第六章第三節：嚴格的修行方法

第六章第三節:嚴格的修行方法

    頭陀比丘都是被「求法若渴」的動因所驅動。他們平時得忍受諸多的艱困：通常見諸於他們四處雲遊行腳的生涯中、在他們的生活條件中，以及他們的修行方式之中。對他們來說，很難找到一位像阿姜曼一樣優秀的老師，而且是一位能以可靠的方法來訓練他們的老師，從而可以帶給他們修行上的喜樂。每當他們一見到他，就會像小孩看見父親一樣地高興。這份結合了虔誠與敬愛之情帶給他們一種完全信任他的情感，他們會放心地將生命與福祉全都交託到他的手上。

        頭陀比丘通常很自然地會對他們的老師有強大的信心，對老師的敬愛到了願為他犧牲生命也無怨尤的程度。就算沒有跟老師住在一起，他們還是對老師有一份異乎尋常的責任感。無論他們得忍受多大的艱困，又或者修行有多麼困難，只要有老師的支持，他們都可以安於現狀。他們可以忍受每日生活上的匱乏 —— 而且經常是要什麼就沒什麼 —— 因為在他們的心中深信「法」比任何東西都要來得珍貴。有時候，他們還不得不在雨中過夜，在雨夜中像小鳥一樣冷得發抖。然而，他們為了「法」而忍受逆境的決心卻從未動搖。

        聽頭陀比丘談起他們徒步行腳穿越偏遠森林的經歷一直都是非常有趣的一件事。他們修行的方式、他們忍受艱困的方式 —— 由於極度的匱乏，他們得像野生動物一樣住在森林裡，經常得睡在四周沒有屏障的露地上，真的好慘。

        他們會運用各種不同的技巧來強化他們的禪修，不斷地摸索試驗，直到他們找到最適合自己個性的方法。他們會嘗試以下的方式：不睡覺、減少食量、以他們身體能承受的情況下多日禁食、從黃昏到隔日清晨徹夜禪坐、連續禪坐好幾個小時、徹夜通宵禪坐、當老虎走入巢穴時就在牠們走過的足跡上禪坐、在老虎經常出沒的森林小徑上徹夜禪坐、在有屍體被火化的當日到墓地去禪坐、在懸崖峭壁的邊緣禪坐、涉險入山林中找一處特別恐怖的地方深夜禪坐、在有大批老虎出沒的區域中的某棵樹下深夜禪坐等等，他們都是藉由恐懼的威脅來幫助「心」入定。以上這些修行方法都殊途同歸 —— 都是以「苦其心志」來強制馴服難以掌控的本性。

        當某個比丘找到其中一種或幾種適合他個性的方法，他便能發揮出很好的效果，集中心念並增強決心，從而達到他的目標並在過程中學到許多寶貴的啟示。也因此，頭陀比丘實際上都比較喜歡這種「苦其心志」的方法。阿姜曼自己都曾用過這些方法，所以很喜歡鼓勵他的弟子去效法，並堅持這才是有智慧的人訓練自己的方法。這些方法都尚未被丟棄 —— 迄今仍被頭陀比丘所採用。

        我們進行開展心靈價值的訓練方法需要相當多強硬的手段才能成功。跟我們獲得的善果：如戒德、知足、戒律、監督並維護我們生活的「法」則 —— 　一切世人所高度重視的品質等比起來，我們所經歷的艱困根本就微不足道，只有沒用的廢物與屍體才不需要維護。我們所希望實現的個人價值唯有透過不斷的自我改進才會產生，所以我們都應該在生活中努力維持這個目標。藉由這種方式，我們在今生與來世才會變成善良、快樂幸福、富貴昌盛的人。因此頭陀比丘應該廣受大家的殷勤尊重，因為他們排除了一切阻礙他們修行的逆境與艱困，從而在心中清理出了一條通往解脫的道路。

        只要有人對於如何正確修行一事仍感興趣，佛陀的教法就會無限地延續下去。那些真心求法若渴並依法奉行的人，在沿途的每一個階段，「法」都會以卓越的成果作為回饋。這個原則被熱切追求真諦的世尊所體現，當他體悟到這個真諦後，再教導世人。真心相信佛法的人也都是真心求法若渴的人，他們絕不會不認真或以不當的方式去修行，也絕不會阻礙佛教的進展並將其貶抑到讓非佛教徒可找到輕賤或譏嫌理由的程度。

        「正法」是非常崇高的真諦，值得被全宇宙的蒼生廣為宣揚並奉行而毋庸擔心其時效性，因為它們是從佛陀全然的清淨中所生出的真正自然法則 —— 當然，除非你對它不感興趣或無法理解。如果是這樣的話，「正法」就可能會在那些心中被無明所盤踞的人們當中，被他們無數的不同意見所劫持，而這種根深蒂固的無明其實就是早已滲透「正法」的一種雜染障蔽物。

        請原諒我囉嗦偏離了主題 —— 這顯示出我還缺乏能抑制不良傾向的必要堅定法則。我想繼續探討頭陀比丘一般所採用且能開展出習性的嚴格修行方法。經過精進的修習之後，這些方法中的每一種都產生出顯著的成果。它們協助降低了心中難以掌控、傲慢的特質，一種由於旺盛的身體精力所造成的惡化情況。減少食物的攝取、禁食、不睡覺，或其他嚴格的方法，例如長時間不間斷地經行或靜坐 —— 這些修行方法都是為了在解脫的路上，提供「心」能輕鬆向前邁進的力量；而其他的方法則是為那些怕鬼或怕老虎的人所設計的，這些方法可使他們不畏縮，迫使「心」轉向內在真正的庇護聖殿所在之處，在彼處停留，直到平靜與勇氣生起。

        恐懼可經由這種方法減輕趨緩，甚至消除。然後「心」在一個真正關鍵的關卡被逼到某一處角落時，便會展現出自己的力量與實力 —— 例如，當身體被疼痛所逼迫折磨 —— 它（心）就是有辦法勝出並生存下去。一般說來，「心」只有在處於危急關鍵的處境之際，正念與觀智才會完全被喚醒；否則，它們永遠沒有機會展現自己完全的潛力。

