Okay, so now, before the talk,
those of you who want to go to toilet or go outside,
you’re most welcome or stay inside.
Of course, many people will be listening online.
I hope.
And for a monk who gives so many talks,
some to you, some to monks,
some online talks over to Singapore
or Hong Kong or wherever, to UK…
because even though you don't travel at this time because of Covid,
still, you do lots of talks in many different countries.
So often I think that I’ve taught
on every subject there could be.
But this evening, somebody just asked me.
And they, sort of, said: ‘Well, why don't you give a talk…’
Because I said: ‘Well, you know,
all these talks, some of the talks I’ve given is on rubbish’.
‘No, you've never given that talk before’.
So today's talk is ‘Buddhism and rubbish’.
So if anyone who complains afterwards ‘that was a rubbish talk’,
I say ‘yes, great, well done, you've understood it’.
Because sometimes, when we talk about rubbish,
there are some times that we reject it.
But as a Buddhist monk,
there's so many things which other people reject,
you look at again and see some of its beauty
and some of its delights.
And using the idea of rubbish,
one of the first metaphors which I remember
was again from my teacher, Ajahn Chah, years and years ago.
And he was the one who… he knew just what would happen,
when his western disciples went over to
the different countries which didn't have much of a tradition of Buddhism.
And one of the things you'd always have to do is actually talk to people,
be their friend
and just to listen to the problems they have in their life.
And of course, that happens a lot,
even though you had no, like,
lectures or education on counseling.
Nevertheless, you soon became a very good counselor,
a lot of the time, because of things which Ajahn Chah taught you...
and one of those things he always taught us was to remember,
whenever you counsel somebody, they tell you their problems:
marriage problems, life problems, money problems, and all these problems…
Till this day I can't understand why people ask monks or nuns
about these questions.
Number one: as you all know, I have never been married.
What do I know about marriage?
Number two: I’ve never had kids. What do I know about raising children?
Number three: I’ve got no money. What do I know about economy?
Number four: I don't have a job.
What do I know about going to the office in the morning and getting a job?
Number five: I don't have a car. What do I know about driving a car?
But all these questions which people ask you -
I always give an answer.
Make it up as I go along most of the time,
but with some kindness
and some understanding about what's really being asked.
By the end of the interview or the end of the counseling session
I’ve learned something from Ajahn Chah, which not many people know.
And I don't think they teach you this in the universities
if you go to counseling courses.
And that was a simile, as many of you may be beginning to know,
to be a rubbish bin.
This is my first simile to celebrate the idea of rubbish.
Because my teacher said:
‘If ever you do any counseling, listen to people's problems,
you must always receive
whatever they say,
if possible without any judgment, just with kindness,
appreciating you don't know why that's happened to them
or just what they're going through,
but you try and give as much kindness as you possibly can.
But when they leave,
you must imagine that you are a rubbish bin.
So you can actually accept everybody's problems
and difficulties in life.
I don't know why they're putting the rubbish into me,
I didn't do it, it's not my fault,
but please accept that rubbish.
But the most important part of that simile is what he added in the end.
‘But please make sure you always imagine yourself
to be a rubbish bin with a hole in the bottom.
So, what anybody tells you, whatever they put in you,
it goes right through and you don't keep any of it.'
That was the most wonderful part of that simile.
So it means
that after people tell you some terrible things which happened
and really difficult problems,
first of all I would worry about that ‘oh, what can I do,
I must do something to help them’.
And then afterwards, you get full.
So when the next person came, you wouldn't be able to listen to them,
you'd be thinking about the last person.
And you’d soon be a full rubbish bin
overflowing with trash.
But instead,
if you’re a rubbish bin with a hole in the bottom,
whatever you tell me, whatever you complain about,
whatever you disclose to me about the difficulties of your life,
it just goes right inside
and goes right through and afterwards there's nothing in there.
I’m a rubbish bin with a hole in the bottom.
So always empty to receive
the next piece of rubbish you want to donate to me.
That's a wonderful little thing
that the idea of being a rubbish bin is not keeping anything.
Being able to discard things, being able to…
It's not just polluting the planet.
This is almost like a metaphor
that everything which we use eventually breaks down,
goes back to the soil or goes back to…
All of the difficulties of your life too,
don't last. They're all anicca.
They fade away and other things happen.
And because I’ve been here for long enough now,
37, 38 years now in this place,
46 years as a monk…
So much you can see, it doesn't last.
Dhammasara - when did we build that?
It doesn't last. [laughter]
One day it's gonna fade away.
Same with Bodhinyana monastery, it fades away.
But it's worth making.
It's one thing which I love telling people,
because it was… I think I told people this in the Dana last week.
On 31st of January 2000… no sorry, 31st of January, 1991.
That was when we had our big bushfire, big ground fire on the hottest day ever,
at the time in West Australia. 46 degrees, 46 degrees - that's hot.
That was before the fire came.
When the fire came,
it came right through our monastery.
As the trees exploded.
But anyway,
we were forced to evacuate, when the fire was happening, all ready to defend.
