying 
           down.
  
      It will be noticed that the dhutangas help a bhikkhu to find 
  contentment with the first three of his Four Requisites (//paccaya//): 
  Robes (No's I, II), Almsfood (III-VII) and Shelter (VIII-XIII); the 
  fourth of his Requisites, not covered here, is Medicine.
      
      As regards their present practice in Thailand, III, V, VI, and VII 
  are most commonly found amongst thudong bhikkhus. Having and wearing 
  only three robes is also widely practised (II). Individual thudong 
  bhikkhus may gather rags, stitch them together, dye and then wear them 
  although made-up robes are so plentiful that this not so common (I). 
  The fourth practice is the normal kind of almsround in many Thai 
  villages where every house gives a spoonful or so of rice to every 
  bhikkhu. In the towns, IV is not practised, it being more usual for 
  bhikkhus to have a few houses where he is invited to call each day. 
  All thudong viharas comply with VII. The next two are practised 
  subject to the conditions of the weather for fierce sun or torrential 
  rain make them both impossible. The eleventh may be recommended by a 
  teacher for the practice of some of his disciples according to 
  character while XII is a special aspect of that contentment which all 
  bhikkhus must cultivate. The last Dhutanga has been mentioned below as 
  a communal practice in some viharas upon Uposatha-day. When a bhikkhu 
  practises this individually, he will usually only do so after 
  consulting his teacher and, lest conceit arise, he will take care that 
  others do not know that he practises in this way. It is likewise true 
  of all these practices that they are to be undertaken in seclusion and 
  a real thudong bhikkhu always shuns the public gaze. The //Buddhist 
  Dictionary// says, quoting the Puggala-pannatti: "These exercises are 
  however properly observed if they are taken up only for the sake of 
  frugality, of contentment, of purity, etc."
  
      The Thai word `thudong', however, has a rather wider connotation 
  than that of these practices themselves. It is applied to anything 
  connected with them and thus we have: thudong-vihara, thudong-bowl, 
  thudong-life and so on. As the Dhutangas may be practised either 
  strictly, middlingly, or mildly according to the standards laid down 
  in the //Visuddhimagga//, so there are many variations in thudong 
  practice and different teachers place different emphases and therefore 
  different viharas have different conditions.
      
      For 2500 years and more, this thudong life has been lived by 
  bhikkhus in many different lands. Not much can be found to record 
  their life since those who take the thudong way are not usually 
  writers and carry out their practice in seclusion. In Thailand, many 
  of the ancient records, religious and secular, were destroyed in the 
  conflagration of the capital Ayuthaya in 1767 CE. Still, we know that 
  there were before that time, many Arannika (forest-dwelling) bhikkhus. 
  Probably our oldest records now are the temple wall paintings from the 
  early reigns of the present dynasty. They illustrate thudong bhikkhus 
  undertaking the thirteen practices according to the three grades of 
  strictness.
      
      At the present time there are a good number of viharas where this 
  way of life with its three foundations is taught by experienced 
  teachers. Most of them prefer to be well away from the commotion of 
  city life, the distractions and luxuries of which are far removed from 
  the thudong ideal.
      
      Finally, it is interesting to record that a large stupa (or 
  cetiya, -- `relic-monument') with thirteen white pinnacles piercing 
  the blue sky, is now being completed in a large thudong vihara named 
  after that great Indian monarch who helped in widely disseminating the 
  Buddha's Teaching, the Emperor Asoka. In the topmost cetiya will be 
  enshrined relics of Lord Buddha whose life was this very thudong way, 
  while below will be placed the ashes of a famous meditation teacher 
  who had followed his Great Master's way with devotion, until his 
  recent death.
  
  
  
  
                                          
                                          
                                          
                               DAILY LIFE
  
  
            Control of the senses, contentment, restraint 
            according to the Patimokkha and association with 
            friends who are noble, energetic and pure in life, 
            these are the very basis of the holy life for the 
            wise bhikkhu.
            
            The bhikkhu who abides in the Dhamma, who delights 
            in the Dhamma, meditates on the Dhamma, and who 
            bears the Dhamma well in mind, does not fall away 
            from the sublime Dhamma --
                                                (Dhp. 375, 364)
  
  
      It is rather difficult to write about the thudong bhikkhu's daily 
  life as the conditions in which they live are so different. However, 
  there are certain features of this life which are general and these 
  may be taken as a basis for this outline.
      
      The material which is presented in this and succeeding sections is 
  composite in origin, some of it being experience heard from others and 
  more again being stories told of others. Therefore we shall speak of 
  `the bhikkhu' or `our thudong bhikkhu' and present all these varied 
  sources under this anonymous label. While doing this, it should be 
  borne in mind that much of what will be said is quite common 
  experience for those following the thudong life.
      
      Wherever the thudong bhikkhu is, whether in a cave, in the forest, 
  or in some other solitary place, his day begins early and with 
  stirred-up vigour he rises. All is quiet except for the night-sounds 
  of some insects and perhaps the swishings of bats -- and at such a 
  time, long before dawn, say two or three o'clock, conditions are 
  excellent for the practice of meditation. Of course, our bhikkhu, 
  unless he is very skilled, will have to shake off Mara, (the 
  personification of evil) in the guise of sloth-and-torpor 
  (//thina-middha//), for this aspect of the Evil One would urge him to 
  loll abed until daybreak. Instead he rises and after refreshing 
  himself, fixes his mind upon his meditation- subject which he had put 
  down the night before upon going to sleep. Making the triple 
  prostration to the Three Jewels, quietly intoning, "Namo tassa..." and 
  perhaps the Three Refuges, the bhikkhu, his mind rightly directed and 
  guarded, settles into his meditation. The extent to which he is able 
  to fix his mind upon his subject, to prevent the arising of the five 
  hindrances [*] (//panca nivarana//) and make it more and more 
  one-pointed, will depend of course upon his own progress and ability. 
  The two greatest obstacles which he will encounter will be the 
  sloth-and-torpor already mentioned above, and distraction 
  (//uddhacca//); and between these two his mind is liable to vacillate 
  as Odysseus' boat dodging between Scylla and Charybdis. Being wrecked 
  upon one or the other will be a common experience for him in the 
  beginning. When he finds his mind to be like a fountain bubbling up 
  ideas, phantasies, memories, anticipations and so forth, he sits 
  firmly upon his seat unmoving employing mindfulness (//satipatthana//) 
  until the mind becomes quiet. But when sleepiness creeps into his mind 
  and interferes with his bodily posture, then he gets up and practises 
  his meditation while walking up and down. If he is settled for some 
  time in a cave or in the forest, he will have made his walking place 
  (//cankamana//) even, and neither too long nor too short. Pacing 
  steadily up and down, sleepiness leaves both the mind and body and 
  after some time, with the mind made one-pointed, he may try standing 
  practice. After bringing the mind to a fully quiet and one-pointed 
  condition in this position, he may return to fruitful practice 
  sitting-down.
      
  * [See THE WHEEL, No. 26: The Five Mental Hindrances.]
      
      
      His practice will be concluded when the cockerels, birds or 
  alarm-clock inform him that daybreak is at hand. Then, if he has them, 
  he will offer a candle and a few sticks of incense and, having 
  reverently prostrated, our bhikkhu will intone his morning puja to the 
  Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha. The standard formulas for this, found so 
  many times in the Pali Canon, gain deeper and deeper meanings which 
  become clear to him as his devotion (//saddha//) deepens and as his 
  practice makes progress. Indeed, when our bhikkhu's calm is well 
  established, the slowly chanted phrases do not disturb at all and they 
  may even be the basis for insight (//vipassana//). He may supplement 
  these standard chants with others selected according to individual 
  preference or tradition: among the latter will be the meditation chant 
  upon the 32 Parts of the Body, the Pali of each repulsive part being 
  followed by a translation into his own language, just to make their 
  significance quite clear. This may well be balanced by the meditation 
  chants of loving-kindness (//metta//), first filling himself with this 
  spirit to get rid of inward conflict and then spreading out his loving 
  kindness to other beings. [*] It is also usual to chant the 
  Recollection-before-use of the Four Requisites of a bhikkhu (robes, 
  almsfood, shelter and medicines.) The reason for doing this is that 
  the true purposes of the Requisites then readily come to mind during 
  the day when he is actually using them. Finally, our bhikkhu chants a 
  sincere wish that the merits which have accrued through this chanting, 
  be made over for the good of all beings. Perhaps, being in Thailand, 
  he may use the beautiful, "//Ya devata santi viharavasini...//", even 
  more excellent when intoned in the rising and falling `//sarabhanna//' 
  style of chanting. This chant is now beloved in Thailand since apart 
  from the merit of its meaning and the euphony of style, it was 
  composed by the greatly respected and deeply religious king, Phra Chom 
  Klao, known to the West as King Mongkut (reigned C.E. 1851-1868).
  
  * [For many of these chants see THE WHEEL No. 54: The Mirror of the 
       Dhamma.]
      
      
      Now is the time for our bhikkhu to prepare himself to obtain that 
  medicine which will allay but not cure the greatest disease -- hunger. 
  He will see that his bowl is in order, clean and tightly bound in its 
  sling. Then rolling his two upper robes together (uttarasanga and 
  sanghati), he is ready to set out. A few remaining possessions may be 
  secured by him in his bag and hung up in some safe place to await his 
  return; however, his three robes should go with him since in ancient 
  days cloth was not always easy to obtain and even now the double outer 
  `cloak' (sanghati) is expensive to make and must thus be guarded 
  carefully.
      
      Many things may happen on his almsround (//pindapata//), the 
  subject of another booklet in this series. [*] His almsround is not 
  only to collect food for himself since it serves two other important 
  aspects in Buddhist life. On the one hand he gives lay-people a chance 
  to make merit (//punna//) by their acts of giving, while on the other 
  he trains himself in many good qualities at this time, for as he goes 
  his way collecting food, so he cultivates humility, loving-kindness 
  and compassion, mindfulness and perhaps his meditation subject.
      
  * [See THE WHEEL No. 73: The Blessings of Pindapata.]
      
  
      Having taken sufficient food to last the day and knowing at the 
  same time moderation in quantity, the bowl has then to be washed and 
  dried carefully so that it will not rust, returned to its sling and 
  tied to its stand, being then ready to be taken anywhere.
      
      If the bhikkhu is temporarily resident in one place, he will then 
  engage in some walking up and down. This is in accordance with one of 
  the discourses of Lord Buddha which recommends this form of meditation 
  exercise to ward off sleepiness after having taken what is usually a 
  substantial meal. Having thus established himself once again in 
  mindfulness, he may take up any work which has to be done. It is 
  difficult to list all the possible jobs that he may do at this time 
  but readers should realize that he tries to be as self-sufficient as 
  is practicable. Even though he has but few things (see section on 
  "Wandering"), these have to be kept in good repair. For instance, it 
  is important for him to keep his robes mended. Going through jungles, 
  thorns catch and tear and there is always ordinary wear and tear; in 
  fact, the thudong bhikkhu is well aware of the household truth -- `A 
  stitch in time, saves nine.' A thudong bhikkhu's robes are usually 
  well-patched and look as though they have seen long service. Or he may 
  make certain things from bamboo or wood, and many a thudong bhikkhu is 
  very skilful at such manufacture. A bowl-stand is needed or the bamboo 
  shafts of his //crot// (umbrella-cum-mosquito-net) must be replaced, 
  or he may make quantities of toothbrush-and-picks out of bitter wood 
  to give to other bhikkhus. Our bhikkhu may be conversant with the 
  medicinal properties of the herbs, trees and climbers which grow all 
  about him, and compound from these, with honey, milk, red peppers and 
  fruits, medicines for many diseases. Then again, he may manufacture 
  out of tins, wire and fine white cloth, a collapsible candle-lamp 
  which no wind can blow out; or perhaps he is gifted in the ability to 
  carve and if so he may fashion small pieces of hardwood or ivory into 
  images of Lord Buddha. He may, if he lives in a cave, like to adorn 
  the mighty walls of his residence with drawings of the Buddha all 
  executed in simple colours from the earth round about.
  
