"Bhikkhus, when one dhamma is developed and cultivated it leads to a great sense of urgency, to great benefit, to great safety from bondage, to great mindfulness and full awareness, to obtainment of knowledge and insight, to a pleasant abiding here and now, to realization of the fruit of true knowledge and deliverance. What is that one dhamma? It is mindfulness occupied with the body."

— A. I. 43, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

1. One conquers aversion and delight,
2. And fear and dread as well.
3. Besides, one can stand cold and heat, hunger and thirst, troublesome things in the world, harsh words and painful feelings.
4. One obtains all four jhanas,
5. And supernormal faculties,
6. The heavenly ear element (clairaudience),
7. Knowledge of others' minds,
8. And of all one's past lives,
9. And sees besides, how beings appear and pass away according to their kamma.
10. Finally one enters upon the two deliverances (of the heart and by wisdom), and all taints (asava) are abolished.

— M. 119, Mindfulness of the Body

"When anyone has developed and repeatedly practiced mindfulness of the body, he has included whatever wholesome dhammas (mental states) there are that partake of true knowledge (vijja).

"Just as anyone who extends his mind over the great ocean has included whatever streams there are that flow into the ocean, so too, when anyone has developed and repeatedly practiced mindfulness of the body, he has included whatever wholesome dhammas there are that partake of true knowledge."

— M. 119, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli (revised)

"This my body consists of the four great elements, is procreated by a mother and father, is built up out of boiled rice and bread, is of the nature of impermanence, of being worn and rubbed away, of dissolution and disintegration, and this my consciousness has that for its support and is bound up with it."

— M. 77, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

"Now this body that has material form consists of the four great elements, it is procreated by a mother and father, and built up out of boiled rice and bread, it has the nature of impermanence, of being worn and rubbed away, of dissolution and disintegration. It must be regarded —

• as impermanent — as (liable to) suffering,
• as a disease — as a cancer,
• as a dart — as a calamity,
• as an affliction — as alien,
• as a falling to pieces — as void,
• as without a self.

"When a man regards it thus, he abandons his desire for the body, affection for the body, and his habit of treating the body as a basis for his inferences."1

— M. 74, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

You live by "following the body"? Eating when it's hungry, resting when it's tired, dressing when necessary, urinating, defecating, going to work to get money — all for what? For this body? Then what about the time when its end comes? What was it all for?

How much time do you spend on your body —

• to feed it — to clothe it,
• to cleanse it — to wash it,
• to beautify it — to relax it,
• to rest it?

How much time do you spend on your mind?

Three things we never forget to do for the body:

• wash it,
• feed it,
• medicate it.

Three things we usually forget to do with the mind:

• wash it (with the purity of calm meditation),
• feed it (with good Dhamma),
• medicate it (mindfully ridding ourselves of the diseases of greed, aversion and delusion, with the supreme medicine of Dhamma).

The mind gets dirty and needs washing, it becomes hungry and needs nutriment, and it is most of the time diseased and needs curing.

Why are we so forgetful of our own good?

"And what is gratification in the case of form (body)?

"Suppose there were a girl of warrior-noble cast or brahmin caste or householder stock, in her fifteenth or sixteenth year, neither too tall nor too short, neither too thin nor too fat, neither too dark nor too fair: is her beauty and loveliness then at its height?"

"Yes, venerable sir."

"Now the pleasure and joy that arise in dependence on that beauty and loveliness are the gratification in the case of form.

"And what is danger in the case of form?

"Later on one might see that same woman here at eighty, ninety or a hundred years, aged, as crooked as a roof, doubled up, tottering with the aid of sticks, frail, her youth gone, her teeth broken, grey haired, scanty-haired, bald, wrinkled, with limbs all blotchy: how do you conceive this, bhikkhus, has her former beauty and loveliness vanished and the danger become evident?"

"Yes, venerable sir."

"Bhikkhus, this is the danger in the case of form."

— M. 13, "The Mass of Suffering," trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

N.B. Women reading this should change the sex of the person in the above.

"Come, bhikkhus, abide contemplating ugliness in the body, perceiving repulsiveness in nutriment, perceiving disenchantment with all the world, contemplating impermanence in all formations."

— M. 50, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

Directly counter goes this to the world's way which is: to see beauty in the body or at any rate disguise the ugliness, to delight in food both physical and mental, to be enchanted with (the beauty of) the world (and forget the other side), and to regard mental formations as a basis for a permanent self or soul.

Rohitassa, a deva:

"Lord, the world's end where one is neither born nor ages nor dies, nor passes away nor reappears: is it possible to know or see or reach that by traveling there?"