We had all the… fire pumps going,
but we were told we had to leave.
When we did leave, I saw those trees exploding
and you could feel that this was an incredibly hot fire.
And Bodhinyana Monastery,
I thought was gone.
I honestly thought that.
But the following morning, we were taken back there,
to see all of the huts were still there.
All of the huts are still at Dhammasara.
All of the halls and dining halls at Dhammasara.
The only thing which is not at Dhammasara is you.
The nuns. [laughter]
But they'll come back again, in a day or two.
But what was amazing was that you could let things go.
Because it wasn't having the monastery
or the facilities which was important.
It was actually having the spirit,
having the opportunity to serve and build
a very… honestly, I mention this, because it was absolutely true.
That even though I thought everything was going to be burnt down,
you went there the next day,
knowing ‘Well, let's build it up again.'
'Let's do it again.'
Because it was the action which was more important than the results.
The service.
Because you can see that in nature
that things do eventually fall down.
They do get old,
they do get rubbishy
like Ajahn Brahm.
I’m getting much older than I used to be.
People just showed me these photographs
when I used to be able to go on top of roofs and fix them up.
Now monks say, if I get on top of the roof,
the roof will buckle. [laughter]
You know, Venerable Sunyo, just next to my room, the place where I stay,
there's lots and lots of twigs in the gutter.
I thought of getting up on the roof and taking them out.
But I thought twice. ‘No, it's better to keep the roof…
unharmed'. [laughter]
But anyway.
In the old days, I would get up there and do stuff.
But you can see just how to get…
things like old age.
Things start to decay.
There's something beautiful about the decaying part of nature.
Things like turning into rubbish. What was really important to you,
what was really precious,
eventually fades away and disappears.
Its importance is temporary.
And everything
which I cherished, which I owned, which I loved and cared for,
things like your family,
they're temporary.
It doesn't mean you don't care for them - you care for them to the max,
knowing that they’re not always gonna be here.
And when they do pass away,
that was a beautiful time spent.
You enjoyed each other's company so much.
Thank you.
And you know, that's that old simile which I say a lot of…
When you go to concerts.
A concert being held here next week.
Beautiful, beautiful concerts.
They will never last.
In fact, if they did last,
then, there'd be
something unbeautiful about them.
There'd be something which, after a while, you get bored.
After a while, you turn away anyway,
to go see something different.
But there’s something about those great concerts, very short,
and when it's finished, you feel just...
grateful.
Grateful to have been there
and enjoy that great performance.
You know that they will turn to dust.
But nevertheless, it's important to be there.
And enjoy it while it's happening.
Knowing that you'll have to let it go.
And move away.
And much of this, you can find that
when we understand the whole idea of rubbish,
things which have used are no longer usable.
It has a use.
Rubbish is… obviously, people recycle rubbish,
I’m not gonna go into that, because that's talked about a lot.
But whenever we do have rubbish, we know that whatever we use,
will one day just be thrown away.
Is that bad?
There was… For those of you who are traditional Buddhists,
this is one story about this monk, Chulapantaka.
This was in the time of the Buddha.
that his brother was fully enlightened,
but his younger brother, this guy Chulapantaka,
was very... intellectually challenged.
He couldn't really learn much theory or teachings.
And he was finding very difficult to meditate, at first.
But what his brother gave him - was it the Buddha or his brother -
gave him just a piece of cloth.
Just told him to keep rubbing the cloth.
And so this is what this younger brother did, just kept rubbing the cloth,
until the cloth became quite dirty.
And he kept on rubbing it, until the cloth started to...
to be frailed.
And kept on wearing, until it started to break down.
His brother said
‘That's the nature of all the things which we hold dear to in life.
Through use,
through association,
over time,
it all tends to
disappear and vanish.
And turn into rubbish.
Just like the most beautiful things in Bodhinyana.
Maybe not in my lifetime,
but all those huts…
I was quite stupid when I started building those huts.
I wanted to make them permanent.
Do them well, do them once, so you don't have to do it again.
I thought just build these things and it's all finished,
no other monk will have to bother about it.
But of course, that's not the nature of life.
They tend to start to fall apart.
Or if they don't fall apart, just fashions fall apart.
In other words, no, the windows are too small, we want to make them bigger.
No, no, we don't want a brick wall, we want a whitewashed wall.
No, we don't want it this way, we want it that way.
And so,
often even Bodhinyana monastery and Dhammasara monastery, as you know;
when people would come and they said: ‘Is it finished yet?’
And I would say: ‘No’.
‘Well, you’ve got all the huts there, you've got all the dining room there,
you've got the meditation room; is it finished yet?!’
Never finished, no, they keep going on, there’ll always be building something new.
That's what's happened at Bodhinyana monastery.
We've been going much longer.
Thirty-six years, ‘Is it finished yet?!’
Venerable Sunyo?
'No way.'
And this is actually our life.
Things don't get finished.
They get built,
they get worn away,
they turn to rubbish
and they get rebuilt.
For those of you who have been to old countries,
I remember just…
Well, you know, I was born in London.
