Yup – you’d have guessed by the title that I’m engaged in many forms of working-meditation in this busy period leading up to Ajahn Liam and co.’s visit at the end of the month, and consequently the weekly Dhamma Diary alarm that rouses me to write (sometimes successfully) has been well and truly ignored.

I thought I’d mention that it’s been just over one hour since I returned from visiting a group of Scouts in Kenilworth. I spoke to them in two lots, for about twenty minutes at a time. Before answering the inevitable deluge of questions I related how I came to Buddhism and why I became a monk. We then finished with a very successful few minutes of meditation.

During my two little talks I pointed out, as I love to, that Buddhism is a religion of knowing – not of belief – and that it offers us the path that leads to an understanding of truth. In other words, it tells us what we need to do, not what we need to believe.

It’s just gone 11 pm so I’d better finish this post and get back on the roof to finish putting the tiles on…  just kidding.

PS – It’s Vesakha Puja next week, which is the anniversary of the Buddha’s birth, Enlightenment and Final Passing. These three events took place on full-moon days of the ancient Indian lunar month of Visakha. That means that just over two thousand five hundred years ago a certain thirty-five year old man named Siddhattha Gotama was only one week away from completing his quest.

PPS – After his brother’s death last year, just a few hours ago Fergus the ferret passed away and moved on to pastures new. He’d been suffering from pancreatic cancer. Fergus gave much joy in a way that only animals can. May he be happy and one day attain the secure peace of Nibbana.

I’ve got some work to do. And it involves my memory – lots of it, too!

Every fortnight – where there are four or more bhikkhus – one monk will be designated to chant the Pātimokkha. It takes approximately forty-five minutes; it is in Pāli; it is usually recited exceptionally quickly (Eminem would be impressed – seriously); and it must be chanted from memory. I learnt it about nine years ago, and chanted it a handful of times during the short period when there were four bhikkhus at the Hermitage. But that was a while ago now and needless to say I let it slip.

But it looks like my time has come again. This isn’t because we have four bhikkhus in residence – it’s been just Luangpor and myself for almost seven years now (with various novices appearing from time to time). It’s because we have some guests arriving from Thailand, and not any old guests, but Luangpor Liam – an early disciple of Ajahn Chah and the Abbot of Wat Pah Pong, Luangpor Anek – a monk of similar standing, and a few assistants including Ajahn Kevali – the current abbot of Wat Pah Nanachat.

They will be here for about five days (before they move on to other monasteries in Europe) and one of those will fall on the first of two new-moon days in June. As it is on the full- and new- moon days that the Pātimokkha is chanted, and as there will be more than four monks here, one of those present will be required to take the hot seat. And, thanks to Luangpor’s suggestion made in my absence, I will be that monk. I can feel the heat already.

So what is the Pātimokkha?

Many moons ago, within a year of the Buddha’s Enlightenment, 1,250 enlightened bhikkhus, all of whom had been ordained by him, gathered spontaneously at the Bamboo Grove near Rajagaha. The Buddha, aware of their presence, descended from his retreat on the nearby Vulture’s Peak rock and took his place among them. He led them in meditation into the night and then, in the small hours, with the full-moon of the month of Magha suspended in the darkness far above their shaven heads, delivered the Ovāda Pātimokkha.

It was a short discourse – it has come down to us as three pithy verses – but it was significant, both for its content: it contains one of the most concise summaries of Buddhism we have*; and for the tradition that it established. That tradition is the fortnightly gathering of bhikkhus for the recitation of the Pātimokkha.

The Pātimokkha is the code of conduct governing the life of Sangha members. The Buddha established the Bhikkhu Pātimokkha for monks, and the Bhikkhūni Pātimokkha for nuns. The Bhikkhu Pātimokkha consists of 227 precepts which govern all areas of our lives. From the seventy-five Sekhiyās – which inform us how to conduct ourselves in public, during meal times, and while teaching Dhamma; to the Pārājikās – the four heaviest rules which entail automatic and immediate expulsion from the Sangha when broken. The pursuit of freedom from suffering is a serious one; and so is the observance of the precepts that lead you there.

I remember how, very shortly after I took full ordination as a bhikkhu – I think even on the same day – feeling as though a giant invisible safety net had just been installed beneath me. Suddenly, I was safe. Suddenly, many courses of action and speech were unavailable to me. But these limitations that are imposed by the Pātimokkha are not restrictive in nature: they are liberating. They liberate you from actions that drag you further into suffering.

