Kassapa's robe
25/February/2009 06:22 PM
Maha Kassapa, or Big Kassapa, was a senior disciple
of the Buddha known for his asceticism. He lived in
the forest, dedicating himself to practice and
avoiding the social entanglements that were so much a
part of the Buddha’s life. He had a reputation as a
fierce disciplinarian, and in the tradition has come
to represent tough, macho dharma.
Civara Sutta (The robe), found in Kassapa Samyutta, records Big Kassapa in the last phase of his life remembering his first encounter with the Buddha. Kassapa was a wealthy farmer who abandoned the world while still a young man after being suddenly overcome with dread by the deaths of so many small creatures that were an inevitable aspect of farming. He ordained himself, and marched off into the world of renunciation to seek enlightenment. Not long afterwards he met the Buddha on the road. The Buddha was himself a young man, his awakening still fresh. Kassapa immediately fell at the Buddha’s feet and declared himself his student. The Buddha wasted no time taking him on, and charged him with three key practices that were to define the rest of his life. The third of these practices is what concerns us here. The Buddha said:
Kassapa, you should train yourself in this way: “I will not abandon mindfulness immersed in body associated with joy. [sata-sahagata ca me kayagata-sati na vijahissati].”
Civara Sutta (The robe), found in Kassapa Samyutta, records Big Kassapa in the last phase of his life remembering his first encounter with the Buddha. Kassapa was a wealthy farmer who abandoned the world while still a young man after being suddenly overcome with dread by the deaths of so many small creatures that were an inevitable aspect of farming. He ordained himself, and marched off into the world of renunciation to seek enlightenment. Not long afterwards he met the Buddha on the road. The Buddha was himself a young man, his awakening still fresh. Kassapa immediately fell at the Buddha’s feet and declared himself his student. The Buddha wasted no time taking him on, and charged him with three key practices that were to define the rest of his life. The third of these practices is what concerns us here. The Buddha said:
Kassapa, you should train yourself in this way: “I will not abandon mindfulness immersed in body associated with joy. [sata-sahagata ca me kayagata-sati na vijahissati].”
Kassapa’s training is presented as “I will not
abandon mindfulness immersed in body associated with
joy.” What does “not abandon” imply? The Pali verb
here is vijahati, and can mean that Kassapa
is making it his training to always be mindful of
body in such a way that a pleasurable connection with
it is evident. But vijahati can also mean
“to give up,” indicating that even though Kassapa
will go through periods when he forgets body, or when
he cannot feel any joy, still he will make his
relationship to body central to his practice, to
learn to recognise what disconnects him from it, and
especially what gets in the way of the pleasure
associated with it. Similarly, vijahati can
be taken as “to dismiss,” indicating that Kassapa has
undertaken never to dismiss the role of body in his
path to awakening.
Clearly, the Buddha is telling Kassapa — and us — that our relationship to body is fundamental to our practice. In particular, the Buddha points to the pleasure and joy intimately interconnected to our experience of body. What does the Buddha mean by “body?” In our culture we tend to be obsessed with how the body appears from outside. This is based on a third person perspective, a sense of body from the outside. The way, for example, we use expressions like “my body” indicates that we feel ourselves to be in some way separated from body, and like others experiencing it from somewhere beyond body. But the Buddha’s teaching is fundamentally a first person discourse. “Body,” from his perspective, is our-experience-of-body, body as felt from the inside; body as feeling the outside, from the inside.
This is body as sensitivity. The word translated here as “body” here is kaya, one of the six senses that are the fields containing the entirety of human experience. Each sense is a sensitivity to a particular form of stimulus. All experience, according to the Buddha, comes from some aspect of the world striking a corresponding sensitivity. We have six senses, or sensitivities: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body and mind. Sense object strikes its corresponding sensitivity, awareness of this arises, and the three of these — sensitivity, object and awareness — together constitute “contact” or “stimulus” (phassa), the immediacy of experience.
“Body” is sensitivity to touch, which refers to the sense contact of “tangible objects” (photthabba) striking the body sensitivity (kaya). Tradition notes that the impact of tangible objects striking body is greater than that of any other sense object striking its respective sense sensitivity. This puts body in a special position regarding experience. Physical experience is clearer to us; we experience ourselves and our world most intimately as embodied beings. We are bodies, sentient bodies, but bodies. The very world within which we find ourselves is an aspect of our essential physicality.
What about mind? We tend to think of mind and body as separate, but for the Buddha they are intimately intertwined. Mind and body are different, but not separate. We experience the world through and as body, but how do we know this? Through mind. But mind requires body, as body locates mind, grounds it, provides it with the (physical) sensitivities through which experience of and expression in the world become possible.
