6.
The Discourse on the Simile of the Quail
148. Thus have I heard - On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling among the Aṅguttarāpans, where there was a market town of the Aṅguttarāpans named Āpaṇa. Then the Blessed One, having dressed in the earlier period of the day, taking his bowl and robe, entered Āpaṇa for almsfood. Having walked for almsfood in Āpaṇa, after the meal, having returned from his alms round, he approached a certain jungle thicket for the day residence. Having plunged into that jungle thicket, he sat down for the day residence at the foot of a certain tree. The Venerable Udāyī also, having dressed in the earlier period of the day, taking his bowl and robe, entered Āpaṇa for almsfood. Having walked for almsfood in Āpaṇa, after the meal, having returned from his alms round, he approached that jungle thicket for the day residence. Having plunged into that jungle thicket, he sat down for the day residence at the foot of a certain tree. Then, when the Venerable Udāyī had gone to a private place and was in seclusion, this reflection arose in his mind: "The Blessed One has indeed removed many painful states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many pleasant states to us; the Blessed One has indeed removed many unwholesome mental states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many wholesome mental states to us." Then the Venerable Udāyī, in the evening, having emerged from seclusion, approached the Blessed One; having approached, he paid respect to the Blessed One and sat down to one side.
149. Seated to one side, the Venerable Udāyī said this to the Blessed One - "Here, venerable sir, when I had gone to a private place and was in seclusion, this reflection arose in my mind: 'The Blessed One has indeed removed many painful states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many pleasant states to us; the Blessed One has indeed removed many unwholesome mental states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many wholesome mental states to us.' For we, venerable sir, formerly used to eat in the evening and in the morning and during the day at the improper time. There was indeed, venerable sir, a time when the Blessed One addressed the monks: 'Come now, monks, abandon this eating during the day at the improper time.' Then, venerable sir, there was alteration in me, there was displeasure in me - 'Whatever excellent solid and soft food faithful householders give us during the day at the improper time, the Blessed One has declared the abandoning of that too, the Fortunate One has declared the relinquishment of that too.' We, venerable sir, considering affection and respect and shame and moral fear towards the Blessed One, thus abandoned that eating during the day at the improper time. We, venerable sir, then ate only in the evening and in the morning. There was indeed, venerable sir, a time when the Blessed One addressed the monks: 'Come now, monks, abandon this eating at night at the improper time.' Then, venerable sir, there was alteration in me, there was displeasure in me - 'Whatever of these two meals is reckoned as more excellent, the Blessed One has declared the abandoning of that too, the Fortunate One has declared the relinquishment of that too.' Once in the past, venerable sir, a certain man, having obtained curry ingredients during the day, said thus: 'Come now, put this aside, in the evening we shall all eat together in unity.' Whatever preparations there are, venerable sir, all those are at night, few during the day. We, venerable sir, considering affection and respect and shame and moral fear towards the Blessed One, thus abandoned that eating at night at the improper time. Once in the past, venerable sir, monks walking for almsfood in the dark of the night would enter bathing tanks, would fall into cesspools, would step onto thorn fences, would step onto sleeping cows, would encounter young men who had done their deed and those who had not done their deed, and women would invite them to sexual misconduct. Once in the past, venerable sir, I was walking for almsfood in the dark of the night. A certain woman, venerable sir, washing a vessel by a flash of lightning, saw me. Having seen me, frightened, she let out a cry - 'Alas, woe is me, a goblin indeed has come upon me!' When this was said, I, venerable sir, said this to that woman - 'I am not, sister, a goblin; I am a monk standing for almsfood.' 'May the monk's father be dead, may the monk's mother be dead! Better for you, monk, that your belly be cut open with a sharp butcher's knife, than that you should walk for almsfood in the dark of the night for the sake of your belly.' When I, venerable sir, recollect that, it occurs to me thus: 'The Blessed One has indeed removed many painful states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many pleasant states to us; the Blessed One has indeed removed many unwholesome mental states from us, the Blessed One has indeed brought many wholesome mental states to us.'"
