This world is not our this is like inn you live only night and go next day like Indian yogis scholar who live one place, only two or three day this is symbol of life he say you live here like live yogis two or three days because this external world is not your this is a rental house. You are here like traveler or visitor you come here to see reality and find truth of life and discover your real existence and go away. You want to live here forever but it is not possible for you not any one like precedent of any country this is like a prison and your punished by law of your action you free if your action clear like live lotus in the mud but not attachment to mud any moment but live always in mud. This is symbol of real man who not comes another time here on earth. But first condition is you accept totality of life not cut any thing in your life and your atmosphere.
Yogis are the face of total freedom and uninvolvement. During the other phases there could be certain compulsions and involvements under pressure and necessity but, for a yogi there is non he is real and original man of universe and some one want to tempt, placate and corrupt him, the yogis must spurn him right away. Clean shaven, with the mendicant’s staff and bowl, he wonders around in light ocher robes only to spread the light of truth, and do the right. Having passed through his stage of self-preparation, social participation and social service, he is now dedicated to divine service, doing well to all without any discrimination at all. No compromise, only truth, Dharma and universal good in the service of God. This is the phases of God-realization to complete the journey without fear or regret.
However, if his sense is not in control, if his mind is still agitated, if his soul is not at peace with itself, then even knowledge cannot help to him attain God. Therefore, having received knowledge through education and practice of yoga meditation and experience through living a full life, he should want nothing more of wordily nature. He is now wholly for others. There is no other person for him because he is nothing like body he is totally cosmic and he live every moment in mystery of omnipotent of God having no desire for himself he give himself to hand of God he is no burden to any body except that it is the privilege of others to maintain him. He can of course he has to receive shelter whether he stays for a day or for longer time during his work, but he can have nothing to hoard. Thus having everything and wanting nothing, he is the lord over all including himself and walks under the shadow of God, ultimately to join Him. Men are nothing but only energy everything in this world that is cosmic energy or conciseness or right that soul. We are only desire of sex but we are not understood what sex is. Sex is main power of our existence if any one completely understands sexes then he do not return in this external world that is real only soul where is not life an nor death he go beyond life and death this is most principal and philosophy of eastern world or Indian philosophy. Hers is some short story tell by some precious universal real man and that is not return in this world. Only visited for short time.
The Pregnant Bhikkhuni
Once there was a young woman who had only been married for a short time when she realized that her true calling was to be a nun and not a wife. Her good husband’s heart broke to hear her ask permission to leave him, but because he loved her dearly, allowed her to go and fulfill her wish.
She thus entered the nunhood and became a disciple of Devadatta, little knowing that she was already pregnant at the time. As the months rolled by, however, and her condition became quite obvious, the other bhikkhunis took her to see Devadatta who demanded that she disrobe.
However, she refused to do so. “Why should I disrobe,” she asked, “if I have not broken any monastic rule?” Instead, she went to the Buddha and became one of his disciples. Now the Buddha knew that she had not violated any of the monastic precepts, but for the sake of her good name as well as that of the Order, the Buddha requested a public hearing of her case in the presence of the king.
The aim of doing so was to prove the innocence of the bhikkhuni once and for all and to remove the last traces of doubt that anyone might still have concerning her condition. The expectant mother was then thoroughly questioned by one of the Buddha’s female devotees who was able to establish that the bhikkhuni had indeed become pregnant while she was still a lay woman and not after having entered the nunhood.
The monk appointed by the Buddha to oversee the case then made a public declaration of the bhikkhuni’s innocence. Everyone gathered there, including the king, returned home satisfied.
When the bhikkhuni finally gave birth to a baby boy, the good king adopted him as his very own son. However, at the age of seven, upon learning that his mother was a nun, the little boy left the palace and became a novice himself. Later, when he turned twenty, he became a bhikkhu.
He then went into a forest and after diligent practice attained arahatship. Thereafter, he continued to live in the forest alone for more than twelve years. When his mother finally got to see him again, she could not control her excitement. She ran up to him with tears of joy in her eyes.
