..续本文上一页lp with the ceremonial marking of the boundaries of the ordination hall at Wat Samraan Nivasa, which lasted for several days. When the ceremonies were over I went to stay in Phra Sabai Cave. My old stomach problems began to flare up: I had a bad case of diarrhea and fierce pains in my stomach. Word reached the city of Lampang that I was in bad shape.

　　One day I went to rest in the inner cave. I saw a rock stuck in the mouth of the cave, 20 meters off the ground. The thought occurred to me that I”d like to build a chedi there in the cave. I called to the lay people staying with me to help push the rock out of the cave, which they were able to do. We then dug a hole and cut away at the rock floor until about 1 p.m., when a car arrived. The people in the car said that they had come to take me to the hospital, but I had already recovered from my illness without realizing it. I told them that we were going to build a chedi. Before leaving the cave, I stood at its mouth and looked out to the southwest, to a range of deep green forested mountains. Seeing the fresh green of the trees, I thought of the Bodhi tree, and that it would be good to plant three Bodhi trees there at the mouth of the cave. I mentioned this to the monks and novices, and then returned to Lampang.

　　From there I went on to Uttaradit, because a lay person had come up looking for me, asking me to return to Uttaradit because an old woman — a student of mine — had started babbling incoherently for several days. I went to stay in Uttaradit a fair while, helping the woman, and then went on to Phitsanuloke, where I stayed at Wat Raadburana, near the home of a woman who was an "adopted child" of mine. The story of this adopted child is worth telling, although it dates back to the year I spent the rains with the hilltribes people at Baan Phaa Daen Saen Kandaan (The Cliff Village in the Land of Really Primitive Hardship) in Chieng Mai.

　　The woman”s name was Fyyn; her husband”s was MahaNawm. One day I had gone to teach meditation at Wat Aranyik, located in a forest six kilometers outside of Phitsanuloke. A lot of government officials, shopkeepers and people in general had come to practice samadhi, including the chief of police, Luang Samrit; Luang Chyyn, Khun Kasem, Captain Phaew — all of them people really earnest about practicing meditation. We were sitting, discussing the Dhamma, when someone came and said to me, "Please come and visit a sick person in my home." I agreed to go. The chief of police then drove us there in his car.

　　When we arrived they told me that a dhutanga monk had come down from the north, made some lustral water for them, and then told them, "I”m afraid I can”t cure you, but a monk who can will be coming soon." He had then left and continued on his wanderings. As soon as MahaNawm had heard that I was in the area, he had come looking for me. Talking with him, I learned that his wife, Mae Fyyn, had been ill for three years now, ever since she had lain by the fire after childbirth. They had spent more than 8,000 baht on injections, but nothing had cured her. All she could do for the last three years was simply lie there: She couldn”t get up at all. For the past year she hadn”t been able to speak. She couldn”t even move. Hearing this, I told MahaNawm that I”d go have a look

　　As soon as I set foot in the door, I saw the woman raise her hands feebly in a wai. I didn”t give a thought to her condition, but simply sat in samadhi. Mae Fyyn said two or three words, moved herself a little, raised her hands in another wai, sat up and then kneeled down by her pillow. "Get well," I told her. "Be done with your old karma."

　　That day I ordered her to pick up a match and light me a cigarette, and she was able to do it. I told the people in the house not to feed her the follo…

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