        充分了解正念與觀智的真正潛能去大膽行動進而開展出其能力的極佳方法，就是運用我們的聰明才智，去遍嘗各種有利的方法，直到找出那些最適合我們自己的方法。然後我們心就會趨於平靜而不受干擾，不管發生什麼事也都能泰山崩於前而面不改色。這些方法中的任何一種都會各自帶來其獨特的成果，那些長期以來因怕鬼所困擾的人，可藉由迫使自己在公墓過夜來擺脫這種使人軟弱的恐懼；而那些懼怕像老虎等一類野生動物的人，可以迫使自己在恐怖的荒野中過夜來克服這種恐懼；至於那些貪吃的人，可藉由大幅降低食物的攝取或禁食來降低食慾，甚至克服對食物的嗜貪。

        我們都喜歡美食，我們往往相信吃一堆美味可口的食物會讓我們快樂，但問題是：慾壑難填，永不知足，它總是希望還要能更多。不管它讓我們有多麼地不滿足，我們卻無法自覺到這種不滿足其實是源自於自己放浪形骸（縱慾）的傾向。因此，為了瞭解自己及自己的黏著（執著）而修行的我們就必須觀察到這種慾望，並對飲食無度做出一些強而有力的節制。

        至於就頭陀比丘而言，有時會採取自願禁欲苦行的方式。當比丘注意到某種特定的食物引燃了心中不當的欲望，他就會藉由拒絕吃這種食物來懲罰這種渴望。甚至，他會去吃不會引起渴望的食物。如果他覺得他想要吃很多東西，那他就只會吃一點點；又或者他可能只吃白米，即使還有很多其他的食物可供他選擇。那些會激發身體活力的食物，也可能會阻礙心智，從而使得禪修變得更加困難。於是乎他的禪修便無法按照應有的進度進展，儘管他跟過往一樣精進。一旦他意識到問題的原因，他便斷然拒絕順從心中的貪慾去努力消除它。這就是在好老師的指導下一個真正致力於鍛鍊自己的比丘應有的態度：他會抵制一切因循苟且的誘惑。

        正如頭陀比丘訓練自己不管吃什麼都要有所節制與自制，那麼就連睡覺也一樣，他可以決定自己在預定的時間起床。他不會放任自己就這樣睡到自然醒，讓睡眠恣意在任何時刻來叫醒他。他訓練自己仔細思惟自己的行為是否適當，即使嚴格來說並未違反戒律，他也絕不會做出任何違背「法」的道德原則並因而被認定為不當的事。他會在心中努力灌溉「法」，使它逐漸成長茁壯，絕不使它枯萎 —— 一種極為艱困的任務。真的好難，事實上，沒有其他的努力能與之相比。

        然而，一旦我們在心中以世俗的方式去灌溉，雜染便容易產生並茁壯，那麼它就會在那裡等待，只要我們稍不留神，它便伺機造成傷害，屆時我們便沒辦法去控制它們。就在頃刻間，它偷偷地滲入心中並開始繁殖，直到我們無法掌握它們的數量與動態。我們可以肯定的是它們只會給我們造成後患，它們的產生與繁衍的速度是如此之快，而且就在一眨眼間，它們到處都是，根本就沒辦法去捕捉它們。性慾就是這樣的一種雜染 —— 很容易產生，卻很難清除。性慾會創造出一種具有破壞性與攻擊性的心態，而這種心態又往往會以一種極為魯莽的方式來自我呈現。因為世人都這麼喜歡它，它便受到了鼓舞，四處造成破壞並忽視道德後果。但對於心中有「法」的人，它的確會有一點忌憚；但，跟其他的比起來，它更怕佛陀與阿羅漢。因為這些聖者們已徹底拆除它一般的遊樂場所，性渴望再也不敢潛入他們的心中四處遊蕩了。但對於仍處於其惡勢力影響下的我們，它仍會帶來無窮的麻煩與後患。

        頭陀比丘都知道這些壓到讓人喘不過氣的無明都在阻礙他們修行的進步，而這也是為什麼他們會以如此嚴格的訓練方法來「苦其心志」的原因了；因為，無明最怕的並不是比丘出家身穿土褐黃袍過著梵行的生活：這件土褐黃袍代表擊潰魔羅的勝利勳章，不管比丘的年齡或戒臘是多少，魔羅總是不論成敗不斷的說服比丘放棄身上的土褐黃袍及其象徵的心靈目標（解脫）。基於這個理由，頭陀比丘在這場將無明從心中給徹底拔除的奮戰中就不得不採取強硬的手段，雖然有困難、奮戰的痛苦與不適，他們還是得忍受眼前的壓力，不能改變方向。否則，無明就會因為他們（比丘）玷辱了自己與他們身上穿的土褐黃袍而嘲笑他們。更糟的是，比丘們還損及僧團的信譽以及佛法。而最好的選擇就是犧牲生命去贖回自己與土褐黃袍，而不是任令自己在恥辱中就這樣腐爛下去。只有這樣，他們才能對得起僧團與佛教。

        頭陀比丘就是這樣砥礪自己來贏得勝利，以此來彰顯「法」，終有一天必將引領他們昇華到滅苦的領域中。唯有世尊的「法」才能指出那條崇高的滅苦之道，而且毫無疑問的，那是一條通往滅苦彼岸的平直康莊大道。沒有其他神秘的複雜方法可以就此跳過省略修行時所必須全力付出的艱辛；其他的路上也都堆砌不斷阻人成功的障礙物，它們不可避免地引起痛苦與挫敗，讓人對於所選擇的路是否真能走向徹底的解脫產生絕望並失去信心。

        阿姜曼在成為這麼知名並受人尊敬的老師之前，抱著一種「亂葬崗」的態度來修行。這個意思是指，不管他身在何處，只要他嚥下最後一口氣，他都做好準備可隨時丟棄他的身體。若要為「法」而死，他絕不會有任何的遺憾。後來，當他開始教弟子的時候，他以一種強而有力的方式來教他們，這是他為了達到圓滿的修行而磨練自己的一種嚴苛、銳利的戰略。他的教導能激勵心智，協助弟子不斷開展出能看穿無明的狡猾伎倆的新技巧，從而一勞永逸將它們給連根拔除並徹底摧毀。只有這樣，他們才能安全地脫離險境，安住於無苦之境。他們不用在生死輪迴中流浪徘徊，不用從一個出生再連續改變為另一種生命，但「苦」，也就是心中的負擔，卻仍未改變 —— 不管轉生多少次都一樣。既然每一次的新生命都只不過是自我毀滅的新工具，那麼就不該對任何領域（世界）的出生感到滿意才對。那就像把牢裡的犯人從一個監獄轉到另一個牢房一樣：只要他仍然被關在監獄裡，就根本沒有改善。有智慧的人深明不斷生死輪迴的危害，就好像每一個新生的心識搬進另一棟正在燃燒的火宅中：不管投生到何處，都無法避開危險的逼迫。以上只是阿姜曼平時如何教導頭陀弟子的概述，也許我的一些讀者會發現他的教學風格有親和力。

