..续本文上一页hroughout the rainy season. In the end he gave his consent.

　　That was 1931, the year Chao Khun Upali died. I spent the rains very close to Ajaan Mun, attending both to his needs and to my own meditation. He in turn gave me a thorough breaking-in in every way. Each evening he had me climb up and sit in meditation on the north side of the Great Chedi. There was a large Buddha image there — it”s still there today — and Ajaan Mun told me that it was a very auspicious spot, that relics of the Buddha had been known to come there often. I did as I was told in every way. Some nights I”d sit all night, without any sleep.

　　We stayed in a small hut in a banana grove. Lady Thip and Luang Yong, the Chief of Police, had had the hut built and presented to Ajaan Mun. Nai Thip, clerk in the Provincial Treasury, and his wife, Nang Taa, made sure that Ajaan Mun had plenty to eat every day.

　　I made a regular practice of going with Ajaan Mun when we went out for alms. As we would walk along, he”d constantly be giving me lessons in meditation all along the way. If we happened to pass a pretty girl, he”d say, "Look over there. Do you think she”s pretty

　　 Look closely. Look down into her insides." No matter what we passed — houses or roads — he”d always make it an object lesson.

　　At the time I was only 26. It was my fifth Rains Retreat and I was still feeling young, so he was always giving me lessons and warnings. He seemed very concerned for my progress. But there was one thing that had me puzzled, having to do with robes and other necessities that people would donate. He seemed reluctant to let me have anything nice to use. Sometimes he”d ask for whatever nice things I did have and then go give them to someone else. I had no idea what he meant by all this. Whenever I”d get anything new or nice, he”d order me to wash and dye it to spoil the original color. Say I”d get a nice new white handkerchief or towel: He”d order me to dye it brown with dye from the heartwood of a jackfruit tree. Sometimes he”d have to order me several times, and when I still wouldn”t obey, he”d go ahead and dye the things himself. He liked to find old, worn-out robes, patch them himself, and then give them to me to wear.

　　One morning I went together with him on our alms round, down past the Police Station. We happened to pass a woman carrying goods to the market, but my mind was in good shape: It didn”t stray away from the path we were following. I was keeping complete control over myself. Another time when I was walking a little distance behind him — he walked fast, but I walked slowly — I saw him come to an old, worn-out pair of policeman”s trousers thrown away by the side of the road. He began to kick the trousers along, back and forth — I was thinking all along that I had to keep my thoughts on the path I was following. Finally, when he reached the fence around the Police Station, he stooped down, picked up the trousers and fastened them under his robes. I was puzzled. What did he want with old trash like that

　　When we got back to the hut, he placed the trousers over the clothes railing. I swept up and then set out the sitting mats. After we had finished our meal, I went into his room to arrange his bedding. Some days he”d be cross with me, saying I was messy, that I never put anything in the right place — but he”d never tell me what the right places were. Even though I tried my best to please him at all times, he was still severe with me the entire rainy season.

　　Several days later the old pair of trousers had become a shoulder bag and a belt: I saw them hanging together on the wall. And a few days afterwards, he gave them to me to use. I took them and looked at them. They were nothing but stitches and patches. With all the good things available, why did he give me this sort …

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