And that London is built on rubbish.
It's rubbish upon rubbish upon rubbish.
And when people actually do excavations
to put foundations in to another big building,
they always come across the rubbish of old generations.
Sometimes a hundred, two hundred, five hundred, a thousand years of age.
And even longer than that.
Because that's what happens.
Life creates that rubbish.
And that rubbish becomes the foundation
on which new buildings, new culture is made.
Without that rubbish
of past generations,
our generation wouldn't have
the foundations on which to grow.
And live.
And sometimes that history, history is just…
Our grandparents' rubbish.
All the things which they did and use, which was so important to them,
which wore out and new things were built afterwards.
Sometimes, that… that is not disrespect.
But it's always like building
on what other people have done.
And that is the same
just even with ideas
and teachings.
So often, even in teaching about Buddhism, about meditation,
you know – yes, we have the old teachings
which you can read and understand.
From even the time of the Buddha.
About how these things worked and how meditation was taught.
But,
can we improve on that?
Of course.
You know we can.
In the time of the Buddha that people would have...
they wouldn't have zafus like you have these days, they'd just get some grass.
But can we improve upon those zafus?
I've often mentioned this, it'd be a great opportunity
for anybody who wishes to
innovate and get a lovely new business.
Look at the meditation cushions
you're sitting on right now
or the chairs.
These are just so old-fashioned.
And imagine having...
We live in a world of high-tech.
Can't we get high-tech meditation cushions?
And once you start thinking like that...
Basically, I got this idea from this guy over in Singapore.
This guy in Singapore, he was a designer.
One of his great claims to fame
was actually designing dresses for Princess Diana
when she was still alive.
He designed a couple of her dresses.
So he was obviously a very smart guy living in Singapore.
And his latest idea, when I saw him years ago,
was like designer Zimmer frames.
If you think about it, you know the Zimmer frames which elderly people use,
many of those elderly people are cashed-up.
So to get like a designer Zimmer frame,
you know, that'll be in their budget
and you make a lot of money that way.
Was that exploitation or was it just smart thinking?
Designer Zimmer frames.
I don't know, but
anyway, that...
Please excuse me, I can't resist this one.
I was just saying today, because Dhammasara
had that... what do you call that...
where you make donations at Dhammasara?
'Cashless donations', that little thing over there
you just put a credit card on,
and it puts money into Dhammasara.
They're just trying it out over here.
But I say,
that please, if anyone has
Parkinson's disease,
please be careful. (laughter)
About 20-30 taps, when you only meant one.
And that's your bank balance gone.
Alzheimer's also, yes.
Did you put a donation in,
Lawrence?
Are you sure?
Alzheimer's... did I put it in, I'm not sure.
Anyway.
It's ok, we won't exploit you, maybe.
But anyway.
For zafus.
Why do we just have this
fluff inside there?
Because if you have designer zafus,
you know, with IT.
First of all,
you know, you can actually adjust,
they have different compartments to the zafu,
so if your back needs lifting,
you can just press one button
and the back lifts up.
If your knee is a bit sore,
the other part lifts up, so your knee can lift up.
If it really is sore, it can give it a massage,
like on those massage chairs you can sit on,
so your knee gets a good massage while you're meditating.
If you're too hot...
sometimes who knows what we can put,
the temperature on there, the aircons are on today,
but sometimes it's hot here,
sometimes it's cold here.
If it's really cold, you can get these blows of hot air
coming up your body to warm you up
and if it's too hot, you can get some coolness in there,
if you have sloth and torpor,
really tired,
which many people have after coming here after day's work
or week's work
and you come here for Friday night and you're half-asleep,
you can press another little button for a coffee.
Or if you like tea, tea or cappuccino,
you can have all sorts of buttons on there.
Like a high-tech meditation cushion.
I'm sure there's so many wealthy people over in USA
who meditate, that you would make a fortune.
Is that a good idea?
Anyway.
How did we get on to that,
it's supposed to be a talk on rubbish, not about making a fortune.
Is money rubbish?
[Yes]
Really?
So we have a rubbish bin at the back over there.
For your rubbish.
Now, is it?
That was another thing which Ajahn Chah used to teach.
You know.
Sometimes people asked, 'Did Ajahn Chah make any predictions?'
Telling the future. He actually did,
a couple of times.
And this prediction, I was there when he made it.
He, sort of, said: 'In the future,
they will run out of paper to make banknotes.
They won't have enough paper left.
They're cutting down too many trees.
And they will not... they'll run out of metal, like silver or gold
to make coins.
So they'll have to find something else to use for money.'
And what he said, what they'd use for money in the future –
these little balls of chicken poo.
Okay – chicken shit.
You know the little balls you see of chicken shit?
So that's what they'll pay you in,
after you go to work for the week.
Hundred pellets of chicken shit
for all your hard work.
And you'd really ask for a rise in chicken shit,
because you're not getting enough to feed your family.
And you go to the bank, and you won't be putting money in the bank,
but little pellets of chicken poo in the bank.
And the IMF would become the International Manure Fund.
