THE SUN IS HOT IN BURMA
By Ba Thet Kyi
This is a short account of my
life and times and discovery of dhamma through some of
the disciples of the late Lion Cave Sayadaw ( see "Put Your Mind in its Natural state.",
Middle Way, August 1998). I am ordinary man, neither a monk
nor a scholar. Furthermore I had an active disinterest in
monks, sitting meditation, and long retreats in secluded
centers. In short, I had no taste for Buddhism as it is generally
practiced in Burma. Much to my surprise the monks who were
followers of the Lion Cave Sayadaw were not affected starchy
fellows who lectured at me. On the contrary, they were possessed
of a naturalness that owns my confidence. They were adept
at disclosing profound practical truths by pointing again
and again to the original nature of the mind. Through these
intimate dialogues spontaneous realization of dhamma emerged
in me. And through continued association with these monks
I developed in the effortless discipline of putting my mind
in its natural state. I was born into a prosperous mining family, in peninsular,
Burma, in the year 1926. When I was seven years old, my grandmother,
following Burmese Buddhist customs, had me ordained as a
novice-monk. By the time I was nine, I was sent to Rangoon
to a Chinese Methodist school. `It was a boarding school
and although everyone was obliged to attend Sunday Schools
we were never pressured to convert to the Methodist faith.
The Second World War reached the Far East in the '40s.
When the Japanese Army occupied Burma, civilian life was
severely disrupted and my formal education ended. A few years
later after the war was over I went to the Seychelles Islands
to live and work.
The postwar years in Burma saw a renewed interest in meditation
practice. It was becoming popular and meditation centers
started popping up all over the country. My maternal uncle,
a successful mine owner, also became interested in building
a meditation center in our native town. He, together with
his friends and colleagues got together to build one. My
uncle was not only the original founder, but also the executive
member incharge of procuring all the building materials and
supervising the construction. He put his heart and soul into
this project and neglecting the running of his mines.
During my 11 years abroad I had no communication with my
uncle. Only after my return to Mergui did I hear of his death.
My mother recounted that although my uncle had been doing
very well and was very prosperous, he began to neglect his
business in favor of the meditation center to the point that
he was nearly insolvent by the time he died. On his deathbed
he made my mother promise that she would settle all his outstanding
debts. Being a devout Buddhist my uncle sincerely believed
that doing good deeds to support the sanghas would gain him
a great store of merits. As for me, I could not see how that
could be true. Frankly, I could not see that there was anything
at all to be gain by being so religious. My uncle's misfortune
had kept me away from monks and monasteries for a long time.
When I returned to Burma from the Seychelles most people
were working in family business. I was not inclined to join
in my family's mining business; instead I wanted to start
a business of my own. The possibilities in the early '60s
were extremely limited, but government was offering some
construction contracts to private firms. So, in partnership
with a friend, I worked for two years fulfilling government
contracts. We had to dissolve the partnership in 1963 because
the government stopped the program. I look for new horizons
and decided to go to Victoria Point, the southern most tip
of Burma.
I settled down there and started a poultry farm in 1964.
I met a nice girl and we married. Soon afterwards, the Government
had nationalized all businesses, and no trading was allowed
on any local or imported commodities. In late sixties, the
Government released some of the farm products from restrictions
and the people began opening whole sale and retail shops
again. I was one of them. Three years later, the cost of
living rose drastically. In response, the Government started
an operation to check the raising inflation. The long and
short of it was that a lot of businessmen were arrested all
over Burma in the early 70's and I was one of them. I was
in jail for seven months before I was acquitted.
Contemplating how I developed a deep interest in mindfulness
practice, I recollected an early experience that occurred
before I met the monks who opened my eyes to dhamma. I was
under detention in Moulmein Jail for seven months. I had
time to kill during those days and I found a long, square
nails about four inches long. Patiently I sharpened it into
a chisel. I got a teak butt from the kitchen's firewood heap
and began carving a figure to pass the time. Accidentally
the chisel slipped and cut my index finger, severing one
of the small veins. I bandaged the wound, but when I removed
the dressing the next morning I found to my surprise that
it was still bleeding. I had no alternative but to let the
ward assistant of the prison attend to the wound. He only
had a needle and sutures, but no local anesthetic to offer.