Liberation is not doing and saying everything that your greed and hatred demand – that’s slavery. Liberation is being free from greed and hatred, and to be free from greed and hatred we must restrain them, understand them, and let them go. This is one of the prime functions of the Pātimokkha, and of the five precepts of a lay-person for that matter: to help you to restrain the causes of suffering, see them, understand them, and then let them go.

So I gotta learn it all over again. Thankfully, it isn’t taking too much coaxing to get it flowing how it used to, and I do have three months to go until the big day. So, I should be all right.

The photo at the top shows the remains of a little Uposatha hall nestled on an island in Sukhothai, Thailand. Uposatha halls are used for Sanghakammas – ‘actions of the Sangha’ – including bhikkhu ordinations and the recitation of the Pātimokkha. Do you see the little bridge on the left and the stupas in the background?

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* ”Avoid all evil; Cultivate the good; And purify the mind; This is the teaching of all the Buddhas.”.(The Dhammapada, Verse 183)

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I’m back from Thailand (yes – it’s been a month now) and all set to get back into the blogging groove. Another post is about to follow…

The awe-inspiring Buddha image featured above is called Pra Achana, of Wat Si Chum. It lies inside the World Heritage site of Sukhothai - an ancient capital of Thailand and home to some of the country’s most majestic Buddhist ruins. At first I wondered why Pra Achana is surrounded by a colossal wall, with only a narrow gap revealing a sliver of the image. I later realised why…

… Because you can only see the Buddha image in its entirety when you are literally underneath it, where its overwhelming size and majesty stun you into mental and physical silence.

You’ll find more pictures of our trip, including lots of Sukhothai, here.

P.S. As you can see, I’m fiddling with the blog’s design. If you have any thoughts let me know.

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More and more of my time is spent teaching the Dhamma to school children. Not only do they benefit, but I do too. Regardless of the age, my format is nearly always the same: introduce the Hermitage and myself; explain the symbolism of the candles, flowers and incense; tell them the life-story of the Buddha; teach them about the Four Noble Truths; spend a few minutes meditating; and then walk around the grounds. Depending on their level of understanding I emphasize different aspects: if they’re younger I’ll ask them to imagine having a conversation with an ant on the floor; if they’re older we’ll talk about why they’ll never have enough Nintendo games.

The questions are always a highlight. Some, as you’d expect, are rather inappropriate: ‘What do you wear under….?’ Others move you with their profundity. ‘Why is it that wisdom can’t be found in books?’ And others require some tact on my part and some imagination on theirs: ‘Why don’t monks get married?’ (She was very concerned.) I pointed her to the First and Second Noble Truths and left the rest to her.

One of the questions I never tire of answering is this: ‘What do Buddhists believe in?’ These children will be doing the mandatory rounds of the religions. They’ll have found out that Christians believe in this and Jews believe in that and Hindus believe in the other. And now it’s the Buddhists’ turn: ‘What do you believe in?’

‘Well’, I say, ‘Buddhists don’t believe in anything.’ That was not the answer they were expecting. ‘When you believe in something’, I ask, ‘Do you know it?’ ‘No’, they say. ‘Well, Buddhism is not about believing; it is about knowing. The word ‘Buddha’ means ‘The One Who Knows‘ – not the one who believes, but the one who knows. And that is what we are trying to do too: to know.’

Say I was holding an apple. And I told you that this apple is the most delicious apple in the world. If you believed me you would say: ‘That is the most delicious apple in the world.’ Then you might go and tell your friends: ‘That lucky monk is holding the most delicious apple in the world.’ And then those people might spread it around too. And before long half of the planet would believe that I was in possession of the most delicious apple in the world! Of course, the apple might actually be utterly disgusting. But they wouldn’t know that. The reality and their belief are totally different things.

Several years ago I attended a meeting of the Warwick District Faiths Forum. It concluded with a Muslim man giving a talk on Islam. I had no idea what Muslims believe so I was curious to find out. I don’t remember much of what he said though, as I was too busy frowning and wincing. But I do clearly remember when he listed, by rote, like a seven-year old who’s reciting his ten-times table, what he and Muslims believe in: ‘We believe in God. We believe in heaven and hell. We believe in the Angel Gabriel. We believe in Adam and Eve…’ I couldn’t believe my ears!