The son, however, remained indifferent and said to her, “You are acting like a worldly mother and not as one who has entered the Order. Haven’t you learned any restraint?” He then walked away, knowing full well that if he had greeted his mother otherwise, she would have remained emotionally attached to him and her own spiritual progress would have been hampered.
Unaware of her son’s purpose, the mother at first could not get over how harshly he had treated her and felt heartbroken. Later, however, she saw that her son was just trying to help her. With that in mind, she practised hard and one day got to realize the futility of all emotional attachment. Letting go of such attachment, she too became an arahat.
The monks who knew the story of the bhikkhuni and her son remarked that if the mother had been foolish enough to disrobe as Devadatta had bid her, she and her son would probably not have become arahats. “They were lucky, Lord,” they added, “to have come to you for refuge.”
The Buddha replied, “Bhikkhus, in trying to attain arahatship, you must strive diligently and depend on yourself, and not on anyone else.”
One indeed is one’s own refuge. What other refuge can there be? With oneself thoroughly controlled, one can attain a refuge which is difficult to attain.
The Fickle-Minded Monk
Citta Hatta had been Looking for one of his oxen gone astray in the woods for quite some time when he started to feel very hungry. He came upon a monastery and there he was given something to eat. While he was having his meal, he could not help but remark how the monks’ fare was better than what he himself could normally afford even after a hard day’s work.
So, on a whim, he decided to leave his wife and home and become a monk. Although he started off well by following the rules of the monastery, he slowly became bored with his new lifestyle and ended up not even wanting to go out on his daily almsround. Soon he was feeling restless and longed so much for his wife’s company again that he finally left the Order and returned home.
But after a while, feeling that life at home was too hard, he returned to the monastery and became a bhikkhu again. Then feeling lonely once more, he disrobed and went home to be with his wife again. He shuttled back and forth like this between home and monastery six times.
The sixth time he returned to the householder’s life, his wife became pregnant and he was delighted. Then one night as she lay sleeping soundly, he went into their bedroom to admire her new condition and found her snoring loudly, saliva running down the side of her chin, and her clothes and hair in disarray.
Seeing his wife lying like that with her mouth open and her stomach bloated,
Citta Hattha could not help but think that she looked just like a corpse. Suddenly he felt a disgust arise within himself that surprised him, but it was then that he realized the unpleasant and impermanent nature of the body.
He stood there thinking, “I have already entered the Order six times and each time I have disrobed because of my lust for sensual pleasure. Now I have understood the true nature of the body and will not be fooled again.”
He decided to leave home and become a bhikkhu once and for all. On the way to the monastery he kept reflecting on impermanence and unsatisfactoriness and as a result attained the first stage of sainthood. Back at the monastery, the bhikkhus were not at all eager to see Citta Hatta again, for the notoriety of his fickle-mindedness had become too well known among them.
So when Citta Hatta requested to be admitted into the Order once more, they all refused to let him do so. “You have been shaving your head so often it is like a whetting stone,” they chided. But Citta Hatta remained adamant and the bhikkhus finally relented.
Several months passed, and although Citta Hatta had still not disrobed, his fellow bhikkhus remained doubtful of his determination to lead the holy life. They started to tease him by asking him when he was going back to see his wife again. He would answer them by saying, “Previously, indeed, I used to return to the lay life because I still had attachments, but now I have none.”
The bhikkhus told the Buddha what Citta Hatta said and the Buddha replied, “His mind was not steadfast before and he did not understand the Dhamma but, now, he is already an arahat and has truly discarded all attachments. This time Citta Hatta will not be going home again.”
A fickle-minded man will never attain perfect wisdom, since he is ignorant of the Dhamma and his faith is not steadfast.
The mind of the vigilant man is fearless. It is free of lust and anger. It has abandoned both good and evil.
