Ajaan lee autobiography of a face

This was because the custom in those parts when a woman was going to give birth was to take a rope and tie one end to a rafter. The woman, kneeling down, would hang on to the other end of the rope and give birth. Some women would scream and moan, their faces and bodies all twisted in pain. This made a deep impression on me that lasted for a long time.

Up to that point I had never killed a large animal, except one—a dog. And I can remember how it happened. One day when I was eating, I took an egg and put it in the ashes of the fire. The dog came along, found the egg and ate it—so I jumped up, grabbed a club, and beat it to death on the spot. Immediately, I was sorry for what I had done.

So I found an old book with a chant for sharing merit that I memorized. I then went and worshiped the Buddha, dedicating the merit to the dead dog. This made me feel better, but my whole train of thought at that time was that I wanted to be ordained. In , when I was 20, my stepmother died. At the time, I was living with relatives in Bang Len district, Nakhorn Pathom province, so toward the end of February I returned home to my father and asked him to sponsor my ordination.

I arrived with about baht in my pockets. Soon after my arrival my elder brothers, sisters, brothers-in-law, etc. I gave them all they asked for, because I was planning to be ordained. So in the end, out of my original baht, I was left with When ordination season arrived, my father made all the necessary arrangements. I was ordained on the full moon day of the sixth lunar month—Visakha Puja.

Altogether, there were nine of us ordained that day. Of this number, some have since died, some have disrobed, leaving only two of us still in the monkhood—myself and a friend. After my ordination I memorized chants and studied the Dhamma and monastic discipline. Comparing what I was studying with the life I and the monks around me were leading made me feel ill at ease, because instead of observing the duties of the contemplative life, we were out to have a good time: playing chess, wrestling, playing match games with girls whenever there was a wake, raising birds, holding cock fights, sometimes even eating food in the evenings.

It so happened that my turn to read the sermon came at 11 a. By the time I had finished, it was after noon, so it was too late to eat. On the way home I was accompanied by a temple boy carrying some rice and grilled fish in his shoulder bag. A little after 1 p. I then returned home to the temple. That night I felt hungry, so I had a meal.

My friends were doing it all the time, but were always careful to cover it up. During this period the thing I hated most was to be invited to chant at a funeral. When I was younger I would never eat in a house where a person had just died. Even after I was ordained, this habit stayed with me. I was 19 before I ever set foot in a cemetery.

One day, after having been ordained a fair while, I heard people crying and moaning in the village: Someone had died. When we reached the mango grove, we split up and climbed the trees—and there we sat, perched one to a tree, absolutely still. I could hear him losing his temper in his quarters. There was one thing I was afraid of, though: the slingshot he kept to chase bats from the trees.

Ajaan lee autobiography of a face

In the end, he had a novice come look for us, and when the novice found us, we all had to come down. Within the next three months, may I meet a teacher who practices them truly and rightly. When I arrived, a meditation monk happened to be on the sermon seat. I was really taken by the way he spoke, so I asked some laypeople who he was and where he came from.

What I saw—his way of life, the manner in which he conducted himself—really pleased me. At first they did all they could to dissuade me from going, but as I told my father, I had already made up my mind. My father and preceptor have no rights over me. The minute they start infringing on my rights is the minute I get up and go. So at one in the afternoon, on a day in early December, I set out, carrying my necessary belongings, alone.

My father accompanied me as far as the middle of a field. There, when we had said our goodbyes, we parted ways. On my arrival, I was told that Ajaan Mun was staying at the village of Kut Laad, a little over ten kilometers outside the city. Again, I set out on foot to find him. It so happened that Phra Barikhut, a former District Official in Muang Saam Sib who had been dismissed from government service and was moving his family, drove past me in his truck.

Seeing me walking alone on the side of the road, he stopped and offered me a ride all the way to the Ubon airport, the turn-off to Kut Laad. Even today I think of how kind he was to me, a total stranger. So the next morning, after breakfast, I walked back to Ubon. There I paid my respects to Ajaan Mun and told him my purpose in seeking him out.