150. "Just so, Udāyī, here some foolish men, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing, this ascetic is too scrupulous.' They do not abandon that, and they establish displeasure towards me. And for those monks who are eager to train, that, Udāyī, becomes a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log - just as, Udāyī, an Indian quail, a little bird, bound by a bond of rotting creeper, right there awaits killing or imprisonment or death. Now, Udāyī, if someone were to say thus - 'That by which that Indian quail, a little bird, bound by a bond of rotting creeper, right there awaits killing or imprisonment or death, that indeed is for her a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage'; would he, Udāyī, speaking thus, speak rightly?" "No, Venerable Sir. That by which, Venerable Sir, that Indian quail, a little bird, bound by a bond of rotting creeper, right there awaits killing or imprisonment or death, that indeed is for her a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log." "Just so indeed, Udāyī, here some foolish men, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing, this ascetic is too scrupulous'? They do not abandon that, and they establish displeasure towards me. And for those monks who are eager to train, that, Udāyī, becomes a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log."
151. "Here again, Udāyī, some sons of good family, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing to be abandoned, of which the Blessed One has declared the abandoning, of which the Fortunate One has declared the relinquishment?' They abandon that very thing, and they do not establish displeasure towards me. And those monks who are eager to train, having abandoned that, dwell living at ease, subdued, living on what is given by others, with a mind become like a deer. For them, Udāyī, that becomes a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage - just as, Udāyī, a king's elephant with tusks as long as a plough-pole, fully grown, well-born, experienced in battle, bound with firm thongs and bonds, having bent his body just a little, having cut through and burst apart those bonds, departs wherever he wishes. Now, Udāyī, if someone were to say thus - 'That by which that king's elephant with tusks as long as a plough-pole, fully grown, well-born, experienced in battle, bound with firm thongs and bonds, having bent his body just a little, having cut through and burst apart those bonds, departs wherever he wishes - that indeed is for him a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log'; would he, Udāyī, speaking thus, speak rightly?" "No, Venerable Sir. That by which, Venerable Sir, that king's elephant with tusks as long as a plough-pole, fully grown, well-born, experienced in battle, bound with firm thongs and bonds, having bent his body just a little, having cut through and burst apart those bonds, departs wherever he wishes - that indeed is for him a weak bondage, etc. a coreless bondage." "Just so indeed, Udāyī, here some sons of good family, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing to be abandoned, of which the Blessed One has declared the abandoning, of which the Fortunate One has declared the relinquishment?' They abandon that very thing, and they do not establish displeasure towards me. And those monks who are eager to train, having abandoned that, dwell living at ease, subdued, living on what is given by others, with a mind become like a deer. For them, Udāyī, that becomes a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage."
152. "Just as, Udāyī, a man who is poor, penniless, destitute; he would have one little house, broken and collapsed, open to crows, not of the highest quality; one little cot, broken and collapsed, not of the highest quality; in one pot, grain and seeds, not of the highest quality; one little wife, not of the highest quality. He might see a monk who has gone to a monastery, with well-washed hands and feet, having eaten delightful food, seated in cool shade, devoted to higher consciousness. He would think thus - 'Happy indeed, friend, is asceticism, healthy indeed, friend, is asceticism! I would indeed be that man who, having shaved off hair and beard, having put on ochre robes, would go forth from home into homelessness.' He would not be able, having abandoned one little house, broken and collapsed, open to crows, not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little cot, broken and collapsed, not of the highest quality, having abandoned in one pot grain and seeds not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little wife not of the highest quality, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness. Now, Udāyī, if someone were to say thus - 'That by which that man is bound by bonds, he is not able, having abandoned one little house, broken and collapsed, open to crows, not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little cot, broken and collapsed, not of the highest quality, having abandoned in one pot grain and seeds not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little wife not of the highest quality, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness; that indeed is for him a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage'; would he, Udāyī, speaking thus, speak rightly?" "No, Venerable Sir. That by which, Venerable Sir, that man is bound by bonds, he is not able, having abandoned one little house, broken and collapsed, open to crows, not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little cot, broken and collapsed, not of the highest quality, having abandoned in one pot grain and seeds not of the highest quality, having abandoned one little wife not of the highest quality, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness; that indeed is for him a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log." "Just so indeed, Udāyī, here some foolish men, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing, this ascetic is too scrupulous'? They do not abandon that, and they establish displeasure towards me. And for those monks who are eager to train, that, Udāyī, becomes a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log."
