Commentary on the text “The Questions of King Milinda”
Nagasena came to the king and began preaching the Dharma to him. This king was known as a great debater who could drive many scholars to a nervous tic with his arguments, entangle them in logical traps, and was a sophisticated kshatriya endowed with a certain clarity. Having heard of him, Nagasena came to meet him, and they held a debate, after which King Milinda, a king of Greek origin, recognized Nagasena’s wisdom and holiness. He said, “I cannot become a monk like you, because I have many enemies; as soon as I renounce the kingdom and am left alone, I will not live long. Such is my karma. In my position, I must remain a king, but I respect the Dharma that you preach.”
This famous dialogue between the Greek King Milinda and the holy monk Nagasena is specifically about monasticism. Why is this sutra interesting and important to us? Because it describes the ancient principles of monasticism. We can recognize the sutras uttered by the Buddha as authoritative, since the Buddha, among other things, is traditionally regarded as an avatar of Vishnu. He is important to us precisely as an avatar of Vishnu who gave a profound path of monasticism and came to abolish the unjust caste system and animal sacrifices, to dispel the confusion of many people bound by ritual practices and dogmatic concepts, and to establish the power and purity of monastic vows.
There were no Buddhist monks as such, because the Buddha was not a Buddhist. The Buddha was simply the Buddha; he was himself. Buddhism arose much later, after the Buddha’s death, when seventeen schools emerged from among his disciples and different interpretations of the teaching arose between them; they began reconstructing his teaching from memory and writing it down, and thus the Tripitaka canon came into being. The Buddha himself preached the Dharma based on his own realization. He had studied under teachers in the Sankhya tradition, Alarda and Uddalaka, who taught him within the Sankhya tradition. The Sankhya tradition is an ancient Vedic spiritual system associated not with the brahmins but specifically with the kshatriya lineage; it emphasizes vira-bhava, heroism, asceticism, and spiritual feats. This is described in the “Narayaniya” and the “Mahabharata”: when Arjuna performed tapas, and others did likewise, they all followed the path of Sankhya, an ancient philosophical system.
Many scholars of Vedic philosophy (for example, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan) believe that the Buddha is not far removed from the Hindu tradition; he is an organic part of the Hindu tradition who brought a new vision and a new wave. Tantric schools, Vaishnava schools, and others recognize him as a special incarnation of Vishnu, an avatar of the god Vishnu; just as Dattatreya is regarded as an avatar of Vishnu, so too is the Buddha. In this sense, he is authoritative and important to us.
The Qualities of the Lotus in Spiritual Practice
“Furthermore, Your Majesty, the lotus rises out of the water and towers above it. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, a yogi engaged in yoga should transcend the entire world, rise above it, and become established in supramundane dharmas.”
By entering the path of monasticism or the path of spiritual discipleship, we set our sights on a very great goal: to transcend the entire world. All perceptions of the world, goals, meanings, values, and social interests are nothing compared with realization. Transcending the entire world is not easy, since we do not yet truly know the world, because our lives are not very long and our cognitive abilities are limited. To transcend the world means detachment both from the values and desires of this world and from inner subtle stereotypical dualistic notions, and, at the very core, detachment even from one’s own “I” as ego, ahamkara, self-existence, the doer, the desirer, and the achiever.
Such detachment is not self-destruction, nor is it passivity; this detachment means discovering the light of Sahajya in the depths of ahamkara, when we cease relying on ahamkara and begin relying on Sahajya. Ahamkara relinquishes its position and becomes merely an instrument, a functional part of Sahajya, a playful manifestation of the Light of Sahajya, but it no longer claims to be the master. When ahamkara claims to be or actually is the master, it brings numerous difficulties, misfortunes, and problems. This happens because there is no clarity (viveka), no clear distinction between the true master—the Light of the Wisdom of Sahajya, that is, presence—and ahamkara itself; we constantly confuse the two.
“This is the second quality, Your Majesty, that should be taken from the lotus. Furthermore, Your Majesty, the lotus sways even in a gentle breeze. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, a yogi practicing yoga should restrain even faint afflictions and discern danger even in them. This is the third quality, Your Majesty, that should be taken from the lotus.”
Afflicted states must be subdued. Whether you cut them off, restrain them, transform them, or self-liberate them, they must be subdued by whatever means. When an angry thought about someone or an impure judgment arises, it should not simply be left alone or tolerated. Alongside an angry thought, an impure judgment, a subconscious wish for harm to another, or a manifestation of envy, selfishness, or negativity, there must be a subtle discriminating awareness that instantly and vigilantly responds to it and prevents it from developing further.