The advice and assistance he gave me were just what I was looking for. He taught me a single word —buddho— to meditate on. These two feelings were always with me. I became friends with two other monks with whom I stayed, ate, meditated, and discussed my experiences: Ajaan Kongma and Ajaan Saam. I kept at my meditation all hours of the day and night.

After a while I talked Ajaan Kongma into going off and wandering together. We went from village to village, staying in the ancestral shrines, until we reached my home village. I wanted to let my father know the good news: that I had met Ajaan Mun, that this was the life I was looking for, and that I had no intention of ever returning to live out my life there at home.

Nothing else you could give me could ever leave me satisfied. After that, I said goodbye and set out for the city of Ubon. This was when I decided to re-ordain, this time in the Dhammayutika sect the sect to which Ajaan Mun belonged , in order to make a clean break with my past wrongdoings. When I consulted Ajaan Mun, he agreed to the idea, and so had me practice my part in the ordination ceremony.

When I had it down pat, he set out—with me following—wandering from district to district. I became extremely devoted to Ajaan Mun, because there were many things about him that had me amazed. Each time this happened, my respect and devotion toward him deepened. I practiced meditation constantly, free from many of the worries that had plagued me in the past.

I was reordained on May 27, , and the following day began to observe strictly the ascetic practice of eating only one meal a day. They had been asked by Phraya Trang, the Prince of Ubon, to teach morality and meditation to the people of the rural areas. It so happened that Somdet Phra Mahawirawong, the ecclesiastical head of the Northeast, called Ajaan MahaPin back to the city of Ubon, so in the end only six of us spent the rainy season together in that township.

One day, for instance, at about five in the evening, I was doing walking meditation, but my thoughts had strayed toward worldly matters. Here you are, a monk, trying to develop some virtue inside yourself, and yet you let your heart go looking for worldly matters. The whole incident thus turned into Dhamma. A number of other events also helped to keep me alert.

That rainy season there were six of us altogether, five monks and one novice. I felt this way about everything we did, and yet it seemed that I was able to live up to my resolution. This was a secret I kept to myself. Not too long afterwards, I heard a loud thud coming from inside the hut, so I stopped to open the window and peek in.

Sure enough, there he was, lying on his back with his folded legs sticking up in the air. He had been sitting in full lotus position, gotten sleepy, and had simply fallen backwards and gone to sleep. I was practically dropping off to sleep myself, but had kept going out of the simple desire to win. At the end of the rains, the group split up, each of us going off to wander alone, staying in cemeteries.

During this period it seemed that my meditation was going very well. My mind could settle down to a very refined level, and one very strange thing that had never happened before was beginning to happen: When my mind was really good and quiet, knowledge would suddenly come to me. For example, even though I had never studied Pali, I could now translate most of the chants I had memorized: most of the Buddha-guna, for instance, the Cula Paritta, and the Abhidhamma Sankhepa.

It seemed that I was becoming fairly expert in the Dhamma. If there was anything I wanted to know, all I had to do was make my mind very still, and the knowledge would come to me without my having to think over the matter. When this happened, I went to consult Ajaan Kongma. He first practiced meditation and the knowledge arose within his heart.

Only then did he teach the Dhamma that has been copied down in the scriptures. At the end of the rains, I thought of going to see my father again, because I felt that there was still a lot of unfinished business at home. When the village people found me alone in the forest there, they sent word to my father. Early the next morning he came to see me, having set out from home in the middle of the night.

When he had finished, I followed him back to my home village, where this time I stayed first in the cemetery, and then later in another spot in the forest where the spirits were said to be very fierce. We exorcised them by reciting Buddhist chants and spreading thoughts of good will throughout the area. I taught the people in the village to take refuge in the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, to recite Buddhist chants and to meditate, instead of getting involved with spirits and demons.

There was another practice I had seen a lot of in the past that struck me as pointless, and so we figured out a way to wipe it out: the belief that the ancestral spirits in the village had to eat animal flesh every year. He never spoke of his own meditative attainments, however it was widely discussed among his students that he may have had psychic powers.

Uniquely among the Ajahns in the Thai Wilderness tradition Ajahn Lee composed systematic treatises on the practice. These are valuable documents…. The interest from the fund was to help with the upkeep of the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Afterwards we gathered additional contributions that we added to the fund, bringing the total endowment to more than 50, baht.