How different, I thought, is Buddhism. Can you imagine giving a talk on the Dhamma in the same way? ‘We believe in the Buddha. We believe in the Four Noble Truths. We believe in the Noble Eightfold Path. We believe in impermanence…..’ The Buddha would not have been impressed.

There is a celebrated occasion when he was once teaching someone with the Venerable Sariputta in attendance. After he had finished he turned to Sariputta and asked him: ‘Do you believe what I just said?’ ‘No’, replied Sariputta. Now we may think that was rude, but the Buddha praised him. Sariputta then said that he could not believe it because he had not yet seen for himself whether or not what the Buddha had said was true.

And until we see for ourselves, neither do we. The Buddha didn’t want it any other way.

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From the elements, to compassion, to loving-kindness, to mindfulness of breathing, to the contemplation of one’s purity of virtue: the spectrum of meditation subjects taught by the Buddha is diverse. But why did he teach such a range? For two main reasons, it seems.

Firstly, because people are different. We have different tastes, talents and tendencies, and different obstacles to overcome. As such, one size does not fit all.

In line with this approach, Ajahn Chah’s way of teaching – as with many of the Thai forest masters – was refreshingly open. He compared himself to someone who takes round a bowl of fruit: one person takes an apple, another takes a pear, another takes a banana. In this way, he said, ‘everyone gets fed’.

And secondly, because of our need to work on the mind from a number of different angles; to gain the benefits of a number of different fruits.

The Four Protections

Four of the most popular and nourishing fruits that the Buddha offered us were grouped together in later years and designated the ‘Four Protections’. They are Contemplation of the Buddha, Loving-kindness, Contemplation of the Body, and Contemplation of Death.

Taking time to develop each one of these meditation objects will ensure our practice matures into a well-rounded, balanced and effective one. They are often cultivated as a preliminary to mindfulness of breathing (or whatever our central practice is), though at times we may decide to devote an entire session to them. An individual protection can also be called upon when a particular benefit is required. They are called protections because they protect the mind’s welfare and happiness and ensure that we remain firmly on course for freedom from all suffering.

Contemplation of the Buddha

It is common for newcomers to Buddhism to have misconceptions regarding the presence of Buddha statues in our shrine rooms. They may even be reluctant to go into such a room, thinking that we worship these images as idols. This is understandable, but – as we know – far from the truth.

Venture into any teenager’s bedroom and you’ll no doubt find his walls plastered with posters. There will be Wayne Rooney tearing across the turf, Usain Bolt in a flash of green and yellow Lycra, Neil Armstrong striding over the moon. The child has these posters for obvious reasons: to encourage him, to inspire him, to show him what can be achieved through effort and determination. And if he wants to be a famous footballer or runner they continually remind him of his goal.

And this is exactly why we have statues of the Buddha. And therefore why we contemplate the Buddha: to encourage us, to inspire us, to show us what can be achieved through effort and determination. And to remind us of our goal.

When we contemplate the Buddha we consider what made him the Buddha. Physically he was really no different from you and me: once a person went into a hall full of monks. The Buddha was among them but the visitor couldn’t recognise him. So it was not his physical appearance that made him the Buddha; nor was it his voice or the many unusual happenings that we associate with his life. What distinguished him was his mind. When we contemplate the Buddha we consider a mind that is very different to our own. But also one that we have the potential to emulate.

The Mountain Peak

We can approach this contemplation from a number of angles, in the same way that you might admire the peak of a great mountain from a variety of positions: each view may be slightly different, but they are all of the same peak.

Perhaps our first view of this lofty peak of the Buddha’s mind should be this: its total absence of greed, hatred and delusion. His epithet, ‘Arahant’, means ‘one who is far from defilement’. We can consider this first as it puts before us a very tangible vision of our goal.

Try to imagine a mind where every shade of desire has been abandoned, where each corrosive form of aversion relinquished – a mind that no longer knows these states. When we do this we are beginning to understand the Buddha’s experience. At this point it needs to be said that it wasn’t, as some people seem to think, that he still experienced remnants of desire and aversion but owing to his powerful mindfulness was able to immediately dissipate them, as if his mind were a red-hot metal plate and the defilements drops of water falling on that plate; it was that these corruptions did not arise at all. Indeed, they could not arise – they had all gone, for their root had been destroyed.

