old-path-white-clouds-thich-nhat-hanh

Chapter Sixty-Three
All the Way to the Sea
During his travels, the Buddha stopped in the village of Alavi. The Buddha and eight bhikkhus were offered a meal in a public building
there, while all the local people were served food as well. Following the meal, the Buddha was about to begin a Dharma talk, when an
elderly farmer, almost out of breath, entered the hall. He was late because he’d had to search for a lost water buffalo. The Buddha could
see that the old farmer had not eaten all day, and he asked that rice and curry be served to the old man before he would begin the Dharma
talk. Many people felt impatient. They did not understand why one man should be allowed to hold up the Buddha’s discourse.
When the farmer was finished eating, the Buddha said, “Respected Friends, if I delivered a Dharma talk while our brother was still
hungry, he would not be able to concentrate. That would be a pity. There is no greater suffering than hunger. Hunger wastes our bodies and
destroys our well-being, peace, and joy. We should never forget those who are hungry. It is a discomfort to miss one meal, but think of the
suffering of those who have not had a proper meal in days or even weeks. We must find ways to assure that no one in this world is forced
to go hungry.”
After Alavi, the Buddha followed the Ganga northwest towards Kosambi. He paused to watch a piece of driftwood being carried
downstream. He called to the other bhikkhus, pointed to the piece of wood, and said, “Bhikkhus! If that piece of driftwood does not
become lodged against the riverbank, if it does not sink, if it does not become moored on a sandbar, if it isn’t lifted out of the water, if it
isn’t caught in a whirlpool, or rot from the inside out, it will float all the way to the sea. It is the same for you on the path. If you don’t
become lodged against the riverbank, if you don’t sink, if you don’t become moored on a sandbar, if you are not lifted out of the water, if
you do not become caught in a whirlpool, or rot from the inside out, you are certain to reach the great sea of enlightenment and
emancipation.”
The bhikkhus said, “Please, Lord, explain this more fully. What does it mean to become lodged against the riverbank, to sink, or to be
moored on a sandbar?”
The Buddha answered, “To become lodged against the riverbank is to become entangled by the six senses and their objects. If you
practice diligently, you will not become entangled in feelings which result from contact between the senses and their objects. To sink means
to become enslaved by desire and greed, which rob you of the strength needed to persevere in your practice. To become moored on a
sandbar means to worry about serving only your own desires, forever seeking advantages and prestige for yourself while forgetting the goal
of enlightenment. To be lifted from the water means to lose yourself in dispersion, loitering with people of poor character instead of pursuing
the practice. To be caught in a whirlpool means to be bound by the five categories of desire—being caught by good food, sex, money,
fame, or sleep. To rot from the inside out means to live a life of false virtue, deceiving the sangha while using the Dharma to serve your own
desires.
“Bhikkhus, if you practice diligently and avoid these six traps, you will certainly attain the fruit of enlightenment, just as that piece of
driftwood will make it to the sea if it overcomes all obstacles.”
As the Buddha spoke these words to the bhikkhus, a youth tending water buffaloes nearby stopped to listen. His name was Nanda. He
was so moved by the Buddha’s words, that he approached the bhikkhus and asked to be accepted as a disciple. He said, “Teacher, I want
to be a bhikkhu like these brothers. I want to follow the spiritual path. I promise to devote myself to studying the Way. I will avoid
becoming caught against the riverbank, sinking, becoming moored on a sandbar, being lifted from the water, becoming caught in a
whirlpool, and rotting from the inside out. Please accept me as a disciple.”
The Buddha was pleased by the young man’s bright countenance. He knew the young man was capable and diligent, although he had
probably had little or no schooling. The Buddha nodded his acceptance and asked, “How old are you?”
Nanda answered, “Master, I am sixteen.”
“Are your parents living?”
“No, Master, they are both dead. I have no other family. I take care of a rich man’s water buffaloes in exchange for shelter.”
The Buddha asked, “Can you live on just one meal a day?”
“I have been doing that already for a long time.”
The Buddha said, “In principle, you should be twenty years old before being accepted into the sangha. Most young men are not mature
enough to live the life of a homeless monk until they are at least twenty. But you are clearly special. I will ask the community to waive the
usual requirement in your case. You can practice as a samanera novice for four years before taking the full precepts. Return the water