On May 20th we began the festive procession, carrying Buddha images, relics of the Buddha, and the 16 phaa paas from Wat Asokaram to the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Princess Pradisathasari had given orders for officials from the Royal Household to welcome us. After the procession circumambulated the ordination hall three times, the Princess and members of the Privy Council arrived to accept the phaa paas.

She had given orders for the royal kitchens to prepare food to be presented to the 15 senior monks invited to receive the phaa paas. Most of the monks were from temples that had in the past been under the sponsorship of Rama IV. After presenting the monks with their mid-day meal, the Princess presented them with the 15 phaa paas. With the ceremonies over, we led the procession from the Temple of the Emerald Buddha to Wat Phra Sri Mahadhatu in Bang Khen district in order to receive saplings from the Great Bodhi tree in India, which we had requested and been granted by the government.

Arriving at Wat Phra Sri Mahadhatu, we conducted the ceremonies for receiving the two saplings and carried them in a procession three times around the ordination hall. There we were given a rousing welcome by a contingent from Wat Asokaram, along with the provincial governor, civil servants, and other Buddhists. Our procession then went from the Provincial Offices back to Wat Asokaram, arriving in the afternoon to a welcoming contingent headed by Chao Khun Amornmuni, ecclesiastical head of Chanthaburi province.

We circumambulated the sala three times and then entered the area where the image consecration services were being held. After paying homage to the Buddha images, relics of the Buddha, Bodhi trees, and chedis, we stopped for a short rest. Huge numbers of people came to join in the celebration. The following morning, May 22, we held ceremonies for planting four Bodhi trees at Wat Asokaram—the two we had received from Wat Phra Sri Mahadhatu plus two from India.

Since then, my followers have returned from India with two more Bodhi trees that they donated to the Wat. At the moment there are altogether six descendants of the Great Bodhi tree growing in Wat Asokaram. One day, funds started running out, and so the festival committee met for consultation. They brought the letter and read it aloud to me.

The gist of it was that they were going to ask the Prime Minister, Field Marshal Paw Phibunsongkhram, to help donate 50, baht. Before they had even finished reading the letter, I told them to throw it into the fire right then and there. People came to provide food for the monks at the festival—sometimes three days at a time, sometimes seven.

Some brought Thai food; others, Chinese food. The image consecration ceremonies lasted for 15 days, with Major General Phong Punnakan, Chief of the Army Transportation Bureau, acting as sponsor throughout the festival. Khun Ying Waad Lekhawanit-Dhammawithak arranged transportation and gifts for the ten Chinese monks who came to chant three days, and provided food for monks seven days running.

There were two Mahayana sermons, and kong tek services for three nights. There was also a loi krathong ceremony and a raffle. Khun Nai Thawngsuk Chumpairoad provided food for monks for seven days. In addition, a number of Chinese people came and helped provide vegetarian food for several days. People came to sponsor, altogether, eleven re-enactments of the Buddhist Councils and made donations totalling 5, baht at each re-enactment.

On top of all this, people came to donate cups, plates and saucers, rice, firewood, charcoal—everything—to the festival kitchen. Most things were provided by donors. As a result, the kitchen spent no more than 5, baht for food each day. My followers all helped to the full extent of their abilities. In the area of medical care we received help from General Thanawm Upathamphanon, Chief Army Medical Officer, and his wife, Khun Ying Sutjai, who sent doctors and orderlies throughout the festival to provide medical treatment for those who needed it.

And as for security, Police Colonel Sudsa-nguan Tansathit, head of the Police Public Safety Department, sent traffic police and a fire truck to help throughout the festival. Time passed and everything went well. Money became less and less of a problem, the daily schedule proceeded according to plan, the ordination ceremonies continued every day, and the weather cooperated throughout.

There were no untoward incidents, aside from a few minor occurrences not worth mentioning. On May 13, Visakha Puja, a number of sponsors had four Buddha images cast, each image 80 cm. Nai Kuanghang Sae Hia, along with his wife and children, donated a fifth image that they had had cast on Magha Puja at a cost of 34, baht, including the celebration costs.