A mind devoid of greed and hatred is a mind that cannot be overcome by any sight, sound, smell, taste or feeling. It remains in a state of non-attachment and freedom in all circumstances. There is a story of a Brahman who went to provoke and anger the Buddha. Hurling harsh and abusive speech he only managed to exhaust himself while the Buddha calmly sat there, patiently watching the whole charade. Eventually the Brahman gave up and exclaimed how amazing it was that even as he unleashed this torrent of nastiness the Buddha’s face remained clear and bright.

The ‘One Who Knows’

Greed and hatred we know and see. It is therefore within our reach to begin to contemplate a mind which is no longer disturbed by them. But delusion – the root of those two and of all suffering – is a different kettle of fish altogether. Unlike greed and hatred we cannot see delusion because we see with it. It is only once we begin to lift this veil that we can turn around and say ‘Aha! I was deluded!’, in the same way a fish who has spent his life under water comes up, tastes the air, and says: ‘Aha! I was in water!’ Delusion is not knowing and seeing things as they really are.  It is precisely the absence in his mind of this one thing that made the Buddha the ‘Buddha’ – the ‘One who Knows’.

What, then, did the Buddha know? He knew that all things of this world – of all conditioned existence – from mountains, trees, and stones, to palaces, bricks and mortar, to every sight, sound, smell, taste, feeling and thought, to his own body and mind, was – without exception – impermanent, unsatisfactory, and without self, soul or substance.

It is this comprehension of the last of the Three Characteristics – the absence of any self, soul or substance in anything – that I personally find very inspiring. When contemplating the Buddha I might imagine being in the presence of someone whose mind was free of all notions of ‘I’, ‘me’ and ‘mine’. What would that be like? I wonder.

“The greatest happiness of all is to be rid of the conceit: ‘I am’.”   (Vin. Mv. 1:3)

The Ten Perfections and Mastery of Mind

Gazing at the peak from another angle we can consider his mastery of each of the Ten Perfections. For those of you who don’t know, they are: generosity, virtue, renunciation, wisdom, truthfulness, energy, patience, determination, loving-kindness, and equanimity. When contemplating the Buddha from this perspective we reflect that in terms of developing these perfections there was nothing left for him to do. In other words he could be no more generous, no more wise, no more patient, no more determined, no more virtuous, no more loving, no more equanimous. Think about that.

And then we can consider his mastery of the practice of concentration. There is an account of when he was staying in a barn on retreat. While meditating in a doorway a violent thunderstorm tore across the sky. Great claps of thunder pounded the atmosphere and tremendous bursts of lightning electrified the sky. After it had passed a man went to find the Buddha to see if he was all right. The Buddha, on being approached, replied that he hadn’t noticed the storm. Such were his powers of concentration.

And we witness his mental dexterity as he was about to pass away. Having made a prior determination he entered the first jhana and quickly passed through to the second, the third, the fourth, all the way up to the ninth. It is said this final attainment – the epitome of mental concentration – is accessible only to the Non-returner and Arahant. At this point the Venerable Ananda declared that the Buddha had passed away. But the Venerable Anuruddha exclaimed the Blessed One was still alive but had attained the Cessation of Perception and Feeling. Arising from that attainment the Buddha glided through the preceding eight back to the first, from where he again moved through to the fourth. It was here that he attained Final Nibbana.

These states of concentration, it must be said, are extraordinary achievements in their own right. And the Buddha traversed them with the agility of a young child skipping through the playground.

To have a mind like the Buddha’s

We have admired the mountain peak from a number of view points. In the course of contemplating the Buddha you may find other views that are just as breathtaking.

When it comes to actually contemplating the Buddha as a meditation object we can simply recite: ‘The Buddha, the Buddha, the Buddha’, or ‘Buddho, Buddho, Buddho’, or we can imagine a favourite statue or picture, or what it would be like to be in his presence, or we can read his words and the stories about him. And while we do these things we allow our mind to explore and investigate the nature of the Buddha’s mind. Doing this can cause determination and rapture to arise – rapture at the prospect of having a mind such as his, a mind totally free from all defilement, from all sense of ‘me’ and ‘mine’, from all suffering.

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(This is not my Dhamma Diary entry.)

I am the Buddhist rep’ on the Warwick District Faiths Forum and I was recently asked by the Secretary to provide an introduction to Buddhism which will feature in an ‘Introduction to Faiths’ booklet. I was limited to 2 A5 sheets. Here it is. If you’d like to print it off or copy it feel free, but please acknowledge the source.