The Buddha:

"Friend, that there is a world's end where one is neither born nor ages nor dies, nor passes away nor reappears, which is to be known or seen or reached by traveling there — that I do not say. Yet I do not say that there is ending of suffering without reaching the world's end. Rather it is in this fathom-long carcass with its perceptions and its mind that I describe the world, the origin of the world, the cessation of the world, and the way leading to the cessation of the world."

— S. II. 36, A. IV. 46, trans, Ven. Ñanamoli

The current rash of so much porn has the effects we see, increased and open expression of greed and lust. The meditation techniques which can cure these diseases are all the different aspects of mindfulness concerned with the body — for they cut the body down to size, without harming it, while emphasizing the importance of the mind.

Contemplation of the body's unattractiveness is not a popular meditation. People are happy to try to rid themselves of anger and hatred because they are painful. This can be done by the well-known meditations developing loving-kindness (metta). But meditating upon the nature of this body dulls the appetites rooted in greed — and greed is often associated with pleasure. And isn't pleasure what this life's all about?

Safely bagged by Mara — Death and Lord of the sensual realm!

When the body is not washed it attracts flies and vermin which feed on it. When the mind is not purified but is full of lust, hate and delusion what does it attract...?

The body is so near, yet like an unexplored continent. Large areas in it are a blank. While this is so, greed, lust and craving dwell safely in the jungles of ignorance.

People's attitudes to the body are liable to swing from the extreme of indulging the desires connected with the body, to the other extreme of mortifying it.

The Middle Way of mindfulness regarding the body is unknown to them.

When desires connected with bodily pleasures can be indulged, which means that greed rules the mind, aversion only arises if one's aims are thwarted; but when a person has undertaken some method of self-discipline not guided by wisdom (pañña), then suppressed desires find their outlet not only by aversion but also by bodily mortification. As though the body was responsible! So, having no wisdom, people subject their bodies to "disciplines" and rigors of various kinds in order, they think, to control strong desires. Then aversion, that is self-hatred in a more or less subtle form, reigns supreme and sufferings are increased. Desires can never be understood in this way, only suppressed. The only way to understand desires is through mindfulness, and the various exercises on mindfulness of the body are for this purpose.

There are very few beings who do not suffer from lust, in this world of sensuality at any rate. It is a great sickness of the mind, an epidemic with no beginning, and no end in sight for most beings. Wise men want to be cured of this disease and the Buddha offers for this the medicine of contemplating the unattractive in one's own body. One should not try to see the ugly or foul in others. This could turn to hatred — even if not, it could result in a "sour grapes" attitude to them. Towards others maintain one of the Divine Abidings: loving-kindness, compassion, joy-with-others, or equanimity, but towards one's own selfish desires for pleasure develop the seeing of unattractiveness.

True love, which is cool, unattached metta, and compassion for others' sorrows, do not grow when people are bound up with greed and sensuality.

When lust arises in the mind, which leads to more defilements, more burning desires in future, just take a look at this butcher's shop of a body. Anything attractive about red meat? Are white bones specially lovable? Or coiled "innards" desirable? Lust soon disappears when the body is regarded in this way. Repeating this practice, lust becomes weaker and arises less often.

"...no one who searches earnestly throughout the whole of this fathom-long carcass, starting from the soles of the feet upwards, starting from the top of the hair downwards, and starting from the skin all round, ever sees even the minutest atom of pureness in it such as a pearl or a crystal or a beryl or aloes or sandalwood or saffron or camphor or talcum powder, etc; on the contrary, he sees nothing but various very malodorous offensive drab-looking sorts of impurity consisting of head-hair, body-hairs, and the rest."

— M.R., iii, 4, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

The practice of this mindfulness attending to the body can begin by reciting this passage:

— M. 10, Satipatthana Sutta, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

There is no unhealthy self-disgust or aversion here, just seeing what is unattractive as it really is. But in later times some teachers (such as Shantideva in his Bodhicaryavatara)3 went to extremes in this matter. One must suspect in such a case not the proper dispassion with the body but rather perverted passion. Lust can switch to aversion and hatred quickly.

It is a remarkable thing that the first five parts on this list — the "person" we see — are all dead! Hair of the head and body lives only at its roots, we see dead hair. Nails that we see are dead nails, the quick is painful and hidden. The teeth, all that is visible, are dead, and their tender living roots we only experience painfully from time to time. Outer skin is dead — horrible if it was not, for it is sensitive enough already. The living skin below is more painful.

So when we get excited about a visual form — someone else's body — we are stimulated by impressions of what has died already. Strange to be excited by what is dead on the outside and dying within! However, the real lure is in our own minds: the thoughts of lust that arise there and embellish the corpse before us.

