Today's Sunday Morning reading was "Don't take it personally" by Ajahn Sumedho. The reading is pasted below in full. It is available in a book called Intuitive Awareness. The book can be freely downloaded from here. If anyone has thoughts they'd wish to share on the reading please use the comment link.
Don’t Take it PersonallyWe have just three weeks left of the Vassa (rains
retreat). The words in this sentence are perceptions
of time and change, in the conditioned realm. ‘Vassa’
is a convention. The Autumn doesn’t say, “I’m
Autumn”; we call it Autumn. This is a convention that
we use for communicating our cultural attitudes or
moral agreements. Paramattha-sacca is ultimate
reality; this is where we’re getting beyond conventions.
Conventions are made, they’re made up and are
dependent on other things. Things that are considered
good in one conventional form are not considered
appropriate in another. We have various biases or
prejudices that we get from our culture and the
conventions that we have. Just living in Europe we
have the old biases of what the French are like and
the Germans, Italians and so forth.
We have cultural attitudes as a way of perceiving
things. We form these various opinions and views.
That is why it’s easy to have ethnic warfare and racial
prejudices, class snobbery and so forth, because we
never question the conventional reality that we have
adopted. We just go along with it. We hold various
views about our religion and our race and our culture
and then compare it to somebody else’s. On that level
we have ideals, say of democracy, equality and all that
but we’re still very much influenced by the
conventional realities that we’re conditioned by.
It takes quite a determined effort to get beyond your
cultural conditioning. Being American, there was a lot
that I just assumed; and I never realized how arrogant
I could be until I had to live in another culture. I never
saw how American idealism could be another blind
spot. It could be like shoving our ideas down
everybody’s throat, saying that America knows what’s
good for everybody, how they should run their
countries. When you’re brought up to think that
somehow you’re in the most advanced society, that’s
an assumption. I don’t think that I was taught this view
in any intentional way. It was assumed. It was an
underlying attitude.
It’s hard to get beyond these assumptions, these
things we pick up. We don’t even know we have these
attachments until they’re reflected in some way and
that’s why living in different cultures helps. Living in
Thailand helped me to see a lot of these things
because the culture was so different. There was the
whole attitude that came from living in a Buddhist
monastery, where the emphasis was on reflection,
mindfulness and wisdom. So that I wasn’t just
becoming a kind of ersatz Thai, “going native” as they
say, but was learning to see the subtleties of attitude
and assumptions that I was conditioned by, that may
not be all that easily seen until one finds oneself
suffering about something.
One of the problems that we have in meditation is
compulsiveness. In our society we are brought up to
be very obsessed and compulsive. There are so many
‘shoulds’. When you’re coming from ideas and ideals
the result is that there are so many ‘shoulds’ in your
vocabulary. This idealism has its beauty and it’s not
a matter of disregarding it, but of recognizing its
limitations. This feeling that there is always something
we’ve got to do, that there’s something we haven’t
done that we should be doing, that we should be
working harder than we’re working, that we should be
practising more than we’re practising, that we should
be more honest than we are, more open, more devout,
better-natured and on and on like that. All of these
are true. The ‘shoulds’ are usually right. If things were
perfect, then I would be. Everything would be just
perfect. I would be an ideal and my society would be
ideal. Amaràvatã would fit the ideal; we would all be
perfect. Then there is nothing more you should do
because you’ve already reached the top. But that’s
not the way life is.
An idea is something we create, isn’t it? You take your
ideas from what’s the best or what’s the most
beautiful, perfect, fair or just. So the Buddha is
pointing to the way life is, which is its changingness.
It doesn’t stick at the best, does it? You can’t hold
onto anything. Say for instance that you contemplate
some flowers, like roses. Sometimes you get a perfect
rose just at its peak, absolutely perfect in its form, its
colour, its fragrance, but you can’t keep it that way. It
lasts that way very briefly before it starts going the
other way and then you just want to get rid of it, throw
it out and get another one.