Writing this introduction has made me think it might actually be a useful thing to have Buddhism presented with the other religions. I’ve had my doubts: seeing that they all have been the cause of inestimable trouble and have such a bad name wouldn’t it be better to keep Buddhism well clear of them? Possibly. But being up there on the same platform, Buddhism provides a singular and sorely needed voice of reason, free-inquiry and truth amongst all the primitive, superstitious and mind-shrinking nonsense espoused by the others.

As a Buddhist on these multi-faith things one feels very much like the cat among the pigeons. I hope they all read the part on Buddhism in this leaflet, especially the words on free-inquiry, God, the soul and creation! (That is if the editor doesn’t omit those juicy bits…)

Although I’m critical of the other religions I must say it strikes me that many people on this Forum are very well-intentioned, genuine, caring and friendly people. It’s better to be friends than to fight, though of course whilst acknowledging our differences.

I finished the piece with a sentence on harmlessness, loving-kindness and compassion as they are so badly needed in this world. If everyone could just stop harming each other wouldn’t things be so much better? To love all beings is a tall order, but to stop harming is less so. So let’s stop harming and maybe love will come afterwards.

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Buddhism

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Introduction

Buddhism is what we call the original teachings and discipline established by the Buddha, as well as the family of separate but related movements that have grown out of those early beginnings and spread in a vast and complex diversity of forms throughout the world. They all have at their core the Buddha’s preoccupation with suffering and its end.

The Buddha

The man who was to become the Buddha was born Prince Siddhattha Gotama in India over 2500 years ago. Brought up in royal splendour it wasn’t long before an awareness of the inevitability of old age, sickness and death took root in his mind and lead to him abandoning his palaces in search of truth.

One evening, at the age of thirty-five, after six years of searching, he seated himself beneath a great tree and focused his mind on his breathing. When his mind had reached a sufficiently deep state of concentration and clarity he focused on investigating the cause of suffering. As the dawn drew near he penetrated to the fundamental level of reality and came to know suffering’s cause and thereby its end. It is from this point that we know him as the Buddha – the ‘One who Knows’, the ‘Awakened One’.

For the next forty-five years until his passing he wandered the dusty roads of Northern India teaching people how they too could be free from suffering.

The Four Noble Truths

At the heart of the Buddha’s teachings are the Four Noble Truths, and it is from these that all of his other teachings stem.

1. Suffering; Unsatisfactoriness

Life is inherently unsatisfactory and experienced as suffering: we are subject to birth, aging, sickness and death. Even the happiness and pleasant experiences are unsatisfactory since they all must pass.

2. The Cause of Suffering

Craving, according to the Buddha, is the root of suffering. We crave for pleasure, to exist, to not exist and for things to be other than they are. With craving present in our minds we continually live at odds with the true nature of things.

3. The End of Suffering

This is the goal of Buddhist practice. The Buddha used the term ‘Nibbana’ (Nirvana) which literally means ‘extinguishing’, i.e. the extinguishing of the fire of craving. Nibbana is freedom from all greed, hatred and delusion. Nibbana is neither annihilation, nor an eternal heaven.

4. The Path Leading to the End of Suffering

This is the Noble Eightfold Path: Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Acton, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, Right Concentration. In other words, the path of Morality, Meditation, and Wisdom.

Free Inquiry

Blind faith is anathema to Buddhism. The Buddha cautioned his followers against merely believing his words, instead encouraging them to actively probe and investigate. Scriptures may point the way to truth but it is down to each individual to realise it for his or herself through direct knowledge.

God, the Soul and Creation

Buddhism is a non-theistic religion that does not recognise a creator God. The Buddha held that such a belief is a deluded one. In contrast to relying on forces outside oneself, Buddhist teaching emphasises personal responsibility.

Regarding the origin of things, he taught that no beginning can be found, and that to search for such is the way to madness.

Central to the Buddha’s teaching is the doctrine of ‘anatta’ – ‘no-self’, ‘no-soul’, which states that beings are an ever-changing, evolving combination of mind and matter, within which no permanent entity or essence abides.

Karma and Rebirth

Karma means action, the results of which depend upon the intention behind the action. Actions that are rooted in greed, hatred and delusion bring about suffering; whereas those rooted in generosity, loving-kindness and wisdom bring happiness. The Law of Karma highlights the fact that we alone are responsible for our own happiness and suffering. Rebirth is conditioned by the actions that we perform through our life.