As presence deepens and is cultivated, this happens by itself, naturally, because the vector of our awareness shifts toward openness and spaciousness, toward divya-bhava. Petty thoughts are instantly recognized as not truly yours, as not corresponding to this vector. At the very moment such recognition occurs, their empty essence is discovered. They came from nowhere, that is, from emptiness, and they go nowhere, that is, into emptiness.
One who has become established in this understanding has accomplished a great task, indeed the task of a large part of their life. For to remain fully in self-liberated awareness at every moment is no small achievement.
“For there is, Your Majesty, a saying of the Blessed One, the God of gods: ‘Whoever discerns danger in the slightest transgressions truly trains in the rules of conduct.’”
The Qualities of a Seed and Spiritual Discipline
“Venerable Nagasena, you said that two qualities should be taken from a seed. What are these two qualities?”
“It is well known, Your Majesty, that even a small seed, planted in the soil and not suffering from a lack of rain, yields a very abundant harvest. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, a yogi practicing yoga should act so that their morality yields its harvest—all the fruits of the life of a shramana. This is the first quality, Your Majesty, that should be taken from a seed.”
Act so that morality bears fruit. When you follow certain principles, your spirit grows stronger and more steadfast. When, for a long time, you follow certain principles of the Vinaya, tantric samaya, unified samaya, pure vision, and Guru Yoga, you acquire shakti; that is, your samayas and vows give you real spiritual power if you observe them sincerely, correctly, and carefully. Year after year, self-discipline, the rules of discipline, ethics, and relationships become your magical shields.
If a person does not follow such discipline, they are weak and vulnerable in the astral world, and their consciousness can easily succumb to allurements and various influences; a monk, however, gains additional spiritual power through the strength of devotion to the Refuge and Guru Yoga alone. This power helps one cope both with inner and outer maras and with one’s own selfishness. It is like towers that support natural awareness, and it should not be neglected.
“Furthermore, Your Majesty, a seed planted in a well-weeded field grows quickly. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, the mind of a yogi practicing yoga, properly grasped, weeded through practice in an empty chamber, and planted in the excellent field of the foundations of mindfulness, grows quickly. This is the second quality, Your Majesty, that should be taken from a seed. For there is, Your Majesty, a saying of Thera Aniruddha: ‘In a field thoroughly weeded, a seed quickly takes root, bears abundant fruit, and gladdens the farmer. So too, the consciousness of a yogi, purified in an empty chamber, quickly sprouts in the field of the foundations of mindfulness.’”
The Practice of Mindfulness and Working with Sankalpas
“Venerable Nagasena, you said that one should take one quality of the sal tree.”
When the foundations of mindfulness are spoken of, this refers to the practice of mindfulness (satipatthana). At the initial stage, this is an extremely important practice. It is always important to practice it seriously and single-pointedly for a week, three days, or at least once in your life for the minimum period. The sutra says of satipatthana: one who practices it diligently for a year attains Nirvana; one who practices it for even six months attains Nirvana if they keep the mind steady. It then says: why speak of six months? One who practices it for a month attains Nirvana, and so on, down to a week. Accordingly, it is useful, especially during a long retreat, to devote attention to this foundational practice. This is because the practice of contemplating sankalpas, and even more so that of simple naked awareness, is a more advanced practice. Satipatthana lays a powerful foundation: observing the movements of the body and the manifestations of thoughts and thinking. But later, once we have become established in basic mindfulness and penetrated into awareness beyond concepts, we work with sankalpas.
Working with sankalpas is very subtle. Those who have not understood this work say: “The teaching is not all that effective; it bears no fruit because people’s minds are coarse. It is something weightless and elusive.” This is true. I say: “There is no point in undertaking it if your mind is not yet ready, if you have not purified yourself. Recite mantras, accumulate merit, study philosophy, practice satipatthana—that will suffice. When the mind is purified, you will be able to work fully with sankalpa. One who has purified the mind and can hold a sankalpa will dance for joy while working with the methods of sankalpa. For sankalpa comprises the highly sophisticated, elegant, and extremely subtle methods of the siddhas. Sankalpa is Vaishnavi Mudra. Vaishnavi Mudra means that we hold a certain intention within consciousness, in contrast to Shambhavi Mudra, which is directed outward. One who understands this will see a tremendous effect from sankalpa. It is a secret, invisible practice that grants the yogi everything and leads him very directly to true awareness. It contains the entire esoteric, secret essence of the sutras, the tantras, and all oral instructions. People often do not understand or believe because they do not investigate their minds very deeply; it is unclear whether they have contemplation or not.
