"Herein, what are the six kinds of grief based on the household life? When one regards as a non-acquisition the non-acquisition of forms cognizable by the eye that are wished for, desired, agreeable, gratifying, and associated with worldliness - or when one recalls what was formerly not acquired that has passed, ceased, and changed - grief arises. Such grief as this is called grief based on the household life.
"When one regards as a non-acquisition the non-acquisition of sounds cognizable by the ear...the non-acquisition of odours cognizable by the nose...the non-acquisition of flavours cognizable by the tongue...the non-acquisition of tangibles cognizable by the body...the non-acquisition of mind-objects cognizable by the mind that are wished for, desired, agreeable, gratifying, and associated with worldliness - or when one recalls what was formerly not acquired that has passed, ceased, and changed - grief arises. Such grief as this is called grief based on the household life. These are the six kinds of grief based on the household life.
"Herein, what are the six kinds of grief based on renunciation? When, by knowing the impermanence, change, fading away, and cessation of forms, one sees as it actually is with right wisdom that forms both formerly and now are all impermanent, suffering, and subject to change, one generates a longing for the supreme liberations thus: 'When shall I enter upon and abide in that base that the noble ones now enter upon and abide in' In one who generates thus a longing for the supreme liberations, grief arises with that longing as condition. Such grief as this is called grief based on renunciation.
"When, by knowing the impermanence, change, fading away, and cessation of sounds...of odours...of flavours...of tangibles ...of mind-objects, one sees as it actually is with right wisdom that mind-objects both formerly and now are all impermanent, suffering, and subject to change, one generates a longing for the supreme liberations thus: 'When shall I enter upon and abide in that base that the noble ones now enter upon and abide in?' In one who thus generates a longing for the supreme liberations, grief arises with that longing as condition. Such grief as this is called grief based on renunciation. These are the six kinds of grief based on renunciation.”
~ Saḷāyatanavibhaṅga Sutta, Majjhima-Nikāya, Sutta 137
The first set of six kinds of grief (domanassa) mentioned in the passage just quoted, the grief based on the household life, is what the Buddha called in Sakkapañha Sutta (Dīgha-Nikāya, Sutta 21) the grief that should not be pursued (asevitabba). In the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta (Majjhima-Nikāya, Sutta 10) it is also called worldly painful feeling (sāmisaṃ dukkhaṃ vedanaṃ). This kind of worldly grief includes the dejection based on failure to acquire material things desired or, by extension, loss of material things which one is attached to and which one considers to belong to oneself. Material things here include not only material properties but also position, status, as well as beings (loved ones, relatives, friends, and even pets).
For example it includes grieving over the loss of a love one due to death. While such grieving is, understandably, the nature of an ordinary unenlightened human beings still afflicted with defilements, and would, in the mundane world, be considered “natural” for a human being, yet in the discipline of the Noble One such grieving would be considered as an inability to accept the nature of reality. It betrays a deficiency in insight or wisdom into the nature of things as they really are. And so we find that when the Buddha was about to pass away and the Ven. Ānanda was weeping and grieving over it, the Buddha admonished him saying:
“Enough, Ānanda, do not sorrow and cry. Have I not previously declared that there will be separation, parting, and departing from all that is dear and beloved. How could it be, Ānanda, that what is born, come to be, conditioned, subject to breaking up, even if it is the body of the Tathāgata, not break up? This is impossible.”
~ Mahāparinibbāna Sutta, Dīgha-Nikāya, Sutta 16
Besides, such grieving also defiles, and therefore weakens, the mind. Grieving defiles the mind because grief is rooted in delusion and aversion. It is rooted in delusion which prevents the mind from seeing things as they really are, from seeing that all that arises must pass away. Based on this delusion the root of aversion causes the mind to become averse to the fact of death, to become unable to accept and come to terms with death, and thus the grief. This inability to accept the nature of reality is a weakness of the mind. A strong mind is one that remains equanimous and unshaken by changes due to the natural order of things. This equanimity is of course based on wisdom and insight into the true nature of things. And wisdom is one of the five strengths (pañca-bala) of the mind, i.e. the strength of wisdom (paññā-bala).