So with mindfulness we’re aware of this changingness,
the way things change. In terms of our own experience
in meditation, we’re aware of how things change, like
moods and feelings. When we think of how things
‘should’ be, we get back into ideas again and then
compare ourselves to ideas that we have, what good
practice is, how many hours a day one should sit in
meditation, how one should do this and how one
should do that and on and on like this. We can operate
from these ideas which are often very good ideas. But
the problem with this, even if one performs according
to all these ‘shoulds’, is that there is always
something more, always something that could be
better than this. It goes on endlessly. You never get to
the root of the problem. You just go on and on to where
there’s always this feeling that there’s something
more you should be doing. When we reach the end of
this, we just give up sometimes, thinking “I’ve had
enough of this. To hell with it. I’m just going to enjoy
life. I’ll disrobe and just go out and have a good time;
eat, drink and make merry until I die.” Because one
can only be driven so far. You can’t sustain it and you
reach a point where it doesn’t work anymore.
To listen to ‘should’ is a fair enough way to think about
something. Some people think we shouldn’t even think
‘should’! To recognize how things affect us, just notice
the feeling that there is something more that I think I
have to do. An example of this is the story about a
recurring dream that I used to have when I first went
to stay with Luang Por Chah. In 1963, I finished my
Master’s Degree in Berkeley and that was a year of
really compulsive and intense study. I couldn’t enjoy
anything because every time I went out and tried to
enjoy myself I would think, “You’ve got your exam
coming. You’ve got to pass your Master’s Degree”. I’d
go to a party and try to relax and this voice would say,
“You shouldn’t be here. You’ve got to take this exam
and you’re not ready. You’re not good enough for it”.
So that whole year, I couldn’t enjoy myself. I just kept
driving myself. After I finished my Master’s Degree I
couldn’t read a book for about six months. My mind
just wouldn’t concentrate. I went through Peace Corps
training in Hawaii after that and they wanted me to
read all these things and I couldn’t read them. I
couldn’t even read the instructions. I was overloaded.
But that left a kind of intensity; the way I would
approach anything would be either to think, “I can’t
do it” and give up totally or get into the old compulsive
mode.
When I went to stay with Luang Por Chah I kept having
this recurring dream as a result of putting a lot of effort
into my practice. In the dream, I’d be going into this
coffee shop. I’d sit down, order a cup of coffee and a
nice pastry, and then the voice would say, “You
shouldn’t be here. You should be studying for the
exam”. That would be the recurring theme for this
dream which I would have quite often. I’d ask myself,
“ What’s it telling me?” And then my compulsive mind
kept thinking, “There’s something I’m not doing that I
should be doing. I should be practising more. I should
be more mindful. I shouldn’t be sleeping so much.” I
wasn’t actually sleeping very much at all. I kept
thinking this was a message telling me there is
something I’m not doing that I should be doing. I kept
trying to think, “What could it be?” I couldn’t drive
myself any more than I was already doing. I couldn’t
figure it out. Then one morning after I had this dream,
I woke up and I had the answer and the answer was
that there wasn’t any examination!
I just realized that I lived my life as if I was always
going to be tested or brought before the authorities
and put to the test and that I was never ready or never
good enough. There was always more. I could study
more. I could read more. I could do things more. I
shouldn’t be lazy, I shouldn’t enjoy life because this
would be wasting my time, because the exam is
coming and I’m not ready for it. It was a whole kind of
emotional conditioning that I had acquired because
the school system in the States is very competitive.
You start when you’re five years old and you just keep
going.
So I had the insight that there wasn’t any exam, that I
just thought there was, and that I had always lived my
life with this attitude that there was going to be a big
test that I wasn’t prepared for. Maybe it was also from
my religious background: you’re going to be tested
when you die, to see whether you’ve been good
enough to go to heaven and if not you’ll go to hell.
There’s always this sense that you’ve got to do
something. You’re not good enough. I’ve got too many
faults. I’ve got to get rid of them. I’ve got to become
something that I’m not. The way I am is not good
enough.
When I came into monastic life, I brought this tendency
of being driven into how I practised and I could do it
for a while but then I realized that if I was going to be
a monk that wasn’t the purpose of the life. It wasn’t
meant to be that way. It was just how I was interpreting
monasticism from this compulsive viewpoint. So I
stopped having the dream once I got the answer to
the riddle.
One of first three fetters is sakkàya-diññhi or ‘personality
view’. We acquire this after we’re born. We’re not born
with a personality view. It’s something we acquire. Of
course when you’re brought up in a very competitive
system you see yourself in comparision with others
and with ideals. Your value and worth is very much
related to what’s considered the best and who’s the
best. And if you don’t fit into the best category, you
sometimes see yourself in terms of not being good
enough. Even the people whom I used to think of as
the best didn’t think of themselves in that way.