The Unfortunate Hunter
Early one morning, Koka was on his way out to hunt with his dogs when he saw a monk on his almsround. Not particularly fond of monks, he thought that meeting one on the way would only bring him bad luck, meaning that he would probably not catch anything at all. And, indeed, as he feared, his game bag remained empty all day.
On his way home, Koka happened to come across the same monk he had seen earlier in the day. Still sore at the monk for having spoiled his hunt, he sought revenge by setting his dogs on him. The poor innocent monk just barely made it into the branches of a nearby tree when the dogs arrived snarling and snapping wildly at him.
He sat there safely in the tree out of their reach until Koka came along and started poking the soles of his feet with the sharp end of one of his arrows. This made the poor monk jump about to avoid injury, and while he was doing so, his robe became undone and started slipping off him.
Unable to hang on to it and keep his balance in the tree at the same time, the robe finally fell on Koka below, covering him up completely. When the dogs saw the yellow robe, they mistook their master for the monk and attacked him mercilessly, mauling him to death.
Subsequently, the monk became fraught with guilt, feeling that it was his fault that Koka got killed. He went to seek the Buddha’s advice. The Buddha assured him that it was the hunter, not he, who was at fault, for Koka had tried to bring harm to someone who had done him no wrong. For that reason, Koka came to face an unfortunate death.
Like fine dust thrown against the wind, evil falls back upon the fool who offends a harmless man, one pure and innocent,
The Self-Pampered Monk
Once there was a Man who lived a life free from any financial worries. After his wife passed away, he decided to leave home and become a monk. Before he received his ordination, however, he built for himself a shelter that included a room to store beans, cooking oil, butter and other provisions and a kitchen where his servants could prepare his favorite dishes.
He even brought his own furniture so he could sit and sleep in comfort. Seeing him live such a luxurious life, the other monks went and reported him to the Buddha. The Buddha then sent for the rich monk and asked him why he had brought so many things to the monastery with him. “Haven’t I been teaching you to live the simple life?” the Buddha asked.
The rich monk got angry. He took off his upper robe and threw it to the ground, standing half naked in front of the Buddha. “Is this how you advise me to live?” he smirked, daring to challenge the Buddha.
The Buddha admonished the self-pampered monk and told him that even while he was an evil spirit in a previous lifetime, he still had some sense of shame. Now, as a monk, however, he did not seem to have any at all.
In addition, the Buddha told him that discarding his robe did not make him an austere bhikkhu. It was his ignorance he had to discard, for it was not by one’s external appearance that one became holy.
The bhikkhu realized his mistake and asked the Buddha for forgiveness. He then corrected his ways and lived according to the Buddha’s admonitions.
Going naked, having matted hair, covering oneself with mud or dust, fasting sleeping on bare ground, or squatting (in penance) cannot purify a being if he has not yet overcome igThe Wandering Mind norance
Once there was a Young Monk named Sangharakkhita. While he was staying in a village monastery, he was offered two robes and decided to offer one of them to his uncle who was also a monk and whom he held in high esteem.
When he tried to present the robe to his uncle, however, his uncle refused to accept it, saying that he already had the robes required. The young monk interpreted his uncle’s refusal as a personal affront.
He felt so offended that he decided on the spot he would rather disrobe than be a
part of an order where there were such arrogant monks as his uncle. Sangharakhitta wanted to leave the monastery right away but his uncle asked him to stay and fan him a while since it was a very hot day.
Sangharakhitta did as his uncle asked, but did so more out of a sense of duty than out of deference, for he was still brooding over his uncle’s refusal to accept his gift. And as he fanned his uncle, his mind started to wander. “What will I do,” he thought, “as soon as I become a layman again?”
Well, first he was going to sell the robe and buy a she-goat. The she-goat would then give him many more goats and he would sell them and finally save enough money to get married. Soon his wife would give birth to a son and they would go to the monastery to show him off to their uncle. On the way, however, an argument would ensue between them, for he would want to carry the child as he drove the cart, but his wife would insist otherwise.