Such grieving also does not serve any meaningful purpose spiritually since it does not contribute towards the insight that leads to liberation from suffering. In fact it actually leads one away from this right direction since it is associated with delusion that conceals the true nature of things and with aversion that actively rejects the true nature of things.
In the mundane world, however, this type of grieving may be encouraged. Instead of suppressing grief, modern method of psychotherapy actually encourages one to ventilate the grief, to express it, and to let it all come out. It is considered therapeutic. But for one who is pursuing the practise of the Dhamma such method runs counter to the principles of Dhamma. For to let the grief out is to indulge the defilements of aversion while the purpose of the practise of Dhamma is to purify the mind of all mental impurities that weaken the mind and are the causes of suffering.
But as we said earlier, it is natural for grief to arise in one who is not yet enlightened. Actually even those noble ones on the first two stages of enlightenment (a sotāpanna and a sakadāgāmī) can still grief since they are not totally freed from the root of aversion yet. But one who practises the Dhamma would ideally deal with grief whenever it arises, not by indulging the root of aversion, but by employing the methods of the Dhamma, by using the method of sīla (virtuous-conduct), samādhi (concentration), and paññā (wisdom).
On the sīla level one restrains one's physical and verbal conduct and maintains a calm, compose, and dignified mode of conduct when faced with grief. But this of course will not work without the support of samādhi and paññā. On the level of samādhi, one employs mindfulness (sati) to confront the grief when it arises in the mind. And by mindfulness we mean the satipaṭṭhāna (sammā sati = right mindfulness) kind of mindfulness i.e. mindfulness that is firmly established in the mind, that is fuelled by ardent energetic effort (ātāpī) and accompanied by clear-comprehension of the true nature of things (sampajāno) and is able to overcome covetousness and grief (vineyya loke abhijjhādomanassaṃ). If one is well trained in satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness then when grief arises in the mind one will be able observe the grief with this powerful satipaṭṭhāna kind of mindfulness. Under the powerful glare of this satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness the grief will disintegrate the moment it arises.
We must, however, not construe this way of noting and dispelling grief using mindfulness as suppressing or pushing away the grief. There is no suppression or pushing away of any grief involved here. One do not forcefully suppress or push away the grief here, which would be detrimental to one's psychological health. Rather, in the presence of powerful wholesome satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness, the aversion associated with grief and the grief itself simply dies a natural death. The unwholesome defilement of aversion and the grief that it gives rise to simply cannot withstand the presence of such powerful wholesome force of satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness. And so they will naturally disintegrate, dissolve away and disappear when faced with mindfulness. And when they disintegrate and disappear one would actually, right there in that moment, experience peace in the mind. The mind, in that moment, becomes healed of the grief and it obtains a relief from the pain of grief.
And with continuous ardent energetic effort to sustain this powerful mindfulness continuously on the objects of contemplation eventually this mindfulness develop enough momentum and strength to remain fixed on the flow of the objects. Concentration arises. When this happens, with powerful wholesome mindfulness ever present continuously, moment after moment, in the mind, it is impossible for any defilements, including the aversion associated with grief to arise in the mind. There is simply no space for it to arise at all since the mind is continuously and completely being engaged in the work of mindful observation of the objects of contemplation.
So instead of indulging the root defilement of aversion by ventilating the grief and letting it all out, thus defiling the mind, a Dhamma practitioner, following the Buddha's way of purification of mind, the way of satipaṭṭhāna, would note the grief as and when it arise with powerful satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness and there and then obtain relief from it. And when he had developed concentration through continuous mindfulness there is no possibility of grief arising in his mind as long as he can sustain that concentration.
