Death, the Body, Breathing, and Peace

Now, next after this, comes the exposition of the development of recollection of death. Herein, "death" means the cutting-off of the life faculty comprised within a single existence. As for the arahants' cutting-off, reckoned as the cutting-off of the suffering of the round, that is called "final death"; the momentary dissolution of formations is called "momentary death"; and such usages as "the tree has died" or "the metal has died" are called "conventional death" — this is not what is intended here.

What is intended here is twofold: timely death and untimely death. Herein, timely death occurs through the exhaustion of merit, or the exhaustion of the lifespan, or both together. Untimely death occurs by way of a kamma that cuts off other kamma.

Herein, that death which occurs, even though the conditions productive of a continuing lifespan are still present, simply because the kamma productive of rebirth-linking has finished ripening its result — this is called "death by exhaustion of merit." That death which occurs through the exhaustion of a lifespan measured, for the people of the present age, at a mere hundred years, through the absence of the fulfillment of destiny, era, food, and the rest — this is called "death by exhaustion of the lifespan." That death which occurs, as in the case of Dūsī Māra or King Kalābu, through a kamma capable of dislodging one from a state at that very moment, cutting off one's continuity, or through one's continuity being cut off by such assaults as the taking of a weapon, by force of a former kamma — this is called "untimely death." All of this, in the way described, is included under the cutting-off of the life faculty. Thus, recollection of death is the recollection of death reckoned as the cutting-off of the life faculty.

One desiring to develop this, alone in a secluded place, withdrawn, should make wise attention proceed thus: "death will occur, the life faculty will be cut off," or simply, "death, death." For one making it proceed unwisely, when recollecting the death of a dear person, grief arises, as in a mother who has just given birth recollecting the death of her beloved child; when recollecting the death of a disliked person, gladness arises, as in one recollecting the death of an enemy at the hands of enemies; when recollecting the death of a neutral person, no sense of urgency arises, as in a corpse-burner looking upon a dead body; and when recollecting one's own death, terror arises, as in one of a timid nature who has seen an executioner with drawn sword. All of this, in every case, is devoid of mindfulness, a sense of urgency, and knowledge. Therefore, having looked here and there upon beings slain and dead, and having brought to mind the death of beings, once seen to be possessed of good fortune, who have since died, and having conjoined mindfulness, a sense of urgency, and knowledge, attention should be made to proceed by the method beginning "death will occur." For one proceeding thus proceeds wisely — proceeds, that is, by the right method. For only in one proceeding thus are the hindrances suppressed, mindfulness with death as its object becomes established, and the meditation subject reaches access concentration.

But for one for whom this much is not enough, death should be recollected by these eight approaches: as an executioner standing ready, through the ruin of success, by comparison with others, as a body shared by many, through the fragility of life, as without any fixed sign, through the brevity of the span, and through the momentariness of the interval.

Herein, "as an executioner standing ready" means: standing ready like an executioner. For just as an executioner, having taken up a sword and holding it to a man's neck, thinking, "I will cut off this man's head," stands right there, ready — so too death should be recollected as standing ready in just this way. Why? Because it has come together with birth, and because it takes away life. For just as a mushroom cap, in the very act of pushing up, must carry the soil above it upward, so too beings, in the very act of being born, are born carrying aging-and-death along with them. Thus, immediately upon the arising of the rebirth-linking consciousness, that being, having reached aging, breaks apart together with its associated aggregates, like a rock fallen from a mountain peak. In this way, momentary death has come together with birth. But even this recollection's own intended death — the death that must inevitably come to one who is born — has likewise come together with birth. Therefore this being, from the moment of birth, is like the risen sun that goes only toward its setting, never turning back even slightly from wherever it has traveled; or like a swift-flowing mountain river that carries everything along, flowing and coursing on, never turning back even slightly — just so, never turning back even slightly, it goes only toward death. For this reason it was said —

"The young creature that dwells in the womb / for even a single first night — / he goes on, having already set out; / going on, he does not turn back." (Jā. 1.15.363)

And, as he thus goes on, death draws ever nearer to him, like the drying up of small streams scorched by the summer heat, like the falling, at dawn, of fruits attached by the merest thread of moisture, like the shattering of clay pots struck by a mallet, or like the vanishing of dewdrops touched by the sun's rays. For it was said —