What's the difference between chicken shit and money?
Only the value you put on it.
That's the only difference.
And so he predicted people will be fighting wars
over chicken shit.
Who makes the most...
And looking at the economy
as how much more chicken shit we can make in our different countries.
But that was something which was quite challenging,
because it had some truth to it.
All this stuff which we value,
what's its difference between rubbish?
Only the value which we give to it.
It's the same with
so much other stuff we have.
One of the great advantages I found
with being a Buddhist monk is we can be rebellious,
we challenge
what is means to be comfortable and happy.
What it means to be rich.
Many of you know where I live:
in a cave, there's hardly anything there.
And honestly, I'm so happy in that little cave.
It's quiet, it's cool,
I get some great meditation there.
How many of you would like to live there? (silence)
A few people, yes.
So you go and build yourself one.
It's much cheaper than the house you live in.
Or the apartment you live in.
Or whatever else you live in.
Just get a nice cave. But, you know, the trouble is
that we're not allowed to build caves.
Because, again, our system is not rebellious enough.
We think: "Oh no, you need to have a kitchen, a bathroom,
bla-bla-bla-bla-bla
You need to have this amount of space, this amount of space.
But do you?
I've lived in that cave for how many years now?
Before you came, wasn't it?
About 10–15 years, 20 years now? How many years, do you know?
Do you remember, how long I've lived in my cave?
Anyway,
it's a long, long time, and it's very comfortable,
so why is it that we can't...
that all the people put their hands up, buy a cave and go and live in there.
Instead of...
My cave is about... this is like a hemisphere.
If you wanna know what it looks like.
It's about 3 meters diameter.
Made out of rocks, and it's very well made
and I'm very grateful for the monks who made that for me.
And it's so comfortable in there.
I really enjoy it, and many of you've seen it.
It's one of the best accommodations in the whole of Perth, doesn't cost much at all.
So what it means, is: some people think
that's a rubbish place to live.
Why do people want to live in big houses?
Why?
So sometimes, when we challenge these things,
we can actually see different ways of doing things.
I think those big places are just...
not free at all.
Different ways of looking at the world.
This is also something which I spent a lot of time talking about:
freedom.
What is freedom? What is a free world?
And the weird thing is that being a Buddhist monk
and Buddhist nuns, we have so many rules
we're supposed to be keeping, which we do keep.
That's one of the things that... we teach people what these rule are,
and you learn them yourself and
you say, wow, these monks actually do keep those rules.
We don't have money.
So this is one of the reasons why, when...
I said I couldn't try out that
that donation terminal or whatever it is.
Because I've got no money.
Imagine what it's like, to travel around the world without money.
And fortunately, no one has ever asked me,
when I've gone through these customs and immigration,
'Excuse me sir, how much money are you bringing into the country?'
'How much money are you spending here?'
Because if they asked me, I'd say: 'Zero, nothing'.
[Zip...]
They probably wouldn't let me in.
But even though I'm not going to any of these countries,
bringing money into the economy,
you're bringing something else which is more important.
Which is why I keep getting invited to these places.
Peace, happiness, joy, different way of looking at things.
Ways which can actually bring people together rather than separate people.
Different ways of looking.
For me, the money is that rubbish stuff.
And wealth...
Yeah, you've got to have some wealth,
but that's rubbish stuff.
Fame is rubbish stuff.
So what do you really want in your life?
Is that rubbish?
Or is it something which is really valuable?
Sometimes, you can check on that.
If your house was burning
like in a bushfire
and you did have a chance to get in the house and get something
to flee with before the fire hit.
What would you take?
What is really valuable for you?
Would it be your credit card?
Would it be, maybe, your dog?
What is very, really valuable for you?
And sometimes, when you can't take anything at all,
sometimes just...
your goodness is the most valuable.
One thing which I always remember
and also talked about a lot with the monks as well –
not things.
Not, sort of, you know, photographs
or mementos
or medals –
that's not important.
What is really important is, like, the service
which you gave,
which is why you got that medal in the first place.
That is what is important.
That's something which is not rubbish and that's something which doesn't fade.
That is something which stays in your heart forever.
The service, the goodness, the kindness.
What you've given to others.
And I don't just mean money.
I mean just the help which you've given.
Just, you know, like good old Dennis – I don't know how many years he's been
President from time to time here.
So much service which he's given to this Buddhist Society of Western Australia
for so many years, turned him into this beautiful,
grey,
going blind,
but very happy person
who people respect.
That is something which is so valuable in this world,
that is not rubbish.
Just how you are held with love in people's hearts.
That is something which is priceless, that's why its value is way beyond
a monetary calculation.
It's one of the reasons why I've been using that word a lot – 'priceless'.
As many of you know those stories,
when people ask, 'How much do I have pay
to come into your Buddhist Society of Western Australia?'
And when I used to say 'Nothing', they said 'Ok, you can't be any good, then'.
Because if you want to, sort of, go to a place which is really good,
a really good teacher, oh, you have to pay for that...
Do you?