While he was preparing his meager paraphernalia, I was
reflecting that he would be piercing the undamaged skin along
the lesion and the pain from the needle would be inevitable
and momentary. In other words, although I had no training
in the dhamma practice, I accepted the pain as a natural
phenomenon. When the stitching started, a
Well-meaning friend of mine held my hand to give me moral
strength, so he thought. I felt the pain as painful sensation
and nothing more. When the job was over I had not even flinched,
but my poor friend was so anxious that he was soaking in
sweat. As my mind had been calm, I noticed that I went through
four kinds of pain during the stitching.
First there was piercing the skin inward. Then there was
piercing the skin from inward out. After that there was tying
the sutures. And finally there was pulling the sutures to
trim them. When I thought bout it I realized it that if one
accepted natural phenomenon as just that, without discrimination,
one is practicing dhamma.
I was arrested again a year later. On this occasion I was
charged for failure to submit monthly returns for the commodities
I was trading. This time I was in jail on the outskirts of
Rangoon for six weeks before being acquitted. While I was
still in custody, my sister, who was going to England for
further studies, told some of her dharma friends to look
after me. I got out on bail and went to see them. I was feeling
extremely discouraged and exclaimed how I wished I could
live in nibbanna twenty-four hours a day. In response one
of them said he wanted to take me somewhere. We piled into
m y small Mazda
and drove to a lane with four monasteries on a hillock. When
I realized that they are taking me to a monastery I was horrified
and desperately explained that the nibbanna I wanted was
not a religious one. All I wanted was to live peacefully
twenty-four hours a day, but it was no use trying to dissuade
them. One of the gentlemen reasoned, " Now that you
are here you might as well pay respects to the monk, meet
them briefly, and we can go." To this I agreed.
We climbed the stairways and I was surprised when I saw
the monastery. What they called a monastery was no better
than a dilapidated hut. It had rusted corrugated iron roofing
with old bamboo matting for walls. The floorboards were decaying
and you had to be very cautious treading on them. A heavier-set
person could have easily fallen through. There were three
monks in the monastery. They seemed to be very familiar with
t he peoples who brought me. The eldest monk, Venerable Ananada,
began to talk to me after the introduction. The discussion
was the first of its kind in my life and was totally different
from what I expected.
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Ven.
Ananda asked, " What do you
think of the monks? "
" Do you want me to give you my candid opinion?
. " Yes, by all means. "
" The monks are no better of than I am, the only difference is that they
shave their heads and put on robes"
" Have you ever practice with mala?”
"Yes, I had."
." Why?"
"Well, when my mother came to visit me in the prison, she brought me a mala
and a religious booklet and requested me to make use of them. I agreed just
to please her.”
." What did you recite with the mala?”
"The nine virtues of Lord Buddha."
" What was the result?"
"I managed to kill some time. To be honest, merely praising the Lord Buddha
in recitation is just like praising a naughty son of a wealthy landlord so
as to get a loan from his father."
Ven. Ananda gave a big smile
and continued, "Well,
I suppose you have never been to any of the meditating centers, have you? Anyway,
what is your impression of the meditation center?"
"As far as I know, a meditation center is situated in a very quiet locality
with all the necessities readily available. A place to sleep, meals always
at hands and complete security. When you get to a place like this, what more
else do you need?”
There was laughter all around.
My candid answers seem to amuse everyone. Ven. Ananda asked
me more questions to find out how deep was my knowledge and
practical experience of the dhamma. After a short break,
I was question by the younger monk about 40 years old. His
name is Ven. Sobhana. Pointing out the window, he asked, "Do you see the bird flying there?" And he
added, "Do
you know in what place is the bird?"
" Of course, it’s in the sky "
Ven.Sobhana replied. " I know it’s in the sky, but what I want to
know is in which part of the sky?"
All I could think was that the sky is so vast that I did not know how to
answer. Then U Sobhana interrupted and clapped his hands and said" You
heard the claps, didn't you? Well the noise that you heard, where did the
noise come from?"
" It came from you hands."
Ven.Sobhana showed me his two hands and " If the noise came from the hands,
you can see my two hands and where is the noise now?"
"The noise was produced when the hands were clapping."
Ven.Sobhana said, "I wasn't asking you the cause for producing the noise.