153. "Just as, Udāyī, a householder or a householder's son, wealthy, of great riches, of great possessions, with an accumulation of many groups of gold coins, with an accumulation of many groups of grain, with an accumulation of many groups of fields, with an accumulation of many groups of sites, with an accumulation of many groups of wives, with an accumulation of many groups of male slaves, with an accumulation of many groups of female slaves; he might see a monk who has gone to a monastery, with well-washed hands and feet, having eaten delightful food, seated in cool shade, devoted to higher consciousness. He would think thus - 'Happy indeed, friend, is asceticism, healthy indeed, friend, is asceticism! I would indeed be that man who, having shaved off hair and beard, having put on ochre robes, would go forth from home into homelessness.' He would be able, having abandoned many groups of gold coins, having abandoned many groups of grain, having abandoned many groups of fields, having abandoned many groups of sites, having abandoned many groups of wives, having abandoned many groups of male slaves, having abandoned many groups of female slaves, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness. Now, Udāyī, if someone were to say thus - 'That by which that householder or householder's son is bound by bonds, he is able, having abandoned many groups of gold coins, having abandoned many groups of grain, having abandoned many groups of fields, having abandoned many groups of sites, having abandoned many groups of wives, having abandoned many groups of male slaves, having abandoned many groups of female slaves, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness - that indeed is for him a powerful bondage, a firm bondage, a lasting bondage, an unrotting bondage, a gross log'; would he, Udāyī, speaking thus, speak rightly?" "No, Venerable Sir. That by which, Venerable Sir, that householder or householder's son is bound by bonds, he is able, having abandoned many groups of gold coins, having abandoned many groups of grain, having abandoned many groups of fields, having abandoned many groups of sites, having abandoned many groups of wives, having abandoned many groups of male slaves, having abandoned many groups of female slaves, to shave off hair and beard, put on ochre robes, and go forth from home into homelessness; that indeed is for him a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage." "Just so indeed, Udāyī, here some sons of good family, when told by me 'Abandon this,' they say thus - 'What then of this trifle, this insignificant thing to be abandoned, of which the Blessed One has declared the abandoning, of which the Fortunate One has declared the relinquishment?' They abandon that very thing, and they do not establish displeasure towards me. And those monks who are eager to train, having abandoned that, dwell living at ease, subdued, living on what is given by others, with a mind become like a deer. For them, Udāyī, that becomes a weak bondage, a feeble bondage, a rotten bondage, a coreless bondage."
154. "Udāyī, there are these four persons existing and found in the world. Which four? Here, Udāyī, a certain person is practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging. To him, practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging, thoughts connected with clinging occur to him. He accepts them, does not abandon them, does not dispel them, does not put an end to them, does not bring them to obliteration. This person, Udāyī, I call 'bound', not 'unbound'. What is the reason for this? Because the difference in faculties in this person is known to me, Udāyī.
"Here again, Udāyī, a certain person is practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging. To him, practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging, thoughts connected with clinging occur to him. He does not accept them, he abandons them, dispels them, puts an end to them, brings them to obliteration. This person too, Udāyī, I call 'bound', not 'unbound'. What is the reason for this? Because the difference in faculties in this person is known to me, Udāyī.
"Here again, Udāyī, a certain person is practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging. To him, practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging, sometimes, on rare occasions, through forgetfulness of mindfulness, thoughts connected with clinging occur to him; slow, Udāyī, is the arising of mindfulness. Then he quickly abandons them, dispels them, puts an end to them, brings them to obliteration. Just as, Udāyī, a man might let fall two or three drops of water onto an iron cauldron heated all day; slow, Udāyī, is the falling of the drops of water. Then they would quickly go to utter elimination and exhaustion. Just so, Udāyī, here a certain person is practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging. To him, practising for the abandoning of clinging, for the relinquishment of clinging, sometimes, on rare occasions, through forgetfulness of mindfulness, thoughts connected with clinging occur to him; slow, Udāyī, is the arising of mindfulness. Then he quickly abandons them, dispels them, puts an end to them, brings them to obliteration. This person too, Udāyī, I call 'bound', not 'unbound'. What is the reason for this? Because the difference in faculties in this person is known to me, Udāyī.