        在誦戒布薩日，如果有多達四十到五十名來自各地的比丘參加誦戒，阿姜曼就會說法，而且不同於他對平時跟他住在一起的比丘所說的內容。雖然他在布薩誦戒時的開示強而有力又深奧，但仍比不上他平時對跟他住在一起的比丘所說的內容。那些內容（平時的開示）真有活力，且一針見血。他每次開示的「法」其影響力都很大，似乎能將聽眾心中的無明都給洗刷乾淨，彷彿整個世界都從他們的意識中瞬間消失了，剩下的只有心意識與「法」完美和諧地結合一體，這是一種不可思議、令人歡悅且難以描述的經驗。

        幾天後，他開示的法所產生出的活力似乎已壓制了他們的無明，彷彿是向它們（無明）發出了戰帖。不可避免的，他們的煩惱在幾天後又逐漸重現了，並回到了以前的惡勢力。不過到那個時候，阿姜曼已預定好下一次的法會，他要再一次去制伏它們，讓比丘們能有更多喘息的日子。

        一切努力朝向滅苦的頭陀比丘都能感覺到自己與他們的老師之間有著緊密的聯繫。想要斷除煩惱，就需要個人的努力與好老師的幫助及建議不可分割緊密地結合在一起。當比丘在自己的修行中遇到了棘手的問題時，便會趕緊去找能釐清問題本質的老師，而老師能讓弟子了解根本的原因出在哪裡，並克服他的疑惑。有時候，當比丘與太過複雜而無法自己解決的問題奮戰時，他的老師會意外地針對這個問題講出解決的方法，而問題往往便迎刃而解，於是乎他的弟子便能不受阻礙地繼續前進。

        修行的比丘往往可以經由聽聞同修與老師之間對禪修的討論，便能確認同修或是老師的修行成就到了什麼程度。這樣的認知有助於在修行的領域中培養互信的氛圍。當某比丘在說明他所經驗的性質與經歷的階段，便可以立即從他的敘述中得知他的成就為何；而當某個弟子告訴他的老師他的禪修經驗，又或者當他問了某個特殊的問題，他便可以從老師的回答來判斷老師的修行成就為何。如果老師通曉禪修歷程，他就會熟悉那些經驗，並把那些經驗當作一個開端去建議他的弟子該如何繼續修下去；又或者，如果是具體的問題，他便能精確地指出問題的性質所在，使弟子能毫不懷疑地接受建議。也許有弟子迷失了，產生了「增上慢」，誤以為自己已達到最高的成就，已完全超越了不同的修行階段；但，這個老師透過自己的經驗，知道那不是真的；這個老師接著就必須向他的弟子解釋為什麼他錯了，並具體指出他的思惟在哪裡走偏或到底是錯在哪裡。一旦他能接受老師的論證確實無誤，他便能安全地避開這種危險（入魔）。

        一旦頭陀比丘彼此間討論過禪修的各種情況並達到了他們知道與接受相應的真正成就之後，就不再需要他人進一步的印證或確認了，因為被探討的真諦法則已證明了他們自己，修行比丘就是利用這種知識來確認彼此的成就。從老師以降到最資淺的比丘，大家就是以這種蒐集證據的方式來判定的。至於這些事件的直觀知見，需要有內在能力，而這能力是我沒有的。我只好把這種事留給那些有適當專門能力的人，因為這是一種需要個人技術的特殊情況。

        阿姜曼與其弟子們定期舉行有關禪修的討論能促使弟子們與他之間建立起深厚的私人關係。他們由於這種教導的啟發而產生的深摯敬意，都願意將性命託付給他。這份至深的信心使他們毫無疑慮地接受他所說的真諦，因為他總是談論真諦的法則，絕不會提供來自別處消息的意見或臆測。

        我自己一直都是很有主觀意見的人，不輕易相信別人的判斷，所以我常與阿姜曼爭辯。就這一點而言，我承認我在阿姜曼的諸弟子中是一個愛爭辯的麻煩人物。有時候，我捲入與他的爭辯而忘了自己不過是一個來尋求他指導的弟子 —— 而不是反過來指導阿姜曼的老師。但我還是為我自己的直言不諱感到自豪。雖然他會喝叱我並將我剁碎，但重點是：這樣我才能知道真理到底是存在於我的觀念中，還是在老師的智慧中。

        每當我與他爭辯時，聽起來就像是比誰大聲的競賽。而我愈是堅持己見，就愈發覺真理是站在他的那一邊；而我這一邊有的盡是一堆荒唐的謬論，所以我總是辯輸。當塵埃落定時，我會想很久他到底說了些什麼，然後以摯誠之心很恭敬地接受這個真理。同時，我會在心中記下錯誤的知見。有時候，因為我不知道他的理由是怎樣得來的，那時我會拒絕接受他的說法，我會等到下一次的機會再與他辯論。但我總是被他論理的力量所傷與擊倒，我的觀點都打結了。然而儘管如此，因佩服他的「法」的強大力量，我仍不由自主會心一笑。

        雖然阿姜曼很明白我非常的主觀，但他不會因為這樣就罵我或強迫我改變立場。相反地，每當他看到我時，他便會忍不住笑了起來。他可能是想我怎麼這麼難搞；又或者他是同情我這個死皮賴臉愛爭辯的傻子。我必須承認：我的個性本來就不好。甚至到了今天，我還是會厚臉皮與資深的阿姜們爭辯。但這一點對我來說還是有好處的，我從中獲得諸多不凡的啟示，是我學習過程中一個珍貴的部分。這些阿姜們似乎也不介意我的打擾；事實上，他們還常常被我搞到發笑。因為要看到一個頑固的老比丘順道來訪並惹起一些事端，實在不是那麼常見。在一般的情況下，沒有人敢跟這些阿姜中的任何一位爭辯。所以當這些寺院裡的比丘們聽說有這樣的事情發生，他們都感到相當困惑 —— 也很驚慌。