      If there were many thudong bhikkhus in this world, they would 
  truly be the bane of modern commerce which insists that man's 
  happiness depends on having many things and that he buys them in 
  particular and new brands, from others. Quite contrary to all this is 
  the thudong bhikkhu, whose ways are directly set against the worldly 
  stream where it is not a multitude of things impermanent which bring 
  happiness -- but contentment with little. Thus lightened of the 
  clutter of things he goes more swiftly towards his goal of 
  Enlightenment.
      
      Or, if his pindapata has been long and his food got with 
  difficulty, he may feel bodily tiredness and lie down mindfully. This 
  is usually done by lying on the right side placing a supporting roll 
  of robes (or pillow if he has one) under the upper half of the body, 
  the head being supported in the palm of the right hand while the elbow 
  of that arm rests on the ground. This was the lying posture 
  recommended by Lord Buddha and balanced thus, it is not possible to go 
  to sleep while mindfulness will be maintained.
      
      Whenever he feels that his body is light, all tiredness gone, we 
  should picture our bhikkhu sitting down cross-legged upon his 
  sitting-cloth and arousing mindfulness and all the other salutary 
  factors of meditation, and then striving to succeed, or perhaps 
  succeeding in his subject of meditation. He may sit for many hours at 
  a stretch especially if he is skilled, or he may vary his sitting with 
  more walking and even, if his back becomes tired, with lying down. The 
  latter posture can only be practised during the day as sleep is liable 
  to overcome him if he lies down during the hours of darkness. He may 
  also find it helpful in moments of mental stress or when he is 
  experiencing too much of the monkey-mind.
      
      His meditation time will take him round to early evening when, the 
  heat of the day over, it is the usual time to do the sweeping. If he 
  lives in a meditation-vihara there may be large areas to sweep. If in 
  a hut in the forest, then only his hut and its surroundings. But this 
  work is quite unnecessary for one who is living under his crot 
  wherever he has pitched it and he will probably not have a broom 
  anyway. General mindfulness at this time is accompanied by the 
  `sweeping reflection': Just as this broom is sweeping away dust, so 
  may this meditation practice sweep away the defilements (//kilesa//). 
  There are some other excellencies to sweeping: for instance it is a 
  chance to test the strength of the calm (//samatha//) which has been 
  developed mostly in the sitting posture. Also it is good exercise for 
  the body after sitting still most of the day. Our bhikkhu does his 
  sweeping rhythmically and silently.
      
      Next comes the time for bathing, perhaps in a forest pool or 
  river. Taking his bathing-cloth our bhikkhu goes -- not with the 
  worldly idea of enjoying the water but bearing in mind an aspect of 
  his body's repulsiveness which makes it necessary to bathe. He 
  reflects: having got this body through craving (//tanha//), one has 
  daily to wipe off the sweat which oozes out of it, and the dirt which 
  sticks to it, otherwise if would quickly become evil-smelling and 
  unbearable both to oneself and to others. This also applies to his 
  robes which require washing frequently while at this time he may 
  occasionally have to dye his robes.
      
      Returning, still bearing his meditation-subject in mind if he is 
  able, there may be some allowable drink awaiting him at his abode to 
  refresh him further. Nains (novices) are expert at preparing these 
  from jungle fruits adding sugar or honey, while if hunger disturbs him 
  much, one of the bitter fruits allowed in the Vinaya may be taken with 
  salt, sugar and perhaps some chili. Before he takes these, he will 
  reflect carefully upon the real reason for doing so, according to the 
  passage repeated in his morning puja.
      
      If we were watching him, we should soon notice the care that he 
  takes so that no small creatures come to destruction. Before he pours 
  out his drink, he inspects the glass to see whether ants or other 
  insects are inside. If there are, he removes them very gently to a 
  safe place. In lifting the glass and putting it down, he takes the 
  same care and even when a mosquito alights on his body, it is not 
  squashed but blown away for even the smallest creatures must not come 
  to death either through his intention or through negligence. 
  Harmlessness (//ahimsa//) has for him many practical applications.
      
      The time has come now for his evening meditation and taking his 
  seat refreshed in body, he makes further endeavours in governing the 
  mind. Perhaps before he begins, Lord Buddha's oft-repeated exhortation 
  comes to mind: "What a master can do for his disciples, wishing them 
  well, out of compassion and sympathy, that I have done for you. Here, 
  O bhikkhus, are the roots of trees and secluded places. Practice 
  meditation, O bhikkhus! Be not negligent lest you regret it later! 
  This is my exhortation to you." And so we may imagine him sitting long 
  into the night, as long in fact, as he can keep off sleepiness. When 
  this becomes too pressing, he lights a candle and some incense and 
  begins his night chanting. If he knows much Pali, this may continue 
  for a long while softly and steadily proceeding with that euphony 
  peculiar to this ancient language. It is recorded in commentarial 
  stories that the gods came to listen to the Pali chanting of those 
  bhikkhus living in wild places, who had pure hearts.
      
      At last finishing, after again making over all merits for beings' 
  happiness (for one should not have greed even for merit), he lies down 
  mindfully bearing in mind his meditation-subject and the necessity of 
  arising early to proceed with his practice.
  
  
  
  
                           THE HAND OF DEATH
  
  
            Ere long, alas, will this body lie upon the earth, 
            unheeded and lifeless, even as a useless log.
                                                        (Dhp. 41)
  
  
      Living in sylvan solitudes is not always, alas, ideal, for dukkha 
  must show its fangs from time to time to remind our bhikkhu, if indeed 
  he needs reminding, that it is in a world subject to birth and death 
  that he lives. Having got himself into the condition of being born, he 
  and all other beings will surely die.
      
      This lesson he learned from close acquaintance for he recently 
  lost a good companion. He was an intelligent young man recently 
  ordained as a nain, one who would have been well capable of 
  understanding the Dhamma. He was able to live the thudong life and to 
  enjoy it to his profit -- a not inconsiderable combination of factors.
      
      His life ended suddenly when he was about twenty years old, for he 
  fell over a forty-foot cliff and dashed his brains upon the rocks 
  below. Our bhikkhu was the first person to reach the nain after having 
  raced down a circuitous path. Little enough could he do. Telling 
  another nain to run into the nearest village for a stretcher, he knelt 
  beside his only other companion on the rocky hill where they lived. 
  The nain's breathing still functioned but in great, irregular gasps. 
  Blood, already clotted, oozed from the sundered skull and trickled 
  from many other cuts and bruises upon the body, arms and legs. Death 
  was near at hand.
      
      Taking a rosary from his bag, the bhikkhu opened one of the nain's 
  hands and placed it there. It would thus act as a skilful object of 
  touch (//phassarammana//), if the nain's touch-consciousness still 
  functioned. After sprinkling him with cooling water, he began to 
  intone the suttas (discourses) for protection (//paritta//). This he 
  did so that there would be a skilful sound-object (//saddarammana//) 
  upon which the nain's death-consciousness (//cutti-citta//) could be 
  concentrated. Though he tried to chant steadily and evenly, to give 
  confidence to the dying nain -- if indeed he heard him, his voice was 
  not without trembling.
      
      The minutes drew on and after the opening salutation of "Namo 
  tassa....", the Karaniya Metta Sutta (on loving-kindness), the 
  Mahamangala Sutta (on the greatest blessings), and the Ratana Sutta 
  followed each other. [*] As the closing words of the last sutta: 
  "Sangham namassama, suvatti hotu (To the Sangha let us bow: May bliss 
  abound!)" -- as these words were softly chanted upon the shimmering 
  air, a last breath arose and gaspingly fell -- and the body was still. 
  His good companion had passed on according to his kamma and as the 
  bhikkhu earnestly vowed: May it truly be to a better state of affairs 
  than this! After that, if only to relieve his own mind -- and who 
  knows, perhaps his erstwhile friend could still hear him in his new 
  condition -- he intoned further the Buddha Jayamangala stanzas with 
  their refrain of: "By the power of this (truth) may you be endowed 
  with victory and blessings."
      
  * [For these discourses, see Wheel No. 54, The Mirror of the Dhamma.]
      
      
      It is widely believed in Buddhist lands that merits (//punna//) 
  are transferable providing that one has a compassion deep enough with 
  others and a wisdom grown great. For the well-faring of the dead nain, 
  his friend made over to him all and any merits which he might have 
  accumulated, including those gathered by the recitation of these 
  hallowed scriptures.
  
  
                        *     *     *
  
  
      We take up the story again three days later when bhikkhus have 
  gathered for reciting the traditional chants for the dead. The father 
  of the dead nain has also arrived. The chanting is solemn indeed and 
  rolls on sonorously through the tropic night, spreading its peaceful 
  sound far beyond the range of the pressure lamps which light up but a 
  small circle in the bamboo forest. Seated upon mats covering the 
  ground lay-people listen reverently with joined palms (//anjali//), 
  while the chanting proceeds. Our bhikkhu, seated with others upon some 
  more mats, concentrates all his attention upon the chanting, making it 
  proceed not from the throat but deep down from the heart.
      
      At its conclusion, there is some informal talk upon Dhamma 
  especially regarding death and kamma and then more general 
  conversation opens concerning what arrangements should be made. A 
  westerner might notice, if one had been present, that although this 
  ceremony roughly corresponded to a funeral service, no one was 
  weeping, or even looking particularly sad -- and certainly not the 
  father of the late nain. Whatever tears there had been over his death, 
  they were long since over and quickly stopped by such Buddhist 
  recollections as the fact that rebirth takes place according to kamma 
  and that nothing of this can be changed by weeping. And again, the 
  injunction to live in the present without attachment to the past which 
  is irreclaimably gone. And the reflection that rebirth may already be 
  accomplished and (it is always sincerely hoped) be superior in 
  happiness to this state; would it not be strange to be miserable 
  because someone else was now more happy than he was in this life? 
  Putting aside all self-pity which makes for most of the tears at 
  death, a good Buddhist concentrates upon the situation //now// and 
  sees what can best be accomplished in the present.
      
      The conversation has turned to the customary presentation, in this 
  case by the father, of robes (//civara//) upon the death of a 
  relative. Sometimes ready-made robes are laid upon the coffin and 
  received by bhikkhus as //pamsukula// (intentionally cast-off cloth); 
  at other times, white cloth is similarly given to be made up into 
  robes. The strictest practice and one which is followed by a few 
  thudong bhikkhus is to take cloth which has been used as a 
  corpse-wrapping and make this into robes -- this is a practice from 
  the time of the Lord Buddha and such robes may truly be called 
  `rag-robes.' [*] Our bhikkhu wishes to benefit from the present 
  circumstances so as to obtain such a robe. The father of the dead nain 
  has already bought about twenty yards of white cloth for pamsukula 
  robes. This has then to be inserted into the coffin and then to be 
  extracted at the time of burning. Later, our bhikkhu will cut it up 
  and sew it to make traditional patchwork pattern and the robes that he 
  makes from this cloth will ever remind him of death, by stains and 
  smell for some time and for longer by the memory of how they were 
  obtained.
      