Apart from this, live bodies and dead ones differ only in degree. Lust fastens only on the body. But loving-kindness and compassion are concerned with the well-being of peoples' minds and bodies.

When we see a "person," we see just the first five of the 32 parts: head-hair, body-hair, nail, teeth and skin. When head-hair is of certain colors and forms, body-hair present or absent according to sex and race, nails cut and cleaned, teeth white, polished and with none missing, and skin, well washed and unblemished by scars or wrinkles and covering flesh of certain shapes — then with all these conditions fulfilled, desire arises!

What about grey or white hair on the head or body — thin and straggly, nails cracked, dirty and broken, teeth yellow or mostly missing and skin wrinkled and blotchy? Who gets excited?

Staring at corpses as recommended by commentary-writer Buddhaghosa in his Path of Purification is not really to the point. One has inwardly to stare at this corpse to accomplish anything.

And he gets much too complicated in his descriptions of how to do the actual practice, which does not require a lot of categories and analysis, or things to be learnt by heart. This applies to both the meditation of corpses and to the 32 parts of the body.

In the latter case, just a few parts are needed for repetition and inspection, and even one will be sufficient if one's mind wanders. Simplicity and directness cut out the clutter of thoughts — and clearing those out is the way to get into meditation.

"Again, a bhikkhu judges this same body as though he were looking at bodily remains thrown on a charnel ground, bones without sinews scattered in all directions: here a hand bone, there a foot bone, there a shin bone, there a thigh bone, there a hip bone, there a back bone, there a rib bone, there a breast bone, there an arm bone, there a shoulder bone, there a neck bone, there a jaw bone, there a tooth bone, there the skull.

"This body too is of such a nature, it will be like that, it is not exempt from that!

"In this way he abides contemplating the body as a body in himself, or he abides contemplating the body as a body externally, or he abides contemplating the body as a body in himself and externally. Or else he abides contemplating in the body its arising factors, or he abides contemplating in the body its vanishing factors, or he abides contemplating in the body its arising and vanishing factors.

"Or else, mindfulness that 'There is a body' is simply established in him to the extent of bare knowledge and remembrance (of it), while he abides independent, not clinging to anything in the world."

— from M. 10, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

When the mind is calm, look into this bony frame to see its emptiness, how the wind blows through it. Who owns these bones?

It seems that as the Elder (Maha-tissa) was on his way from Cetiyapabbata to Anuradhapura for alms, a certain daughter-in-law of a clan, who had quarreled with her husband and had set out early from Anuradhapura all dressed up and tricked out like a celestial nymph to go to her relatives' home, saw him on the road, and being low-minded, she laughed a loud laugh. (Wondering) "What is that?", the Elder looked up and finding in the bones of her teeth the perception of foulness, he attained arahatship. But her husband who was going after her saw the Elder and asked "Venerable sir, did you by any chance see a woman?" The Elder told him:

"Whether it was a man or a woman
That went by I noticed not;
But only that on this high road
There goes a group of bones."

— The Path of Purification, I, 55

A mound of about five feet high of bones, skulls, long bones and vertebrae all mixed up. No knowing where one person's bones ended and another's began. Over them all the hot sun beat down and bleached them, the rains lashed down and washed them; these remains of unknown poor people waiting to be cremated in a Chinese graveyard in Bangkok. A rare and stirring sight in these days of "window-dressing."

Suppose, that during meditation, this bony frame appeared to one's mind's eye but when one opened the eyes at the meditation's end, the bones of the hand, or other parts, were still visible without their covering of "decent" flesh — how upsetting for oneself — and others if they too could see it. How very odd to be so fearful of a part of one's "own" body!

Once there was a man who had charge of a hothouse in which a great variety of tropical water-lilies and gourds were growing. On this particular afternoon it was cold and raining outside, so that a continuous stream of visitors entered to warm themselves and admire the exotic plants. Having sprayed the plants over with water from a hose the man bent down to turn off the tap. When he raised his eyes he saw, not people, but a procession of skeletons. The vision lasted a moment and was gone. An indication of what sort of meditation he should practice, perhaps?

"Bhikkhus, the bones of a single person journeying on, wandering on for an eon, would make a cairn, a pile, a mound as great as Mount Vepulla, were there a collector of those bones and if the collection were not destroyed."

— Itivuttaka 17

"Just as when a space is enclosed by timber and creepers, grass and clay, there comes to be the term 'house,' so too, when a space is enclosed by bones and sinews, flesh and skin, there comes to be the term 'form'."

— M. 28, para 36, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

Monks, it is just like an ulcer that had been growing for many years, having nine gaping wounds, nine lesions, and whatever discharged and oozed out of it would be foul and stinking, it would be loathsome.