The sponsors covered all costs, which for the five images totalled 61, baht. As for the entertainment offered during the festival, hardly anyone paid any attention to it because most of the people had come to participate in the religious activities. A group of my Chinese followers brought a Chinese opera company to perform three nights. Wari Chayakun from Haad Yai brought a Manora dance-drama company and a shadow puppet company to perform throughout the festival, two movie screens were set up, and a maw lam singing group from the Northeast came to perform one night and then had to close down from lack of interest.

None of these activities cost us anything because groups of my followers had sponsored them on their own initiative. We continued to celebrate in this way, with chanting, candlelight processions, meditation sessions, and sermons. We invited a number of high-ranking ecclesiastical officials, such as Somdet Mahawirawong of Wat Makut and Phra Sasanasophon, to deliver one sermon apiece.

In addition, we had sermons of our own, some of which I delivered, and some by Ajaan Tyy. These activities continued until May 29, All of this was money that people had donated on their own initiative. In addition we also received non-liquid assets—such as ordination sponsors who arranged requisites on their own—which were handled by the finance committee.

The re-enactments of the Buddhist councils, food donated to the monks, gifts for the monks who chanted, the casting of the Buddha images, the construction of the sala, the repair of the road leading to the Wat, the Mahayana services: All of these came in the form of non-liquid assets that, altogether, we estimated roughly at more than , baht.

Afterwards, right before the rains, another sponsor—Nai Thanabuun Kimanon, along with his wife and children—had another Buddha image cast and donated to the Wat to celebrate the year B. The image was more than two meters across at the base. They also built a dais for it and conducted celebration ceremonies that, added to the cost of the image, totalled more than , baht.

A number of the monks, novices, and nuns ordained during the festival stayed on for the rains, continuing to practice the Dhamma together. At the end of the rains many of them returned home, although a number of them are still currently ordained. As for myself, when the rains were over, I went to visit many of the places where there were friends and followers who had come to participate in the festival.

This was when I first saw the three Bodhi trees that had sprung up there, and it made me very glad. They are tall trees now. Chao Mae Suk of the Lampang Royal House, along with Khun Nai Kimrien Kingthien, Mae Liengtao Janwiroad, and a contingent of laymen and laywomen joined together with a group of my followers—both laypeople and monks—to complete the chedi.

I do this because I feel that a monk who stays put in one monastery is like a train sitting still at HuaLampong station—and everyone knows the worth of a train sitting still. Some of my companions have criticized me for being this way, and others have praised me, but I myself feel that it brings nothing but good. Even if I just sit still in the forest, I gain by it.

Wherever I find the people know less than I do, I can be their teacher. Either way I profit. At the same time, living in the forest as I like to do has given me a lot to think about. He was born in the forest, attained awakening in the forest, and totally entered nibbana in the forest—and yet how was he at the same time able to bring his virtues right into the middle of great cities, as when he spread his religious work to include King Bimbisara of Rajagaha?

It will have a chance to grow feathers and wings, and be able to survive on its own in the future. For the boat to avoid running aground depends on the rudder. Because this is the way I see things, I prefer living in the forest. Wild animals, for example, sleep differently from domesticated animals. This can be a good lesson. Or take the wild rooster: Its eyes are quick, its tail feathers sparse, its wings strong, and its call short.

It can run fast and fly far. What do these characteristics come from? It always has to be on the alert because danger is ever-present in the forest. If the wild rooster went around acting like a domestic rooster, the cobras and mongooses would make a meal of it in no time. So when it eats, sleeps, opens and closes its eyes, the wild rooster has to be strong and resilient in order to stay alive.

So it is with us. Thus we should learn to be always on the alert. This is why I like to stay in the forest. I benefit from it and learn many lessons. He taught the Dhamma first, and then the Vinaya. Be an asker, but not a beggar. Be content with whatever you are given. This teaching made me reflect on death. What benefits could come from wearing the cloth used to wrap a corpse?

No one wants them—and so they hold no dangers. These teachings of the Buddha, when I first heard them, sparked my curiosity. Whether or not I would benefit from following them, there was one thing I was sure of: that the Buddha was not the sort of person who would hold blindly to anything, and that he would never teach anything without good reason.