Ramana Maharshi was asked: “How can one attain?” He said: “Ask the question ‘Who am I?’ and practice self-inquiry.” They asked: “How is this done?” Here it is important to truly understand where our mind is and at what point it should be, for our further insight depends on understanding these invisible and subtle things. Enlightenment is subtle, exceedingly subtle; there is nothing coarse about it. Those who hope for miraculous coarse methods—a pill, a blow with a staff, as in Zen, after which something instantly opens up—are still in their infancy. For if the mind is coarse, even if you enter an awakened state for a time, uncover rasa, or experience a fleeting samadhi, you will still be unable to retain it.
Some people use drugs such as LSD to enter an ecstatic state. For example, in America in the 1970s there was the hippie revolution, the LSD and psychedelic revolution; even professors told students at universities how to take LSD. After the war in America, hippies renounced conventional life and became sadhus; they did not want to pursue careers or live as householders. There was a slogan: “Make love, not war. Love everyone, seek Enlightenment.” But such enlightenment is of little value; not a single hippie became enlightened. For all this is external; it is simply the stimulation of excess tejas. When there is an excess of tejas, consciousness expands, ecstatic visions arise, and consciousness becomes very clear and quick. But the mind is coarse, and you have not earned this; when the effect wears off, tejas decreases, having devoured and depleted ojas, and an even worse state arises—that is, you sink even lower. That is what it is.
If a person seeks this by some other means, it is the same. As long as consciousness is not sattvic and remains coarse, there may be an experience of fleeting samadhi, but the person will be unable to hold on to it. Sankalpa works very slowly; it truly makes you subtle and refines your consciousness. You polish and polish consciousness, the mind becomes transparent, and the light of natural awareness begins to shine through thanks to the practice of sankalpa. Even if your mind has not been thrown wide open through sankalpa, you approach the feeling of openness and can constantly remain on this threshold. You already have faith: “Yes, I am on the right path.”
Depth of Rootedness in the Teaching
“What is this quality?”
“It is known, Your Majesty, that the sal tree sends its roots one hundred cubits or more into the earth. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, a yogi devoted to yoga should attain the four fruits of the ascetic life, the four analytical knowledges, the six higher knowledges, and everything that belongs to the ascetic life while remaining secluded in an empty room. This, Your Majesty, is the quality that should be taken from the sal tree. For there is, Your Majesty, a saying of the Thera Rahula: ‘There is a sal tree. It grows and drinks water, while beneath the ground its roots have penetrated to a depth of one hundred cubits. When it reaches maturity and that day comes, it is rooted to a depth of one hundred cubits—O great man! Thus I too, like the sal tree, have put down roots in the Teaching, in the depths, in an empty room.’”
To put down roots in the Teaching means to become a person of Dharma to the very marrow of one’s bones. This can be achieved through external discipline and philosophy, but above all through working with subtle awareness and attaining inner clarity. Another interpretation of this term is the art of integration. In the truest sense, we put down roots in the Teaching when our contemplative presence truly gains strength and we learn to integrate with energies. Until we learn to integrate with energies, we cannot turn everything into the path; we need a special posture, a particular frame of mind, visualizations, a special situation, or solitude. We are very constrained in our practice. We are like a warrior who can fight with only one type of weapon and under only one set of conditions. But when we acquire genuine flexibility and the ability to integrate, we can turn any situation into the path of practice.
Integration is rootedness. What does rootedness mean? For example, we can unite with the earth element in the body and deeply unite with shakti, with the water element, both internal and external. There is a fungus in nature that is itself quite small, perhaps like a porcini mushroom, but its root system covers twenty-four hectares and weighs several tons, while the fungus itself is small. It is like an iceberg: it is small on the surface, while its root system spreads widely. When you become deeply rooted in the practice of grounding, you resemble something like this. Your shakti is very open, expansive, and connected with energy, although outwardly you do not stand out in any way. Such a yogi is already so deeply immersed in the experience of energy and realizes various kinds of bliss that everything becomes the path for him. He flows with the river and drifts with the clouds. Here, external and internal reality gradually begin to become one.
“Venerable Nagasena, you said that three qualities should be taken from a ship. What are these three qualities?”
“It is known, Your Majesty, that a ship, being a firmly joined whole made of different timbers, carries many people across the sea. In exactly the same way, Your Majesty, a yogi devoted to yoga should, as a firmly joined whole composed of many dharmas rooted in moral, worthy, and right conduct, carry the entire world with its gods across the sea of worldly wandering. This, Your Majesty, is the first quality that should be taken from a ship.”