"Ulcer," monks, is a name for this body consisting of the four great elements, procreated by mother and father, and built up out of rice and bread. It is subject to impermanence, to breaking up and wearing away, to dissolution and to disintegration, having nine gaping wounds, nine lesions. Whatever discharges and oozes out of it is foul and stinks, it is loathsome.

Therefore, monks, turn away from5 this body.

— A. IX, 15

"A man's body is structurally simply a hollow ring. A hollow ring elongated into a hollow cylinder, with the inner portion further lengthened and coiled; and above the upper orifice there bulges a head and between the upper and lower orifices the limbs stick out. The world passes in small portions through the ring, helped in by spoon and gulping, and out by pressure and paper."

— A Thinker's Notebook" by Ven. Ñanamoli, 240, March '56

A woman, infatuated, came to a bhikkhu and stripped off her clothes. The bhikkhu, without batting an eyelid, said —

"Now take off your skin."

"Beauty is skin-deep" — how true this saying is. Who wants a beautiful body without skin? How fragile is skin, but how strong is lust!

Another view of the body:

"A carcass daubed with bits of meat
Nine times a hundred when complete,
Where swarming clans of worms compete
To share the rotting midden for their seat."

On this subject we have also:

"As to sharing the body with many: This body is shared by many. Firstly, it is shared by the eighty families of worms (parasites). There too, creatures live in dependence on the outer skin, on the inner skin, on the flesh, on the sinews, on the bones, on the marrow, feeding on these things. And there they are born, grow old and die, evacuate and make water; and the body is their maternity home, their hospital, their charnel ground, their privy and their urinal. The body can also be brought to death with the upsetting of these worms. And just as it is shared with the eighty families of worms, so too it is shared by the several hundred internal diseases, as well as by such external causes of death as snakes, scorpions and what not."

— The Path of Purification, Chapter VII, 25

His family tried to snare him, with the bait of his former wives and good food, into returning to the household life, at which he said:

"Behold a puppet here pranked out,
A body built up out of sores,
Sick, and much object for concern,
Where no stability abides.
Behold a figure here pranked out
With jewelry and earrings too,
A skeleton wrapped up in skin,
Made creditable by its clothes.
Its feet adorned with henna dye
And powder smeared upon its face,
It may beguile a fool, but not
A seeker of the Further Shore.
Its hair is dressed in eightfold plaits
And unguent smeared upon its eyes.
It may beguile a fool, but not
A seeker of the Further Shore.
A filthy body decked without
Like a new-painted unguent pot,
It may beguile a fool, but not
A seeker of the Further Shore.
The deer-hunter sets well the snare
But the deer springs not the trap;
We eat the bait, and we depart,
Leaving the hunters to lament."

The vast array of "beauty products," for both male and female, should make people think. If it is so necessary to beautify the body what is it really like?

The body is like a leaky barrel, oozing all the time. But a barrel can be bunged up, while the body must continue oozing its whole life.

A drum has four characteristics — it is round in section, covered by hide, is beaten frequently, and emits sound. In the same way the body has four characteristics: it is round in section or fairly much so, it also is covered by hide, it is beaten by the many sorts of physical and mental dukkha, and emits sound — that is, the sounds indicating pleasure which is unreliable and impermanent, and those which accompany sufferings such as weeping and lamentation. And who is the beater? His name is Craving.

The Buddha said:

"Birth is dukkha,13 disease is dukkha, decay is dukkha, death is dukkha" — all this is dukkha related to this body. It is interesting that each sort of dukkha has special institutions in Western society to screen it off from the generality of people, who are "in between" these events so to speak. Birth takes place in maternity wards and nursing homes. Other parts of the same hospital take care of "disease." For "decay" we have old peoples' homes and the geriatric wards, while "death" may occur in all such places, the corpse then going on to the undertakers' chapels, and to religious rites. Things hidden away are unhealthy. Look at the dukkha! Look at it!

When one considers how many things afflict this body, it is a wonder that it keeps going so well and for so long!

Many, many kinds of dukkha!

There is so much dukkha connected with this body, which people never notice due to shifting around from one position to another. When tired of walking or standing, they sit down; when tired of sitting, they stand or lie down; when they have enough of lying down, they get up. Walking an unexpectedly long distance is dukkha. Standing long in queue is dukkha. Sitting in even a comfortable chair for hours is dukkha. Lying in a hospital bed for days or weeks is dukkha. By changing position we evade the dukkha, or make it less obvious. But when someone starts to meditate, spending hours on walking meditation, hours on sitting meditation — then this bodily dukkha can be felt and investigated.