All experience is bound to body, even experience of mind. In Bhikkhunupassaya Sutta (The bhikkhunis’ quarter), found in Satipatthana Samyutta, the Buddha speaks about what happens for the practitioner when “there arises for her, based on the body, either a fever in the body or sluggishness of mind, or mind distracted outwardly.” Mind itself is experienced — touched — “based on the body.” So when we are speaking of mindfulness immersed in body, we are speaking of mindfulness immersed in the very foundation of experience itself. All experience, including that of the mind, comes through, even as, body.
The verb “to touch” is phusati, from which is derived phassa, “contact,” the immediacy of experience. In other words, there is a sense in which experience itself — the impact of sense object upon sense sensitivity — is touch. We know the world through touching the world; we know ourselves through touching ourselves. Contact, according to the Buddha, conditions feeling (vedana). Feeling represents the affective aspect of experience, that which moves us to respond to how we have been touched. Being sensitive to body, through body, we are also sensitive to that which moves us. So it is no surprise that when mindfulness is immersed in body we are sensitive to joy.
Our practice requires us to return to the fundamental reality of body. Here we find joy. Here we find an intimacy with experience that comes from cultivating a sensitivity to touch. The touch of this chair, of this evening coolness, of this sight, of this thought. Mindfulness immersed in body.
How would this pan out in lived practice? I don’t know yet, but I know I need to find out.
Clearly, the Buddha is telling Kassapa — and us — that our relationship to body is fundamental to our practice. In particular, the Buddha points to the pleasure and joy intimately interconnected to our experience of body. What does the Buddha mean by “body?” In our culture we tend to be obsessed with how the body appears from outside. This is based on a third person perspective, a sense of body from the outside. The way, for example, we use expressions like “my body” indicates that we feel ourselves to be in some way separated from body, and like others experiencing it from somewhere beyond body. But the Buddha’s teaching is fundamentally a first person discourse. “Body,” from his perspective, is our-experience-of-body, body as felt from the inside; body as feeling the outside, from the inside.
This is body as sensitivity. The word translated here as “body” here is kaya, one of the six senses that are the fields containing the entirety of human experience. Each sense is a sensitivity to a particular form of stimulus. All experience, according to the Buddha, comes from some aspect of the world striking a corresponding sensitivity. We have six senses, or sensitivities: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body and mind. Sense object strikes its corresponding sensitivity, awareness of this arises, and the three of these — sensitivity, object and awareness — together constitute “contact” or “stimulus” (phassa), the immediacy of experience.
“Body” is sensitivity to touch, which refers to the sense contact of “tangible objects” (photthabba) striking the body sensitivity (kaya). Tradition notes that the impact of tangible objects striking body is greater than that of any other sense object striking its respective sense sensitivity. This puts body in a special position regarding experience. Physical experience is clearer to us; we experience ourselves and our world most intimately as embodied beings. We are bodies, sentient bodies, but bodies. The very world within which we find ourselves is an aspect of our essential physicality.
What about mind? We tend to think of mind and body as separate, but for the Buddha they are intimately intertwined. Mind and body are different, but not separate. We experience the world through and as body, but how do we know this? Through mind. But mind requires body, as body locates mind, grounds it, provides it with the (physical) sensitivities through which experience of and expression in the world become possible.
All experience is bound to body, even experience of mind. In Bhikkhunupassaya Sutta (The bhikkhunis’ quarter), found in Satipatthana Samyutta, the Buddha speaks about what happens for the practitioner when “there arises for her, based on the body, either a fever in the body or sluggishness of mind, or mind distracted outwardly.” Mind itself is experienced — touched — “based on the body.” So when we are speaking of mindfulness immersed in body, we are speaking of mindfulness immersed in the very foundation of experience itself. All experience, including that of the mind, comes through, even as, body.
The verb “to touch” is phusati, from which is derived phassa, “contact,” the immediacy of experience. In other words, there is a sense in which experience itself — the impact of sense object upon sense sensitivity — is touch. We know the world through touching the world; we know ourselves through touching ourselves. Contact, according to the Buddha, conditions feeling (vedana). Feeling represents the affective aspect of experience, that which moves us to respond to how we have been touched. Being sensitive to body, through body, we are also sensitive to that which moves us. So it is no surprise that when mindfulness is immersed in body we are sensitive to joy.
Our practice requires us to return to the fundamental reality of body. Here we find joy. Here we find an intimacy with experience that comes from cultivating a sensitivity to touch. The touch of this chair, of this evening coolness, of this sight, of this thought. Mindfulness immersed in body.
How would this pan out in lived practice? I don’t know yet, but I know I need to find out.
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