I want to know is where the sound was produced?"
I was bewildered. I was at a lost for words. I was unable to express myself
or form a thought. One friend wanted to help me, Ven.Ananda, who said it
would be better for me to work it out myself, stopped him. " If you
tell him, it will only be an intellectual concept. Sometimes that kills the
direct perception of the truth.” It took me a long time to fully appreciate
the wisdom of this statement. As I sat there with my head
drooped and trying very hard to find an answer. By then Ven.
Sobhana walked over and sat on the mat opposite me. He lit
a cheroot in his hand. Put it in his mouth, and inhaled.
When he blew the smoke into my face. Pointing to the smoke
and he said, "You see the smoke
here? Now I am going to ask you a question. Just tell me what you see. No
imagination, no idea or any made up story. Where is the smoke appearing now?"
" It is appearing in the air now."
" Your answer is close, but not quite on the mark. Now, where is this air?"
" It is in the space."
Ven. Sobhana said, "Right you are. The smoke
is moving about in space. The smoke is not everywhere, but space is. It is the
space that in which all the objects exist and move about. We think of this space
of no value. In reality the space, sometimes be priceless. When you are buying
a house or renting a flat, the first thing you look into is the space available
and the price depends on it. Space must be available so that air planes trains,
motor cars or people have enough room to move about or to maneuver. This is to
illustrate that we have something like this idea of space in our mind and when
we perceive, the perception appears like the smoke in the space. Whenever our
minds are thinking, the space is occupied with that thought and as soon as the
thinking changes, the objects changed but the space remained unaffected. The
space is like the screen in the movie theatre; the projector will be projecting
the pictures of all subjects onto the screen for hours. All the subjects change
but at the end the screen is never tainted by the projection but remains
as white as ever. We will have the anger, passion, greed, frustration, sadness
and happiness appearing in our mind from time to time like a passing show
and when its over, it leaves nothing in our mind.
"These illustrations are
to show objectively the functions of our minds. You must be able to look into
it introspectively, observe it and learn from it. Accept my discussion and
apply it. You will experience the reality of it. Our minds are occupied all
the time, concentrating on one thing or another, including the changes. Whenever
the thinking changes, the last thought has to disappear before the next thought
takes its place. For instance, no one can come and sit on this chair as long
as I am sitting in it. If anyone wants to, he will have to wait until I have
vacated it. The same applies to the mind."
Rev.Ananda recounted an event about
two young novices who were fighting over the bananas given
to them. He was amused watching the fight and after watching
them he shouted, “ The
head monk is coming”. When the novices heard him, they
stopped the fight and ran away immediately without bothering
to turn and look. They were afraid of the head monk who could
punish them. "The moment they heard me" he said," their
thoughts were directed to what I said. In doing so, the original
thought of anger had disappeared. The s “ the fear
of being punished stopped their fight you will notice that
the interruption was created by me, the third person, to
remind them of grave consequence if they continue to fight."
He continued “ Suppose you were
at home all by yourself after a very tiring day, you are
trying to solve a very big problem. You began to get worried
and emotionally carried away. You start to get angry, and
frustrated. In that case, how are you going to calm yourself?
Being alone, there isn't any second or third person to
warn you or to interrupt your thoughts. What are you going
to do about it? How are you going to calm that situation? “
I
simply could not answer his question.
He said, “ This is where the mindfulness comes
in. When you are aware that you are emotionally upset;
please be mindful that you have been thinking. If you
do that, the last thought will disappear and you will
see the next thought manifest in its place. See this
cup. There is tea in it. What can you put into a full
cup? You have to empty it first before you put any other
thing. You empty the cup by throwing the contents, but
with your mind, you empty it by being aware or mindful
of the thought in that moment.”
After a short break,
Ven. Ananda began to explain to me about the Four Noble
Truths. He used some Pali quotations, which I couldn’t
understand. I interrupted him and said “I admired
your patience and compassion towards me, but if I have
to learn Pali so as to enable me to study Buddhism,
I am afraid I have to give up now. Because at my age,
I'm too old to learn anything academically.” From
then on, he used Burmese throughout the afternoon.