"The uninstructed ordinary person, bhikkhu, has a saying: 'There is a bottomless abyss in the great ocean.' But the uninstructed ordinary person speaks of what does not exist, of what cannot be found, that is that there is a bottomless abyss in the great ocean. A designation for painful bodily feeling, bhikkhus, is this term 'bottomless abyss.' When an uninstructed ordinary person experiences painful bodily feeling, he grieves, is afflicted laments, beats his breast, cries out loud and becomes distraught. So it is said, bhikkhus, the uninstructed ordinary person has not emerged from the bottomless abyss, has not obtained a firm foothold.

"But, bhikkhus, when an instructed Noble Disciple experiences painful bodily feeling he does not grieve, is not afflicted, does not lament, nor beat his breast, nor cry out loud, nor become distraught. So it is said, bhikkhus, the instructed Noble Disciple has emerged from the bottomless abyss and has obtained a firm foothold."

— S. XXXVI, 4, trans. Ven. Nyanaponika

"Why does one say 'form' (rupa)? It is deformed (ruppati), that is why it is called 'form.' Deformed by what? By cold and heat and hunger and thirst, by contact with mosquitoes, flies, wind, sunburn, and creeping things."

— S. XII, 79, trans. Ven. Ñanamoli

One could play similar word games in English: Why is it called a body? Because it is one's abode, therefore it is a body; or again because it bodes no good, therefore it is a body — though this is rather pessimistic perhaps. To balance up one could etymologize thus: It is called a body since depending on it bodhi is discovered.

Look at it like this:

There's a wardrobe with lots of clothes to cover your body. Are they all needed? (There are some clothes-less poor in this world.)

There is a pantry (a refrigerator and a freezer?), stacked with food. Is all that variety and quantity needed? (There are people starving in this world.)

There's the house one lives in with its furnishings. Is it too large or too luxurious? (There are house-less people in this world.)

There's that medicine chest of pills and creams and whatnot. Can you use them all? Are they all needed? (How many people have no medicine in this world?)

Then read these verses:

The food and drink so greatly prized —
The crisp to chew, the soft to suck —
Go in all by a single door,
But by nine doors come oozing out.
The food and drink so greatly prized —
The crisp to chew, the soft to suck —
Men like to eat in company,
But to excrete in secrecy.
The food and drink so greatly prized —
The crisp to chew, the soft to suck —
These a man eats with high delight,
And then excretes in dumb disgust.
The food and drink so greatly prized —
The crisp to chew, the soft to suck —
A single night will be enough
To bring them to putridity.

(Remember while eating!)

Food arranged nicely on plates is attractive to the eyes and nose. "It looks good!" — "It smells goods!" — people say. When it reaches the mouth it is attractive to the tongue and touch. They say "How good it tastes!" or "Real crunchy!" (crackly, creamy, or whatever). But just spit it out — attractive to the eyes now or not? Greed can only arise if conditions are right for it. And how attractive is the same food spewed up after a few hours in the belly? It becomes even less desirable when after a day or two its remains are expelled. Three stages for contemplation!

As the meditator finds out, without food the body becomes weak, with much food it is heavy and disturbed: two kinds of dukkha. The only way is to know moderation in food, neither altogether abstaining, which can easily become the extreme of self-mortification; nor overeating, which is just the other extreme of sensual pleasure.

At one time the Lord was staying at Ayojjhaya on the bank of the river Ganges. There the Lord addressed the bhikkhus as follows: "Suppose, bhikkhus, a large fleck of foam were floating on this river Ganges and a clear-sighted man were to see it, observe it and properly examine it. Having done this it would appear to him to be empty, insubstantial, without essence — for what essence could there be in a fleck of foam?

"In the same way, bhikkhus, whatever body, past, future, or present, in oneself or external, gross or subtle, inferior or superior, far or near, that a bhikkhu sees, observes and properly examines... It would appear to him to be empty, insubstantial, without essence — for what essence could there be in a body?..."

The Kinsman of the Sun made clear:

— from S. XXII, 95

B. Whose is that body?

R. It's mine, of course!

B. Better be careful with that "of course." Anyway, how do you know it's your body?

R. Well, I see it — every day for years.

B. So it's yours because you see it?

R. Yes. Besides, I feel it's mine.

B. O.K. So that's another reason why it belongs to you. You feel it — right?

R. Sure! It feels like me.

B. Any other evidence that it's yours? What about the other senses?

R. I suppose you could say that I hear it too. My guts gurgle and my feet thump the deck. Of course it smells like me too. Taste? Oh I don't think that helps identify it very much. So that's all the senses, and they tell me that it is mine.