All these motivational teachers that used to come –
was it Tony Robbins, was it?
Or...
I don't know who the motivational speakers are.
And you pay a fortune for those.
Ajahn Brahm –
nothing.
And I remember a few people, because I know some rich people,
and they just went to a weekend with these motivational speakers:
five or six thousand dollars!
Then they came to one of my weekends
and they said 'Wow, you are much better! Why don't you charge more?'
I said 'Well, I do charge:
the cost of coming to my talks
is priceless.
In other words, it's not, sort of, given a monetary value at all.
Because that monetary value can never reach what is given.
The importance of just kindness and giving
by example, not just by words.
That's one of the other things which is important value.
If you just give a talk
and it's just words, just arguments,
there's nothing behind it,
there's no practice, no living that life,
that doesn't have much value.
That is rubbish.
There are some people who give amazing talks.
When I read them,
I say just 'Wow, that's... how can they talk so fluently, so eloquently,
so deeply...
But it doesn't have power.
It's something which I've seen so many times.
If a person is actually living that life, if they're practicing it
and not just faking it,
it's amazing just how
powerful that is.
Some of the teachers – I'm sure you can
hear the same teachings far more eloquent than I can give you.
But it's where it's coming from is different.
These little things like I tell, that you know, you are...
all the nuns, there are renunciates, they're living that life.
You go and check them out. See them.
As they speak, so they live.
Same with the monks.
And that gives these teachings an extra power to them.
Especially in a world where there's a lot of dishonesty,
a lot of falsities.
People say one thing and they live a totally different life.
A life where we've lost respect for so many people who used to be given
so much authority.
And they lost that authority.
And I can understand why it is that people these days, they just want...
to have trust.
At least some group of people.
It's one of the reasons why – I think I told this in an ordination
a few... a week or two ago –
Why it is that
one of my friends, a monk over in Malaysia,
it was actually Venerable Aggacitta
years ago...
When he was setting up his temple
in Taipei...
in Malaysia,
he did a survey, first of all.
He's a very highly educated monk.
He surveyed as many of his lay followers as possible.
And asked them:
'What type of monk would you like?
Should that monk be a great teacher?
Should he be a monk who can tell great jokes?
Should he be a monk who writes books?
Should he be a monk who's a great scholar?
Should he be a monk who's a great meditator?
Should he become a monk who keeps all the precepts?
Should he be a monk who can travel around and teach your kids?
What type of monk would you want?'
And the category which won, hands down,
he showed me the results and I was so inspired and impressed:
the type of monk they wanted most –
and that was just for a monk; the type of nun they want the most, as well –
is the one who keeps the precepts.
A virtuous person.
Because they were the rarest to find in the world.
Someone who lived what they taught.
Instead of saying one thing,
practicing differently,
which made their words
not worth anything at all.
Just rubbish words.
So little by little, that's so important,
to give whatever we do, whatever we speak,
whatever we write, that extra power
by living this.
And even I remember some of my followers over in Singapore,
that there was this one Buddhist... was he a Buddhist? No, he was
a Christian, a pastor, who was caught
making so much money, like millions of Singapore dollars.
And a lot of that was done fraudulently.
So he was gonna go to jail.
And that really made the Christian community in Singapore just really
a bit upset about their leaders.
At the same time, I was in the newspaper for something else,
and I was interviewed, and what I said there,
and it was confirmed, that
whenever I go teaching anywhere in Singapore,
I don't get any money at all, I don't have any bank account,
don't have a credit card,
don't have... nothing.
It's always great fun in that sense.
When you're a monk, you don't have any driver's license, bank account
details...
I don't own anything.
But look how well I live.
And I said in this article,
'In today's world, you don't need money.
Or a credit card.
If you're kind
and giving
and serving
and helping,
living simply.'
And then, I think the next day, in the letters column,
one of these pastors said 'We can learn from this Ajahn Brahm fellow.'
'Just look, there he is' – I had a good reputation in Singapore,
'There he is, living very peaceful, doing such a good work
and he doesn't charge a thing for anything'.
All done for free.
For gratis.
For the love of it.
People give donations afterwards, but not to me, they give it to Dennis
and the Treasurer.
Over there.
And it goes into supporting this place.
But for monks and nuns,
we do it just for the joy of it, for the service of it, for the love of it.
And you get so much happiness and joy back.
That's one of the greatest things, to have that service
as your wealth.
When people ask 'Who's the wealthiest people in this room?'
They're sitting in the front seats, here.
They're wealthy. And I've met some very wealthy people.
I often mention this - billionaires.
But those wealthy people had nothing.
They're only wealthy in the amount of worry they have.
They've got lots of money in the bank,
but they don't have the peace and happiness
which you see in your monks and nuns, here.
They don't have that, because
they're worried so much, they're not free.
One of the great things about this life:
you learn the meaning of freedom.
It's not the freedom OF desires, as I often say,
it's the freedom FROM desires.
You don't want anything, you just want to give.
What can I give you?
What to do you want?
How can I help? How can I serve?
And that's such a great joy, to be able to serve others.