Sometimes we think some people are much happier
because we project that onto them. We think they are
better off than we are.
When the Buddha emphasized mindfulness as the
way, he waspointing to the way things are, rather than
to the best. In the morning at Wat Pah Pong they’d
have these readings from the suttas about what a
monk should be and they were all according to the
ideal standard. Wondering how to interpret this
wanting to live up to such high standards gave rise to
a feeling of “Can I really do all that?” One can feel
discouraged and despairing because one is looking
at life in terms of ideals. But then the teaching of the
Buddha isn’t based on ideals but on Dhamma, the
way things are.
In vipassanà (insight meditation) you’re really tuning
into impermanence, into tragedy. This isn’t a matter of
how things should be but of how they are. All
conditioned phenomena are impermanent. It’s not that
one is saying that “All conditioned phenomena should
be impermanent”. They are. It’s a matter of opening
to impermanence. It’s not trying to project this idea
onto life but of using your intuitive mind to open, to
watch, to pay attention. Then you’re aware of the
changingness.
You’re aware of even your own compulsive attitude,
“There’s something I’ve got to do.” You’re aware of that
compulsive feeling, attitude, or belief that I'm a person
with a lot of faults and weaknesses, which is easy to
believe is being honest and realistic. Then we think
that in order to become an enlightened being we’ve
got to get over these and get rid of them in some way
and become an Arahant. One sees that this is how
the mind works. This way of thinking is often what we
read into the scriptures. But in terms of reflective
awareness, you really notice that such a way of
thinking is something you’ve created in your mind: “I
am a person with a lot of faults and weaknesses and
I’ve got to practise hard in order to overcome them.”
That’s something I’m creating in my mind. I’m creating
that attitude. That’s not the truth, that’s a creation. That
which is aware of all this is the awakened state of
being. You start to notice the difference between this
awareness and what you create by habits based on
attachments.
We use this word ‘Buddho’, the name ‘Buddha’ itself,
the one who knows. It’s a significant word because it
is pointing to a state of attention, of knowing directly,
of intuitive awareness, of wisdom. So there’s no
person. If I say, “I’m Buddha”, then that’s coming from
personality again, identity. Thinking “I am the Buddha”
doesn’t work. We have refuge in Buddha: “Buddhaü
saraõaü gacchàmi.” That’s a kind of convention too,
but it points to a reality that we can begin to trust in,
which is awareness. Because the Buddha is
“Buddho”, the one who knows, that which knows,
which is awake and aware. It’s awakenness. It’s not
judgmental or critical. The Buddha is not saying, “You
should be like this and you shouldn’t be like that”. It’s
knowing that all conditioned phenomena are like this.
Whereas if you’re brought up in a religion like
Christianity, God tells you what you should be. At least
this is the way I was taught: how you should be a good
boy and that every time you’re bad you hurt God’s
feelings. If I told a lie, God would be very disappointed
in me. This is a kind of moral training as a child. It’s
what your parents think, isn’t it? It’s all mixed up with
perceptions of parents and God as a kind of parental
figure.
So awakenedness, then, is learning to listen and trust
in the most simple state of being. It’s not jhàna or
absorption in anything. It’s pure attention. So if you
trust in this purity, there are no faults in purity, are
there? It’s perfect. There’s no impurity. This is where
to trust, in this attentiveness to the present. Once you
try to find it, then you start going into doubt. Trust it
rather than think about it. Just trust in the immanent
act of being awake, attentive in this moment. When I
do this, my mind relaxes. I hear the sound of silence.
There’s no self. There’s purity. If I start feeling that I
should be doing something then I’m aware of it. I’m
aware of the kamma-vipàka (result of action) of having
been through the American education system and
having driven myself through this incredibly
compulsive way of living life. So the kamma-vipàka
arises. In this state of purity, it’s not personal. It’s not
saying, “Ajahn Sumedho is pure now.” It’s beyond that.
You’re not talking about it in any kind of personal way.
It’s a recognition, a realization. It’s what you truly are,
it’s not a creation. I’m not creating the purity. I’m not
creating an ideal of it and then deluding myself with
it.