B. You've left out the most important sense — the mind. That tells you "this is my body" all the time...

R. Yes, if you want to call mind a sense. Yes, it identifies what is mine and what is not.

B. Well, I don't think it is so easy to tell what is one's own and what is not.

R. Oh, that's easy. I have power over what is mine — like my own bank-account. I can do what I like with it.

B. I see that you have a bandaged finger. Show me how much power you have over it by healing it instantly!

R. Can't do that, you know. It's not natural!

B. Well now, what is natural? And does power over a thing signify ownership? For instance, that bit of dead wood over there. Is it myself?

R. Oh, come on... of course not!

B. But it's quite natural, and one can do nothing about making it live again. When it lived, that life was conditioned by many factors, now it's dead because of those factors' change. Yet you say "my body"!

T. It is mine! It has belonged to me since I was born!

B. Righto! Then "your" body, which you can't heal — at least you know when it is going to die?

R. No... (faltering) I've no idea... but...

B. But it's your body, and you can't cure it, can't stop it getting old, can't stop it dying, you don't even know when that body's going to die. But still it's your body. How much yours?

(Silence)

B. And who is the owner anyway?

(Silence)

"This body, bhikkhus, is not yours nor is it others'. It should be seen as produced by past kamma, volitions, and feelings. Regarding this, the learned noble disciple thoroughly and systematically attends to dependent origination: This being, that is; from the arising of this, that arises; this not being, that is not; from the cessation of this, that ceases. That is to say: Unknowing conditions kamma-formations..."

— S. II. 37

The brain proclaimed: "I'm the boss here. Get up instantly, lazy bones!"

Groans from the bones: "I'm broken! I'm smashed! Who are you ordering around anyway? Yeah, who is he? Garn! We boss the lot, unless we are whole the contraption can't stand!"

Outcry from the tendons: "You bones'll stand up by yourselves, will yer? Won't do without us! Just fall to bits, a right skelington!"

A howl from the heart: "What are you all quarreling about? No one gets anywhere without me, Old Brain least of all!"

A grunt from the guts: "Now don't you get superior, heart! Where you goin-a-be without us workers sending you food?"

Clamor from the kidneys: "Fine mess you'll be in without us!"

Loud laugh from the lungs: " 'Ere, wotcha gonna do without us twin windbags? Won't get very far, will yer?"

Shriek from the skin: "Shudup the lot of you! I wrap you all up so that you don't look like a butcher's shop!"

And so the debate went on but no master could be found.

We take a bag to go shopping, and it gets filled up with what we want, if we pay the price.

In the same way this skin bag gets filled up, according to our desires. And we pay the price: old age and death.

The Buddha:

— From the Dhammapada commentary story of the Weavers' daughter

"As soon as evening comes, or when the night vanishes and day is breaking, a bhikkhu reflects in this way: "Truly there are many possibilities for me to die — I may be bitten by a snake, or stung by scorpion or centipede — and thereby lose my life. But this would be an obstacle for me. Or I may stumble and fall down, or food eaten may not agree with me. Or bile, phlegm and piercing bodily "winds" may upset me — and thereby I may lose my life. Then men or ghosts may attack me — and thereby I may lose my life. But this would be an obstacle for me.' Then the bhikkhu should consider thus: 'Are there still found in me unsubdued evil unwholesome factors which, if I should die this day or night, might lead me to dukkha?' Now, if he understands that this is the case, he should use his utmost resolution, energy, effort, endeavor, steadfastness, attentiveness, and clear-mindedness to overcome these evil unwholesome factors."

— A. VIII. 74, trans. after Ven. Nyanatiloka in Buddhist Dictionary, P.98

"Short indeed is this life of men, limited, fleeting, full of woe and torment; it is just like a dewdrop that vanishes as soon as the sun rises; like a water-bubble; like a line drawn on water; like a torrent dragging everything along and never standing still; like cattle for slaughter that every moment look death in the face."

— A. VII. 70, condensed trans. after Ven. Nyanatiloka in Buddhist Dictionary, p.99

If "I" am dying when this Bag of Bones packs up, then the pain is terrible indeed; but if it's just this bag of bones packing up.........then?

A. What's going to die?

B. I am going to die!

A. Nonsense!

B. What do you mean?

A. The body is going to die. It's only you dying if you identify the body as yourself.

B. That's a good thought. Then I am not going to die. I shall live for ever!

A. Can do, if that's what you want! But think of the sufferings, born and dying, again and again.

B. How do I get out of it?

A. Just as you don't identify with the body, so you try not identifying with the mind.

B. Wow! How come! Impossible! I don't identify with my mind. There's only one me.

A. Suppose you see no me, suppose there is just emptiness, and no me perceiving it, what then?

B. Oh!

Interesting that religions (all of them) concern themselves so much with the dead bodies. Ceremonies of various sorts are all conducted round the lifeless lumps of decaying flesh. Yet each religion is concerned really with whatever is thought of as continuing. It shows that attachment to the body as the person' is very strong.