So one do not need to cry until one's eyes turn red to become relieved of grief. In fact doing this, i.e. grieving, may actually in some cases be detrimental to one's psychological health. There are those for whom sadness is something that is addictive. This is perhaps why many of them never seem to come out from the grieving process. They still cannot let go of their grief even after their loved one had passed away for many years. Still cannot move on. For some it is as if by holding on to their grief they are able to hold on to the memory of their beloved departed one. This is just another delusion.
But of course to employ the method of satipaṭṭhāna to develop concentration requires a lot of ardent and courageous effort. Well, everything has a price. But if the benefit is peace of mind and relief from grief then effort, no matter how demanding and taxing, is a small price to pay. Effort, mindfulness, and concentration are also constituents of the five strengths of mind (pañca-bala), i.e. strength of energetic effort (viriya-bala), strength of mindfulness (sati-bala), and strength of concentration (samādhi-bala). They also constitute the method of samādhi of the Noble Eightfold Path (right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration).
But the method of concentration alone is not thorough enough in dealing with grief. It only gives temporary relief from grief. For, mindfulness and concentration are conditioned state of mind. They are subject to change and can vanish from the mind. One needs to constantly make effort to sustain the continuity of mindfulness in order to maintain concentration of mind. If one let mindfulness slip away for even a moment there is every possibility that grief will arise again.
To deal with grief more effectively and thoroughly one need to employ the final method of the Dhamma, the method of paññā or wisdom. This would involve bringing the practise of satipaṭṭhāna to its next level, the directing of the mind towards insight (vipassanā). By directing concentrated satipaṭṭhāna mindfulness to the contemplation of the nature of arising and passing away (samudaya-dhamma and vaya-dhamma) of the objects of satipaṭṭhāna (body, feeling, consciousness, and dhammas, i.e. mental and physical phenomena) one will be able to arouse insight into the impermanent, suffering, and non-self nature of these objects. When this insight is well developed and becomes sharp and penetrative, one becomes well established in the right perception of impermanence (anicca-saññā), suffering (dukkha-saññā), and non-self (anatta-saññā). When these right perceptions of the nature of realities are well established one begins to shake away wrong perceptions in the mind that are born of delusion, e.g. perception of permanence (nicca-saññā), perception of pleasure (sukha-saññā) and perception of a self (atta-saññā).
This insight into the nature of mental and physical phenomena gives rise to profound understanding about the nature of this world of our experiences and helps one to adjust one's attitude towards the world in a way that can help to relief one of grief. When insight clears away delusion from the mind, aversion which feeds on delusion no longer has a basis to arise. Instead, by seeing clearly the nature of things with insight, seeing into their nature of impermanence, suffering, and non-self, one develops a sense of weariness and disenchantment with the mental and physical phenomena which form the basis of our experience of the world. This will in turn lead to the arising in the mind of the wisdom and strength to relinquish, and let go of any attachment to these phenomena. When one is not attached to these phenomena grief cannot arise based on attachment towards them.
But of course even this insight wisdom is a conditioned thing and is subject to dissolution. But the beauty of insight is that if it is continuously developed until it becomes very powerful, it leaves a strong imprint on the rationale mind. Then even in daily life as one goes about one's life and when one encounters a situation that give rise to grief, then the imprint on the rationale mind will sets off a rationale reflection based on the insight that one had earlier. This will bring up the sense of detachment again in the mind and thus enables one to prevent the arising of grief or at least to quickly let go of any grief that may arise.
As for one who is skilful in the arousing of insight, he can bring up the insight directly by adverting his mindfulness onto the nature of the impermanence, suffering, and non-self even as he goes about his daily life. In this case there is no need for any intervention from the rationale mind in order to bring up the sense of detachment as he can experience the insight directly. For him the practise of vipassanā meditation and his life really merge together as one and there is no place or occasion where he cannot arouse insight. His life truly becomes the practise and the practise becomes his life. And he is able to live a life that is imbued with the insight and wisdom that arise from the practise.