        在離開清邁府（阿姜曼超越生死輪迴之處）之後，當他決定在一個地方長期居住時，必然有其深刻的理由，只是他不會說出來。呵叻府就是一個例子。當地的出家眾與在家眾都早已開展出對「法」的真正虔誠；所以，有許多人來向他學習如何成為有成就的禪修者。之後，有些人還跟著他去烏隆與色軍府並持續跟著他學習，直到他過世為止。這些來自呵叻府與他保持互動的出家眾與在家眾，在禪修上都已經很成熟。其中有一些比丘還成為知名的阿姜，他們在心中擁有穩固的修行基礎，今天仍從事教導出家眾與在家眾的任務。許多的在家眾也能在禪修中看到持續的進步。今天，他們以一種真正令人讚嘆的方式對其他地區的在家眾展現出了樂善好施與心靈開展的方式。

        他接著在烏隆府住了下來，並在那裡度過雨安居。Wat Bodhisomphon寺的住持Chao Khun Dhammachedi，是廣受出家眾與在家眾護持的一位很有地位與影響力的比丘。他讚揚阿姜曼傑出的成就，鼓勵大家都去認識親近阿姜曼，去供養他，尤其是，聆聽他的教導。自Chao Khun Dhammachedi出家以來，一直都是虔誠的弟子，而阿姜曼也特別對他回以善意與喜愛 —— 因此，他願意留在烏隆府好幾年。

        後來阿姜曼搬到了色軍府，並住在Ban Na Mon村。在那裡，他遇見了一位年長的白衣八戒尼（學法女），她在村裡的一間小道場當住持。而她是阿姜曼為什麼一直待在那裡的主要原因：因為她的禪修相當的好。她在解脫道上已經有非常紮實的修行基礎，所以阿姜曼會給她例行的禪修指導。他說已經很難找到有如此罕見成就的人了。

        而阿姜曼之所以長期住在Ban Nong Pheu村的理由，主要是因當地的地理位置與住在村裡的人這兩大重要因緣所促成。這個地方坐落在一處非常寬廣的山谷正中央，四面環山，對於頭陀比丘的梵行生活是一處非常理想的環境。住在村裡的是一位年近八十的白衣女居士，她跟那位在Ban Na Mon村的年長八戒尼（學法女）很相像，她也是一位禪修有成的修行人，總是受到阿姜曼的特別關注。儘管她從家裡到僧團的路走得並不輕鬆，她還是常常參訪他並向他請益。她拄著拐杖，緩慢地走，途中還不得不停下來休息三到四次，最後才精疲力竭、氣喘吁吁地抵達僧團。我們都很同情她。看到她這麼辛苦，阿姜曼裝作不贊同的樣子說：「幹嘛大老遠走到這裡？難道妳不知道妳有多累嗎？就算是孩子，當他們疲累的時候，他們也會知道。妳已經八、九十歲了，當妳精疲力竭時竟還不自知。為什麼這麼辛苦來這裡？」

        她的回答一如平常地坦率與大方。他接著會問她的禪修情況並解釋了禪修「法」的方方面面。這位婦女不僅是有紮實的禪修基礎，她還有「他心通」（paracittavijjā），這種精神感應力能知悉他人心中的基本品德傾向；更重要的是，她還有一種能感應外界奇特超自然現象的本領。她跟阿姜曼說話時，會以一種很大膽且會逗他發笑的自信來描述這些不凡的感應力，對於她這般不屈不撓的精神，常逗得他發笑。

        「您的心早已超越一切、擺脫一切的束縛了。」她大膽地宣稱。「我注意您的心已經有很長的一段時間了 —— 它絕對是無與倫比。既然您的心已如此地至上，又為何還要繼續禪修呢？」

        阿姜曼笑著說：「我會堅持繼續禪修到我死的那一天。一位佛弟子絕不允許自己的決心退縮。」

        對於這一點，她回說：「如果您還有很長的一段路要走，那我可以理解。但您的心已充滿極其明亮的光芒，又何需再進一步的禪修呢？我觀察您的心並看到它環繞整個世界的萬丈光芒。您的心識遍諸方所 —— 不可能去阻礙其範疇。但我的心很可悲，缺少像您這種至高無上的品質，這也是為什麼我會來請您幫助我的原因。請告訴我：我該怎麼修才能跟您一樣證得超凡的成就呢？」

        在一旁聽她與阿姜曼的討論，便能知道她的禪修真的很出眾。只要她一遇到問題，就一定會拄著拐杖，慢慢沿著通往寺院的路走來。阿姜曼對她特別的親切：她每一次來訪，他都一定會指導她。在這樣的場合，比丘們都會靜靜地在大廳旁聆聽他們之間的對談，殷切地想聽到她的問題與他的回答。因為她的問題都是直接從她的經驗中產生，這樣的交流很吸引眾比丘。她的某些疑惑是有關內心的問題，是專注於內心（四）聖諦方面的事；另一些則是有關外界的問題，是專屬於天神與梵天界方面的事。如果阿姜曼認同她對這些事的知見，他便會鼓勵她繼續觀察下去；但如果他不認同她追求的歷程，便會建議她放棄，並對她解釋該如何調整她的修行使其步上正軌。

        她宣稱她有「他心通」的這一件事很吸引眾比丘，雖然比丘們很期盼能聽到她的內明修為，卻也相當擔心她會看到了些什麼[1]。但她總是描述了一個令人印象深刻的畫面：從最年輕的沙彌一直到阿姜曼，身上散發出光芒，這些光芒不斷地在增強，很像夜空中大量的繁星與行星，有些很明亮，有些則較黯淡。這是一個雄偉壯麗的景觀，因為就連戒臘資淺的比丘與沙彌都沒有暗沉、陰沉的心境。每一個人都讓人欽佩，每一個比丘都各自以其方法努力改進並提升其修行成就，都值得受到尊敬。

        有時候她會敘述她遊歷色究竟梵天世界的經歷，並描述她在那裡看到為數甚多的比丘，卻沒有看到在家人。這一點讓她感到很困惑，於是她向阿姜曼求教 —— 而他如是回答：「在最高的色究竟梵天界裡大多是已經證得阿那含果（三果）的比丘，這就是原因。當一位證得阿那含（三果）的比丘死亡後，他便會在最高的色究竟梵天界重生。只有非常稀少的在家眾能修到此一境界，所以他們很少能有機會進入最高的色究竟梵天界。因此在這裡妳只會看到出家人，而沒能見到在家眾。還有一件事：如果妳這麼好奇，妳為什麼不去問在那裡遇到的任何一位比丘呢？妳在那裡的時候不問，這個時候卻想要跑來問我？」