And in English we talk of "the dead" as opposed to "the living." But for a Buddhist there are no dead people, only decaying bodies. Paradoxically, a person, while not rid of the concept of personality, never dies.

Villagers in Buddhist countries are often better schooled in the body and its end than are educated Westerners. The former have plenty of chances to go to the local temple, or to see the nearest meditation teacher. And what do they hear? Again and again they hear the sound of ANICCA, DUKKHA, ANATTA19 of all parts of the human being, mind and body. By hearing frequently it sinks in, so that even if people never penetrate these Three Marks of Existence in themselves, at least they have an attitude of accepting them to some extent. It helps with decay, disease, and death. And they see friends and kin cremated, not in a posh chapel with soft music, solemn colors and concealed oven, but on top of a pile of logs in the forest. That's the body burning — there's that smell of meat...and this body too will go the same way.

These things are good to see. They are healthy, wholesome. There is no false solemnity, things are just the way they are. Undisguised.

People in Buddhist lands who have so often heard teaching about ANICCA, impermanence, are more ready to accept the common end than a great many Westerners. Old age, disease and death are better accepted by Buddhists as just as natural a part of life as birth. One does not bewail the birth of a child — though painful enough for both mother and child — so why bewail the naturally succeeding events? Buddhists who know the Dhamma well talk naturally and calmly about their old age and death as they have contemplated as ANICCA everything in this (and any other) world.

There is nothing like living in a little hut in the tropical forest to make one realize how vulnerable this body is to all sorts of attack. How very small creatures can make life difficult if not precarious for this body. A city-dweller misses most of this and may easily get a false sense of security. (All those neat little suburban houses in regular rows...)

Another thing which life in the wilds makes really necessary is mindfulness. Mindfulness where one puts one's feet, specially in the dark. And then one cannot get on without loving-kindness too, since all sorts of other beings are so near to oneself, near to this body which one fears for. Loving-kindness rids one of such fears and hatreds.

We have so many fears — all things out there — ghosts, darkness, unknown people, loneliness, and so on. The really fearful things, this mind-and-body's precarious state, we never see.

The body has a side which most of us don't want to see and know. We wish to hush up its dirt, stinks, belches and farts, to disregard and overlook them. Yet finally when laid low and near to death, these stenches and filths can be disguised no longer.

It is a salutary lesson, if one gets the chance, to go to an autopsy and watch the doctors and nurses pulling a body to pieces. One's eyes are not prepared for this sight even if one has watched a butcher chopping up meat. And one's nose can well be assaulted too by the overpowering stench of decay if the corpse is just a few days old. To see this is to experience for oneself some Dhamma: how the body is just conditioned and decaying bits and pieces. "As this body is, so that body was; as that body is, so this body will be."

Lists like the following ten stages of the body's decay are often illustrated in traditional Buddhist art, in ancient books and on temple walls, as often seen in Thailand. These are like special prescriptions for the disease of lust:

• a bloated corpse (cures attachment to shapeliness)
• a discolored corpse (cures attachment to color and complexion)
• a festering corpse (cures attachment to bodily smell and fine perfumes)
• a gnawn-by-animals corpse (cures attachment to greed for fleshy protuberances)
• a scattered corpse (cures attachment to gracefulness of limbs)
• a bleeding corpse (cures attachment to decoration of the body with ornaments)
• a worm-infested corpse (cures attachment to body as one's own)
• a skeleton held together by sinews (cures attachment to fine bone structure)
• scattered bones (cures attachment to body as "one thing")
• rotting and powdered bones (cures attachment to the body as permanent)

Spiritual objector:

"All this pondering over corpses and looking into the body's parts is just morbid. One should look at the body as a pure temple of the spirit."

Practical Upasaka:20

"It goes against the grain to gaze at the bits and pieces in this body and see that they have nothing attractive about them. But this way lies Liberation. To glorify the body is to be bound by craving for it."

Doctor:

I cannot understand you when you say that the body is unbeautiful; to me it is such a wonderful machine!

Bhikkhu:

The trouble with that view of the "wonderfulness of the body" is that it is near delight (nandi) and delighting in the body is another name for craving, the root of dukkha. Seeing the body's unattractiveness is opposed to craving.

"You're wrong, man, sex is just natural, like breathing — just something you've got to do. Just like eating. It's a beautiful natural function!"

"Not true! Your comparisons are not apt."

"How come? You mean it's not natural?"

"Yes, sex is natural for people with desire, that means sex-desire or lust, in their hearts. But lust is a hindrance to the development of mental-emotional purity. But your comparisons to breathing and eating don't stand examination. Breathing is an automatic body function. No kamma, good or bad, is made because no intention is needed to decide to breathe!