  * [Pamsukulik'anga (Refuse-rag-wearer's) Practice, the 1st Dhutanga -- 
       see Preamble.]
      
      
      The next day, food being finished, our bhikkhu turns his attention 
  to the large coffin which rests under some trees. Candles and incense, 
  the Buddhist symbols respectively of Enlightenment and of the perfume 
  of strict morality (//sila//), are burning round about. As he 
  approaches the coffin, the smell grows stronger -- the peculiarly 
  repulsive smell of a human body's decay, which spreads its sweetly 
  sickening odours for many yards about. It is not without some 
  apprehension of what he will see upon raising the lid that he 
  proceeds, for he has read the descriptions of bodily decay as used for 
  meditation purposes but reading does not satisfy him, the bhikkhu 
  wishes to see for himself.
  
      Lifting the lid, he gazes within and is immediately and deeply 
  impressed that these descriptions as found for instance in the 
  Satipatthana Sutta, [*] are but poor substitutes for beholding the 
  real thing. His companion in life was a handsome young man, even with 
  his hair shaved off: this body which lay before him was quite as 
  hideous as temple wall-paintings sometimes show and emphasized for him 
  that words are quite inadequate for portraying such sights.
      
  * [See Wheel No. 19, The Foundations of Mindfulness.]
  
      
      So, the young nain with unblemished body and pleasing face died 
  but three days before and now what does our bhikkhu perceive? His 
  companion is certainly not there! This puffed, distorted, oozing mass, 
  blueish in colour is not the man he knew! Nothing resembles him. Three 
  days have sufficed to change everything. Gaining this insight and the 
  perception of impurity in even living bodies -- what to speak of dead 
  ones -- he continues with the work he has set out to do. The body is 
  already covered by the stained robes of the late nain and the white 
  cloth is laid over this. Having completed his work, he reseals the 
  coffin to await the time of cremation. As the lid is replaced so the 
  stench grows less but the whole experience has burned itself deep into 
  his mind and will not lesson. Indeed, he may develop it into a 
  fruitful meditation when he sees with inward sight his //own// body 
  not only as liable to such a condition but actually experiences the 
  body (not then `his' body) as //being// in such a state. 
      
      Climbing back to his dwelling high above the forest, he muses: 
  Where such a terrible sight as this can be found so soon originating 
  from apparently pleasing conditions -- where such and worse can be 
  found, what sort of world is this? Who will waste their lives after 
  such a perception? Who will longer be deluded by the sugar-coating of 
  the world's sense-attractions after seeing thus? Will they not rather 
  sense the bitter pill beneath? Is this not the time to turn away from 
  those conditions giving rise to the bitterness? Is it not the time to 
  devote oneself to that Dhamma which is "lovely at its beginning, 
  lovely in its middle course, and lovely at its ending"? Some such 
  thoughts as these, our bhikkhu thinks.
      
      For those who can do more, this is the time to join those millions 
  who have gone forth like our bhikkhu with robes and bowl, rejecting 
  all that the world values, and seeking to reject both ignorance and 
  craving (//avijja-tanha//), those twin conditions for bitterness, to 
  win in the Dispensation of the Conqueror, that Enlightenment which he 
  also won.
      
      So urges the Enlightened One:
      
            "Shed thou householder's finery,
            As coral tree its leaves in fall:
            And going forth in yellow clad,
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros.
            
            And rid of passion, error, hate,
            The fetters having snapped in twain
            Fearless when as life ebbs away
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros."
  
  
  
  
  
                             THUDONG ABODES
  
  
            The bhikkhu who has retired to a solitary abode 
            and has calmed his mind and who comprehends the 
            Dhamma with insight -- in him there arises a 
            delight that transcends all human delight.
                                                (Dhp. 373)
  
  
      Our bhikkhu will live anywhere that is conducive to his practice 
  of meditation and to winning insight but certain types of abode are 
  generally more suitable for him than others.
      
      From ancient times a favourite dwelling-place of the thudong 
  bhikkhu has been a cave, indeed this is really the best environment 
  providing that a suitable one can be found. Not all are good for 
  meditation and our bhikkhu upon arriving at a cave new to him would 
  inspect it with the following points in mind.
      
      People are very fond of making caves into shrines -- and some of 
  these are very beautiful with hundreds or thousands of Buddha-figures 
  of different sizes ranged about the cave, sitting on blocks of stone 
  and stalagmite near to the floor and gazing down compassionately from 
  apparently inaccessible niches near the lofty roof. Such caves and 
  others more rustic acquire fame as places of pilgrimage in proportion 
  to their beauty and ease of approach. Now, if our bhikkhu were to make 
  his sitting place in some such cave, he would surely be disturbed by 
  the people visiting the shrine. Apart from the noise that they make, 
  some would certainly approach him, perhaps trying to engage him in 
  ordinary conversation, or coming to ask for charms or blessings, since 
  popular ideas of `holiness' are rather less exacting or more vague 
  than the freedom from the fetters (//samyojana//) which mark a Noble 
  One (//ariya//) according to the Pali Canon. Therefore, if he does not 
  wish to instruct in Dhamma, much less to engage in worldly matters, he 
  will avoid all such caves.
      
      Apart from people, bats are also fond of caves in the dark depths 
  of which they live in their thousands. They also make their noises, 
  cheeping and swishing about, but their noises are much less 
  objectionable than is the smell of their dung. This is very good for 
  growing plants but less agreeable to a meditator's nose. Usually, they 
  will not live near to the cave entrance, especially if the sun comes 
  in and so, other conditions being favourable, our bhikkhu may live 
  there.
      
      Other conditions include sound and heat. In this noisy age, 
  rackety iron boxes of various shapes travel over land, water and 
  through the air and their sound is surprisingly hard to escape from. 
  It is understandable therefore that caves adjacent to airfields, 
  motorways or railways, will also be avoided.
      
      The great advantage of a cave in a tropical country is its equable 
  temperature. Cool even on the hottest days of the hot season, and warm 
  in the coldest nights of the cold weather, it is very favourable for a 
  meditating bhikkhu. Caves which have wide openings to the south or 
  west are therefore less suitable for the hot weather. Other 
  inconveniences to consider are the danger of falling rocks and the 
  presence of carbon dioxide. Also, it sometimes happens that earth 
  godlings (//bhummadevata//) take up their residence in caves and not 
  all of them will welcome a bhikkhu staying there as this will 
  interfere with their pleasures. Indeed, there are stories of bhikkhus 
  being evicted by spirits but there is at least one instance of an 
  experienced bhikkhu (lately a famous meditation teacher in this 
  country) who sat night after night in a cave defeating all the efforts 
  of godlings to oust him. Our bhikkhu, if he is wise, seeks for the 
  protection of any gods there abiding, when he first arrives at a cave. 
  With gods giving their blessing to his efforts, meditation certainly 
  becomes easier; while, if the opposite should occur, it may be 
  impossible.
      
      Finally, a consideration of great importance: its distance from 
  the nearest village. As most thudong bhikkhus go to collect alms every 
  day and as bhikkhus are not allowed to store food, so a village must 
  be within walking distance. How far this is depends upon the vigour 
  and age of our bhikkhu. Half a mile or a mile's distance is desirable 
  in any case being thus beyond village noises but it does happen that a 
  cave otherwise ideal may be too far from the village for the bhikkhu 
  to walk there and back. In this case the villagers will help the 
  bhikkhu by taking their food out half-way.
      
      He may find that living in a cave is a little eerie at first and 
  should any "fear, trembling or hair-raising" take place, no doubt he 
  will at least remember the Metta Sutta (Lord Buddha's discourse on 
  loving-kindness). Also well-fitted for recitation at such a time is 
  the Discourse on the Flags (//Dhajagga Sutta//) where the medicines 
  recommended for fear are the Recollections of the Buddha, Dhamma and 
  Sangha. If our bhikkhu is still better read in the Pali Canon, he will 
  remember the Discourse on Fear and Dread (//Bhayabherava Sutta// in 
  //Majjhima Nikaya//) where Lord Buddha describes the way in which he 
  trained himself to be mindful of fear while he was yet a Bodhisatta 
  (Wisdom-being striving for Buddhahood).
      
      What sort of picture do we get of our bhikkhu in his cave? If he 
  is staying long he will probably have built himself a bamboo or wooden 
  pallet above which will hang his crot. To one side somewhere, hang his 
  bag and candle-lamp. Near to him will be a water-flask and, if it is 
  dark, possibly a torch. His bowl is placed securely on a flat rock 
  while any robes which he is not using are folded up neatly upon his 
  pallet. He is sitting quietly facing the direction of his head when 
  laying down.[*] If one were to watch intently, it would be difficult 
  to detect even breath movements in his body, swathed as it is in 
  rather shabby patched robes of folded ochre. Above him, the roof 
  vaults in great arches and mysterious hollows half-lit by the dim 
  light. Steady and distant is the dripping of water which makes through 
  long ages great columns slowly joining roof and floor. Sunlight 
  filters through a leafy screen for a few minutes and is gone and 
  perhaps a bee drones in but finding little of interest soon finds its 
  way out. All is very still, very silent.
      
  * [Because if he has a small Buddha-figure or Dhamma-book, it will be 
       placed respectfully near to his head.]
      
                                     
                         *    *    *
  
            He who sits alone, sleeps alone, walks alone,
            who is strenuous and subdues himself alone,
            will find delight in the solitude of the 
            forest.[*]                                          
                                                (Dhp. 305)
  
  * [This verse summarizes the 8th Dhutanga Practice (//Arannik'anga//) 
       -- see Preamble.]
  
      Caves are by far the best abode but they, especially ideal ones, 
  are rare so that we should go on to describe something of the more 
  common `home' of thudong bhikkhus -- the forest.
  
      The advantages of dwelling in the forest are several. First, there 
  is much of it in many Buddhist countries. Then, as it is the sort of 
  place where most men do not like to live (except they are secure and 
  comfortable in a strong house), the thudong bhikkhu is not likely to 
  be disturbed, not at any rate by his fellow-men. Like other thudong 
  abodes, it conduces to contentment with little; also, it makes very 
  necessary the development of metta or loving-kindness. [*]
  
  * [See WHEEL No. 7, The Practice of Loving-kindness.]
  
  
      Besides advantages, there are quite a number of possible 
  hindrances to practice while forest-dwelling. For instance, metta is 
  made rather essential by the presence of all sorts of potentially 
  antipathetic creatures, the most dangerous of which are snakes. This 
  is certainly emphasized in the Pali Canon by the presence of a special 
  chant, the Khanda Paritta, in which the person chanting stresses that 
  he has metta towards and does no harm to all creatures including four 
  species of snakes.
  