        她笑說：「我忘了問他們。直到回來之前我都還沒想到這件事，所以我才決定要來請教您。如果我記得的話，下一次再上去時我會去問那些比丘。」

        阿姜曼的解釋通常含有雙重的目的：闡明事情的真相；然後消除她的疑惑。之後，他就不再鼓勵她發送出能感應外在現象的意識，因為那會浪費她去觀照內心現象及其基本法則的必要寶貴時間 —— 而這是一種能直接導向體證「道」與「果」的觀照（觀智）。當他如是建議她，她順從地接受了。他經常稱讚這位女士的修行，告訴比丘們她在「法」（解脫道）上的高成就 —— 而且是他們許多人都無法望其項背的成功層級。

        固然，她的修行，是使他（阿姜曼）決定長住在Ban Nong Pheu村的一個因緣 ——  這也是他出家以來住得最久的一次。此外，這裡也提供了所有在周邊地區居住及行腳的修行比丘一個很方便的適中地理位置。在步行前往他寺院的距離之內有許多相當幽靜隱蔽的地方，很適合修行。比丘們可自由選擇要住在森林裡、高山上，或是岩洞內 —— 　這些都是有助於梵行生活的好環境。

        阿姜曼在Ban Nong Pheu村的寺院住了五年，因為他年事已高 —— 當他開始住在那裡的時候已經七十五歲，且健康狀況已走下坡 —— 他一年四季都住在寺院裡，無法再像過去一樣四處雲遊行腳。他很樂於對所有求法若渴的弟子提供庇護照應。他住在那裡的時候，天神比較少來找他，往往只有在某些特殊的場合才會來參訪他。所以，比起在別處的時候，他可以更集中心力去協助比丘眾與在家眾。

Dhutanga  kammaååhãna  monks  were  motivated  by  their  great enthusiasm  for  Dhamma.  They  regularly  endured  many  hardships: in their wandering lifestyle, in their living conditions, and

in their mode of practice. It was difficult for them to find an excellent teacher like Ãcariya Mun, a teacher capable of training them in the authentic way, thus bringing joy to their practice. Whenever they met him, they were as excited as small children greeting their parents. The devotion and affection they felt combined to give them a feeling of complete confidence in him. Their lives and well-being were placed solely in his hands. Dhutanga monks naturally tended to have immense faith in their teacher, revering him so much that they would willingly give up their lives for him without regrets. Even when living apart from him, they continued to feel an extraordinary sense of obligation to their teacher. No matter how much hardship they endured, or how difficult their training was, they were contented to persevere so long as their teacher was supportive. They could manage to put up with the deprivations they suffered daily – going without, as often as not – because they were convinced in their hearts that Dhamma was more important than anything else. There were times when they had to sleep in the pouring rain through the night, shivering like little birds. Still, their determination to endure adversity for the sake of Dhamma never wavered.

It was always very interesting to hear dhutanga monks discuss their experiences of wandering through remote forest areas. The way they practiced, the way they endured – it was pitiable how, due to extreme deprivations, they lived in the forest like wild animals, often sleeping on the ground without shelter. They used a variety of techniques to intensify their meditation, experimenting until they found the ones that best suited their character. They tried: going without sleep; reducing the amount of food they ate; fasting entirely for as many days as they could reasonably manage; walking in meditation all night, from dusk until dawn; sitting in samãdhi for many hours at a stretch; sitting in samãdhi all night, from dusk to dawn; sitting in samãdhi on a trail used by tigers when entering their lair; sitting in samãdhi at night on forest trails frequented by tigers; sitting in samãdhi in a cemetery on the day a corpse was being cremated; sitting in samãdhi at the edge of a precipice; venturing deep into the mountains at night looking for a particularly scary place to sit in samãdhi; sitting in samãdhi late at night at the foot of a tree in a tiger-infested area, relying on the threat of danger to help the citta attain calm. These methods were all practiced with the same aim in mind – to torment the citta, and so forcibly tame its unruly nature.

When a monk discovered that any one or more of these techniques matched his individual temperament, he used it to good effect, focusing his mind and strengthening his resolve, thus achieving his objective and learning many valuable lessons in the process. For this reason, dhutanga monks actually preferred such harrowing practices. Ãcariya Mun himself had used them and so liked to encourage his monks to do likewise, insisting that this was the way clever people trained themselves. These techniques have never been abandoned – they are still being practiced by dhutanga monks today.

The training we undertake to develop our spiritual worth requires a fair amount of coercion to be successful. The hardships we experience are insignificant when compared with the good results we gain: virtue, contentment, discipline, and firm Dhamma principles to supervise and maintain our lives – all qualities that people highly value. Only useless junk and cadavers require no maintenance. The personal worth we hope to realize will only arise through conscientious self-improvement, so we should work to maintain this purpose in our lives. By this means, we will be good, happy, prosperous people now and in the future. Dhutanga monks therefore deserve a lot of respect for refusing to allow adversity and hardship to hinder their practice, thus clearing the way for Dhamma to develop in their hearts.

So long as people are interested in practicing Dhamma properly, the Buddha’s sãsana will last indefinitely in the world. The sãsana rewards those truly desiring Dhamma who practice accordingly, giving excellent results at every step along the path. This principle was embodied in the Lord Buddha, who was earnest in his pursuit of Truth – a Truth that he fully realized and then taught to the world. Those who truly believe in Buddhism are those who earnestly pursue Truth. They never practice in a halfhearted, inept manner, thus impeding the sãsana’s progress and devaluing it to the extent that non-Buddhists find cause to be contemptuous. The genuine sãsana are the very Noble Truths that deserve to be proclaimed and accepted throughout the universe without concern about their validity, since they are true natural principles emanating directly from the Buddha’s absolute purity – unless, of course, one is uninterested in Truth or unable to understand it. In that case, the sãsana may simply be held hostage within the countless diverse opinions of people whose hearts are totally obscured by a mass of deep-rooted kilesas – a veil of defilements that the sãsana has long since thoroughly penetrated.