But to completely purify or heal the mind of any grief one needs to develop this insight into the nature of things as they really are until it reaches the third path of enlightenment i.e. the path of a non-returner (anāgāmī-magga). For it is only the wisdom that arises with this third path (anāgāmī-magga-ñāṇa) that is capable of totally uprooting aversion from the mind. Only then will one grief no more. This is the method of paññā or wisdom of the Noble Eightfold Path.
And when paññā is well developed it goes back to strengthen one's practise of sīla. Wisdom regarding the nature of realities brings about equanimity towards the realities of life. And this helps one to remain calm and composed physically and verbally in the face of life's ups and downs. So instead of crying out and lamenting uncontrollably with grief, wisdom or insight that is developed through satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā meditation, which is the only way for the overcoming of sorrow and lamentation and the disappearance of pain and grief (sokaparidevānaṃ samatikkamāya dukkhadomanassānaṃ atthaṅgamāya), will bring about restraint in physical and verbal actions so that one can maintain one's physical and verbal composure and dignity.
But of course, one can complain that this practise of satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā is a very demanding practise, physically and especially mentally. It would be easier, and indeed one feels tempted, to simply give in to grief and cry it all out. After all one does feel better after a good cry. But the Buddha had also told us (Assu-Sutta, Saṃyutta-Nikāya, Anamataggasaṃyutta, Sutta 3) that throughout our long wandering on in saṃsāra, we have shed more tears than there are waters in all the oceans over the death of a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, relatives, over the loss of wealth, or loss through illness. So much tears we have shed that the Buddha said it is (if we can actually remember all those grief we have experienced) enough for us to become wearied with all formations (saṅkhāra, i.e. conditioned mental and physical phenomena), to become dispassionate towards them, to want to become liberated from the suffering that they entail. So whenever we feel tempted to give in to grief, we should remember this Sutta and then ask ourselves: Do we really want to continue grieving and crying in this way? Have we not cried enough?
But, admittedly, unless one already possessed enough pāramīs (qualities of spiritual perfections due to past practises) the practise of satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā can indeed be a very demanding practise. In this practise one is trying to loosen the grip of the mental defilements on the mind, to purify the mind of them. But these mental defilements are very powerful and they keep the mind bonded to saṃsāra. The fact that we are still stuck in saṃsāra after such a long wandering in it attest to the powerful grip that these defilements have over our minds. So in order to break free from them we need to bring up intense, ardent, energetic effort in our practise, effort that is so strong that it is even more powerful than these mental defilements and is able to overwhelm them.
It's just like a simile given by one teacher: if one wants to launch a rocket into space one needs to generate enough combustion force to initially push the rocket against the force of gravitational pull so that the rocket can take off. And after taking off one need to continuously apply this force so that the rocket will continuously move upwards until it can completely break free from earth's gravitational pull and arrive in space. Similarly in the practise one need to exercise a lot of energetic effort. Firstly one need effort to launch oneself into the practise, to begin. This includes not only the effort to follow the basic meditation instruction but also, prior to beginning the practise, effort to overcome all the excuses not to practise, and effort to make all necessary preparation to come to do the practise, e.g. arranging to be temporarily relieved from one's worldly duties at home to come to meditate.
Then after beginning the practise one will face a lot of difficulties from all the hindrances to the practise: restlessness, sleepiness, boredom, pain, etc. At this time, instead of being discourage and shrinking away from the demands of the practise, one need to step up one's effort and apply oneself more energetically to the practise in order to overcome all these hindrances. Then even after having overcome all the hindrances and the mind is able to meditate smoothly and the practise is proceeding nicely one still cannot rest on one's laurels. For the work of meditation is not yet completed and there is still much more to do in order to realise the goal of the practise, i.e. the cessation of suffering. And so one need to make even more effort to push oneself further and further, to develop more and more profound insight, until the final goal is achieved. Such is the demands of the practise of satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā meditation.