This is where trusting comes in, because your
personality view is not going to trust it. Your
personality view is going to say, “There’s nothing pure
about you. You just had some dirty thoughts. You’re
really feeling pretty upset and angry about something
someone said about you. After all these years, you’re
still filled with impurities.” This is the old inner tyrant.
This is the personality view. Personality view is a
tyrant. It’s the victim and the victimizer. As the victim
it says, “Poor me. I’m so impure”, whilst as the accuser
it says, “You’re not good enough, you’re impure”. It’s
both. You can’t trust it. Don’t take refuge in being a
victim or in being a victimizer. But you can trust in this
awakened awareness. And that trust is humbling. It
isn’t like believing in something. It’s learning to relax
and be. Trust in the ability simply to be here, open
and receptive to whatever is happening now. Even if
what’s happening is nasty or whatever the conditions
you’re experiencing are, that’s not a problem if you
trust in this purity.
With the Vinaya, for example, the idea of trying to keep
the Vinaya pure, the personality view attaches even
to this: “Is my Vinaya as pure as someone else’s or
not as pure?” Then you’re just using this convention
to increase the sense of personal worth or
worthlessness. If you think you’re more pure than the
rest, then that’s arrogance, holier- than-thou. If you
think you’re impure, then you’re going to feel hopeless.
You can’t do it. Better to go and get drunk or something,
at least forget about it for a while. Relax, have a good
time. Better than beating yourself up with your ideals
of not being pure enough.
Conventions themselves are limited for their nature is
imperfect and changing. Maybe you expect even the
convention to be perfect. Then maybe after a while
you become critical of the convention because you
see flaws in it. It isn’t as good as you thought, or some
of it doesn’t make sense or things like this. But
recognize that a convention is like anything else, it is
anicca, dukkha, anattà (impermanent, unsatisfactory,
non-self). Theravàda Buddhism is a convention based
on morality, doing good and refraining from doing evil
with action and speech. It’s a way of living where we
agree to take responsibility for how we live on this
planet, in this society. The convention of Theravàda
Buddhism, whether you find it all agreeable to you or
not, is a tradition with a lot of power from being so old
and ancient and is still useful. It’s still a viable tradition
that works. It’s not a matter of it having to be perfect
for us to use it, but of learning to use it for awakened
awareness.
Then we get into the old Buddhist camps of the
Mahàyàna, Vajrayàna and Hãnayàna. We’re
considered Hãnayàna or ‘lesser vehicle.’ So we could
think that means it’s probably not as good. Mahàyàna
is better, says logic. Lesser vehicle and greater
vehicle. Then Vajrayàna, that’s the absolute best. You
can’t get any better than Vajrayàna according to the
Tibetans. That’s the highest vehicle. So then we start
thinking in terms of good, better, best. But all of these
are conventions. Whether we call it Mahàyàna,
Hãnayàna or Vajrayàna, they’re still just conventions:
they’re limited; they’re imperfect. They’re functional,
to be used for mindfulness rather than as some kind
of attachment or position that one takes on anything.
These different terms can be very divisive. If we attach
to Theravàda and start looking down on every other
form of Buddhism, then we think that they’re not pure,
they’re not original! They’re higher, but they’re not
original. We can get arrogant because we’ve got our
own way of justifying our convention. But this is all
playing with words. If we look at what is going on in
words, we’re just creating Mahàyàna, Hãnayàna and
Vajrayàna in our minds. The refuge is in Buddha, not
in these ‘yànas’. The Buddha knows that every
thought is changing and not-self. So trust in that, in
the simplicity of that. Because if you don’t, then it is
going to arouse your old compulsive habits of thinking
“I’ve got to do more, I’ve got to develop this, I’ve got to
become a Bodhisattva, I’ve got to get the higher
practice going,” and on and on like that.
When you’re caught in that conventional realm and
that’s all you know, then you’re easily intimidated and
blinded by all the dazzling positions and attitudes and
ideas that people can throw at you. So this is where
trusting in awareness is not a matter of having the best
or feeling that maybe you should have something
better than what you have. That’s a creation of your
mind, isn’t it? When you establish what is adequate,
it’s not based on what is the best but on what is basic
for survival and good health.