Please excuse me for this lengthy digression – it shows I lack the firm principles needed to restrain my wayward tendencies. I would like to continue discussing those harsh training methods that dhutanga monks tended to use until they became second nature.  Diligently practiced, each of these methods produces clear-cut results. They help diminish the unruly, arrogant nature of the mind, a condition exacerbated by excessive physical vitality. Reducing the intake of food, fasting, going without sleep, or other harsh methods, such as walking or sitting in meditation continuously for long periods of time – all of these practices provide the heart with the strength required to advance easily on the path of Dhamma. Other practices are designed for those who are scared of tigers or ghosts, which when practiced unflinchingly, force the heart to turn inward where its true sanctuary lies, remaining there until calm and courage arise. Fears can be alleviated, or even banished, by such means. The citta then comes to realize its own strength and ability so that when it is driven into a corner at a truly critical juncture – for example, when the body is racked by excruciating pain – it has the means to emerge victorious, and survive. Normally, mindfulness and wisdom are fully aroused only when the citta is placed in a critical situation. Otherwise, they never have a chance to realize their full potential.

An excellent way to develop the capacity of mindfulness and wisdom to act boldly in full knowledge of their true potential is to use our basic ingenuity, experimenting with various forceful techniques until we find those that best suit us. Our hearts then remain unperturbed, regardless of what happens. Each of these methods brings its own distinct results. Those who have long suffered from fear of ghosts can rid themselves of this debilitating fear by forcing themselves to spend the night in a cemetery. Those who are terrified of wild animals, like tigers, can overcome this fear by forcing themselves to spend the night alone in terrifying wilderness. Those who have persistent craving for food can alleviate it, or even overcome it, by drastically reducing the amount they eat, or by going on fast.

We all appreciate good food. We tend to believe that eating a lot of good, tasty food will make us happy. The trouble is: greed never accepts that it’s had enough. It always hankers for more. No matter how much discontent it causes us, we fail to consider that the dissatisfaction stems from our tendency to overindulge. So, those of us practicing Dhamma for the sake of understanding ourselves and our attachments must investigate such desires and exercise some forceful restraints on their excesses. In the case of dhutanga monks, this sometimes takes the form of self-imposed austerities. When a monk notices that a certain type of food kindles an unseemly craving in his heart, he punishes the craving by refusing to eat that food. Instead, he eats things that he feels no desire for. If he feels that he’d like to eat a lot, he eats only a little instead. Or he may eat only plain rice, even though there are plenty of other foods to choose from. Those foods which invigorate the body may hamper his citta by overwhelming its mental faculties, thus making meditation more difficult. His practice then fails to progress as it should, despite the fact that he is striving with the same intensity as ever. Once he realizes the cause of the problem, he strives to eliminate it by adamantly refusing to follow the greed in his heart. This is the attitude of a monk truly committed to training himself under the guidance of a good teacher: he resists any temptation to follow his usual self-indulgent tendencies.

Just as a dhutanga monk trains himself to be moderate and restrained in what he eats, so too, when he goes to sleep, he determines to awaken at a predetermined time. He doesn’t just let sleep take its course, waking him up randomly whenever it so desires. He trains himself to carefully consider the appropriateness of his actions. He resists doing anything that may violate the ethical principles of Dhamma and therefore be inappropriate, even though it may not strictly be in violation of the disciplinary rules. He strives to inculcate Dhamma within his heart so that it steadily flourishes, never deteriorating – an extremely difficult task. So difficult, in fact, that no other endeavor can compare with it.

When, however, we inculcate the ways of the world in our hearts, defilements easily arise and flourish, then wait there ready to cause harm whenever we’re off guard. We can never manage to bring them under control. In an instant, they furtively infiltrate our hearts and multiply until we cannot keep track of them all. We can be sure they will cause us nothing but trouble. They arise and flourish so quickly that, within the blink of an eye, they are everywhere, and we are helpless to catch them. Sexual craving 5 is one such defilement – very easy to arise but so difficult to purge. Sexual craving creates a destructive, offensive state of mind that tends to express itself with unrivaled audacity. Because everyone in the world is so fond of it, it becomes emboldened, causing destruction everywhere while ignoring the moral consequences. It does show some fear of people with Dhamma in their hearts. But, more than anything else, it is terrified of the Lord Buddha and the Arahants. Since these Noble Ones have completely demolished its normal playground, sexual craving does not dare enter their hearts to prowl around. But it still creates plenty of trouble for the rest of us who remain under its power.

Dhutanga monks are aware that these oppressive kilesas are obstructing their spiritual progress. That’s the reason they torture themselves with such arduous training practices. For kilesas are not in the least disconcerted by the fact that monks have ordained into the holy life and wear the yellow robes: the distinctive ‘badge of victory’ for those who defeat the forces of Mãra. They invariably try to convince monks to give up the yellow robes and the spiritual quest they symbolize, refusing to admit defeat regardless of a monk’s age or seniority. For this reason, dhutanga monks feel compelled to use coercive methods in their struggle to eradicate the kilesas from their hearts. They endure and press ahead in spite of the difficulties, battling pain and discomfort but never reversing course. Otherwise, the kilesas will make fun of them as they disgrace themselves and the yellow robes they wear. Even more damaging is the discredit they do to the monkhood – an order of spiritual warriors who never accept defeat – and the sãsana which is the principal basis for all mankind. Better they sacrifice their lives to redeem themselves and the yellow robes, than allow themselves to perish in disgrace. In that way, they redeem the monkhood and the religion as well.

Dhutanga monks use such exhortations to embolden themselves to strive for victory, thus honoring the Dhamma that some day will undoubtedly lead them to that sublime domain beyond dukkha. Only the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha is capable of showing the way to that sublime transcendence. It is without a doubt the one straight path leading to the land beyond suffering. There is not a more esoteric way that can be taken to avoid the difficulty of putting maximum effort into the practice. Alternative paths are all littered with stumbling blocks that constantly thwart the wayfarer’s hopes of success. They inevitably cause pain and frustration, leading to despair and a lack of confidence that the chosen way will ever lead to a state of total freedom.