As he would make a grab for the child, it would fall off the cart and get run over by
one of its wheels. He would then be so upset that he would start beating up his poor wife. At that point of his daydreaming, he accidentally struck his uncle’s head with the fan. The old monk who was able to read Sangharakkita’s thoughts admonished him, saying, “It’s not enough to beat on your wife? You’ve got to beat on an old monk as well?”
Sangharakkhita was so surprised and ashamed when he realized that his uncle had been reading his mind that he wanted to run away. Instead, the good uncle took him to see the Buddha.
When told what happened, the Buddha spoke gently to the young monk and said, “The mind can wander off and think of things that have not yet taken place. It is best to concentrate on the present instead and strive diligently to free oneself from greed, hatred, and delusion.”
One who subdues the wandering mind, which strays far and wide, alone, bodiless, will be freed from the bonds of temptation.
Bhikkhu or Brahmana?
Once there was a Rebellion against the king which one of his officers sucessfully suppressed. The king was immensely pleased and rewarded him handsomely with costly gifts and a dancing girl to keep him entertained and happy.
For several days he was allowed to relax and enjoy himself, which he did with good food and wine, and the dancing girl was so beautiful and danced so gracefully that he eventually fell madly in love with her.
One morning as he was on his way to the river to take a bath, he ran into the Buddha and his disciples going on their almsround and bowed casually as a sign of respect.
The Buddha smiled and said to“That officer will come to see me later today, and after I have preached to him, he will attain full enlightenment and then die. That officer will today realize Parinibbana.”
The officer, however, had no idea what was in store for him that day. He continued entertaining his friends on the banks of the river, enjoying himself immensely. He was dizzy with delight as his lissom dancer ceaselessly swirled and twirled for their pleasure and amusement.
That evening, however, the dancer collapsed from excessive exhaustion
and died. The officer felt so grieved that he went to the Buddha for some comfort and relief, his eyes still wet and swollen from all his weeping.
The Buddha told him that the tears he was shedding due to his loss was nothing compared to the amount he had already shed throughout his previous lifetimes. “Isn’t it time to stop?” the Buddha asked him.
“Desire is the root of your sorrow. Why not get rid of that and have no more sorrow?” At the end of the Buddha’s discourse, the officer attained arahatship. Soon after that, as the Buddha had predicted, he died.
The bhikkhus were curious to know whether the officer was a bhikkhu or a brahmana since he attained Parinibbana in the clothes of a layman. The Buddha said that he could be called both because it was not by external appearances that one became holy, but by whether one’s mind was pure and free from greed, hatred, and delusion.
Even though he may be well dressed, if he is calm, free from defilements with his senses controlled, established in the holy way, perfectly pure, and has laid aside enmity toward all beings, he is indeed a holy man, a renunciant, a monk.
The Diligent Do Not Sleep
Punna was a Slave Girl who often worked until very late at night. One day it was already nearly midnight when she had just finished pounding some rice for the next day’s meal. Tired, she stopped to rest for a while, and as she did, she noticed some monks who were on their way back to their monastery after listening to the Dhamma in a nearby forest.
She could not help but wonder what they could be doing up so late. “I myself have to be up late because I am poor and have to work hard,” she thought to herself, “but what could monks be doing up at this time of the night?”
She guessed that maybe one of them had had an accident or was sick, or something of that nature. The next morning, Punna was about to eat a pancake that she had made from some leftover rice flour when she noticed the Buddha passing by her master’s house.
She had always wanted to make an offering to the Buddha but rarely had a chance. It seemed that when she did have something nice to offer him, the Buddha never came around, and when she did not have anything, she would see him.
Although what she had was just a coarse pancake, she still wanted to offer it to the Buddha, and although she was truly afraid that he would not accept such unrefined food, she went ahead and offered it to him anyway.
To Punna’s surprise and joy, the Buddha not only humbly accepted her pancake, but sat down in a suitable spot and ate it right in front of her. After the Buddha had eaten the pancake, Punna, still curious about the monks she had seen the night before, asked the Buddha what they could have been doing up at such a late hour.