But as we just mentioned this practise is so demanding that one is simply tempted to give in to the mental-defilements which is the easier option. So where can one find the energy to launch oneself into the practise? Where can one find the energy to sustain oneself in the face of all the difficulties and obstacles to the practise, and to continuously and relentlessly push oneself towards achieving the final goal of the practise? We can find this strength in faith which is also one of the five strengths of the mind (saddhā-bala). In fact the other four strengths of the mind – the strengths of energetic effort (viriya-bala), mindfulness (sati-bala), concentration (samādhi-bala), and wisdom (paññā-bala) – are derived from faith.
It is faith (based on reasoned reflection on the Dhamma) that fires one up with the initial enthusiasm to put the Dhamma into practise. It causes one to become willing to surrender (not blindly but with wisdom) into the practise and to bring up energetic effort to practise. With effort one brings up mindfulness and directs and sustains it continuously onto the objects of contemplation. By making effort in this way the jhāna factors are aroused and continuously developed in the mind. As they become developed the hindrances to the practise are overcome and mindfulness is able to flow continuously with the objects of contemplation. Concentration arises which allows the mind to perceive clearly the nature of the objects of contemplation. This gives rise to insight wisdom into the nature of things as they really are. With clear insight comes stronger faith in the practise which in turns leads to more enthusiasm about the practise and thus more energy to apply oneself to the practise, which leads to stronger mindfulness, deeper concentration, and more profound insight which again lead to even stronger faith. And it goes on and on like this. This is how these five strengths of the mind are developed and continuously become stronger and stronger in the mind.
So it all comes down to faith. Does one have enough faith to choose the more difficult and demanding path of the Dhamma, which is the more rewarding path, for it leads to the complete cessation of suffering? Or does one simply give in to the temptation of the mental-defilements (which the Buddha said should not be pursued) and follow the way of Māra and remain stuck in saṃsāra and continue to grief and shed tears to swell up the ocean of suffering?
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost
To digress a little it may be asked: if one is totally freed from grief and sorrow through the practise of Dhamma does that mean that one becomes emotionally dead? Is one then incapable of being moved by compassion for the suffering of others? The answer is no. In fact there is no one that is more capable of compassion than one who has had a clear insight into the nature of suffering. Compassion does not mean that one must feel sorrow and grief over others' suffering. For such grieving is also a kind of grief based on the household life as mentioned above, and it has also been described in Visuddhimagga (IX 99) as the near enemy of compassion. Compassion simply means that one is moved enough in heart by the suffering of beings to want to remove that suffering. One is moved by compassion and not by sorrow and grief.
The Buddha for example was very compassionate towards the suffering of beings. But he does not feel sorrow or grief for their suffering. And because of his very profound insight into the nature of suffering, this insight guides his compassion to always point beings towards dealing with the root cause of suffering in the mind. He is not contented to merely help beings to alleviate the symptoms of suffering such as for example through doing social works that improve the quality of life for one's fellow beings but leaves the root cause of suffering intact in the mind . He does not discourage such work of course and indeed he talked about being charitable and doing service to others. But he always finally points his disciples towards the practise of meditation as the only way to deal with the root cause of suffering, as the only way to develop the Noble Eightfold Path that leads to the complete cessation of suffering.
"What should be done for his disciples out of compassion by a teacher who seeks their welfare and has compassion for them, that I have done for you, bhikkhus. There are these roots of trees, these empty huts. Meditate, bhikkhus, do not be heedless or else you will regret later. This is our instruction to you."