      There is a little story to illustrate this. An old Buddhist nun 
  was living in a small hut close to the jungle. Her hut had one doorway 
  and she usually sat on the bamboo floor for meditation against the 
  opposite wall. She was quite accustomed to see the tails of large 
  lizards appear out of the thatch overhead where they lived. 
  Occasionally they fell out but being quite harmless, they would 
  scamper away quickly. One day, hearing such a bump on her floor, she 
  opened her eyes but instead of seeing a lizard, there was an angry 
  snake of the poisonous species coiling and uncoiling itself. Instantly 
  recollecting the meditation on metta, she pervaded herself and the 
  whole hut with this spirit. The snake which lay between her and the 
  door and had been threatening to strike her now quietly coiled up and 
  after a few minutes, slithered out of the doorway. This anecdote 
  illustrates quite a common occurrence for one dwelling in the jungle: 
  how a meditator can be brought into close proximity with the untamed 
  animal world. Is it necessary to stress further the value of metta in 
  such surroundings?
      
      While the power of Lord Buddha's metta was so great that he could 
  calm the rutting wild elephant Nalagiri, there have been many thudong 
  bhikkhus up to modern times who have lived continuously in the forest 
  developing the Brahma-viharas [*] (the Divine Abidings -- in 
  loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity), and with 
  whom forest animals become friends. For the man who has love -- and no 
  fear because no hatred -- of other creatures, those creatures will not 
  fear him. In this connection there are a number of Jataka stories 
  which tell of the Bodhisatta's life in the forest when, living in a 
  hermitage, all manner of animals became his companions.
      
  * [See WHEEL No. 6; "The Four Sublime States".]
  
  
      Still, there do seem to be some creatures which do not respond so 
  well to metta and therefore, returning to the case of our thudong 
  bhikkhu, he will be wise not to spread his sitting cloth over the 
  entrance to an ants' nest, nor to pitch his crot near places where 
  stagnant water lies. Regarding the latter, he would be courting the 
  attentions of vast numbers of hungry mosquitoes. The crot is an 
  effective protection against but it can be hot inside while cooler air 
  blows without. So if a place can be found fairly free of mosquitoes, 
  at least during the day, our bhikkhu will abide more happily. As to 
  ants, they come in all shapes and colours and a good range of sizes 
  and mill about everywhere and our bhikkhu knows that it is safe to 
  assume that all bite, so it is well to stay away from their roads, 
  tunnels and doorways. A few drops of paraffin sprinkled round his 
  sitting-cloth will ensure that he is fairly secure against invasion.
  
      Unless the forest is really ancient with dense shade, our bhikkhu 
  will experience extremes of heat and cold unknown to the cave-dweller. 
  In the hot season the sun blazes down from our of the cloudless sky 
  overhead and the small shade of his crot will be insufficient. Even 
  under a tree, at least in open forest, hot winds are liable to blow 
  and make life less pleasant. [*] The conditions in densely-shaded rain 
  forest rather resemble cave-dwelling but there is an increase of 
  biting life to reckon with as well as the rainfall.
      
  * [The practice of the 9th Dhutanga (//Rukkha-mulik'anga//) is 
       therefore possible at some places and times, See Preamble.]
      
      
      Forest-dwelling is only possible for the thudong bhikkhu all the 
  year round, if he has a small hut to supplement the protection of his 
  crot. [*] During the three months of the Rains Retreat (Vassa -- 
  approximately July to September), he must in any case dwell with a 
  roof over his head. It is quite common for thudong bhikkhus to have a 
  small wood and bamboo hut built by a supporter in some favourable 
  place in the forest and to dwell there either alone or with a nain or 
  boy to assist him.
      
  * [Thus limiting the practice of the 10th Dhutanga, 
       //Abbhokasik'anga// (Open-air-dweller's) Practice, to the dry 
       season and cool places: see Preamble.]
      
      
      Forest life is very far from silent for, quite apart from the 
  occasional noises of the larger animals, smaller ones, especially 
  insects keep up an almost continuous racket. Cicadas and grasshoppery 
  creatures although small, manage to produce incredible volumes of 
  sound sometimes resembling that of railway trains! The only times when 
  they are silent is when presumably they are sleeping. This is during 
  the heat of midday and afternoon and during the middle watch of the 
  night. Unfortunately this quietness coincides with the times when 
  human beings also are most inclined to sleep.
      
      However, forest conditions vary very much and our bhikkhu will not 
  find all the unfavourable conditions together, but since this world is 
  one level of samsara, there are bound to be one or more flies in the 
  ointment. 
      
      We may think of him on a moonlit night in the hot weather. A 
  cooling wind blows stirring the trees many of which are leafless, 
  while filling the air with the fragrance of some tree's blossoms. A 
  little bamboo hut stands raised upon wooden legs and upon its open 
  platform a boy sleeps. The bhikkhu paces up and down his walk which is 
  some thirty feet long and made under tall trees. The dark end of it is 
  lit by his candle-lamp hanging from a tree while the moon lights up 
  the rest. Light is necessary since thick, tubular millipedes have 
  their homes on either side of his walk and also like to wander upon 
  its smooth and freshly- swept surface.
  
      Our bhikkhu finishes his walking and contemplatively returns to 
  his hut. Mounting the bamboo ladder to the platform, he stops before 
  the door to his tiny room. Over the door is fixed a polished wooden 
  board upon which the following words are cut and coloured:
  
            Handa dani bhikkhave, amantayami vo:
            Vayadhamma sankhara, appamadena sampadetha'ti.
            
            "Pay attention, O bhikkhus, I exhort you:
            Going to destruction are all compounded things, 
            With heedfulness make an effort!"
            
      These are the last recorded words of Lord Buddha: his final 
  exhortation to the thudong bhikkhus of those days. [*]
  
  * [See WHEEL No. 67-69, p. 75]
  
  
      For our thudong bhikkhu now they not only have the significance of 
  being the last instructions, since his own practice -- and perhaps 
  realization -- accord well with them.
  
  
  
                         *    *    *
  
  
  
            `Should one find a sagacious man who points out 
            faults and reproves, as if indicating a hidden 
            treasure, let one associate with such a wise 
            person. It is always better and never worse for 
            him who cultivates the acquaintance of such a one.
            
            Let him admonish, instruct and shield one from 
            evil; a dear one is he to the good, detestable to 
            the wicked.'
                                                   (Dhp. 76-7)

  
      The greatest teachers of the thudong tradition have very often 
  wandered all their lives, never settling down long in any one place 
  except for the annual Rains Retreat, or when extreme old age forced 
  them to do so. Some have never founded viharas (monastic residences), 
  leaving this to those of their disciples who had an aptitude for such 
  work.
      
      Our bhikkhu, however, especially if he still requires guidance, 
  may live in a thudong vihara. This will be rather different from the 
  ordinary run of viharas where bhikkhus usually live two or three 
  together in large huts (//kuti//), or even if they live singly, their 
  residences will be crowded closely together being built about an open 
  hall (//sala//). A thudong vihara is distinguished by having the huts 
  set so that from one, another cannot be seen. This is not difficult as 
  wood, bamboo and thatch blend easily into the jungle. In each hut, one 
  bhikkhu lives and orders his time according to his practice and 
  ability.
      
      Our bhikkhu will not often meet others resident there; once or 
  twice a day at most. The first time is when all gather in the hall to 
  prepare themselves for pindapata while the second may be in the 
  evening when some fruit drink is served. At this time also, the 
  venerable teacher of meditation may give some instruction, as he sees 
  fit. General instructions, for instance on matters of Vinaya (monastic 
  discipline), will be given to the community of resident bhikkhus every 
  Holy Day (uposatha -- the Full and Half Moon Days) after the 
  recitation of the Patimokkha (the bhikkhus' Fundamental Precepts).
  
      If our bhikkhu wishes for individual instruction in some matter, 
  he will approach his teacher after the evening instruction has been 
  given and, after saluting him with the triple prostration, he will 
  question him respectfully. If we were present in the hall, pillared 
  with roughly shaped tree trunks and lit by candles burning before the 
  gilded and painted shrine of Lord Buddha, we should notice the great 
  respect which he pays to his teacher. He sits in a respectful position 
  never pointing his feet towards the teacher and he always raises his 
  joined palms (anjali) when speaking to the teacher while, when the 
  latter speaks to him, he places them clasped together in his lap and 
  listens attentively. Our bhikkhu's teacher is for him one who has 
  experienced some degree of the Dhamma in his own heart and not merely 
  read about it out of books. Such teachers are therefore accorded great 
  veneration and anyone going to such a teacher, yet not making the 
  usual salutations, would probably be regarded as being difficult to 
  teach -- because of the presence of strong conceit. [*]
      
  * [For an interesting case of this in ancient times see the "Sutra of 
       Hui Neng (Wei Lang)" and the master's encounter there with 
       Bhikkhu Fa-Ta.]
      
      
      In some thudong viharas, usually those inclined to less strict 
  observance, there is communal meditation and puja in the morning 
  before pindapata and again in the evening. Some teachers favour this 
  while others prefer their disciples to lead a more solitary life. Both 
  may be valuable to our bhikkhu according to his character and 
  progress.
      
      Upon uposatha-nights it is also a feature in some thudong viharas, 
  to chant Lord Buddha's discourses all through the night, the bhikkhus 
  not sleeping. [*] This may be interspersed with some instructions from 
  the meditation master and perhaps by the individual practice of 
  walking. Where practice already goes deep, this chanting, slow and 
  rhythmic, may well be an aid to attainment in meditation.
      
  * [This is a modification of the 13th Dhutanga (Nesajjik'anga -- the 
       Sitter's Practice).  See also Preamble.]
      
      
      Regarding this, there was once a twelve year old boy who sat down 
  one evening with other pious lay-people who were practising meditation 
  while the bhikkhus chanted. He knew nothing about how to practise, nor 
  had he ever sat in meditation posture before. But a very great 
  meditation-master lived there at that time and was leading the 
  bhikkhus in chanting. These factors all combining led that boy through 
  successive stages of mental concentration until he reached complete 
  meditation (//appana samadhi//). He was still sitting rapt in 
  stillness when the bhikkhus prepared to go collecting pindapata. The 
  meditation-master upon seeing him, decided not unnaturally, that the 
  boy would make a good disciple. After rousing him, and giving him the 
  precepts, the boy lived in that vihara learning the way from his 
  master.
  
      One bhikkhu, well-practised in meditation, was famous for the easy 
  control he had over his body. Sitting down in the temple at eight 
  o'clock upon uposatha-nights, he would not find it necessary to change 
  his posture until six o'clock the next morning. He never got up from 
  his seat, his gaze never wandered anywhere, he just concentrated upon 
  chanting from the heart being completely absorbed in this.
      
      Our bhikkhu will be encouraged by his teacher to live with him 
  until such times as the latter feels that he has sufficient knowledge 
  of the Dhamma and strong enough meditation to go off on his own, to 
  practise in a cave or forest. There are disciples who like to stay 
  with their teachers until death parts them. There are others who want 
  to go off quickly and practise alone. It sometime happens that the 
  latter experience one of the ecstatic absorptions (//jhana//) and 
  conclude from this, since they lack sufficient Dhamma-knowledge and 
  the guidance of their teacher, that they have won a noble (//ariya//) 
  attainment. Sometimes such bhikkhus proclaim this out of ignorance and 
  gain quite a following: however, their fame soon dwindles for one 
  cannot //pretend//, intentionally or otherwise, to be an Arahant (an 
  Accomplished Sage), or even to have reached one of the lower stages of 
  ariyan attainment.
      