It's such a great joy to serve others,
that's why even simple things,
like opening the door to one of you, when according to our rules and traditions
you're supposed to open the door for ME.
Simple thing, but I love doing that, opening that door to people.
And just doing whatever you can do, to carry something for them, or whatever.
However I can do
to serve others,
to be kind, put that kindness into real good practice.
And that record of service you should build up over the years.
The giving, the goodness,
the helping others.
Expecting nothing back in return.
That gives you a huge wealth inside.
A huge power.
Spiritual power
and even
psychic power as well.
I'm now sure, I'm sure the nuns
did a lot of chanting to kick that bushfire out of their property.
Certainly the monks did,
certainly I did.
You say you knew...
Honestly, I knew that fire had no chance to get into Dhammasara.
No chance in the world.
Simply because
there are such things as heavenly beings.
Can I tell this story?
I haven't told this story for a while.
This is the heavenly-being-story.
Real one.
Of the monk...
or actually he wasn't a monk yet.
This American
who met a heavenly being – it's absolutely true story.
And I've got to be careful saying this, because
this happened in Thailand and there is that very strict rule of lèse-majesté –
you can't say anything bad about a king.
Listen to this story just to finish off with.
I'm not saying anything bad at all, but just saying something wonderful
about one of the former kings of Thailand.
This young man,
he got over to Thailand
to do Peace Corps work.
So two years over in Thailand,
doing Peace Corps work.
And then, before he went back to the United States
and just...
get a job, get married, and all of that sort of stuff,
he decided to try to be a monk.
A Buddhist monk just for a short time.
But he didn't know what to do. How do you become a monk?
In Thailand.
And so, he was staying at a hotel
on the outskirts of Bangkok,
and he asked the concierge.
The concierge knows other places to send Americans,
but not, sort of, monasteries.
But he did hear that there was one monastery in the centre of Bangkok,
Wat Bowon,
which sometimes had Western monks.
So he said: Go there, go to this place Wat Bowon, in the centre of Bangkok,
and go there early in the morning, take some food
and wait for the monks to come out
and put some food into one of the monks' bowls
and just ask them.'
He knew a little bit of Thai, not that much.
Ask them he wants to become a monk.
So that's what he did.
The advice wasn't very clear or precise.
So he went there really early in the morning.
About 4 o'clock, 4:30 or something.
And the monastery was all locked up.
It was closed, no one was around.
So he was walking up and down outside this monastery Wat Bowon,
not knowing what to do.
And this Thai man came up to him
and asked him: 'Who are you? How can I help?'
Because Thais are, certainly in those days, were very polite and very helpful.
So he said he was American, he wanted to become a monk,
and the Thai man said: 'You're really early,
you've come a couple of hours too early.'
But the Thai man said: 'Never mind. I've got the keys, I can let you inside.'
So he took this Westerner inside the monastery.
He opened the doors, it was a metal door
in front of the Uposatha hall, the boat.
You're Thai, it's called the Royal Gate.
I'll tell you why afterwards, if you don't already know.
And then went into the main hall,
turned on the electric lights,
he had the key, opened the main hall,
the holy of holies there,
and he described all the paintings, all the murals on this 200-year-old hall.
And who painted them, why they were painted,
and the story which those murals told.
And if you know that Thai art in those days,
every one of those murals told a story, it's like a cartoon,
but cartoons in the West they would start from the left
and they go to the right, then the next level...
These go around all sorts of different... trajectories.
If you know the story, you can actually tell what they are, but even
sometimes I know those stories, but I can't actually figure out
how they all connect together.
But the two hours went past so quickly.
He was so fascinated by all this history
of the temple that this Thai man knew.
Then the Thai man said: 'It's about time now, to...
the monks will be coming out any minute,
so go out the gate again, turn right, and then wait for this old monk –
he's the one you should speak to.'
That's what this Westerner did.
This American.
I know this American.
It's a true story.
Happened in my lifetime, in Thailand.
And
soon that monk came out
and he put some food in the bowl, asked him he wanted to become a monk,
and this American was told to wait and was taken to start the training,
being a monk.
And
after a few days,
the American said: 'Look, the monk you've given me
to teach me all the chanting,
and the rules and stuff,
I can't understand him, his English is no good.
And the other monk said 'This is the best
English speaker we've got in the whole monastery'.
And that is where this American said: 'What about that temple attendant
who I met on the first day?'
'What temple attendant?'
'The guy who opened the door for me.'
'You can't go through that door.
That gate is the Royal Gate.
The only people allowed through that gate at Wat Bowon
are members of the royal family.'
You know how much they hold their tradition.
And you can't turn the electricity on there.
And, and...
not even the Abbot knows all the stories behind those paintings.
They took him straight to the Abbot.
That was Somdet Nyanasamvara.
He became the Head Monk of Thailand.
But at that time, he was the Abbot of the temple.
The Abbot was listening to all of this and stopped him.
And said: 'Wait' and called in the secretary, 'This needs to be recorded.'
And this is pretty much a true story.
I did tell this story in the Thai Embassy in Singapore, once.