"Here again, Udāyī, a certain person, having understood 'clinging is the root of suffering' - thus having understood, he is without clinging, liberated in the extinction of clinging. This person, Udāyī, I call 'unbound', not 'bound'. What is the reason for this? Because the difference in faculties in this person is known to me, Udāyī. These, Udāyī, are the four persons existing and found in the world.
155. "There are, Udāyī, these five types of sensual pleasure. Which five? Forms cognizable by eye that are desirable, lovely, agreeable, enticing, connected with sensuality, arousing; sounds cognizable by ear... etc. odours cognizable by nose... flavours cognizable by tongue... Tangible objects cognizable by body that are desirable, lovely, agreeable, enticing, connected with sensuality, arousing. These, Udāyī, are the five types of sensual pleasure. Whatever happiness and pleasure arises dependent on these five types of sensual pleasure, Udāyī, this is called sensual happiness, filthy happiness, worldling's happiness, ignoble happiness; it should not be cultivated, should not be developed, should not be made much of; 'This happiness should be feared', I say.
156. "Here, Udāyī, a monk, quite secluded from sensual pleasures... etc. enters and dwells in the first meditative absorption, with the subsiding of applied and sustained thought... enters and dwells in the second meditative absorption, with the fading away of rapture... enters and dwells in the third meditative absorption, with the abandoning of pleasure... he enters and dwells in the fourth meditative absorption. This is called the happiness of renunciation, the happiness of solitude, the happiness of peace, the happiness of highest enlightenment; it should be cultivated, should be developed, should be made much of; 'This happiness should not be feared', I say.
"Here, Udāyī, a monk, quite secluded from sensual pleasures... etc. enters and dwells in the first meditative absorption; this, Udāyī, I call perturbable. And what is perturbable there? Just that applied and sustained thought have not ceased there, this is perturbable there. Here, Udāyī, with the subsiding of applied and sustained thought, a monk... etc. he enters and dwells in the second meditative absorption; this too, Udāyī, I call perturbable. And what is perturbable there? Just that rapture and happiness have not ceased there, this is perturbable there. Here, Udāyī, with the fading away of rapture, a monk... etc. he enters and dwells in the third meditative absorption; this too, Udāyī, I call perturbable. And what is perturbable there? Just that equanimity and happiness have not ceased there, this is perturbable there. Here, Udāyī, with the abandoning of pleasure, a monk... etc. enters and dwells in the fourth meditative absorption; this, Udāyī, I call imperturbable.
"Here, Udāyī, a monk, quite secluded from sensual pleasures... etc. enters and dwells in the first meditative absorption; this, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the subsiding of applied and sustained thought, a monk... enters and dwells in the second meditative absorption; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the fading away of rapture, a monk... enters and dwells in the third meditative absorption; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the abandoning of pleasure, a monk... enters and dwells in the fourth meditative absorption; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the complete transcendence of perceptions of material form, with the passing away of perceptions of sensory impingement, with inattention to perceptions of diversity, aware that 'space is infinite,' a monk enters and dwells in the plane of infinite space; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the complete transcendence of the plane of infinite space, aware that 'consciousness is infinite,' a monk enters and dwells in the plane of infinite consciousness; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the complete transcendence of the plane of infinite consciousness, aware that 'there is nothing,' a monk enters and dwells in the plane of nothingness; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the complete transcendence of the plane of nothingness, a monk enters and dwells in the plane of neither-perception-nor-non-perception; this is its transcendence; this too, Udāyī, I call 'not enough', I say 'abandon it', I say 'transcend it'. And what is its transcendence? Here, Udāyī, with the complete transcendence of the plane of neither-perception-nor-non-perception, a monk enters and dwells in the cessation of perception and feeling; this is its transcendence; thus, Udāyī, I speak of the abandoning even of the plane of neither-perception-nor-non-perception. Do you see, Udāyī, any mental fetter, subtle or gross, of which I do not speak of abandoning?" "No indeed, venerable sir."
This is what the Blessed One said. Delighted, the Venerable Udāyī rejoiced in what the Blessed One had said.
The Discourse on the Simile of the Quail is concluded as sixth.