~ Dvedhāvitakka Sutta, Majjhima-Nikāya, Sutta 19
So ideally a Dhamma practitioner should be one who deals with grief by employing the method of the Dhamma, the method of sīla, samādhi, and paññā as mentioned above. However, having said this much we must also add that what we have mentioned is the ideal for a Dhamma practitioner. But in truth many would not be able to live up to such high ideal. As we have seen above, even Ven. Ānanda, a sotāpanna who have lived by the Buddha's side for so many years, who not only listened to but also memorised all that the Buddha had taught him, one of the Buddha's most learned disciples, succumbed to grief when the Buddha was about to pass away. Not only Ven. Ānanda but other bhikkhus too. It is recorded in the Mahāparinibbāna Sutta (Dīgha-Nikāya, Sutta 16):
“When the Blessed One attained final Nibbāna some of those bhikkhus there who were not yet freed from attachment threw up their arms and wept, flung themselves down and rolled back and forth [lamenting] 'Too soon had the Blessed One attained final Nibbāna, too soon had the Sublime One attained final Nibbāna, too soon had the [Possessor of wisdom's] eye disappeared from the world.' But those bhikkhus who were freed from attachment bore it with mindfulness and clear-comprehension [reflecting] 'All conditioned-things are impermanent, how could it be [otherwise] in this case.'”
So in truth only those who are already freed from attachment (to worldly things), i.e. an anāgāmī or an arahant, can actually live up perfectly to the high standard of the Dhamma in dealing with situation that are productive of grief. But this does not mean that those who are not yet freed from attachment, i.e. an ordinary worldling, a sotāpanna, or a sakadāgāmī, are incapable of living up to the same standard. Notice that the passage just quoted says that only some of those who were not yet freed from attachment cried when the Buddha passed away. This means that even among those not yet freed from attachment there were those who were able to employ the method of the Dhamma and thus not succumb to grief. These would be those who have trained themselves well in the methods of sīla, samādhi, and paññā, who have trained themselves well in the method of satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā, but who have not yet attained the third stage of enlightenment.
But when Dhamma practitioners do cry out when faced with grief, we should not be too quick to judge them. If we have ourselves practised the Dhamma and have seen how powerful and tenacious the mental-defilements can be, we would be able to empathise with this human weakness. What we can do then is to tactfully remind them of the nature of impermanence, suffering, and non-self, as the Buddha advised Ven. Ānanda. Or, if we can't, we can simply just be present and supportive. After all most of these Dhamma practitioners have never claimed that they are anāgāmī or arahant. So it is perfectly understandable that they can still succumb to grief every now and then. Also for those who are still not skilful enough to employ the methods of Dhamma to deal with grief effectively, ventilating it instead of keeping it all in is probably the only way to remain psychologically sane.
Doing this, however, would mean that one still allows the mind to indulge the mental-defilement of aversion. And so long as one still has to do this the mind will be prevented from developing enough strength to attain the higher stages of enlightenment as an anāgāmī or an arahant. It does not, however, prevents one from attaining the two lower stages of enlightenment, so long as the aversion is not allowed to degenerate into something too strong like for example vengeful anger to seek revenge for the death of a loved one.
In the same vein we should also not be too quick to judge or criticise a Dhamma practitioner, even one who is in a position of a teacher, when he or she displays what we perceive to be anger, greed, etc. especially when he or she had make no claim to being an anāgāmī or arahant. Even sotāpannas and sakadāgāmīs are capable of such defilements when they lose their mindfulness. And they are still capable of losing their mindfulness since they are not completely freed from all defilements yet. What sotāpannas and sakadāgāmīs are not capable of are defilements – anger, greed, etc. - that are so strong that it cause them to violate the basic five precepts (those terrible acts of killing, etc.), and thus create a full cause of unwholesome action or kamma (akusalakammapatha) that brings about rebirth in the woeful states of existence.
But Dhamma practitioners who are in the position of a teacher to whom others look up to as an example of one who possess the noble qualities of the Dhamma, should strive their best, even if they are still not completely freed from all defilements yet, to restrain their defilements so that they do not display any excessive defilements such as greed, anger, conceit, pride, jealousy, etc. For this can cause others, their students, who look up to them to lose faith in the Dhamma. This is the burden of one who is in the position of a teacher.