Loving-Kindness and Compassion

The Buddha taught that we should try at all times to be harmless, and to act out of loving-kindness and compassion for ourselves and all beings everywhere.

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In 1977 Ajahn Chah came to England and while here he visited many meditation groups. One particular group invited him to teach but stated beforehand that they wouldn’t bow. They didn’t do tradition.  “Well,” said Ajahn Chah, “If they don’t bow, I don’t teach.”

So, relenting, the group bowed, and Ajahn Chah taught.

Now, Ajahn Chah was not being proud or conceited, and it wasn’t that he was offended by their tone. He simply felt that if practitioners of the Dhamma are not able to humble themselves – to show respect, and to resist the demands of the ego – then there would be little point in teaching them. It would be a waste of time. For how can someone who proclaims: “I don’t bow.” be in a fit state to even begin to comprehend a teaching which leads in the direction of freedom from all notions of self? If we refuse to humble ourselves then we are turning our backs on the Dhamma; we are abandoning the path to freedom.

Bowing is an incredibly powerful practice. And, for that matter, all demonstrations of respect and humility are too. In this monastery we maintain the small gestures of respect such as putting the palms together when addressing a senior monk, not standing over a senior monk when they’re sitting down, and generally being mindful of the nuances (which many Buddhists in the West are quick to abandon), knowing that these surface gestures nurture the deep roots of concord, mindfulness and wisdom.

Monastic life is bound by a precise code of respect. Respect holds the thing together: it keeps order, it gives strength and it maintains stability. Look at the state this country is in. The lack of discipline, the lack of morality, the lack of respect. It is disturbing. It hasn’t always been like this. Respect was once an important part of life here too, though not to the same degree as, for instance, Thailand and Burma.

So bowing is firstly an outward expression of respect; a putting down of a part of one’s attachment to self; a letting go. But it is also a profound practice in a number of other ways. For bowing composes us; it helps us to establish mindfulness. And it serves to remind us of the goal.

Humility and Respect

I was thinking about the above incident involving Ajahn Chah and I realised that there is a very potent message to be found in the life of the Buddha that shows how fundamental humility and the showing of respect are as we follow the Path.

Seven weeks after his Enlightenment the Buddha spent some time considering who he might first teach. He thought of Alara Kalama and Uddaka Ramaputta – the two great teachers whose doctrines he had mastered during his six year search – but found they had died only days before. “That is a great loss for them.” He reflected. “They would have understood.” Then he thought of the five ascetics who had attended on him whilst he had been engaged in severe asceticism; they had ‘little dust on their eyes’ and were capable of understanding. So he set off in the direction of the deer park at Benares – the place where they were staying.

Now, as far as the five were concerned the Buddha had given up the search for enlightenment. Previously – through his fasting, privations and extreme self-torment – he very nearly died. Having thus realised the futility of his bitter practices, and the need for a strong body if he was to conquer the defilements, he took solid food to replenish his strength. But, still well and truly mired in the view that the way to liberation was through self-torment, the five turned up their noses and abandoned the Buddha-to-be, thinking he had ‘reverted to a life of luxury’. The truth, of course, was far different.

So, when the newly enlightened Buddha arrived at the deer park and appeared to them in the distance, the five were not pleased. “What does he want?” they thought. And they spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves, glancing sideways in the Buddha’s direction, and they made a pact that they would not observe the duties of pupils to a teacher: they would not receive him, nor take his bowl, nor wash his feet. They wanted nothing to do with him.

But as the Buddha approached them it was clear that something had changed. It is impossible to imagine what effect on the mind seeing a Buddha walking towards you would have, but clearly the five were awestruck: their pact fell apart and they rushed to attend on him. One took his bowl, another set up a seat, and another washed his feet. They humbled themselves. They showed respect. They lowered the ‘I’ and primed their minds ready for the Dhamma.

Then of course the Buddha delivered the First Sermon and on hearing it one of the five attained to the first stage of enlightenment. Thus the Matchless Wheel of Dhamma was set in motion.

Now, that wheel would not have been set rolling, nor would it still be rolling, if it wasn’t for those five having humbled themselves and having shown respect. Imagine they had kept their pact. What effect do you think that teaching would have had then? None at all. So it was this priming of the mind with humility and respect that allowed their minds to absorb the Dhamma.