He also said that in the time of the Buddha, not only
the monks were enlightened, but also the laymen. I
asked him “ If
a normal person can be enlightened, there is no need
for you to be wearing that robe?” He replied “I
had been wearing this robe for more than forty years. If I disrobe now,
I don’t
think I know how to survive in this world. I don’t think I can earn
enough to live a decent life.” I was very impressed by his remarkable
openness and lack of priestly airs. I felt that they must have something
extraordinary in dhamma to free from defensiveness and pretense.
My intention
was to spend about fifteen minutes at the monastery, but the conversation
had become very intensely interesting. When I left, only then I realized
that I had spent about six hours there with them. . All the time I was
at the monastery, I could comprehend something of the discussions that
were going on. However, whenever I had some opportunity to review the
dialogue again, I could not grasp intellectually what we
had discussed. I could not regain the special clarity I felt
during the dialogues. Although I appreciate the talks, in
reality I knew the talks were referring to my mind, my inner
self, and introspection but I simply hadn’t had a
clue as to how to proceed, how to develop my mind. Unable to quench the
thirst, I started to go through books on Buddhism, in English as well as
in Burmese. One day, before I returned to Victoria Point, I went to Ven.
Ananda and asked for advice as to the best book on Buddhism. His answer
was “ The authoritative
book on Buddhism is the book that is not yet written." I left empty-handed
and pondering.
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They had awakened in me an
unquenchable thirst to comprehend the essence of dharma,
I returned to the monastery again and again with my friends.
A lot of questions were asked and the monks gave many clarifications,
yet I was still restless to grasp it all intellectually.
After about a month after
first visit to the monastery, I had to go on business to
a town nine miles north of Rangoon. I was driving a small
Mazda. It was a hot day at the beginning of the season. The
sun shone full on me. I was all by myself and, having no
one to talk to, my mind started to wander and I began to
dwell on the heat of the sun. I was feeling very uncomfortable
and despised the sun more and more. The more I hated the
sun, the more intense became the sensation of the heat. My
afflicted thoughts were obsessing about what I may have done
in a previous life to suffer so much under this torturous
sun. The more I yearned for the coolness, the worse it became.
The sensation of the heat was so overwhelming that my only
thought was to get away from the blazing sun. It aggravated
me beyond endurance.
In one shocking moment, my
sequence of thoughts was abruptly interrupted. My hatred
for the heat had vanished as though the heavy burden I was
shouldering had been spontaneously dislodged in a flash.
It was an astonishing experience. The anger, craving, frustration
and irritation disappeared and its stead was the transcendental
manifestation of equanimity. It was a fleeting experience.
The following thought was, “What
else can you expect if you are sitting under the sun?”
I
was smiling to myself for the rest of the day and the
whole way home. I was welling up with delight in a way I
never had before in my life. In fact I was very excited when
I reached home. When my mother saw me walking into the
house, she asked, “You look so happy. Why are you
smiling?” To that, I
replied that it took me more than fifty years to realize that sitting under
the sun is hot. She looked at me in surprise and remarked “Don’t
be silly and talk stupid to me.” All I could do was walked on blissfully.
I
was so intrigued with my experience that I was thinking about it. I had
returned to the to relate my experience to the monks. They smiled d nodded
as they listened but remained silent. The fantastic moment of insight
was so utterly unlike anything I had ever experienced. I
was driven to grasp if intellectually. Their silence was
meant to discourage me from obsessing over it, but I was
slow to appreciate their subtle admonition.
Then, one monsoon day, I was travelling to
Victoria Point on a steamer called The Aungzeya. It was anchored in a
sheltered bay in the Mergui Archipelago islands, waiting for the tide.
I overheard my fellow passengers recounting their previous experiences.
At that time of the year, during the rains, the crossing could be rough,
the deck awash with baggage being thrown about. Sometimes the decks were
covered with fruit when the pitch of the waves rocked the boat. The creates
overturned, spilling the fruit, and it rolled in every direction and
it was utterly mayhem. I was anxious. I realized it would be sometime
yet before the actual crossing, so I went off to sleep and when I woke
up the boat was steaming into Victoria Point harbor. This incident opened
my eyes to the importance of paying more attention to the nature of the
moment. From then on I was a great believer of the saying, " Mind
is the forerunner of all things. Mind is their chief."
On another
occasion, I was travelling to my coconut estate on a passenger bus.
