Deep Commentary

These six verses were taught by the Buddha at Bamboo Grove Monastery in connection with the story of a young sow. One day, while the Blessed One was entering Rajagaha for alms, he saw a young sow that habitually rolled about in filth. Seeing her, the Buddha smiled, and a radiance shone from his teeth. Venerable Ananda asked why the Buddha had smiled. In response, the Buddha told Ananda the story of the sow’s past lives. He said that in the time of the Buddha Kakusandha, this sow had been a hen living near a meditation hall. Because she attentively listened to the sound of a monk reciting a meditation subject, she was reborn in a royal palace as Princess Ubbari. One day, while in the privy, she carefully observed the worms moving in the filth; her mind became calm and she entered the first jhana. After that life as a princess ended, she was reborn in a Brahmin family. Later, however, she created many unwholesome deeds, and as a result was reborn as this young sow. The Buddha said, ‘Knowing this whole situation clearly, I smiled.’ The monks walking behind Ananda heard this and were deeply moved. Having stirred their hearts, the Buddha explained the foolishness and danger of craving, and then spoke these verses. The young sow later passed through thirteen further rebirths: at times she fell into animal birth, at other times she was born as a wealthy and noble human being. In one life she became the wife of a minister. At that time, Elder Anula passed by her house, saw her, and said to the monks, ‘Friends, how remarkable! That young sow has now become the wife of Lakuntaka Atimbara, the king’s minister.’ Hearing those words, she suddenly remembered all her former lives and attained the knowledge of recollecting past births. She then left household life, became the nun Pancabalaca, and before long attained arahantship. She recounted to the assembly the whole story of her many lives in samsara. After telling it, she advised everyone: ‘May each of you cultivate mindfulness and strive diligently for liberation.’ The fourfold community was deeply moved by her story and her counsel. Later she passed into Nibbana. This is the brief account of the background story. In verse 338, the Buddha compares the cutting off of sensual craving to cutting down a tree. If one does not want the tree to sprout again, one must dig out its roots completely. If any root remains, the tree will keep sending up new shoots. The removal of craving is the same. Its root must be entirely uprooted if one hopes to end rebirth. If craving remains, even as a subtle thought of desire, one must still be reborn within the round of birth and death. Therefore the Buddha taught that one who wishes no longer to be reborn into suffering must remove craving from its very root. In verse 339, the Buddha says that each of us is swept along by thirty-six powerful streams of craving, pushing us toward unwholesome paths. The number thirty-six is symbolic, representing many currents. The scriptures often speak of eighteen elements: the six sense faculties, the six sense objects, and the six forms of consciousness. Together these are called the eighteen elements. Here, however, the Buddha speaks of thirty-six to show craving in relation to the sense faculties and sense objects. The six faculties and six objects make twelve; multiplied by the three times—past, present, and future—they become thirty-six. More broadly, when faculty, object, and consciousness come together through conditions, they generate discriminating energy that stimulates thirst and desire. Our present life is continually governed by these currents of craving. They pull us in many directions. When the eye meets visible form, the mind immediately discriminates between beautiful and ugly. If it is pleasing, desire arises; if displeasing, aversion arises. Both bring unrest and suffering. A pleasing visible object can exert a powerful attraction, drawing us after it. Many people are destroyed by attachment to sensual beauty. Here, ‘form’ refers broadly to material objects, including the charm and beauty of human beings. Many people suffer deeply, even to the point of self-destruction, because their intense longing in love is not fulfilled. When desire rises like a torrent, it is difficult for any force to restrain it; attempts to block it may provoke fierce resistance. Many families break apart and children are scattered because the demands of sensual desire and attachment are not wisely handled. Desire for sound also has harmful consequences. Sound refers to music and all kinds of pleasing tones. Many people become so absorbed in music that they forget to eat or sleep, damaging body and mind. A moving melody can stir longing and obsessive remembrance. Traditional stories even tell of ascetics who lost their meditative absorption after hearing a beautiful song. If we examine the five sensual desires—wealth, beauty, fame, food, and sleep—or the sensory objects of form, sound, smell, taste, and touch, we can see how harmful they can become. Ultimately, the sense faculties and their objects are not at fault in themselves. The fault lies in consciousness that intentionally discriminates. Because consciousness divides experience into good and bad, liking and disliking arise. This is the beginning of bondage in the painful cycle of birth and death. In verse 340, the Buddha further emphasizes the danger of craving and thirst. Human desire has no limit, spreading like a creeping vine over the ground. Desire only wants more; it never wants less. Even the wealthiest person