And the Ambassador there, interrupted me.
Eventually afterwards he said 'Yes, I've seen that story written down,
it's true, it actually happened.'
But anyway, the Abbot wrote it all down.
Or the secretary, rather.
But the end of the story.
Of course, they asked the question:
'What did that man look like?
That temple attendant we don't know, exists.
The one who opened doors which only royal family can open.'
No one's got the key, no temple attendant's got the key to the main hall.
Only a couple of monks have that key.
Not even the old Abbot knew all the stories behind the paintings.
He said: 'What did he look like?'
You know what happens when you have to try and describe a person,
especially if you're from a different country;
'I don't know, he just... was Thai.'
'He was wearing traditional Thai clothes,' he said.
That was one interesting thing.
Not modern clothes.
Traditional Thai clothes.
'But what did he look like?'
And this American couldn't think exactly what this guy looked like.
So he was scratching his head, literally, because that's what Westerners do,
Thais don't do that.
Scratching his head.
And he stopped.
He was looking at a portrait
in the Abbot's office.
'It's him!'
'That's the one.'
'That's the one I met'.
That was a portrait
of one of the sponsors of that temple
when it was first built.
His Majesty King Rama V
who died
about 150 years prior to that incident.
That went down in the books.
A heavenly being
coming down to help a young man
become a monk.
And that's one of those amazing real-life heavenly-being stories.
You can imagine, it's in the books, happened.
That other guy, that monk, lost contact with him a long time ago,
he went back to America, not sure where he went to.
But this is amazing, what happens.
So, when you're a good monk or a good nun,
there are lots of other beings who will look after you.
Especially in a place like Dhammasara.
I remember going there the first...
goosebumps.
I remember going there the first time
with Ajahn Cittapalo's brother.
When it was on auction.
Going in there
and chanting my heart out.
To actually get that place
for our Bhikkhuni Sangha.
You can feel this energy in that place.
Good beings looking after you.
That's why
we got it.
That's why
it's been a very successful, beautiful monastery.
That is why –
sorry, fire demons.
You go find another place to burn.
But not Dhammasara.
That place
is safe.
Okay. There we go.
I thought that was a rubbish talk tonight,
but I started on rubbish
and see where it went to.
So thank you all for listening.
Sadhu! Sadhu! Sadhu! (all together)
I don't know how many times I've told that story,
I usually tell that story in retreats, but it still gives me goosebumps as well.
Ok, here we go for questions here today.
This is first from New Zealand.
'Many times my mind will recall a random memory
that is embarrassing or painful.
It causes me intense emotion.
The past is often painful.
Can you offer insight?'
First of all, whatever that random memory is
which causes you embarrassment or pain,
if you can share that story as honestly you can with somebody you know
and trust –
because when it actually is not inside of you, but it's outside,
it becomes far smaller, less of a problem.
I've seen that many times, I told that story few weeks ago,
about this woman, not far,
in Tuart Hill somewhere.
Tuart Hill, Dianella...
And she was dying.
And I asked her that once, before she passed away:
'Is there anything you've done in your life
which you're very ashamed of?'
And of course it took a while to get her to confess to me.
And what she said was that once in her life
she'd kissed another woman's husband.
And I asked 'Is that all you've done?'
She said 'Yes, I was so ashamed of it, you're the first person I've told.'
So that's not bad, a whole life.
We can forgive you that one.
But for me, hearing that, that was a small thing.
But for her, it was the most terrible thing she'd ever done.
But once she actually confessed it, let somebody know,
she also realized it wasn't that bad.
So if you can tell a person you trust,
a person who's kind,
who'll give you forgiveness straight away,
then you'll put it more in perspective.
It's the old story - how big is my hand? My hand is so big because it's too close.
You put it away, where other people can see it,
your hand is just of ordinary size, it's not that big of a problem.
And then it will just...
the emotions will go away, it's not such a bad thing you've done.
Also, at least have some friends
or some spiritual path
where it's ok to make mistakes.
So you don't have to be so perfect.
So you can accept
when you made mistakes,
embarrassing, shameful things you've done.
And you learn from them.
You grow from them, you become a better person.
From Germany.
'I have the habit of collecting the garbage in me
and it doesn't fall though.
It disturbs or depressed me.
Can I do anything about that or make it vanish? Thank you.'
Of course you can.
You're a rubbish bin, but you forgot to put a hole in the bottom.
So see if you can just visualize...
visualize life.
It has some beautiful stuff, and some unpleasant stuff.
And just have it so the beautiful stuff goes in one side of the rubbish bin
and stays.
And the other part goes in the other part and just disappears,
down the bottom.
Can you do that?
Do some visualization, sometimes that helps.
But don't collect the garbage in you.
For goodness grace, just...
allow it to just go through you.
And then,
it just goes back into the soil
and generates new flowers and fruits for another time.
But the garbage in you
is not worth collecting.
Now from Indonesia.
'Dear Ajahn Brahm,
Ajahn Chah emphasized his teaching about impermanence.