The Buddha replied by saying, “Punna, just as you have no time to sleep because you have to work hard pounding rice late into the night, my disciples do not go to sleep because they have to work hard at being vigilant and mindful.”
The Buddha then went on to tell her that it did not matter what position one had in life, be it king, slave, or monk. What really mattered was that one never ceased to be mindful and vigilant. Punna reflected on the Buddha’s words and realized the
Dhamma.
Those who are ever vigilant, who by day and by night discipline themselves, and who are wholly intent upon Nibbana, their defilements are destroyed.
The Lady and the Ogress
Once there was a Man who was becoming impatient with his wife for not being able to bear him any children. At the same time, his wife was becoming increasingly anxious because she was not able to give him the children he longed for. Fearing that her husband would one day abandon her, she coaxed him into taking another wife.
But each time she learned that the new wife was pregnant, she caused her to miscarry by putting some drugs into her food. The second wife eventually figured out what was going on, but it was too late to do anything about it, for she was already near death’s door from being poisoned so often.
Before she finally died, however, she swore that she would pay the first wife back for all the suffering she was caused should their paths cross again in future lives. And indeed their paths did cross again. Once they were reborn as a cat and a hen, and another time as a leopardess and a doe, and each time they were after each other’s offsprings, creating more and more hatred between themselves.
Finally, they were reborn as the daughter of a nobleman and an ogress. One day, the ogress in all her fury was chasing after the nobleman’s daughter and her baby. The mother, in desperation, fled to the monastery where the Buddha was staying and begged the Buddha to save her child from the hungry ogress.
The Buddha, instead, admonished her, as well as the ogress, for the folly of their unabated vengeance. He then related to them how their mutual hatred began and how, because of that hatred, they had been killing off each other’s babies in their successive lifetimes. He made them realize that hatred only caused more hatred, and that hatred ceased only through goodwill and compassion.
The lady and the ogress then felt great remorse for their past actions and asked each other for forgiveness. In that way, after many lifetimes of unbroken rivalry filled with hatred, they finally made peace with each other.
Hatred in the world is indeed never appeased by hatred. It is appeased only by loving kindness. This is an ancient law.
Abandon Attachment
Once a Wandering troupe of circus performers were in vited to the palace to perform for the king and his court. Among the troupe’s jugglers and acrobats was a charming young lady who danced with grace and agility on the top of a long pole.
One of the young men in the audience, named Uggasena, fell in love with her and even tually married her. Finally when it was time for the troupe to move on to another town, he and his new wife decided to move on with them.
Uggasena, himself, though, did not have any special talent that the troupe could use, and so was relegated to moving and packing crates, driving carts, and other menial tasks. This displeased his wife.
After some time, they had a son. One day, Uggasena could not help but overhear the lullaby his wife was singing to their child: “You poor child, your father can only carry boxes and drive carts. Your father is truly worthless.”
Thinking that his wife’s arrogance was due to her skill as an acrobat, he decided to become one himself. He asked his father-in-law to train him, and not long after, he was ready to perform. On the day of his performance, he climbed up his pole with facility, and once on top, did somersaults that left the audience gasping in horror but utterly delighted.
While he was performing, the Buddha happened to pass by and saw that Ugassena was ripe for arahatship. So he drew the audience’s attention away from Ugassena by his will power and left him stranded on top of his pole with no applause. “My wife will laugh in my face,”
Uggasena thought, “if she finds out that the audience lost interest in my act even before I was half way through it?” Feeling distraught, he just sat on his pole and sulked. The Buddha then called up to him and said, “A wise man should work diligently toward abandoning all forms of attachment and thus be free from having to be born again.” Uggasena reflected on the Buddha’s words and attained arahatship while still sitting on top of his pole.
Give up the past, give up the future, give up the present. Having reached the end of existences, with a mind freed from all conditioned things, you will not again undergo birth and decay.