"Eating is different because, though necessary for the body's life, it is connected with intention, so kamma is made. When greed for food is present, bad kamma is made which will fruit as suffering. But when food is eaten mindfully and just to keep the body going, then good kamma is made — of mindful reflection.

"Sex is different from both these. No sex takes place without desire or lust: this is among the unwholesome mental factors — it can never be karmically wholesome — so unwholesome kamma is made which has the nature to limit the mind to sensual things."

"That's painting sex too black!"

"No, that's being realistic. Of course, states of mind will vary while one has sex — more or less lust and more or less of loving-kindness. More lust (as when sex is commercial) means more bad kamma. More loving-kindness, as between two people deeply attached to each other, less bad kamma and more good kamma. In the latter case it is called kamma which is dark and bright, with a dark and bright result."

M. It's all the work of Satan — this foul body. We agree with you Buddhists about that.

B. Well, the body is certainly not pleasant when examined, but we do not say that it has been created, by Satan.

M. But all matter is evil, foul, dragging the soul into darkness, as our Mani says.

B. That's not what the Buddha says, though. Matter is just earth, water, fire, and air elements which are quite neutral, neither good nor evil. They form bodies due to kamma made by beings; good or evil kammas both lead to the formation of bodies.

M. You must admit, though, that your body is a hindrance to the attainment of spiritual states. You have to feed it and rest it, dose it with medicine when it gets sick. Because of its wretchedness the soul is weighed down.

B. No, I do not admit that. The body is the basis and vehicle for practice so one should take care of it without pampering it. Though it has to eat, sleep, excrete, and it gets sick too, at these times we should be mindful, which is possible at all times when not asleep. Even the difficulties of the body can be used in Dhamma-practice. And what is this about a soul being weighed down?

M. Well, that is the pure aspirations, the pure thoughts, the still states of contemplation — that is the beginning of discovering the soul.

B. Oh, then the impure aspirations, thoughts and confused states of mind must be not soul! You should investigate all mental states, pure and impure, calm and distracted, and find out whether any of them are substantial or permanent. What would you find, do you think?

M. All right, they're changing. But behind them all is the pure tranquil soul, eternally unchanging.

B. But have you experienced this or are you just telling me some dogma or belief?

M. Yes, I think I have experienced it. Then one is free from the trammels of this body.

B. Really you need to examine all mental states, as I mentioned before, and the body too, in the same light. They're all Anicca, Dukkha, Anatta...

M. What...?

B. Sorry! I get so used to using those words that they have slipped off my tongue, unmindfully I am afraid! They mean impermanent, unsatisfactory, and no self. When you look at them like this you neither love the soul nor hate the body. That is, put in a Buddhist way, you don't cling to pure tranquility and identify it as your soul or self, neither do you reject this body. Don't lay the blame on this poor old body! It's not to blame.

M. But Mani says that it is.

B. Well then, I shall ask you a question. What makes decisions and choices, is it the body or the mind?

M. The mind decides, of course.

B. Then how can the body be blamed? It is not evil, nor is matter darkness. Poor old body just gets dragged along by the decisions the mind makes.

M. But you Buddhists practice contemplation of the body as foul. I have read about it.

B. Yes, but that does not mean it is evil. That kind of meditation is just to break up the attachment to the beauty of bodies. It is the attachment in one's own mind, not any Satan or evil creator, that is responsible for keeping the mind tied down to sensual pleasures. Look inside for the evil creator — his name is attachment, greed, desire, lust — and he is put out of business by contemplating the unattractive. The good creator is in there too, the mind that creates pure mental states, the experience of jhana and so on. But all this creating keeps one in the round of rebirth, you know!

A. Hey, man! Why you cut your hair and beard? Hair's natural to have but you monks cut it off. We should keep it; it's natural, it's beautiful.

Bhikkhu: It's cut off for two reasons. First, it decorates this body. You people like decoration. That's what lay life is all about. But bhikkhus like the body plain, without distractions, so that they can see what it's really like.

A. Well, what's it really like?

B. If you like it as it is, "naturally," you should try not washing, not brushing the teeth or cleaning the nails, not combing the hair — and so on. Body and its parts are only beautiful if washing is also "natural."

A. So, you said that hair decorates, what's your other reason?

B. It's a disguise, that beard and moustache — it's something to hide behind, a mask. When you have no hair on the head and face you have no mask behind which to retire. Is it natural or beautiful to hide things? Isn't it better to open up? Who solves problems by hiding them away? Shaving hair and beard is also an outer token of the shaving off of conceit and pride which has to be done steadily and carefully over years of practice.