How do we avoid feeling sad,
when we know our loved ones are going to leave us?'
Because new loves ones are gonna come in to your life.
That's impermanence.
You don't feel sad that one concert is finished,
because you know this other band's coming
in a theatre close to you next week.
Yes, you do have many people you love and care for,
but when they pass away,
you have other people you can love and care for.
And this is life.
What a wonderful thing it is.
We have so many more opportunities
to care and have real love – love which doesn't own something.
Ones which enjoy their time together,
when the day is finished,
good night, we had a wonderful day together.
See you, maybe see someone else.
In your next life.
That's being truthful.
Realistic.
And it also means you're always open
to another person you can have a wonderful time with.
And lastly, from Russia:
'Dear Ajahn Brahm, what would you advise, if a person who has strong aspiration
to the highest Buddhist achievement, but can't leave a lay life
because of commitments?
Having aspirations, I've mentioned this before,
if you start with an aspiration,
it then leads to desperation, when you can't achieve your aspiration,
and expiration
when you expire.
So instead of having aspirations,
learn how to be content.
This is good enough.
I'm happy to be here.
As I mentioned to some of you, that
during the Covid lockdown, this was in Bangkok apparently,
the Thai Rath newspaper, which is the biggest newspaper, most read newspaper,
daily newspaper in Thailand.
They carried one of my stories,
about the difference between being free or being in prison.
And the only difference is that any place you don't want to be
is called prison.
Any place you love to be is called freedom.
It doesn't matter if it's like somewhere they call Bangkok jail
or it's something you call like Hilton 6-star hotel.
If you don't wanna be there,
that Hilton Hotel,
which many people get quarantined in,
it's like a prison.
It's really crazy, isn't it?
People spend some much money trying to make these hotel rooms
or suites, whatever, just the most comfortable thing in the world,
but if you don't wanna be there, because it's lockdown
or you're quarantine,
you perceive it as a prison.
Me, being in lockdown for five days over in Serpentine:
'Yaaaay, free!'
Actually, you felt free there.
Didn't have to talk to people after lunch.
It was great, because after lunch, I have to go, as senior monk,
I have to sit down and wait and talk to people about this and the other
same old stuff and same old jokes you hear from me, so...
But then, this time, as soon as I finished my meal,
I could go.
'Yaaaay, free!.'
You know what it's like, it's great!
So it's wonderful, lockdown,
it's more freedom
that I get when I'm in prison.
So what is prison?
So if you have a strong aspiration
to the highest Buddhist achievement,
just stop the aspiration.
All aspirations.
Learn how to be.
Learn how to be content.
Learn how to be kind.
These qualities,
those qualities, not aspirations but qualities,
developing kindness,
contentment,
learn how to be happy where you are,
to enjoy the moment
and be able to let it go as soon as it finishes.
Being a rubbish bin with
no bottom at all.
Infinite rubbish bin.
Always empty.
Always able to receive things.
Those are really nice things
to develop.
But don't aspire for them.
Give up all the aspirations.
And then they come to you.
That was the last question, but
just to show how they do come to you, for those who don't know that,
I probably told it last week, the donkey story?
Here we go, it's the old donkey story,
just to finish off with today.
Many of you know, this is one of my favourites.
There was a donkey
and it just wouldn't pull the cart.
So the owner got a stick out and tried to hit the donkey,
but the donkey wouldn't move.
But then
the owner figured out, how to get the donkey to pull the cart:
he tied the stick to the donkey's neck,
so the front of the stick was two foot in front of the donkey's head,
string on the end of the stick
and a carrot on the end of the string.
So the donkey saw a carrot two foot in front of it.
Donkeys like carrots,
so the donkey went towards the carrot.
When the donkey went towards the carrot, the carrot went away from the donkey.
Welcome to life.
I don't know how many carrots you've been chasing in your life
or this last week,
but I think you can relate to that story.
That's how they get donkeys to pull carts.
But,
when you come to this center,
you figure out how to catch the carrot.
Simple, really.
You run after that carrot as fast as you can.
Doesn't matter how fast you run,
that carrot is still two foot in front of you.
But then, you know how to...
stop.
Stop and let go.
So the little donkey stops and the carrot goes further away.
Four foot away, never been as far away before, you think
it's not working, this is not working, it's not right.
You've got to aspire for something and start chasing the carrot again.
But no, no, you have a bit of faith and confidence.
Four foot away the carrot goes,
and then,
the carrot comes swinging towards you.
And soon it's two foot in front as usual, but now coming at top speed,
it's never come as fast to you before.
And it comes and swings right close to your mouth,
but the last thing you have to remember,
what many Buddhists forget.
Kindness, compassion.
When that carrot comes right close to your mouth,
you have to remember
to say to that carrot:
'Carrot, the door of my mouth is open to you.'
Otherwise, it bounces off your teeth.
Okay.
That's enough for the questions.
Sadhu! Sadhu! Sadhu!
Okay.
There we go.
Was that a rubbish talk, tonight?
Okay, let's pay respect to the Buddha, Dhamma, Sangha.