Before emerging as a revered teacher of such renown, Ãcariya Mun practiced with the attitude that cemeteries were irrelevant to him. That is, he was prepared to discard his body wherever he happened to be when he breathed his last breath. He felt no qualms about dying for the sake of Dhamma. Later, when instructing his students, he taught them in a forceful, dynamic fashion that stressed the sharp, incisive tactics he had honed to perfection in his own practice. His teaching was mentally stimulating, helping his students constantly develop new skills to see through the cunning tricks of the kilesas and thus uproot and destroy them once and for all. Only then would they be safely out of danger, living contentedly without dukkha. They would no longer meander through the round of saÿsãra, where one birth changes into

another continuously, but the dukkha, that is carried around in the heart, remains unchanged – regardless of how many times one is reborn. Since each new life is merely a new instrument for one’s own destruction, no one should be satisfied with birth in any realm of existence. It is equivalent to a prisoner changing cells within the same prison: as long as he remains imprisoned, there is no fundamental improvement. The wise well understand the dangers of the cycle of repeated birth and death. It’s as though with each new birth the heart has moved into yet another house that is on fire: no matter where it’s reborn it can never escape the threat of danger. This is but a small taste of how Ãcariya Mun routinely taught his dhutanga disciples. Perhaps some of my readers will discover an affinity for his style of teaching.

O N UPOSATHA OBSERVANCE days, when as many as forty to fifty additional monks attended from various locations, Ãcariya Mun gave discourses on Dhamma that generally differed from those he gave exclusively to the monks who regularly lived with him. Although his uposatha discourses were often forceful and profound, they could not match the ones given regularly to the monks living in his monastery. Those talks were truly dynamic, and penetrating. Each time he spoke, the impact of his Dhamma was so powerful it seemed to dispel the kilesas from the hearts of his listeners, as if the whole world had momentarily vanished from their awareness. What remained was an awareness of the heart united in perfect harmony with Dhamma, an experience so amazing and gratifying it defies description. For days thereafter the dynamic power of his Dhamma seemed to subdue their kilesas, as though he had issued them all a defiant challenge. Inevitably, their kilesas gradually reemerged after several days, until they were finally back in full force. By then, another meeting had been scheduled where Ãcariya Mun subdued them once more, giving the monks a few more days of relief.

All dhutanga monks earnestly striving to reach the Dhamma that transcends dukkha feel an exceptionally strong bound with their teacher.  Eradicating the kilesas requires that individual effort be inextricably combined with the help and advice of a good teacher. When confronted with an intractable problem, a monk practicing on his own will hurry back to consult his teacher who clarifies the nature of the problem, allowing the student to understand its underlying causes and so overcome his doubts. Sometimes while a monk is struggling with a problem which is too complex for him to resolve on his own, his teacher unexpectedly explains the solution of that very problem to him, immediately eliminating that obstacle so his student can proceed unhindered.

Practicing monks are able to determine the precise levels of Dhamma that their fellows, and even their teacher, have attained by listening to their discussions about meditation practice. This knowledge helps to foster an atmosphere of mutual trust within the circle of practice. When a monk explains the nature of his experiences and the stages he has passed through, it is possible to immediately determine the level of Dhamma he has realized from that description. When a student tells the teacher about his experiences in meditation, or when he asks advice about a specific problem, he can assess his teacher’s level of attainment at that time by gauging his responses. If the teacher has passed beyond that point himself, he is already familiar with those experiences, and he is able to use them as a starting point to advise his student on how to proceed. Or, in the case of a specific problem, he is able to pinpoint the nature of the problem in such a precise way that the student accepts his advice without reservation. Perhaps a student deludes himself into thinking he has reached the highest level of Dhamma, having completely transcended the different stages. But, the teacher, through his own experience, knows this to be untrue. The teacher must then explain to his student why he is wrong, pointing out exactly where his thinking went astray. Once he is willing to accept the validity of his teacher’s reasoning, he can safely avoid such dangers.

Once dhutanga monks have discussed the various aspects of meditation practice among themselves and reach the point where they know and accept the truth of their respective levels of attainment, there is then no need for further confirmation. The principles of truth that have been discussed constitute their own proof. Practicing monks use this knowledge to determine one another’s level of Dhamma. From the teacher on down to the junior monks, they all rely on evidence gathered in this way. As for intuitive knowledge of these matters, it requires an inner faculty to which I can lay no claim. I shall leave this matter to those with the appropriate expertise. It is a special case requiring individual skill.

The regular conversations on meditation that Ãcariya Mun held with his disciples enabled them to develop close personal relationships with him. Due to the profound respect this tutelage inspired, they willingly entrusted their lives to his care. This deep faith induced them to unreservedly accept as true whatever he told them, for he always spoke about principles of truth, never presenting mere opinions or guesswork based on information from other sources.

I myself have always been someone with strong views, being reluctant to submit to anyone’s judgment. So I liked to argue with him. In this respect, I admit to being one of Ãcariya Mun’s more annoying and contentious disciples. Sometimes I was so caught up in disputing an issue with him that I forgot I was a student seeking his guidance – not a teacher instructing him. I still pride myself on my audacity to speak up, having no sense of misgiving. Although he then slapped me down and chopped me to pieces, the important thing was: I was able to learn for myself whether the truth lay in my opinions, or in the wisdom of my teacher. When I argued with him, it sounded like a shouting match. The more I pressed my case, the more I realized that he had all the truth on his side. I had only my inane fallacies, piled up all around me. I always fought a losing battle. When the dust settled, I thought long and hard about what he said, respectfully accepting its truth with all my heart. At the same time, I made a mental note of my misconceptions. On occasions when I refused to yield to his reasoning because I still couldn’t understand what he was getting at, I would wait for another opportunity to debate with him. But I always came away bruised and battered by the power of his reasoning, my opinions tied in knots. Still, I could not resist smiling to myself, delighted by the mighty power of his Dhamma.

Although Ãcariya Mun realized full well that I was wildly opinionated, he did not scold me or try to force me to change my attitude. Instead, he could not help but smile when looking at me. He may have been thinking how insufferable I was; or he may have felt sorry for this idiot who liked fighting with such diehard assurance. I must admit: I was never a very fine person. Even today, I still shamelessly argue with senior ãcariyas. But it’s paid off for me in the sense that I’ve learned many unusual lessons this way which form a valuable part of my education to this day. These monks never seem to mind my intrusions; in fact, they are often amused by them. It’s not so often that a stubborn old monk drops by to stir things up. Ordinarily, no one dares come and argue with one of these ãcariyas. So when the monks in his monastery hear what’s going on, they become rather puzzled – and more than a little alarmed.