      A famous teacher once had a pupil who esteemed himself to be an 
  Arahant but the former knew that he was not so but that his mind was 
  really overcome by the perversions (//vipallasa//). Now this teacher 
  had another pupil who, although he could neither read nor write, had 
  such experience of Dhamma that many consider that he was really an 
  Arahant. He lived alone in a cave and seldom spoke and when he did so, 
  he uttered only words of Dhamma, never mere pleasantries. The famous 
  teacher was in the habit of sending any of his pupils who became 
  deluded to this great pupil, of whom he thought very highly. So he 
  sent his deluded disciple to him. The first and only words which the 
  great pupil spoke to the deluded one, were: "Sit here." The former 
  gave the latter no instruction, he only sat in meditation with him day 
  and night only rarely breaking off for the barest necessities. After 
  two weeks of this rigorous treatment, the deluded one at least gained 
  the insight that he was not after all an Arahant and then returned to 
  live with his teacher. In this way he was cured of this manifestation 
  of the perverted mind (//vipallasacitta//).
      
      Living in a vihara, at least for some time, will enable the 
  thudong bhikkhu to make his meditation practice grow strongly and that 
  "fear, trembling and hair-raising" which he might easily experience in 
  other more remote surroundings, are less likely to arise there.
      
      He has the guidance of the Good Friend (//kalyana-mitta//, as the 
  meditation teacher is called), and the companionship of the good, that 
  is of fellow-bhikkhus and nains who are likewise striving to 
  accomplish the goal of complete liberation of the mind. In this way he 
  has the best possible environment for progress in his meditation and 
  may stay with his teacher for many years. This is particularly true if 
  the pupil finds just the right teacher who can instruct him in the 
  right way to go. For just as pupils vary as to the proportions of 
  differing defilements in their characters, so teachers vary with 
  regard to different attainments and ability.
      
      
      
      
                              *    *    *
                                            
      
      
            `Just as a storm cannot prevail against a rocky 
            mountain, so Mara can never overpower one who 
            lives devoted to the meditations on impurity (of 
            the body), who is controlled in senses, moderate 
            in eating and endowed with faith and earnest 
            effort.'
                                                        (Dhp. 8)
      
      
      What can we say of other bhikkhu abodes? Generally the thudong 
  bhikkhu looks with disfavour upon living on a mountain -- unless that 
  is, there happens to be a village near and at approximately the same 
  altitude. Our bhikkhu knows that his bowlful of rice is quite heavy 
  enough, especially after a long walk, without having to haul it up a 
  mountain path. Whenever bhikkhus ceased to rely on pindapata, as for 
  instance in China, they were able to live upon mountain heights in 
  peace and solitude.
  
      Among abodes recommended in the "Path of Purification" is the 
  charnel-field or bone-yard. This is said to be an excellent abode for 
  greed (//lobha//) characters. It appears to have been a common custom 
  in ancient India to take corpses to a special part of the forest and 
  to leave them there to go to their dissolution. Thus a thudong bhikkhu 
  lighting upon such a place might be able to see all the various stages 
  of decay of the body -- as they are described in detail in the above 
  work. [*] Such was, of course, an unforgettable lesson upon the fate 
  of his own body.
      
  * [See Ch. VI, "Foulness as a meditation subject." This is also 
       Susanik'anga (Charnel-ground-dweller's) Practice, the 11th 
       Dhutanga. See also Preamble.]
      
      
      Nowadays, in this country, bone-yards like this cannot be found, 
  for burning the body sooner or later has taken the place of the 
  natural process of its return to the component elements. Therefore it 
  is now almost impossible to live in this environment and the best that 
  can be done is to dwell near a burning ground. Usually there will not 
  be much of bones remaining, only piles of ashes, still there is for 
  many the fear of spirits (//peta//) to overcome. It is commonly 
  assumed that such a birth follows a human one and that the hungry 
  ghost or spirit lurks about near its former body, sometimes with evil 
  intent while others are supposed to be more kindly disposed. This may 
  sometimes happen when peta-birth actually follows the human one 
  because of peta-like kamma, but popular belief assumes that this is 
  invariable.
  
      However this may be, a certain amount of caution is required 
  before dwelling in such a place. If our bhikkhu is of imaginative 
  disposition, he must have his imagination well under control before 
  dwelling in a burning-ground. An uncontrolled imagination coupled with 
  loneliness, the natural noises of the night and the dimly lighted 
  surroundings can result in an unbalanced mind.
      
      A good many years ago now, there was a nain recently ordained and 
  fifteen years of age. His meditation master sent him to dwell 
  overnight in the local burning-ground-cum-graveyard which was well out 
  of the village, in the jungle. Not knowing that it is proper to 
  inspect such a place in full daylight first, noting how all the rocks, 
  trees, tombs etc. are placed -- he arrived there only at dusk. After 
  laying a cloth to sit upon and hanging up his crot, he began to look 
  around. Finding a suitable place to walk up and down, he decided to 
  begin his meditations in this way. As he was turning round, at one 
  end, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a great black phantom 
  looming up, its jagged arms outstretched, the claw-like fingers ready 
  to seize him. In fear and trembling he continued his walking and so 
  great was his terror of the unknown `thing' that he did not sit or lie 
  down all that night but walked and stood meditating (with a glance 
  every so often to see that `it' had not moved). When dawn came, the 
  'thing' became less black and menacing, slowly resolving itself into a 
  stricken tree-trunk!
  
      As custom has changed so much that the boneyard is no longer to be 
  found, there was in this country many years ago a senior bhikkhu who 
  decided to remedy this lack. This teacher dwelt in a little vihara in 
  a patch of woodland outside a small town and near the old capital of 
  Ayuthia. Very few bhikkhus stayed in this vihara for after they had 
  seen what they came to see, he sent them away to practice on their 
  own. And what did they see?
      
      This teacher had constructed a flower garden and all round it he 
  had built a high wall pierced by only one door and that was padlocked. 
  The flowers that grew in this garden were very special ones, special 
  bhikkhu flowers. The flowers of laymen are of gorgeous colours, 
  entrancing shapes and subtle perfumes but these flowers for bhikkhus 
  although they had their colours, shapes and perfumes, were rather 
  different. Inside the garden there were constructed a number of open 
  troughs covered by glass frames from one end of which rose a long 
  pipe. When a man died in the town, the teacher would go and personally 
  carry away the body, slinging it over his shoulder. Taking it to his 
  garden he would lay it in a trough and cover it with a frame.
      
      When a bhikkhu desiring a subject of meditation came to him, he 
  would be told by the teacher that he only instructed in the Cemetery 
  Contemplations. At first the teacher would go with him into the garden 
  during daylight and let him select a suitable `flower' for his 
  meditations. Then he let the bhikkhu go in there alone, to fix the 
  subject in his mind. Finally, he was permitted to go in at night and 
  spend the hours of darkness meditating upon his `flower'. Then having 
  settled the meditation subject firmly in his mind, the teacher would 
  tell the bhikkhu to go and to meditate alone. 
      
      Before he went, he would receive instructions upon a further 
  aspect of the meditation which emphasized that it was not a body `out 
  there' which was to be seen, even in the mind. It was his own body 
  which had to be seen with insight as bloated, festering, or just dry 
  bones, according to the stage of the decay selected. Thus were 
  bhikkhus of that time enabled to free themselves from the deluded 
  identification of this body as being `myself' or as `mine' -- by the 
  special exertions of this teacher.
      
      Every teacher, as we have mentioned before has his own 
  characteristic ways, both of instruction and of conduct. If our 
  bhikkhu went to a certain teacher, a disciple of a yet more famous 
  master, he would have to put forth energy if he wished to live with 
  him.
      
      This teacher lived in a little ramshackle hut -- he would not let 
  lay-people build him anything else, in a small jungle vihara -- and 
  was about eighty-five years old. It was his practice to begin his 
  working day at five o'clock when he would vigorously start to sweep 
  the vihara grounds. Then, when it was light, he went out to collect 
  food. Returning, he ate a single meal of small quantity and for the 
  rest of the day drank only water. Besides the two normal pujas, he 
  made a third one in the middle of the night. To do this, he slept from 
  ten o'clock until midnight -- and never used a mosquito-net -- and 
  then got up for puja, after which he slept again for another two 
  hours. Arising vigorous, he would sit in meditation until the 
  sweeping-time. His appearance was hale and it appeared that he might 
  very well carry on with his way of life for another twenty years at 
  least!
  
      Stories about teachers are endless and this short account could 
  never contain a tithe of them. So we must let these few suffice as 
  examples and close this section on thudong abodes.
  
  
  
  
                              *    *    *
  
  
  
  
  
                               WANDERING
  
            `Those who exert themselves and are mindful, 
            delight not in any abode. They are like swans that 
            abandon their like, leaving home after home 
            behind.'                                    
                                                        (Dhp. 91)
  
      Today, when it is possible to go quickly everywhere by some 
  conveyance or other, why wander? What is the purpose of the thudong 
  bhikkhu who, alone or with one or two companions, prefers to go his 
  way on foot? There are quite a lot of reasons why wandering in this 
  manner is preferred. For example, the wanderer goes quietly and at 
  whatever speed he wishes. He is not brought into contact with others 
  who might disturb his contemplative way and he may stay at a place 
  just as long as it pleases him -- and leave it when he wishes. Also, 
  he is uninvolved with other people, no arrangements has he to make for 
  them while he gives trouble to none. In fact, his is the way of 
  freedom. Then again, he reflects that this way of travel was used by 
  his great Master in the forty-five years of his teaching in India and 
  has been that of countless other bhikkhus seeking Enlightenment. The 
  modern ways of travelling are good for getting to places quickly but 
  not so good for gaining Enlightenment. There is distraction enough in 
  the mind without churning it up still further -- some such thoughts he 
  thinks.
      
      Reasons for wandering are also rather various and we are only 
  concerned with those motivated by the search for Enlightenment. The 
  real purposes are threefold: to be able to dwell in solitary places 
  for meditation; to visit meditation-masters who often stay far into 
  the country or forest; or to go on pilgrimage to some famous shrine.
      
      While the first and second have already been touched upon, the 
  third needs a few more words. By pilgrimage to a shrine is meant the 
  desire that arises in some bhikkhu who has taken to thudong life, to 
  visit and make his puja at a great stupa (reliquary monument) where 
  are enshrined some remains of Lord Buddha or the Arahants. Or perhaps 
  to go to some famous temple where an exceptionally beautiful image of 
  the Enlightened One is enshrined. All this he does with the idea that 
  merit is gained from such actions and indeed, if our thudong bhikkhu, 
  or anyone else, goes on such pilgrimages single-mindedly and in deep 
  devotion, the results for his own development in the Dhamma are bound 
  to be fruitful.
      
      If he wanders every day, especially if the weather is hot, the way 
  rough or both, his power of meditation must be very strong indeed, or 
  it will suffer from the impact of these external conditions. Tiredness 
  of the body after walking only four or five hours can be a great 
  obstacle in the way of peaceful practice. Therefore, either he will 
  walk one day and then finding a suitable place, stop there for three 
  or four days, or, if he wishes to reach a definite place by a certain 
  time, then he puts by his practice of mental calm (//samatha//) and 
  takes up the full time application of mindfulness (//satipatthana//) 
  in its various aspects. [*]
  
  * [For these see: Wheel No. 60, //The Satipatthana Sutta and its 
       Applications// and, //The Heart of Buddhist Meditation//, Rider 
       and Co., London.]
  