in the land is not truly satisfied. A poor beggar longs for riches, but consider the rulers and powerful people: how vast are their ambitions? The nature of craving in both is not different; only the outward form differs. One is a poor beggar, the other a rich beggar. When people hope and seek for something, they often forget that disappointment is already hidden within hope. Where there is disappointment, there is sorrow and suffering. The more one seeks, the more one suffers. In the scriptures this is called the suffering of not obtaining what one desires, one of the great sufferings of human life. To reduce suffering, the Buddha teaches Buddhists to restrain desire. On a deeper level, they must uproot it completely. Only then can true peace and liberation be realized. In verse 341, the Buddha points out the danger faced by those heavily bound by sensual craving. Such people cling to and chase after the pleasures of the six sense objects. Even if they wish for peace, they still circle within the depths of samsara. Reflecting on the Buddha’s teaching, we see how full of contradiction our lives are. When adversity and suffering overwhelm us, we lose interest in worldly pleasures and only wish to escape the pain as soon as possible. But once the crisis passes, we forget the wish for liberation. The mind that longed for release seems to disappear, and we return to the old pattern of seeking, clinging, and indulging in sensual pleasures. We like the idea of Nibbana as peace and happiness, the extinguishing of all suffering, yet we still crave worldly pleasures. This is like a dog drowning in the middle of a river. A man was walking with his dog by a river. The dog smelled roasted meat from the opposite bank and jumped into the river to swim across. When it reached midstream, it heard its master calling and turned back, unable to abandon him. But then the smell from the far bank drifted over again, and it turned once more toward the scent. Turning back and forth, it finally became exhausted and drowned in midstream. The master’s call represents gratitude and moral duty; the fragrance represents the five sensual pleasures and the six sense objects. In the end, neither virtue was fulfilled nor pleasure enjoyed. Our minds are similarly conflicted. Finally, we drown in the river of birth and death, just as that dog drowned in the physical river. In verse 342, the Buddha uses the image of a rabbit caught in a snare to describe those who are infatuated with craving. Once a rabbit is caught in a net, even if it struggles to escape, it is not easy to get free; it will surely die in the hunter’s hands. So too, the Buddha taught that monks who seek freedom from desire must strive to keep away from craving. Otherwise, their fate is no different from that rabbit. Once the fire of craving blazes high, it can burn everything. First it burns oneself, then it spreads and burns others. Craving is truly frightening. Looking at society today, we see countless people trapped in the net of desire and attachment, or more broadly, the net of the five sensual pleasures and six sense objects. Some think bodily pleasure is the greatest happiness in the world. This view is mistaken. Bodily pleasure is fragile: joy comes briefly and suffering follows. Many people ruin themselves because of a moment’s indulgence and then endure regret and pain for the rest of their lives. They suffer themselves and also cause suffering to those close to them. Chasing sensual pleasure is like a person with a painful skin disease who seeks relief by warming the body over burning coals. There may be brief relief, but the disease remains and worsens day by day. If it is not treated at the root, the patient can hardly escape death. Likewise, if we do not remove the root of craving, we will continue to drift endlessly in the ocean of birth and death. In verse 343, the Buddha repeats and emphasizes that whoever wishes to be free from suffering must quickly remove craving. Monastics, in particular, must cut off craving more than anyone else. Otherwise, they are like a rabbit caught in a net—the net of defilements and bondage. Whether ordained or lay, a practitioner who does not abandon defilements cannot escape the painful results of karma. The Buddha urges monastics to remain aware of the suffering of birth and death and to strive urgently to eradicate craving. The story above teaches us about the power of meditation and contemplation. When the young sow was born as a hen, she merely listened attentively to a monk reciting a meditation subject, and as a result she was reborn in a royal palace as a princess. Through mindful observation of the worms, the princess’s mind became calm and she attained the first jhana. After death she was born in a Brahmin family. Unfortunately, because she later committed unwholesome deeds, she had to be reborn as a young sow. Thus, even attainment of the first jhana is not a final guarantee. If one creates unwholesome karma, one may still fall. This is the impartial law of cause and effect. Wholesome deeds bring blessings; unwholesome deeds lead to downfall. Whatever seed is planted, that same kind of plant grows. One cannot plant chili seeds and expect an orange tree. Through many rebirths she experienced both suffering and happiness, yet because she still had some merit, the young sow was once reborn as the wife of a minister. Though she lived amid wealth, luxury, power, and status, when she heard a realized elder recount her painful past lives, she awakened, renounced household life, and soon attained arahantship.