I was reminded of the words of MahaKassapa, who asked to be allowed to follow such ascetic practices as living in the forest, eating one meal a day going out for alms , and wearing robes made from thrown-away rags all of his life. What is there left for you to strive for? If a person teaches by example, the students will learn easily, just as when a person teaches students how to read: If he has pictures to go along with the text, the students will learn much more quickly.

My observing these practices is the same sort of thing. When I thought of these words, I felt sympathy for MahaKassapa, subjecting himself to all sorts of hardships. If you were to put it in worldly terms, you could say that he was already a multimillionaire, deserving a soft bed and fine food, but instead he slept and ate on the ground, and had only coarse food to eat.

Once there was an old man who told me of the time he had gone with his wife to tap tree sap deep in a large forest. They happened to run into a bear, and a fight ensued. When her husband heard this, he came to his senses and so fell back on the ground, lying absolutely still. Seeing this, the bear climbed up astride him but then let go of him and simply stood looking at him.

After the bear had decided that the man was dead, it left. A moment or so later the man got up and walked home with his wife. I had to grab hold of one of the posts in the hut—so that was as far as I got. After that, my illness slowly began to recede. One day I took one of my followers out looking for wood to make into charcoal so that I could have a fire to keep myself warm at night.

Late one night, when it was quiet and I was feeling really ill, I set some charcoal stoves all around myself. If you live here, you have to bow down to me. Still, she insisted. We had a long argument, but I stood firm. Finally she left the hut, climbed the hill, and disappeared. I meditated in comfort for the rest of the night. Another day a while later—September 16—I had a dizzy spell early in the morning.

At about one in the afternoon I got up and sat by the window. The hut was at the foot of the hill, and the stream flowed right past the window. All around the hut the ground was cleared and clean—it was swept every day. A lot of things happened that day: 1 There was a foul stench unlike anything I had ever smelled before. It looked to me as if I were going to die.

I sat in meditation until the fly flew away and the stench vanished. If I have the potential to live on and be of use, I also want a sign. After I had made my vow, I sat facing west, looking out through the window with my mind under control. After a moment, two doves came flying to the window. First a male dove came from the south, made a sharp cry, and landed on the sill.

A moment later a female dove came from the north. They fluttered their wings and cooed to each other. They seemed cheerful and confident. And then, after another moment, the clouds that had been covering the sky parted and bright sunlight came pouring through. Not since the beginning of the rainy season had there been even as much as 30 minutes of sunlight in a single day.

The entire three months the sky had been dull, always covered by clouds and fog. But now the sun shone down all bright and dazzling. The calls of the birds echoed clearly through the forest. My heart felt refreshed. One night afterwards, toward the end of the rains, I went down to do walking meditation to the south of my hut and a vision appeared to me.

I saw myself and an elephant tumbling around in the water. A moment later, in the same vision, a sermon seat came floating through the air, about six meters off the ground. It was painted a dull red and covered with cloth from India interwoven with gold. All your aspirations will be fulfilled. By the day after the end of the Rains Retreat, my illness seemed to be over.

The next day, the hilltribesmen accompanied us out of the forest, carrying our things and at the same time crying in a way that was really heartrending. That had been a damp, chilly place to stay. We ate hilltribe food all throughout the rains. This was the sort of fare we had to eat. In all the years since my ordination, this rainy season was the ultimate in primitiveness as far as food was concerned.

Even their peppers were strange: When you swallowed one, it would be hot all the way down to your intestines. And yet the hilltribes people themselves were all large and stocky. I had thought that they would be dark and sickly, but they turned out to be fair and plump. They had an admirable culture. There was no quarreling, and none of the people in the village ever raised their voices.

They refused to use things bought in the market. Mostly they used things they had made themselves. Their crops were vegetables and wild rice because there was no level land for growing white rice. The only symptom remaining from my illness was an irregular heartbeat. The laypeople who had been most concerned about my condition and had from time to time sent supplies from Chieng Mai to where I was staying in the forest—Khun Nai Chusri and Mae Kaew Run—brought me spice medicine for my dizzy spells.