  
      Besides the necessity of strong samadhi, it is quite sure that he 
  must have a strong body able to endure blazing sun, heat, sweat, rough 
  ways, insects and cuts and bruises. These latter, together with 
  blisters, are not infrequent in thudong life and can make his way very 
  difficult. If he goes without sandals, rocks will cut and thorns 
  pierce his feet, or going with them, the feet must be very hard or 
  they will surely be chapped.
      
      Strength of body is required so that he can carry comfortably his 
  few essentials. What does a wandering thudong bhikkhu carry? First of 
  all, there are his eight essentials which are a bhikkhu's only 
  possessions. They are: three robes (one waist-cloth, one upper robe 
  and one double robe, [*] a bowl (usually of thin malleable iron with a 
  brass cover), a waist-band to secure the waist-cloth, a needle and 
  thread, razor (of cut-throat pattern), and lastly, a water-strainer. 
  These items he //must// take with him or if he loses any of them at 
  any time, they should be made good as soon as possible. In the thudong 
  life, all these things have their relevance -- including the water- 
  strainer which is a very important piece of equipment.
      
  * [Having only three robes is the Ticivarik'anga 
       (Triple-robe-wearer's) practice -- the 2nd Dhutanga; see 
       Preamble.]
      
      Besides these, there will be certain other things which he is sure 
  to have: a water-flask or kettle, his crot, a sitting cloth and one 
  for bathing and probably a bhikkhu-bag containing a few additional 
  articles. Among these may be a candle-lamp, and or two medicines, 
  toothpick-cum-brushes, perhaps a small folding clock and a penknife. 
  He may also carry a copy of the Patimokkha (his Fundamental Precepts) 
  in Pali with a translation into his own language and some small book 
  on the teaching such as the Dhammapada. All these together make up a 
  good weight and generally he will only want to carry them before the 
  sun gets too high and the late afternoon or evening when it is 
  setting.
      
      How then should we picture our bhikkhu as he makes his way by 
  footpaths and stony tracks, through deep forest or open rice-fields? 
  He wears two of his robes, the double-thick one being usually wrapped 
  and stowed inside his bowl, unless it is very cold. His bowl is 
  secured in its sling and tied tight to its stand, while the strap of 
  the sling passes over one shoulder. His sitting cloth and a few other 
  things may also be put inside while the bathing-cloth forms an 
  additional outer protection for the bowl. His bag, the //crot// in its 
  sling and the water-flask, hang from the other shoulder. A thudong 
  bhikkhu does not wear his robes long but hitches them rather high and 
  so passes more easily through streams and over mountains. If he is in 
  open country and the sun is shining, he may place any handy piece of 
  cloth on his head, although this is always removed in accordance with 
  the Vinaya's injunctions when passing by houses or through villages. 
  The sandals on his feet are stout ones -- they have to be to take all 
  the knocks that his feet would otherwise suffer. In this way he goes, 
  mindful of and joyful in the Dhamma.
  
      He may go alone or with a nain or small boy following, or he may 
  be with one or two other bhikkhus. Probably they will not be walking 
  very close together but prefer to be rather well-spaced so that 
  mindfulness does not suffer, nor conversation tend to break up their 
  silence. Every so often, at least in forests, one of the bhikkhus will 
  spot some refreshing fruit tree and then they may turn in that 
  direction and after gathering the wild fruits -- providing that it is 
  not yet twelve o'clock -- sit eating them while taking a well-earned 
  rest. Certain bitter fruits, such as the emblic myrobalan, may be 
  taken after midday as they have medicinal properties and our bhikkhu 
  will be glad of these to help quench his thirst in the heat of the 
  afternoon.
      
      A few thudong bhikkhus //en marche// in some ways resemble a small 
  detachment of soldiers. They both have uniforms, they both carry all 
  their needs along with them and in both cases the senior leads and the 
  juniors follow, but here the resemblance ends. The former wear the 
  robe of peace, of harmlessness towards all living beings and all their 
  possessions speak of a pacific way of life. No guns do they carry, but 
  //crots//, no grenades, but almsbowls. The wandering bhikkhu has 
  conquered eastern Asia by these means, without dissension, without 
  resort to violence, without wars but with loving-kindness and 
  compassion. And those mighty empires which ambitious and victorious 
  men have raised one after the other, by the use of force, shattering 
  opponents by wars innumerable -- all this might and glory has passed 
  away, has crumbled to defaced stones and time-smoothed coins found in 
  distant jungles. But the Dispensation of the Conqueror who practised 
  and preached a morality based upon non-violence, this empire of peace 
  has endured. What is the message here for the empire-makers, political 
  or economic, of the present day? What has this Dhamma to say to those 
  who think of their lives as a fight against others? Upon this matter, 
  the Dhammapada has the following verse:
      
            Though he may conquer a thousand thousand men in 
            battle, yet, he is indeed the noblest victor who 
            would conquer himself.
                                                  (Dhp. 103)
      
      
      Our wandering bhikkhu may decide at the end of his day whether he 
  will stay the night in the forest, or cave or other suitable place, or 
  whether, the country proving unfavourable, he will go to the nearest 
  village. If he elects in favour of the latter, it may well be that in 
  approaching the village in the evening light, some villagers will see 
  him. Then some pious laymen will approach him and saluting him 
  respectfully, relieve his shoulders of bowl and crot and invite him to 
  stay for the night in the village vihara, or where there is no 
  established residence for bhikkhus, in the `hall' (//sala//). Word 
  will soon get round the village that a venerable thudong bhikkhu has 
  arrived and people will then come to the hall bringing with them 
  things for his comfort -- a pillow, mat and of course, tea. In 
  Thailand at any rate, this means `water-tea' (literally translated), 
  or as westerners would say, Chinese tea. He may also be offered honey 
  or sugar to refresh himself and while he does this, people will sit 
  upon a lower level of the hall and respectfully enquire where he has 
  come from, whereto he will be going, how long has he been a bhikkhu 
  (how many Rains-Retreats?) -- and so forth. If our bhikkhu wishes, or 
  has the gift of teaching, the general conversation may well be turned 
  towards Dhamma and the lay-people will sit listening intently and 
  perhaps putting a question now and then upon some point which they do 
  not understand.
  
      Whenever there is time during the informal gathering, or when 
  people have departed, our bhikkhu will have to see about patching up 
  his skin bag which is so liable to become punctured even though he 
  takes great care. Villagers will give him more medicines, often of 
  their own manufacture, if those he carries do not suffice. His various 
  wounds, usually very small matters, may nevertheless give him plenty 
  of room for reflection upon the nature of the body. A small pimple 
  soon grows into a large sore and an insignificant cut quickly pulsates 
  with oozing pus; and he remembers that each day he chants: "There are 
  in this body -- //kesa// -- hair of the head, //loma// -- hair of the 
  body ... and so forth, to... //taco// -- skin, //mamsam// -- flesh... 
  //pubbo// -- pus, //lohitam// -- blood..." . His cuts and blisters are 
  reminders for him that the bag of skin holds much which although 
  usually hidden from ordinary sight, is liable to erupt and compel 
  attention. The thudong bhikkhu gives attention here willingly whereas 
  the worldly attitude is to turn away from and try not to consider such 
  nasty things. Our bhikkhu, however, knows that the seeing of all these 
  parts of the body, traditionally thirty-two in number, as they really 
  are, that is, as a danger, as repulsive and as liable to decay, leads 
  him towards freedom from the `own- body-view' (//sakkaya-ditthi//) and 
  towards that state where the body is viewed quite impersonally and as 
  a collection of processes, acting and reacting. At best, it will be 
  seen, after insight into its nature has been experienced, as an 
  instrument of the Dhamma.
  
      Towards such insight and mature understanding, our bhikkhu 
  strives, and he will, if he has still energy enough, sit in meditation 
  after the last villager has departed and, attaining calm, shift his 
  attention to these thirty-two messy parts, or some one or two of them, 
  endeavouring to develop insight. Perhaps he may vow before taking his 
  rest: "Oh, may this body be devoted to the Dhamma, may it become a 
  Dhamma-instrument." And his night will be spent peacefully, no dreams 
  will disturb him and he will awake refreshed, the body ready for 
  active service in the Dhamma when he takes up his meditation-subject 
  again in the cool of the morning.
      
      When it is fully light, many villagers will come to the hall to 
  make merit which means that our bhikkhu will not have to go out for 
  pindapata. Every house will send a bowl of rice and some other food to 
  accompany it and perhaps he may get sweets and fruits as well. One 
  person from each house will place one or two spoons of rice into his 
  bowl as it stands upon the raised platform-floor. When they have 
  finished, the other food, together with his bowl will be reverently 
  given into his hands -- for a bhikkhu should not take any food which 
  has not actually been offered in this way. The senior layman may well 
  ask him for the Three Refuges and the Five Precepts, and the giving of 
  these being completed, our bhikkhu will intone a chant (//Yatha 
  varivaha pura paripurenti.....//) whereby the merits made by the laity 
  are formally dedicated to the happiness and comfort of the hungry 
  ghosts (peta). Before he begins his meal, he remembers that this food 
  is one of the four requisites (//paccaya//) and the proper reason why 
  he will eat it.
      
      His meal over and his bowl washed, he sets out again upon his way.
      
      Generally, however, the serious wanderer will prefer wherever 
  conditions permit, to spend his nights in the forest where his own 
  quiet of mind will be better company for him than many people. Of 
  course, he will not get good tea, nor honey -- nor the other comforts 
  of the village hall but if he has practised diligently, he will have 
  comforts enough and far superior to those who have not sat in 
  meditation. He will be able to sit as long as he can in the cool of 
  the night, without interruption if he has chosen a site far enough 
  removed from the village.
  
      So our bhikkhu stays out of sight and hearing until he appears the 
  next morning in the village upon his round for pindapata. Of course, 
  there will be no special food for him as there would be if he had 
  stayed in the hall. He will just get the ordinary fare. As he has 
  cultivated contentment, he will not care whether it is finest culinary 
  art or plainest village rice -- it is all the same to him. [*]
  
  * [//Pindapatik'anga// (Almsfood-eater's) Practice, the 3rd Dhutanga; 
       see Preamble.]
  
  
      He will find a considerable difference in the villages along his 
  way; some will be prosperous, while others are poor, some tidy and 
  others uncared for, and so on. And he will not always be welcome and 
  though this will be very unusual; it does happen, especially where 
  villagers are for some reason without bhikkhus to guide their lives. 
  When he chances upon such a village, if he is an ordinary bhikkhu, he 
  will have a good opportunity to test the strength of his patience. 
  While if he is a teacher, he may stop there for some time and, using 
  all his skill, teach the people what is wrong with the way that they 
  are going and what is the right way to fare through life.
      
      Turning now to another matter, we should mention here the custom 
  among thudong bhikkhus of making certain vows (//addhitthana//). It 
  may be that the vow is made to observe a definite practice among the 
  thirteen ascetic modes (//dhutanga//), such as refraining from lying 
  down for a certain number of days, weeks or months. A wandering 
  bhikkhu may vow never to stay in a hall such as we have described, or 
  to go on some pilgrimage by foot all the way, not accepting proffered 
  transport -- and so forth.
      