This was the only bus that plied that route and it was crowded
inside the vehicle as well as on the roof. I was among those
on the roof. The bus stopped whenever passengers flagged
it down from the road or made a request to get off. The stops
took some time. Among the rooftop riders, we had some local
fishermen who worked under the blazing sun day in day out,
but they could not tolerate the heat, and were loudly complaining to
the driver. As for me, through my experiences, I accepted the fact
that sun produces heat. I said nothing and endured patiently
my profuse sweating. These experiences opened my eyes to
comprehend and accept things as they are, and to be free
of defilements. If I were to add my idea of discrimination
over and above things, instead of leaving them as they may be, then
I would have been shouting my head off like those fishermen.
About
one year after the episode with the sun, my friends and
I went to Henzada, about seventy-five miles north of Rangoon,
to visit Ven. Ananda. The day after our arrival happened
to be a lunar observance day and there were about seventy
people who had accepted the eight precepts and abstaining
from eating after twelve noon. It is customary for the
head of the monastery to give a discourse after midday meal.
In this occasion, three laymen were requested to come forward
to give a discourse on dhamma and I happened to be one
of them. I had never given a discourse before and having
the abbot there I comported myself thinking that if I got
into a fix he would help me out. With no time to prepare
my talk, I decided to relate my episode with the sun as an
example of The Four Noble Truths in daily life.
It went something like this; The feeling of being very
annoyed agitated, angry and frustrated about the heat was
the right understanding of The Fourth Noble Truth, Eight
Path of the Cessation of Suffering. The transient moment
between the agony and realization of the natural phenomenon
was The Third Noble Truth of the cessation of Suffering. I made it
a very short sermon and sat down. This was the way I analyzed my
experience reflecting on The Four Noble Truths. The abbot
approved my talk silently.
Giving this discourse made
me realize the meaning of Ven. Ananda's enigmatic saying, "Read
the book, which is not yet written." My impassioned
pursuit of books on Buddhism faded away and I took a more active
interest in watching myself introspectively.
I cannot
resist discussing here one lonely incident. My family
was having dinner together and the main dish was a
fish curry. Although everyone else seemed to be enjoying
the meal, I did not like fish. A compelling interest in this
feeling of dislike grew in me. I tried hard to find
the source of it. When I looked I saw there was nothing blameworthy
in the fish itself. I saw myself comparing the curry's
taste with something else that I like better. I observed repeatedly
that I desire to have a more agreeable taste and that this frustration
intensified my discontent with the fish. I observed frankly that
wanting something meant that it must be out of reach.
When I consider
the fish curry without discrimination I had no conflict,
and this discovery, as simple as it was, showed me how
to use the insight that had come to me in that flashing revelation
in the sun. I wholeheartedly embraced the patent truth that
the law of nature does not favor anyone, not even me, and
I undertook with the confidence the practice of not complaining.
From the experience and knowledge I acquired, I had been
able to form my own opinion regarding meditation, awareness,
and mindfulness, I became skilled in practicing mindfulness
and observing the process of the mind.
Soon after I returned
from Henzeda, The day of judgement relevant to my trial
arrived. I was well aware that my case was open and shut
one. I was sure that I would be acquitted. But when the bench
clerk called my case, my whole body shook and I was unable
to breathe properly. I was afraid of losing the case and
being sent to prison. What I did then was to look into myself
mindfully and be aware of my condition. The moment I was
aware of the fearful thought, the fear disappeared instantly.
After a short while, it happened again and I repeated the
mindfulness again, and was this had the same effect. It went
on until the court clerk read out the judgement that I was
acquitted. If I hadn't used my mindfulness, I couldn't imagine
how I would have controlled my fear.
Since then, I applied
myself to practicing mindfulness and as a result I learned
a lot about nature and its mystery. I learned to live freely,
in a manner, which I had never thought possible. I accepted
the fact that it is much easier to be truthful with myself
then to tell lies. I developed a tolerant attitude and
found it easier not to condemn and so not have to forgive.
This is the practice of equanimity. I know it is me who creates
all my defilements, so I don't have to go around searching
for culprits. I realized that not only are my own inner
workings Nature, bur equally so are those of the people around
me. And in the end, Nature is "as it is." And not
something you can persuade or threaten, avoid or escape,
buy or sell.
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