On the other hand, those who are in the position of a student should also understand that their teacher's compassion may not always manifest in a gentle way. There are two ways by which compassion can manifest: gently or sternly. There are times when a teacher need to be stern and firm with his or her students in order to help them progress. The Buddha himself was not always the gentle person that many Buddhist would like to believe he was. He can be very stern and even harsh at times as is evident in the Vinaya-Piṭaka. In Abhayarājakumāra Sutta (Majjhima-Nikāya, Sutta 58) the Buddha said that at the right time he may utter speech which are true, correct, beneficial, but which is unwelcome and disagreeable to others. This is compared to a person who, seeing that a child had put a stick or a potsherd into his mouth, would take it out at once; but if he cannot take it out he would draw it out with a crooked finger even if he draws blood in the process. This is because of his compassion towards the child.
So those who are Dhamma teachers should restrain their defilements and set good a example for others to follow. While those who follow a teacher should not be too quick to judge their teacher, or any other Dhamma practitioner for that matter, especially when they have not make any claim to being an anāgāmī or an arahant. In any case one have to remember that one take refuge in the Buddha, Dhamma, and Saṅgha which serve as objects of faith (saddheyya-vatthu) in the teaching of the Buddha. In the teaching of the Buddha faith is directed towards Buddha, Dhamma, and Saṅgha only. It is not directed towards any individual teacher. We may show respect for and even serve an individual teacher who is knowledgeable about the Dhamma. But that is because we have faith in and respect for the Dhamma that he or she knows and we want to learn it from him or her. If one's faith is directed towards the Buddha, Dhamma, and Saṅgha then it won't matter much if a teacher lose mindfulness and exhibit excessive defilements. One's faith in the Dhamma that the teacher knows remains intact.
The second set of six kinds of grief mentioned in the Saḷāyatanavibhaṅga Sutta that we quoted at the beginning of this article is the grief based on renunciation. It is this kind of grief that the Buddha called in Sakkapañha Sutta (Dīgha-Nikāya, Sutta 21) the grief that should be pursued (sevitabba). As we can see from the Buddha's description above this grief arises out of the spiritual development of vipassanā or insight into the nature of impermanence, suffering, and (by implication) non-self. Having discerned clearly with insight the true nature of the mental and physical phenomena as they really are one becomes weary of and disenchanted with them and a longing to be liberated from them arises in one's mind. This longing comes to prominence especially at a particular stage of development of insight called muñcitukamyatā-ñāṇa or knowledge of desire for deliverance. The grief that arises with this longing as a condition is also called in the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta (Majjhima-Nikāya, Sutta 10) unworldly or spiritual painful feeling (nirāmisaṃ dukkhaṃ vedanaṃ).
In Bhikkhunī Sutta (Aṅguttara-Nikāya, Book of the Fours, Sutta 159) Ven. Ānanda said that based on this longing for liberation one can actually attain liberation.
“It has been said: 'Sister, this body comes into being through craving and depending on craving, craving can be abandoned.' With reference to what was this said? Here, sister, a bhikkhu hears: 'They say that a bhikkhu of such and such a name, by the destruction of the taints, in this very life enters and dwells in the taintless liberation of mind and liberation by wisdom, having realised it for himself by direct knowledge. Then the thought occurs to him thus: 'When indeed will I also, by the destruction of the taints, in this very life enters and dwells in the taintless liberation of mind and liberation by wisdom, having realised it for myself by direct knowledge?' Then, at a later time, depending on craving he abandons craving. It is with reference to this that it was said: 'Sister, this body comes into being through craving and depending on craving, craving can be abandoned.'”
Because by depending on this craving or longing, craving can be abandoned, i.e. liberation from craving that is the cause of suffering can be achieved, therefore the Buddha said that the grief that arise with this longing as a condition should be pursued. So contrary to what many believe, this practise of satipaṭṭhāna vipassanā meditation is not a practise where you totally have no expectation to achieve anything at all. You do want to achieve something out of it. There is a goal to be achieved with all this practise: the complete cessation of all suffering. The Noble Eightfold Path is after all called the way to the cessation of suffering. If you don't want to achieve anything out of this practise, then your practise will be direction-less, the power of energetic striving will be weak, and you will probably not go far in the practise. So we do harbour some expectation of our practise. But we don't let this expectation get into the way of the process of vipassanā observation. We still observe with a mind that is open to the reality of things as they really are in the present moment, untainted by the expectation.