      Regarding this last vow, there is a story. A few years ago, a Thai 
  bhikkhu of about fifty years of age, made a vow to walk from Bangkok 
  to the holiest place for Buddhists, the `Diamond Throne' (The Buddha's 
  Seat of Enlightenment) at Buddha Gaya in India. So he set off with 
  bowl and robes and a few other things such as we have described. He 
  took no money upon his pilgrimage, neither did he worry about such 
  modern encumbrances as passports and visas. Falling in with a party of 
  Mon bhikkhus going to make their puja at the Shwe Dagon Pagoda in 
  Rangoon, he went with them and from there made his slow progress up 
  the length of Burma. Two rains retreats he spent upon the way and 
  still he had not reached India. Finally, he crossed the Indo-Burmese 
  border in the wild hills of Nagaland and there some Nagas, who had 
  probably never seen a bhikkhu before and took him for a spy, severely 
  beat him, taking away even his robes and bowl. Fortunately, he was 
  able to recover these although his few other things were gone, and so 
  limping, he made his way down the Assamese plain. Knowing not a word 
  of any Indian language and having to rely on pindapata which is not so 
  easily got in India, his first concern was to get someone to write on 
  a piece of paper in Hindi and Bengali: "I am a Buddhist bhikkhu. I 
  collect cooked food which is to be placed in this bowl. May you be 
  well and happy." This piece of paper he showed everywhere he went so 
  that people would understand what he required. Luckily he was a 
  vegetarian and not troubled regarding food. After many months of 
  walking, he came to Buddha Gaya. His vow was fulfilled after two and a 
  half years: he had wandered to good purpose.
      
      There is wandering in this way with some profitable end in view 
  and there is also an aimless wandering. The thudong bhikkhu wanders 
  (//carati//) in order to put an end to wandering (//samsarati//). He 
  wanders purposefully in the Dhamma-faring so as to come to an end of 
  the infinitely long wandering in birth-and-death (//samsara//). He has 
  taken up this way of life, that of a homeless one, because he sees the 
  dangers which beset all who drift in the currents of //samsara//. 
  Birth and death, ageing and disease afflict all beings who are like so 
  many pieces of driftwood dashed about by the ocean waves, first this 
  way and then that -- but never getting anywhere and forever at the 
  mercy of wind and water. As driftwood, so beings do not know why they 
  are here and instead of trying to probe this matter, they invent all 
  sorts of fanciful explanations.
  
      Our bhikkhu sees, if only to some extent and for part of the time, 
  that beings are overcome by the poisons of the three roots of unskill 
  (greed, hatred and delusion) and that these blind them and make them 
  the prey of all the worldly conditions which they experience. And so 
  they go, pulled this way and that by the results of their own actions 
  (//kammaphala//) leaping from birth to birth. He knows that beings do 
  not always spiritually evolve, but that devolution is always possible 
  -- into states where darkness is complete, the black night of 
  ignorance (avijja) where the lamp of the Dhamma is no longer 
  discernible.
      
      Why wander blindly in this round of woes?, thinks our bhikkhu. Why 
  wander on and on to such states as will be difficult to escape from 
  (as for instance, animal-birth)? Perhaps he calls to mind a picture 
  painted by a master of old [*] which shows a long, long track a 
  winding from the distance into the foreground and from thence out of 
  our ken. This track so tortuous, passes through an unbeautiful 
  landscape of shattered, spiky rocks, smitten, storm-struck trees, 
  fire-blackened grass and earth and here and there lying about, are 
  bones -- a skull bone here, a leg bone there. Along this dreadful 
  track there comes a man, his clothes all in tatters, a wide-brimmed 
  pilgrim's hat upon his head and a staff held skew-wise in one hand. 
  His face bears all the marks of foolishness, from his eyes which are 
  wandering and not fixed upon his way before him, to his mouth set in 
  the most imbecile smile imaginable. He has wandered all down that long 
  way, grinning foolishly at the bones which would warn him if only he 
  would heed them. He has wandered long, infinitely long and he will 
  wander longer -- uncomprehending. He sees no other way to go but the 
  dreary track in front of him.
      
      
      * [The reverse panels of a diptych by Hieronymus Bosch.]
      
      
      Our bhikkhu (and all those who earnestly take to this Dhamma) is 
  one who is determined no longer to wander aimlessly but to be one who 
  marches along the high road to freedom, that glorious bliss-bestowing 
  Way, the Noble Eightfold Path.
  
  
  
  
  
  
                  COMPANIONSHIP AND THE SOLITARY LIFE
  
  
            If one find friend with whom to fare
            Rapt in the well-abiding, apt,
            Surmounting dangers one and all,
            With joy fare with him mindfully.
            Finding none apt with whom to fare,
            None in the well-abiding rapt,
            As rajah quits the conquered realm,
            Fare lonely as rhinoceros.
  
  
  
      A good deal has already been written upon companionship while 
  leading the holy life and this need not be repeated. The point that is 
  really important is whether one makes progress best in the 
  Dhamma-company of others, or whether one's mentality and progress are 
  sufficiently strong and mature to "fare lonely as rhinoceros."
      
      One who has the company of others has many chances to learn from 
  them. Not only from his teacher but from other bhikkhus, and not only 
  from them, from nains, in fact, from everyone with whom he has 
  contact. Every person is one's teacher, if only there is the facility 
  and humility to learn from them and in all situations. From the wise, 
  our thudong bhikkhu upon his Dhamma-pilgrimage, learns wisdom. But 
  also from those lacking in good qualities, he learns how not to 
  behave, he learns through their mistakes and reflects upon himself; 
  `Now, is this unskilful way of speech or bodily action to be found in 
  me, or not?'
      
      He also learns more humility from this mindfulness of others' 
  action, for while perceiving some fault of others, he does not make 
  this an opportunity for the arising of pride. When noting greed in 
  someone else, besides the above reflection upon his own behaviour, 
  perhaps he can add the thought: `But he has (for instance) a very 
  strong devotion.' In other words, he learns through his contact with 
  fellow Dhamma-farers, to see their good qualities also and to strive 
  to bring those excellencies to perfection in his own personality.
      
      Through the effort that he makes, we should note certain qualities 
  which, being present to the extent that his training has been 
  successful, mark him out as one who has indeed taken the following to 
  heart:
      
            Good is restraint in eye, good is restraint in 
            ear, good is restraint in nose, good is restraint 
            in tongue.
            
            Good is restraint in action, good is restraint in 
            speech, good is restraint in thought, restraint 
            everywhere is good. The bhikkhu restrained in 
            every way is freed from all suffering.
                                                    (Dhp. 360-361)
      
      
      We should notice that all his actions were marked by this 
  moderation. If we saw him in company, he would be one who laughed but 
  little for he will have to some extent, perceived the truth in the 
  following:
      
            When the world is ever ablaze, why this laughter, 
            why this jubilation?
                                                        (Dhp. 146)
      
      But we should not from this gain the impression of a gloomy 
  saintliness or that his face would be forbiddingly harsh, for our 
  bhikkhu has made loving-kindness and compassion (//metta-karuna//) 
  grow and will upon occasion smile gently. Likewise, his speech is 
  marked by a softness of expression and lack of rough words. He would 
  be inclined to speak to others upon the Dhamma and be little attracted 
  to other subjects except where they touched upon what for him, is 
  all-important: the Way to Enlightenment.
      
      Besides contact with teachers and other bhikkhus he may have a 
  nain as his companion or perhaps a boy who wishes to train for 
  ordination later. If a suitable boy can be found and is given the 
  going-forth to become nain then he will be of great help to the 
  thudong bhikkhu. `Suitable,' here means that he feels a genuine urge 
  to live not only the holy life but also to live it in the sort of 
  places where thudong bhikkhus live. he must also be devoted to the 
  bhikkhu with whom he lives, looking upon him as his teacher. 
  Suitability includes as well the ability of the nain or boy to 
  practise meditation, for living in the wilds with few or no books and 
  out of range of the sense-distractions of the towns, such boys must be 
  able to employ themselves through at least part of the day without 
  disturbing the bhikkhus. There are, in Buddhist countries 
  particularly, numbers of boys who, one supposes, have practised 
  meditation in past lives and who take to it in this one as ducklings 
  to water.
      
      The nain or boy helps in so many ways that it would not be 
  possible to list them all. He is ever-solicitous for the well-being of 
  bhikkhus and never loses an opportunity for doing them some service. 
  In particular this applies to the teacher of the nain and to any other 
  bhikkhus whom he particularly respects -- for their wisdom, patience, 
  gentleness, learning, energetic striving or whichever other fine 
  qualities are manifest in them. In the training of the nain, 
  helpfulness towards others and humility to learn from them are prime 
  qualities.
      
      Whenever our thudong bhikkhu finds the occasion proper to instruct 
  or correct, he will find if he has a really good nain that he will 
  listen with ears open wide to the former, while accepting the 
  correction humbly and with a good heart. It does happen even with the 
  best of nains that he will make some mistake, particularly regarding 
  carelessness. Then the bhikkhu will quietly admonish the nain and 
  perhaps prescribe some punishment-work (//danda-kamma//) for him to do 
  -- and the nain gently smiling accepts his work, which is often 
  sweeping and sets about it with a right good will.
      
      Such a novice, keen for the training, is positively avid for 
  Dhamma and listens particularly to stories, with great attention. As 
  there is no lack in Buddhist literature of stories to illustrate 
  points of training, nains soon come to have a fund of such material 
  both of the Buddha-time and from later Buddhist history. Thus begins 
  the Dhamma-education of what will probably be a good thudong bhikkhu.
      
      What then of one who chooses to live alone? Two points stand out: 
  Positively his character must be deep and resourceful enough to 
  surmount all the obstacles he may encounter, while on the negative 
  side, his defilements (//kilesa//) must be sufficiently held in check 
  by his culture of mindfulness (//sati//) and meditation (//samadhi//).
      
      It is no good living in the wilds boorishly unrestrained as in the 
  case of venerable Gulissani. [*] On the contrary, our bhikkhu knows 
  that the greatest restraint is needed as there is no longer any 
  companion to upbraid or advise him whenever this is necessary. He has 
  then to be his own instructor and this is plainly impossible unless 
  such excellent qualities as mindfulness, shame (//hiri//) and fear of 
  blame (//ottappa//) are well-developed.
      
  * [See Gulissani Sutta, Majjhima Nikaya, No. 69.]
      
      
      Our bhikkhu who wishes to taste solitude must also be sure that he 
  does so for the right reasons. There are those people who like to live 
  by themselves simply because they cannot bear their fellow-men. Their 
  solitary life is thus based upon the root of hatred (//dosa//). Far 
  different must be the thudong bhikkhu's reason for desiring 
  loneliness. He wishes to course deep in the Dhamma and have no drags, 
  no ties whatever, which might prevent his increasing perception of its 
  truth. His whole life revolves around the Dhamma and he has, or wishes 
  to develop the central thought of Dhamma, that is, of the Three 
  Signata of Existence (//tilakkhana// -- impermanence, suffering and 
  non-self). [*]
  
  * [See Wheel No. 20, The Three Signata.]
  