In Buddhist monasticism the four requisites are an
expression of this. You don’t have to have the best
food and the best robes and all that, but what’s
adequate in terms of survival. Is there any problem in
terms of having a place to stay or medicine for
sickness? It doesn’t have to be the very best. In fact,
the standard is often established at the lowest point,
like rag robes rather than silk robes. Then the
Dhamma-Vinaya is respected and taught. These give
us a sense of a place that we can live. Standards aren’t
placed at the very best, but if the Dhamma is taught
and the Vinaya is respected, the four requisites are
adequate, then that’s good enough. So go for it! Go
for the practice rather than quibble about the rest. It’s
better to develop one’s awareness rather than going
along with one’s feelings of criticism or doubt in
dealing with the people and the place you are in.
I contemplated this compulsive attitude in myself until
I could really see it. It was very insidious, not just a
one-off insight. It reminded me of how I approached
life in general, full of ‘shoulds’ and feeling there is
something I should or shouldn’t be doing. Just notice
and listen to this and learn to relax and trust in the
refuge. This is very humbling because it doesn’t seem
like anything. It seems like it’s not worth anything. It
doesn’t seem like anything much, this attention in the
present. “So what? I want something I should be
doing. Tell me what to do next. How many hours
should I be sitting? How many hours should I be
walking? What should I be developing? Should I do
more mettà?” We want something to do and feel very
ill-at-ease when there is nothing to do, nowhere to
go. So in monastic life we do offer conventions and
structures. We have morning and evening påjà
(meditation and devotional practices) and fortnightly
recitations and so forth, which gives a conventional
form to use in order to do something. Then there’s
chanting and piõóapàta (alms round) and all these
things that are part of our tradition. This structure is
to help us, like sãla for behaviour and the structure for
the community.
When people go on self-retreat, they let go of the
structure and are thrown onto their own. What
happens when you’re on your own and nobody
knows what you’re doing? You don’t have to look
around to see if the senior monk is watching you.
You’re left to your own devices so you could sleep all
day or you could read novels or go for long walks or
you could really practise hard. There’s a whole range
of possibilities and it’s left up to you to notice that
feeling of what happens when the structure is
removed. It’s not that one does this in a judgmental
way, bringing back the ‘shoulds’, like “I should practise
so many hours a day, sit so many hours, walk so many
hours and do this and do that, get my practice, get my
samàdhi, together really get somewhere in my
practice.” Not that that’s wrong, but that may be a very
compulsive thing. If you don’t live up to it, then what
do you feel like? Do you feel guilt-ridden if you don’t
do what you’ve determined to do? Notice how the
mind works and to awaken to it.
It’s easy if there is a strong leader who tells you to do
this and do that and everybody comes, everybody
leaves and everybody marches in step and so forth.
This is good training also. But that also brings up
resistance and rebellion in some people who don’t
like it. In contrast to this, other people don’t like it when
someone isn’t telling them what to do next, because
it leaves them uncertain of what to do. They like the
security of everything being controlled and held
together by a strong leader. But recognize that this
monastic life is for the liberation of the heart. Some
strong leaders kind of brow-beat you or manipulate
you emotionally by saying, “If you really want to
please me, you will do this. If you really want my
approval... I won’t give you my approval if you don’t
behave properly” and things like this. I can use my
emotional power to try to control and manipulate the
situation, but that’s not something that is skilful. That’s
not what we’re here for. The onus is on each one of
us, isn’t it? It’s about waking up.
But don’t think you have to wake up because Ajahn
Sumedho says so. Waking up is just a simple,
immanent act of attention: open, relaxed listening,
being here and now. It’s learning to recognize that, to
appreciate that more and more and to trust it. Because
you’re probably emotionally programmed for the other
— either you should or you shouldn’t. What we’re
trying to do here is to give a situation where you are
encouraged to trust and to cultivate this. When we say
‘cultivate’ it’s not like having to do anything. It’s more
like learning to relax and trust in being, the flow of
life. Because life is like this. Life changes. You can
see this in the past year here at Amaràvatã, the
construction and the opening and all the ambience
around that. Now that period is over. It has changed.
It’s like this.
I remember when I first went to Wat Pah Pong, there
was such an esprit de corp. We were really there with
Luang Por Chah. There were only twenty-two monks
and we were really getting somewhere, we were really
a crack troop, top grade, top guns. Then a few years
later, I began seeing things that I didn’t like and got
very critical of it, thinking it was all falling apart. Then
I saw it fall apart, after Luang Por Chah had his stroke.