Cure for Gisa Kotami dead Son
Soon after Gisa Kotami got married, she gave birth to a son whom she loved dearly. Then, one day, when he was just beginning to learn how to walk, he suddenly fell ill and died. This left Gisa Kotami deeply grieved.
Unable to accept her only son’s death, she roamed the streets with him held tightly in her arms, asking whomever she came across for some medicine that could cure her son and bring him back to life.
Luckily she came upon a kindly man who realized her plight and advised her to go and see the Buddha. “The Buddha alone,” he told her, “has the antidote to death.”
When the Buddha saw Gisa Kotami, he realized that she was too grief-stricken to listen to reason and so resorted to some skillful means to help her. He told her that he could indeed restore her son back to life if she could get him a mustard seed.
“However,” the Buddha warned, “the mustard seed must not come from any household where death has ever occurred. If you can bring one back to me, your child will live again.”
Gisa Kotami felt great relief and was overjoyed at the prospect of having her son once more playing at her side. Full of hope, she hurriedly went from house to house, but nowhere could she find a household in which no one had ever died. At last it dawned on her that she was not alone in her grief, for everyone else had suffered the loss of a loved one at one time or another.
When she realized that, she lost all attachment to the dead body of her son and understood what the Buddha was trying to teach her: nothing born can
ever escape death. Gisa Kotami then buried her son and went to tell the Buddha that she could find no family where tears had never been shed over a lost loved one.
The Buddha said to her, “You have now seen that it is not only you who have ever lost a son, Gisa Kotami. Death comes to all beings, for fleeting and impermanent is the nature of all component things.”
Gisa Kotami then became a nun and strove hard to eventually perceive the state of no death and no sorrow, which is the deathless state of Nibbana.
Better it is to live one day comprehending the Deathless than a hundred years without ever comprehending the Deathless.
Almsfood is Almsfood
Once there lived a kind-hearted brahmin who often offered food to the Buddha and his monks whenever they came by on their almsround. One day they happened to arrive when he was already in the middle of his meal, and though they patiently stood in front of his door, he did not notice them.
His wife did, however, but she did not want her husband to know that they had come, for she knew that he would surely offer them the rest of his meal. That would mean she would have to go back into the kitchen and cook some more, which she really was not in the mood to do.
So she stood in front of the doorway in such a way that the Buddha and his monks remained cut from her husband’s view. She then quietly eased herself to the door within the Buddha’s listening reach and whispered to him through the corner of her mouth that there was no almsfood for them that day.
The Buddha and his disciples were already walking away when the husband noticed his wife’s strange behavior and asked her what she was up to. As she turned from the door, he caught sight of the edge of a monk’s robe leaving the doorway and immediately realized what had happened.
He jumped from behind his unfinished plate of food and ran after the Buddha. He apologized profusely for his wife’s crude behavior toward them and begged the Buddha to return with him and accept his food, although already partially eaten.
The Buddha did not hesitate to accept the brahmin’s offer and said, “Any food is suitable for me, even if it be the last remaining spoonful of an unfinished meal, for that is the way of a bhikkhu.”
The brahmin then asked the Buddha how a bhikkhu was to be defined. The Buddha’s response was quite succinct and clear: “A bhikkhu,” he said, “is one who no longer has any attachment to body or mind and does not long for what he doesn’t have.”
He who does not take the mind and body as “I” and “mine” and who does not grieve for what he has not is indeed called a bhikkhu
Mindfulness Means Life
Queen Samavati and her ladies-in-waiting all wanted to go and pay homage to the Buddha but feared that the king would not approve. So they made holes in the walls of their living quarters from which they could see the Buddha as he passed by the palace and bow their heads in reverence to him.
Another consort in the king’s harem, however, was of a different mind. She despised the Buddha. She had never forgotten how her father had once offered her hand in marriage to him and how he had flatly refused. She had felt so humiliated that she vowed to make him pay dearly for it one day.