The Commentaries to the Bhikkhunī Sutta just quoted has an interesting discussion concerning this craving for liberation:
“Depending on craving he abandons craving: Depending on the present craving [for liberation] occurring now, he abandons the previous craving that was the root-cause of the cycle [of rebirth.] But is this present craving [for liberation] wholesome or unwholesome? It is unwholesome. Should it be pursued (sevitabba) or should it not be pursued (na sevitabba)? It should be pursued. Does it drag one into rebirth or not? It does not. But even the desire for this present craving that should be pursued is to be abandon.”
~ Aṅguttara Commentary
They say we should call a spade a spade. So this craving, even though it is for something sublime, is still craving. It is still unwholesome. But since it leads to putting forth effort to attain the supreme liberation from suffering it should be pursued.
“But how is it that yearning can arise on account of a supramundane state (i.e. Nibbāna)? It should not be seen in this way. The longing does not occur there by making [the supramundane state] it's object because [the supramundane state] is not part of its objective-scope and because this person has not yet attained [the supramundane state.] But he gives rise to longing there on account of the supreme liberation [that he had heard] through hearsay (or through tradition).
“It does not drag [one into rebirth]: It does not give rebirth because it does not arrive at the state of a full course of action (kammapatha).”
~ Aṅguttara Sub-Commentary
The Sub-Commentary's explanation tells us that whenever an ordinary-worldling (puthujjana) makes an aspiration to attain Nibbāna he does not actually take the real Nibbāna as the object of his mind because he had not yet attain it and so it cannot serve as an object for his mind. Rather the object that he has in mind at the time of making his aspiration is the theoretical Nibbāna as he had heard and understood through hearsay or tradition. So if his understanding of what Nibbāna is, is faulty, for example if he thinks that Nibbāna is a special kind of heavenly realm, then his aspiration will fail to bring him to realise the true Nibbāna as taught by the Buddha. Therefore it is important for one to learn from a reliable teacher and tradition what exactly is the Nibbāna that the Buddha was talking about.
Also, the craving for the state of supreme liberation from suffering is not considered a full course of action that can produce rebirth. There are these ten full courses of unwholesome action or kamma that can produce rebirth in the woeful states of existence. They are killing, stealing, sexual-misconduct, lying, slandering, speaking harshly, speaking frivolously, ill-will, covetousness, and wrong-view. In order to qualify as a full course of unwholesome action and thus be capable of producing rebirth in the woeful states each one of these ten unwholesome actions must fulfil certain criteria which are mentioned in the Commentaries. For example for killing to become a full course of unwholesome action there must be a being, a perception on part of the killer that it is a being, the intention to kill, the corresponding effort to carry out the intention, and the consequent death. If any one of these criteria is deficient then the action (kamma) is not strong enough to constitute a full course of action that can produce rebirth in the woeful states. But as long as the intention to kill is present it is, however, still an unwholesome action (kamma) and can produce undesirable result during the course of a person's life. Since the craving to attain the supreme liberation does not fulfil any of the criteria of these ten full courses of unwholesome action, it is too weak to result in rebirth in the woeful state of existence.
So there are these two kinds of grief. One of them the Buddha said should not be pursued, the one based on the household life, while the other one he said should be pursued, the one based on renunciation. As mentioned above, it all comes down to faith, whether we have the faith to develop the strengths of mind consisting in the strength of faith, energetic-effort, mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom, in order not to pursue that which should not be pursued and to pursue that which should be pursued. Faith, they say, can move mountains. And in this case faith can bring about liberation from suffering. So to be liberated we need to have this faith in order to confidently pursue what is conducive to liberation and to avoid what is not.
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