While there I began to have the feeling that I would have to return to Bangkok. One night I vowed to have an answer to the question of whether or not I should go to Bangkok. I sat in meditation until dawn. I felt as if my head had been cut off, but my heart was bright and not afraid. After that my illness was virtually all gone. I returned to Bangkok and stayed at Wat Boromnivasa.

I had him practice anapanasati —keeping the breath in mind. We talked about a number of things while he sat in meditation. So what are we doing giving rise to more becoming and birth? This is becoming on a small scale— uppatika bhava —which lasts for a single mental moment. The same holds true with birth. To make the mind still so that samadhi arises for a long mental moment is birth.

Whatever comes springing up, they try to cut it down and wipe it out. To me, this seems wrong. As soon as they get hold of an egg, they crack it open and eat it. But say they know how to incubate eggs. They get ten eggs, eat five of them, and incubate the rest. And if he has more than he can eat, he can set himself up in business, selling them.

As soon as I said this, he understood and began to beam. He seemed both pleased and impressed. There seem to be a lot of surprising things that occur when I sit in meditation. After that he seemed to be interested in meditating for long periods of time—sometimes two hours at a stretch. From then on I never had to give him any more long talks.

As for me, I was pleased. As I spent the rains there with the Somdet, my mind was at ease as far as having to explain things to him was concerned. He then informed the senior monks in the temple of his intention, and this was how the meditation-training sessions at Uruphong Hall came about. The first year, , a number of laypeople, monks, and novices from other temples came and joined in the sessions.

Thao Satyanurak came to stay at Nekkhamma House, the home for nuns at the temple, and practiced meditation with good results. Her mind gave rise to such unusual realizations that she decided to stay on at Wat Boromnivasa until her death. At the end of the rainy season I took leave of the Somdet to go out wandering in the provinces. His illness by that time had abated somewhat.

That night I went to sit in meditation in the ordination hall, and there was another event: I saw relics of the Buddha come and appear. My ears are small. My mouth is small. So with this in mind, I decided to go without sleep on Visakha Puja. A little after 5 a. I spent the rains with the Somdet again. That year laypeople came out for the meditation sessions in even larger numbers than the year before.

A number of bad events, though, began to interfere because some of the monks had become envious and started looking for ways to spoil things. Whoever wants to learn the details can go ask Thao Satyanurak or the Somdet. If and when he calls you, let me know. We simply kept on discussing the Dhamma as always. Phra Khru Dhammasaan was given a thorough grilling as a result of the letter—people believed he had written it as an attack on me.

I had no idea of what was going on. The day after the rainy season was over, MahaNarong came to see the Somdet and then came down and asked permission to copy down the information in my identification papers. The Somdet sent for me. For you to arrange a title for him will, as I see it, drive him away from me. That year was the th anniversary of the founding of Wat Supatwanaram, the first Dhammayut monastery in the Northeast.

I said I would present them all to him. When he said this, I decided to go help in the celebration as a token of my appreciation for his kindness. The celebration at Wat Supat turned out to be a major event. The government donated a large sum of money to help and announced that all those in Bangkok who were going in an official capacity would leave the city together on March One day, when I was in Lopburi, I learned that there had been a change in plans so I hurried down to Bangkok.

When I arrived, the Somdet called for me. I went to see him. Now the plans have fallen through. None of the senior monks, it turned out, were going. The problem was caused by Nai Chao. If anyone comes, take the relics and display them in the main hall. That night I placed three relics, larger than lettuce seeds and the color of pearls, on a glass tray and took them to display in Uruphong Hall.

This person and that person wanted to look because they had never seen any relics before. When I opened the cotton wool and they saw the three relics, this person poked at them, that person picked them up—and so two of them disappeared, leaving only one. The next day I took the express train to Ubon along with a group of others, 14 in all.

Reaching Ubon, we went to help in the anniversary celebration, which included the laying of the cornerstone for the Mahathera building to be constructed there in Wat Supat. One night there was an incident at a little after 10 p. A group of about 50 of us were sitting in meditation in the ordination hall when a light appeared, flashing on and off like a fluorescent bulb.

We all opened our eyes and two or three people found relics in front of them. As it got later, more and more relics appeared.