AFTER LEAVING CHIANG MAI, where he passed beyond the thick jungle of repeated birth and death, he invariably had a profound reason in mind when he decided to live in any one place for a long time, although he kept these reasons to himself. Nakhon Ratchasima was a case in point. Many monks and lay people there had long developed a true devotion to Dhamma; so, many of them came to study with him as accomplished meditators. Later, some

followed him to Udon Thani and Sakon Nakhon where they continued to study with him until he died. The monks and laity from Nakhon Ratchasima who kept in contact with him were all well established in meditation practice. Some of those monks have since become famous ãcariyas who possess a firm basis of Dhamma in their hearts, and are still teaching monks and laity today. Many lay devotees have continued to see steady progress in meditation. Today, they show the way of generosity and spiritual development to other devotees in the area in a truly commendable fashion.

He next settled at Udon Thani, where he spent the rains retreat. Chao Khun Dhammachedi, the abbot of Wat Bodhisomphon monastery, was an influential monk with a large following of monks and lay supporters. He praised Ãcariya Mun’s preeminence, encouraging them all to make his aquaintance, offer donations and, above all, hear his teaching. Since his ordination, Chao Khun Dhammachedi had been a devoted disciple, and Ãcariya Mun  reciprocated by showing unusual kindness and affection toward him – thus, his willingness to stay several years in Udon Thani.

Later after moving to Sakon Nakhon and living at Ban Na Mon, Ãcariya Mun met an elderly, white-robed nun who ran a small convent in the village. She was a major reason why he remained there as long as he did: her meditation was exceptionally good. She had developed a firm basis in Dhamma, so Ãcariya Mun gave her regular instructions on practice. He said it was rare to find someone so accomplished.

Ãcariya Mun’s lengthy residence at Ban Nong Pheu was prompted by both the significance of the location and the people living in the village. The place was centrally situated in a very broad valley, completely surrounded by mountains, making it an ideal environment for the dhutanga life. Living in the village was an elderly white-robed lay woman who was approaching eighty. Much like the elderly nun at Ban Na Mon, she was an accomplished meditator  who always received special attention  from Ãcariya Mun. She consulted him often, walking with difficulty from her home to the monastery. Shuffling slowly along, supported by a cane, she had to stop for rest three or four times before she finally arrived at the monastery, exhausted and out of breath. We all truly felt sorry for her. Seeing her struggle so painfully, Ãcariya Mun would feign disapproval: “Why come all the way out here? Don’t you realize how exhausted you are? Even children know when they’re tired. Here you are eighty, ninety years old, yet you still don’t know when you’re worn out. Why do you take all the trouble to come here?”

Her reply was always characteristically straightforward and fearless. He then inquired about her meditation and explained various aspects of Dhamma relating to it. Not only had this woman developed a solid foundation for her meditation, she also possessed paracittavijjã, the psychic ability to know the fundamental moral bias of a person’s heart. On top of that, she had a knack

for perceiving unusual external phenomena. Addressing Ãcariya Mun, she recounted these extraordinary perceptions with a daring self-assurance that amused him, causing him to laugh about her indomitable spirit.

“Your citta has long since gone beyond”, she boldly declared. “I’ve been aware of your citta for a long time – it’s absolutely without parallel. Since your citta is already so supreme, why do you continue to meditate?”

Ãcariya Mun laughed. “I will resolutely continue meditating until the day I die. A disciple of the Buddha never allows his resolve to weaken.”

To this she said: “If you still had more to accomplish, I could understand that. But your heart is already filled by an exceedingly luminous radiance. How can you go further than that with meditation? I look at your citta and see its radiance encompassing the whole world. Your awareness extends everywhere – nothing can possibly obstruct its scope. But my own citta sadly lacks such supreme qualities, which is why I must come to ask your help. Please tell me: how should I practice to attain the same preeminence you have?”

Hearing her discussions with Ãcariya Mun, one sensed that her meditation was truly exceptional. Upon encountering a problem, she inevitably started dragging herself slowly down the path to the monastery, with her cane keeping her company. Ãcariya Mun was especially kind to her: he made a point of advising her every time she came. On such occasions, the monks would sneak up to listen quietly at one side of the meeting hall where their discussions were held, eager to hear her questions and his answers. Because her questions arose directly from her own experiences in meditation, these exchanges fascinated the monks. Some of her doubts concerned internal matters, focusing on intrinsic Noble Truths; other questions related to external affairs and focused on the deva and brahma realms. If Ãcariya Mun accepted her understanding of these matters as being correct, he encouraged her to continue her investigations. But if he did not agree with the course she was pursuing, he advised her to forgo that approach, explaining how she should adjust her practice to set it right.

Her claims to knowing their minds intrigued the monks who, though eager to hear her insights, were also rather apprehensive about what they might reveal. But she always described an impressive vision: radiant auras of increasing brilliance, from the young novices on up to Ãcariya Mun, resembling the night sky’s array of stars and planets: some were bright, some less so. It was a majestic sight, for not even the junior monks or young novices had somber, gloomy states of mind. Each being admirable, every monk was worthy of respect in his own way as he strove to

improve and refine himself spiritually. Sometimes she recounted her visits to the brahmaloka, describing how she saw large numbers of monks, but no lay people. This puzzled her, so she asked Ãcariya Mun to explain – which he did.

“The brahmaloka is mostly inhabited by monks who have already attained the level of Anãgãmï, that’s why. When a monk who has attained Anãgãmï dies, he is reborn in the brahmaloka. Very few lay people develop themselves to that level, so they rarely gain access to the brahma realms. Thus you saw only monks there, but no lay people. Another thing: if you’re so curious, why didn’t you ask one of the monks you saw? Neglecting to ask them while you were there, you now want to come and ask me.”

She laughed. “I forgot to ask them. I didn’t think about it until I’d come back down, so I decided to ask you. If I remember, next time I go up I’ll ask those monks.”

Ãcariya Mun’s explanations usually had a dual purpose: to expound the truth of the matter, and then to clear up her doubts. Later he discouraged her from sending out her awareness to perceive external phenomena, for it used up the valuable time she needed to spend investigating internal phenomena and the basic principles underlying them – investigations leading directly to the realization of magga and phala. Obediently, she practiced as he advised. He often praised this woman’s meditation practice, telling his monks of her high achievements in Dhamma – a level of success that many of them could not emulate.

Her practice, no doubt, was a factor in his decision to live so long at Ban Nong Pheu – the longest residence of his monastic life. Also, it was a convenient central location serving all the practicing monks living and wandering in the surrounding area. Well within walking distance of his monastery were many secluded places, suitable for practice. Monks had a choice of staying in wooded lowlands, high mountains, or caves – all being environments conducive to the ascetic way of life.