The Castle of Ego

Generally people are very protective of their ego. It’s how we are brought up. We build a great castle around it, with thick, impenetrable walls, and towers and turrets, to ensure that nothing is able to harm or undermine it. When the ego does come under attack we fire out nasty little arrows through the slits in the towers: the harsh words, the excuses, the boasting, the lies, the punch in the face, etc.

But what sits smack bang in the middle of the front of a castle? The drawbridge. It is through the opening of this drawbridge that things are able to enter the castle.

Showing respect lowers the drawbridge. When we humble ourselves and show respect and perform the various duties and disciplines of respect, then we lower the drawbridge of the castle of the ego. We lower it to allow inside that which can help us – that which can cure us. We lower it to the Dhamma. The Dhamma then comes in and does the work, the work of liberation.

On that night when the Buddha gave his First Sermon those five ascetics lowered their drawbridges and the Buddha’s words entered. Those teachings went straight to the heart of the castle of one – Kondañña – and blew his sense of self to smithereens.

So to bow to the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha is to lower oneself and open one’s mind to that which is higher and better and able to lead one out of suffering and into happiness.

Bowing Stabilises Us in the Present Moment

As monks in the Forest Tradition we are taught to bow all of the time. Ajahn Chah was very fussy about it. On waking we should bow. Before sleeping we should bow. And as often as possible in between these two times we should also bow. Why is this? Well, apart from the reason just covered, it helps us to constantly reestablish our mindfulness.

We enter out kuti, put down our robes, kneel down, put our palms together over our chest, close our eyes, and bow three times. This putting down of what we are carrying is an excellent metaphor. Because when we stop to bow not only are we putting down our physical possessions but we are putting down past and future. We recollect: “Where am I? What am I doing?” And then we mindfully and graciously bow.

Bowing is Beautiful

It is such a shame that the showing of respect is disappearing out of Britain’s door faster than you can say Jack Robinson. When I get on the plane back to Blighty after our annual pilgrimage to Thailand I’m quickly made uncomfortably aware of how privileged I have been to have experienced the undercurrent of respect that floods Thai culture from top to bottom. How’s this then? Well, what can I say? Because I’m reintroduced to Westerners! To be frank, most of the Westerners I encounter on the plane have abysmal manners. They’re rude, they push and shove, they’ve about as much finesse as an ostrich on stilts. It’s not that they aren’t aware of how to treat monks: how should they know? It’s simply that they don’t seem to show much courtesy to anyone. It really does underline the style, manners and respectful nature of the people of the culture I have sadly just left behind.

And of course one of the central ways Thais and Asian Buddhists in general uphold the banner of respect is through their bowing. I love to see people bow. What does it say about them? It shows that they are willing to humble themselves. And this is such a profound statement. These days people are so ‘in yer face’. “Look at meeeee. I’m so wonderful.” Everybody wants to be noticed. Everybody wants to be known. I read a bit of an article the other day which stated we are in an age where one of the prime concerns of people is the wish to be known. Look at the popularity of social networking sites. How many Facebook ‘friends’ have you got? The more the better, obviously. Or Twitter: it seems that people are obsessed with how many Twitter ‘followers’ they have. They want to promote themselves. They want to be seen. They want to be known.

But this is all wrong. This is the way to suffering, suffering, and more suffering. The root of all of our suffering is this believing in the sense of self. Our suffering lies with this identification with body and mind as being me and mine. So don’t be special. Don’t be anybody. Have as few ‘followers’ on Twitter and as few ‘friends’ on Facebook as possible. Go on. Go against the grain.

Bowing can go against the grain, especially when we don’t necessarily respect the person we are bowing to. As monks it is our duty to bow to a senior monk, even if he was ordained only two seconds before us. Now sometimes we may question that monk’s integrity. We may think he is sloppy. But whether he ‘deserves’ our respect or not is besides the point. It is not him we are bowing for; it is for ourselves. We bow, and we lower the drawbridge. We allow humility to take root in our mind and we move that little closer to enlightenment.

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The next teaching will be on:

The new moon day, Saturday 23rd May

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PS: Thanks to David for setting up twitter.com/ForestHermitage, where you will find the Hermitage’s news, needs, info, etc. being regularly updated!

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There’s a great story in the Pali Canon – in the Jatakas, the tales of the Buddha’s former lives – of a rhino and a monkey.

This rhino was a very patient old beast. On the whole he did what you’d expect any rhino to do: he grazed, he slept, he grazed, he washed, and he slept some more. Sounds good!

But [...]