Her chance had finally come, she thought, upon discovering what the queen and her maids were up to. She went and lied to the king saying that the Buddha was secretly seeing Queen Samavati behind his back. She then took the king to see the holes in the walls for himself.
But when the king asked his queen to account for them, he remained satisfied with her reply and let the matter drop. The consort then decided that if she would not be able to take out her revenge on the Buddha himself, she would take it out on his
admirers. This she did by trying to make the king believe that Queen Samavati and her maids were plotting to kill him.
She first warned the king to beware of the ladies’ treachery, and then went and hid a
snake in his lute. When the king picked it up to play, the snake came out hissing at him, ready to strike. It took little else to convince the king that his consort was indeed telling him the truth.
He went to Queen Samavati’s chambers and commanded her and her maids to stand up all in a row. He then shot poisoned arrows at them. No matter how hard he tried, however, he missed them all, for the arrows seemed to veer away from their intended targets all by themselves.
This proved to the king that the ladies were all pure and innocent, and to show remorse for his mistake, he allowed the ladies to invite the Buddha and his monks to the palace for a meal.
The wicked consort, in the meantime, was beside herself with frustration and rage, but she was not about ready to give up. Next, she devised what she considered to be a foolproof plan. She asked an uncle to set fire to Samavati’s quarters while the women were all inside.
As the building went up in flames, however, the queen and her attendants did not flinch. They continued to mindfully meditate and succeeded in reaching the higher levels of spiritual attainment before they finally died.
The king at once suspected that his consort was the one behind the disaster and wanted to prove it. He said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Whoever has done this is my savior and should be richly rewarded. Up to now I have lived in the fear of being murdered by my own wife, but now I am free and can sleep in peace.”
The foolish consort immediately revealed her and her uncle’s part in the horrendous crime, anxious for the king’s favors. The king feigned delight at her confession and asked her to invite her entire family to the palace where they would be honored. Once assembled, however, they were all put to death.
When it was reported to the Buddha how the queen and her attendants had died, he told them that those who were mindful did not die. It was those not mindful who, even though still alive, were as good as dead.
Mindfulness is the way to the Deathless (Nibbana), unmindfulness the way to Death. Those who are mindful do not die, and those who are not are as if already dead.
The Impermanence of Beauty
Rupananda was quite an attractive and graceful woman who was always surrounded by admirers. She never ceased to feel very lonely, however, because all those dear to her—mother, brother, and even husband—had all entered the Order. Missing her family badly, she went to visit them often and heard them speak of the Buddha in such a way that she longed to go and pay him homage too.
But when she learned that the Buddha often talked about the impermanence of the body, she was afraid that he might disparage her for her beauty, and so hesitated to do so. In the end, howe ver, she decided that no matterwhat the Buddha might say to her, she would go and see him anyway.
As soon as the Buddha saw Rupananda, he realized that she was someone very attached to her beauty. To teach her a lesson, he caused a vision of a ravishing young lady to appear before her. When Rupananda saw the young lady, she could not help but remark how extremely beautiful she was and exclaimed to herself, “My goodness, next to her I must look like an old crow!”
Then before Rupananda could realize what was happening, the beautiful young lady started to age and slowly deteriorate before her very eyes until she finally lay sick and helpless on the floor, rolling in her own excrement. Then she died, and Rupananda saw her corpse going through the different stages of decay, oozing pus and other foul liquids, and finally crawling with maggots.
Witnessing this rapid succession of images, Rupananda realized that there was a continuous process of change and decay in the body. “In the same way,” she thought, “like this young girl who has grown old, died, and decayed before my very eyes, I, too, will grow old and decay one day.”
With that realization, the attachment that Rupananda had for her body diminished and she came to perceive its true nature. She then became a nun, and under the guidance of the Buddha, eventually attained arahatship.
This body is built up with bones which are covered with flesh and blood. Within it dwell decay and death, pride and jealousy.
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एक टिप्पणी भेजें