..续本文上一页ability, I owed it to him and to the traditions of the Sangha to give his teachings a try.

　　I was reminded of the words of MahaKassapa, who asked to be allowed to follow such ascetic practices as living in the forest, eating one meal a day (going out for alms) and wearing robes made from thrown-away rags all of his life. The Buddha questioned him, "You”ve already eradicated your defilements. What is there left for you to strive for

　　"

　　MahaKassapa answered, "I want to observe these practices, not for my own sake, but for the sake of those yet to come. If I don”t follow these practices, who will they be able to take as an example

　　 If a person teaches by example, the students will learn easily, just as when a person teaches students how to read: If he has pictures to go along with the text, the students will learn much more quickly. My observing these practices is the same sort of thing."

　　When I thought of these words, I felt sympathy for MahaKassapa, subjecting himself to all sorts of hardships. If you were to put it in worldly terms, you could say that he was already a mult, imillionaire, deserving a soft bed and fine food, but instead he slept and ate on the ground, and had only coarse food to eat. Thinking of his example, I”d be ashamed to look for nothing more than creature comforts. As for MahaKassapa, he could have eaten fine food and lived in a beautiful home with no danger of his heart”s being defiled. But — and it”s not surprising — he was more concerned with benefiting those who came after.

　　All of these things have given me food for thought ever since I was first ordained.

　　Speaking of living in the forest, I”ve learned a lot of unusual lessons there. Sometimes I”ve seen death close at hand and have learned a lot of lessons — sometimes from seeing the behavior of animals, sometimes from talking to people who live there.

　　Once there was an old man who told me of the time he had gone with his wife to tap tree sap deep in a large forest. They happened to run into a bear and a fight ensued. The wife was able to get up a tree in time, and then called down to her husband, "If you can”t fight it off, lie down and play dead. Don”t make a move."

　　When her husband heard this, he came to his senses and so fell back on the ground, lying absolutely still. Seeing this, the bear climbed up astride him, but then let go of him and simply stood looking at him. The old man lay there on his back, meditating on the word, "buddho, buddho," and thinking, "I”m not going to die. I”m not going to die." The bear pulled at his legs and then at his head, and then used its nuzzle to push him left and right. The old man kept his joints loose and didn”t react in any way. After the bear had decided that the man was dead, it left. A moment or so later the man got up and walked home with his wife. His head was all battered and bloody, but he didn”t die.

　　When he had finished telling me the story, he added, "That”s the way forest animals have to be. If you can”t fight, you have to play dead."

　　Hearing this, the thought occurred to me, "No one is interested in a dead person. Since I live in the forest, I should play dead. Whoever praises me or attacks me, I”ll have to be still — quiet in thought, word and deed — if I want to survive." This can also be a good reminder in the way of the Dhamma: To free yourself from death, you have to play dead. This is a good lesson in maranassati, keeping death in mind.

　　Another time, early one morning when I was staying in the middle of a large forest, I took my followers out for alms. As we were going through the forest, I heard a mother chicken cry, "Kataak! Kataak!" Since she didn”t fly away, I figured she probably had some baby chicks, so I sent the boys to run and look. This frightened the chicken and she flew away ov…

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