  
      To do this his emotional nature must be mature and this, in 
  Buddhist practice, means the development of the Divine Abidings 
  (//brahma-vihara//), each one of which replaces a certain aspect of 
  emotional instability. Thus hatred is replaced by loving-kindness; 
  indifference to others' sufferings is remedied by compassion; envy by 
  sympathetic joy with other's happiness; while involvement with and 
  attachment to others is, in maturity, replaced by equanimity. Even if 
  our bhikkhu cannot yet reach to the heights of equanimity, at least 
  his gentleness and compassion must have grown to some degree. He has 
  almost placed himself outside the world of men, and he is sure 
  therefore to have greater contact with animals than do most men and he 
  may, especially if in him purification is will advanced, have visions 
  of the gods (//devata//). Many are the stories of old told about both 
  sorts of contact. From the context of stories in which the gods appear 
  to bhikkhus it is apparent that they do so because the latter's 
  spiritual development has approached or surpassed that of those gods. 
  It is these Divine Abidings which make possible this meeting of 
  worlds.
      
      Stories of extraordinary affection between thudong bhikkhus and 
  animals are also frequent. In this country at the end of the Ayuthia 
  period (ended CE. 1767), there were numbers of forest-dwelling 
  bhikkhus who, like the sages of old, would dwell hermit-like 
  surrounded by animals and birds. Deer in particular, came to love the 
  companionship of these hermits who could only attract animals thus 
  because of the loving-kindness which they had made grow in their 
  hearts and the consequent absence of hatred and fear.
      
      Two other qualities are necessary for the solitary dweller: 
  patience and energy. He will hardly be a thudong bhikkhu at all if he 
  has not the former. Living-conditions for him are many and not all of 
  them are perfect all the time. Although he has backed out of the rough 
  waters of attachments to persons, places and things, he still lives in 
  this world imperfect and must patiently cope with whatever trials he 
  encounters. With patience he trains his mind so difficult to bring 
  under control and with patience he notes the gradual relaxation of the 
  defilements (kilesa). He comes to know that his Dispensation 
  (//sasana//) is as Lord Buddha instructed:
      
            "Just as the great ocean deepens not suddenly but 
            shelves out gradually, so this Teaching is gradual 
            and understanding of it gradually deepens."
      
      He has patience in seeing that his efforts are gradually rewarded. 
  `Efforts' means energy, rather necessary for many aspects of strenuous 
  thudong life, as our bhikkhu knows. If he did not make any effort in 
  his chosen way of life, then a speedy decline would follow, in which 
  the defilements, for the weakening and ultimate breaking of which he 
  was leading this life, would re-assert themselves and once more close 
  their stranglehold upon him.
  
      The thudong bhikkhu makes efforts too, to maintain his observance 
  of the Vinaya and in particular of the Fundamental Precepts 
  (//Patimokkha//) pure and unbroken. Even more diligent must be the 
  observance of the solitary bhikkhu who can ill afford to let slide any 
  of the precepts. If he does so, he will find that his meditation is 
  disturbed by thoughts of the broken precepts and to mend matters he 
  must go and obtain purification of his fault through confession of it 
  to another bhikkhu.
  
      He has to stir up energy to maintain and develop further his 
  meditative practice. Without effort, instead of going from strength to 
  strength in meditative calm and insight (//samatha-vipassana//), he 
  would be liable to slip backwards practising less and less every day.
      
      With patience to hold in check agitation and energy to ensure that 
  slothfulness does not lay on its benumbing touch, our solitary thudong 
  bhikkhu has a good chance of making balanced progress along the way.
      
      Pali Scriptures mention another kind of solitariness and after his 
  practice of bodily seclusion (//kaya-viveka//) together with the 
  mental withdrawal experienced in deep meditation (//citta-viveka//), 
  he may come to possess this lasting solitude. The man with craving 
  (//tanha//) present is said to be accompanied by a second one 
  (//dutiya//), whereas one in whom craving is absent, having been 
  totally eradicated through insight (//vipassana//), is an Arahant who 
  abides in the ultimate solitude from all substrates producing 
  continued existence (//upadhi-viveka//).
      
      Our thudong bhikkhu strives to use his solitude in forest or cave, 
  in order to be rid of his companion in all samsaric wandering -- 
  craving, and being without this second one to know the true solitude 
  of Dhamma-truth. When he has achieved this, then indeed he may abide 
  anywhere, and whether forest or city it will make no difference to 
  him.
      
      This was the pattern in Lord Buddha's life, first the long 
  meditative seclusion followed by his carrying of the torch of 
  Enlightenment for all to see. sometimes, in those long years of 
  teaching the Enlightened One would betake himself to the forests for a 
  time. Then he would return to the viharas quite near to the important 
  towns of those days or wander among the villages meeting kings and 
  `outcastes', priests and princes and discoursing to all without 
  exception, for the potential of Enlightenment lay within all men, 
  having no regard whether he was estranged from society and labelled an 
  `outcaste' or esteemed by people as a priest (//brahmin//) of `pure' 
  lineage.
      
      Thus, in following the thudong life our bhikkhu is making his 
  efforts, however small, to follow in the Way his Master trod. To him, 
  the life of the Enlightened One is not something remote, for it is 
  illuminated to some extent by his own experience and is always a great 
  source of precious inspiration and guidance. It shows him what can be 
  achieved and gives him the courage to face all dangers and go forth to 
  make the attempt for this highest achievement. As Lord Buddha assures 
  all people:
      
            "Those who are always meditative and ever 
            steadfastly persevering, the wise ones, realize 
            Nibbana, the bond-free, the highest."
                                                (Dhp. 23)
  
  
  
  
  
  
                               POSTSCRIPT
  
      As much as can easily be written of the thudong bhikkhu's life is 
  contained in these sketches. Just as the flavour of soup is not to be 
  told even in one thousand pages, so the real flavour of this Ancient 
  Way cannot be conveyed by words. Soup is to be tasted: the thudong 
  life is to be lived. If it sounds hard, one must remember that its 
  rewards are great, and in the field of Dhamma-endeavour, nothing is 
  gained without effort. The world wants everything quick-and-easy but 
  the fruits of the holy life are thus only for those who have already 
  put forth their energy, already striven hard for the goal. Truly Lord 
  Buddha promises in the Discourse on Mindfulness (//Satipatthana 
  Sutta//) that the noble attainment of the Arahant may be experienced 
  within seven days. There is also the phrase found: "Instructed in the 
  morning, he attains in the evening." Such promise and statements 
  depend upon individual capacities and whether the practice of 
  mindfulness is strong and complete enough and moreover, they only 
  apply providing that there is the ability to renounce this world 
  completely. Nibbana, the supreme goal, is not to be got at while 
  anything, even the most subtle dhamma, is still clung to. Behold, says 
  the Exalted One:
      
            "Come behold this world,
            Like unto a royal chariot,
            Wherein fools flounder,
            But where the wise find no attraction."
                                                (Dhp. 171)
      
      
      The thudong bhikkhu makes efforts to be among the wise who have 
  cast aside all embroilments with things, people and the three periods 
  of time. He has few things among which he can flounder and he tries 
  vigorously to cut off all that might tie him to people. He strives 
  also to win for his own, his Master's realization regarding the three 
  times:
      
            "The past is like a dream,
            The present as clouds appears,
            Mirage-like is the future."
      
      All bonds, however arising, he tries to shatter. He is inspired by 
  the Enlightened One's exhortations that a mortal disease (ignorance, 
  //avijja//) requires a drastic remedy. he has gone forth from home and 
  family, from all the dear decorations of life, to don the ancient 
  yellow robe of patches, to have little and want less, to pursue the 
  sublime Way shown by the Buddha with every energy he possesses. While 
  unenlightened he wants only one `thing' -- Enlightenment.
      
      When he wishes to take the step of Going-forth (//pabbajja//, to 
  become a nain), he thrice utters these words: "Give leave, Venerable 
  Sir, and having given me these robes, out of compassion let me go 
  forth for the extinction of suffering and the realization of Nibbana."
      
      If he is serious in his quest he tries even amid life's diffusion, 
  not to forget these words, not to forget the reason why he is wearing 
  the three robes. They are a great reminder that Enlightenment is his 
  aim and that the well-being of others is best upheld by penetration of 
  Enlightenment by oneself. This thudong way although it seems to be 
  devoted only to the good of the bhikkhu undertaking it, actually 
  stands at the beginning of his progress along the way.
  
      Lord Buddha emphasized: "Who, stuck in the mud, can pull out 
  another stuck in the mud?" Later, when some mastery is gained in the 
  Dhamma, then is the time to aid others and only then can one actually 
  help them effectively.
  
      It is this straight-forward attitude to the Dhamma among members 
  of the Sangha and devoted lay-people which has been responsible for 
  the spread of the Dhamma in Eastern Asia, from Sri Lanka to Siberia, 
  from Afghanistan to Japan. And to spread the Dhamma outwardly, it must 
  first be spread inwardly, in one's own heart. The Sangha unencumbered 
  by worldly lumber, has just this work. It is the Sangha in fact which 
  has everywhere in the past been the backbone of the Buddhist religion. 
  It is the mainstay of knowledge of the Dhamma and it is the spearhead 
  of applying that Dhamma to the living of the holy life. Efforts made 
  to spread Buddhism in the present must therefore take account of these 
  two factors: the necessity of having those who have experienced Dhamma 
  for themselves as guides, as meditation masters: also the importance 
  of the Third Jewel, the Sangha, which must be made to grow strongly 
  since it provides the opportunity for devoted effort to win the Dhamma 
  and the subsequent teaching of others which may follow.
      
      Such effort is made particularly by the thudong bhikkhu as we have 
  tried to show. This is not to say that others having practices 
  different from those outlined here, do not make efforts toward 
  Enlightenment. Of course they do, but here we have only been concerned 
  with this particular aspect of bhikkhu life. Still, from the high 
  esteem in which the genuine thudong bhikkhu has always been held in 
  Buddhist lands and the fact that his life most nearly approaches that 
  of the original Sangha it would not seem a mistake to regard the 
  thudong way as being first among other modes of bhikkhu life.
      
      Among the bhikkhus, it is those who have realized for themselves 
  the truth of the Dhamma and who are therefore qualified to teach 
  others, it is they who are the elect. Of course, they do no write 
  books and are often difficult to find but certainly they are the 
  heartwood. Where they are to be found, in whatever Buddhist land or 
  anywhere else, there the Buddhadhamma truly lives, for the light of 
  that Dhamma burns brightly in their hearts. Wherever they are there 
  Dhamma not only lives, it can also grow. For the Dhamma does not grow 
  by the numbers of its adherents according to governments' statistics, 
  nor by the number of its temples, not yet even by the quantities of 
  yellow robes worn: no, it grows heartwise from teacher to pupil, 
  through the former's instructions and the latter's application.
      
      The thudong life is one way to this growth. The Dhamma is not 
  secret for it is open to all who have ears to hear, and the Sangha 
  exists for all those who would devote their lives to Dhamma. The Way 
  is there, the Way is always there -- but who will tread it?
      
      
      
                              *    *    *
      
      
      
            "//Grounded on practice (patipatti), sire, is the 
            Dispensation of the Teacher, in practice is its 
            essence. It will last so long as practice does not 
            disappear.//"
      
                           //Venerable Nagasena's reply to King Menander 
                           (Milinda) in "Milinda's Questions 
                           (Milinda-panha)" p. 1986, translated by I.B. 
                           Horner.//