I remember a few years after that, going to Wat Pah
Pong. At Wat Pah Pong they had an inner monastery
where the monks lived and then the outer part where
there was a special kuñi (hut) for Luang Por Chah
which allowed for nursing care and all kinds of things.
In addition to this they had an outer sàlà (hall) where
people came to visit.
You’d go to the outer sàlà and nobody wanted to come
to the monastery. All they wanted to do was to see
Luang Por Chah who was ill and couldn’t talk or do
anything. All the emphasis was on his kuñi, and no
monks wanted to live at the monastery. I remember
going there when there were only three monks in a
huge monastery: Ajahn Liam and few others, and the
place was looking pretty shabby. Usually it was spic
and span and clean. The standards of order were very
high there, sweeping the paths and repairing
everything. But suddenly it was like a ghost town with
all these empty kuñis that needed repairing and were
dirty and dusty and the paths not swept and so forth.
I remember some people from Bangkok coming to me
and saying, “ Aah, this place is not good any more.
We want you to come back and be the abbot.” They
were thinking I should go back and take over. It had
changed in a way that they felt it shouldn’t have — but
now it’s back with fifty monks and it’s all operating to
full capacity.
Things change. Now we open to change. We’re not
demanding that it change in any way that we want it
to or that when it’s at peak that we can keep it that
way. It’s impossible. Even in yourself, you can be aware
when you’re at your best or your worst, when you’re
feeling really good and inspired and love the life, and
when you’re feeling down, despairing, lonely, and
depressed and disheartened. This awareness is your
refuge. Awareness of the changingness of feelings, of
attitudes, of moods, of material change and emotional
change: Stay with that, because it’s a refuge that is
indestructible. It’s not something that changes. It’s a
refuge you can trust in. This refuge is not something
that you create. It’s not a creation. It’s not an ideal. It’s
very practical and very simple, but easily overlooked
or not noticed. When you’re mindful, you’re beginning
to notice: it’s like this.
For instance when I remind myself that this is pure,
this moment, I really make a note of this. This is the
path. This is purity. Not anything that I’m creating, just
this state of attention. Not attention like ‘achtung!’, it’s
more of a relaxed attention. Listening, open, receptive.
When you relax into that, it’s a natural state. It’s not a
created state. It’s not dependent on conditions making
it that way. It’s just that we forget it all the time and get
thrown back into the old habits. This is why with
mindfulness, we’re remembering it more, trusting it
more, and cultivating this way of bringing ourselves
back into this awareness. Then we get carried away
again and come back again. We keep doing that. No
matter how recalcitrant, difficult or wild the emotions
or thoughts may be, it’s all right. This is the refuge.
We can apply this awareness to everything, such as
being personally wounded. When somebody says
something that is hurtful, ask the question, “What is it
that gets hurt?” If somebody insults me or abuses me
in some way and I feel hurt or misunderstood,
offended, annoyed or even angry, what is it that gets
angry and annoyed, that gets offended? Is that my
refuge — that personality whose feelings get hurt and
upset? If I have awareness as a refuge, this never gets
upset by anything. You can call it anything you want.
But as a person, I can be easily upset. Because the
personality, the sakkàya-diññhi, is like that — based
on me being worthwhile or worthy, being appreciated
or not appreciated, being understood properly or
misunderstood, being respected or not respected, and
all this kind of thing.
My personality is wide open to be hurt, to be offended,
to be upset by anything. But personality is not my
refuge. It’s not what I would advise as being a refuge,
if your personality is anything like mine. I wouldn’t for
a minute want to recommend anyone taking refuge in
my personality. But in awareness, yes. Because
awareness is pure. If you trust it more and more, even
if you’re feeling hurt and upset, disrespected and
unloved and unappreciated, the awareness knows
that as being anicca. It’s not judging. It’s not making
any problems. It’s fully accepting the feeling that
“nobody loves me, everybody hates me” as feeling.
And it goes away naturally. It drops because its nature
is change.
The TBC is a lay community active since June 1986, under the guidance of Ven. Ajahn Viradhammo and affiliated informally, with the Tisarana Buddhist Monastery, Perth, Ontario. We organize weekend and weeklong meditation retreats with monastics.
] - originally published in the 