"The days and nights go by, / life comes to its end; / the lifespan of mortals is used up, / like the water of small streams. (S.N. 1.146)
"As there is fear for ripened fruits / of falling at dawn, / so for mortals once born / there is always the fear of death.
"Just as, for a potter, / a clay vessel that has been made — / whether small or large, whether fired or unfired — / all alike end in breaking, / so too is the life of mortals. (Sn. 581–582)
"Like dew upon a blade of grass / at the rising of the sun, / such is the life of human beings — / do not hold me back, mother." (Jā. 1.11.79)

Thus, this death, having come together with birth like a murderer with drawn sword, holding that sword to the neck, simply takes life away just as that executioner would — it does not turn back without taking it. Therefore, because it has come together with birth, and because it takes away life, death, like an executioner with drawn sword, should be recollected as standing ready in just this way — thus death should be recollected as an executioner standing ready.

"Through the ruin of success": herein, success shines only for as long as ruin does not overtake it, and there is no such thing as a success that stands beyond the reach of ruin. Thus indeed —

"Having enjoyed the whole earth, happy, having given away a hundred koṭis, / in the end he attained a sovereignty worth barely half a small fruit. / With that same bodily frame, once his merit had come to exhaustion, / facing death, that formerly griefless one came to grief."

Moreover, all health ends in sickness, all youth ends in old age, all life ends in death; the entire abode of the world is followed by birth, pursued by aging, overcome by sickness, struck down by death. Hence it was said —

"Just as massive rocky mountains, / reaching to the sky, / might roll in from every side, / crushing all four quarters,
So too aging and death / overwhelm living beings — / nobles, brahmins, merchants, / commoners, outcastes, and scavengers;
It spares nothing at all, / it crushes everything alike.
There is no ground there for elephants, / nor for chariots, nor for foot-soldiers; / nor can one conquer it by strategy, / nor even by wealth." (S.N. 1.136)

Thus, determining that the success of life ends in the ruin of death, death should be recollected through the ruin of success.

"By comparison with others": comparing oneself together with others. Herein, death should be recollected through comparison by seven approaches: by way of great fame, great merit, great strength, great psychic power, great wisdom, Paccekabuddhas, and Fully Enlightened Buddhas. How? This death falls, without the slightest hesitation, even upon those of great fame, great retinues, and abundant wealth and vehicles — Mahāsammata, Mandhātā, Mahāsudassana, Daḷhanemi, Nimi, and the rest — so how much less will it fail to fall upon me?

Kings of great fame, / Mahāsammata and the rest — / even they came under the sway of death; / what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of great fame, it should be recollected. How, by way of great merit?

Jotika, Jaṭila, Ugga, Meṇḍaka, and Puṇṇaka — / these and other such, renowned in the world as of great merit — / all of them met with death; / what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of great merit, it should be recollected. How, by way of great strength?

Vāsudeva, Baladeva, Bhīmasena, Yudhiṭṭhila, / and Cānura, the great wrestler — all came under the sway of the Ender.
These, thus endowed with strength and might, renowned in the world — / even they went to death; what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of great strength, it should be recollected. How, by way of great psychic power?

With merely his big toe, he once shook the Vejayanta palace — / he who was named foremost among those possessing psychic power, the second chief disciple.
Even he entered the dreadful jaws of death, as a deer into a lion's jaws, / together with all his psychic powers; what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of great psychic power, it should be recollected. How, by way of great wisdom?

Setting aside the Protector of the World, whatever other living beings there are, / they are not worth a sixteenth part of Sāriputta's wisdom.
Even he, thus named of great wisdom, the first chief disciple, / came under the power of death — what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of great wisdom, it should be recollected. How, by way of Paccekabuddhas? Even those self-become ones who, by the strength of their own knowledge and energy, having crushed all the enemies of the defilements, attained Paccekabodhi, comparable to the horn of a rhinoceros — even they are not freed from death; how then shall I be freed?

Those great sages who, examining this or that sign, / by the power of self-arisen knowledge, attained the destruction of the taints —
Living the solitary life, comparable to a rhinoceros's horn — / even they did not go beyond death; what then is to be said of one such as me?

Thus, by way of Paccekabuddhas, it should be recollected. How, by way of Fully Enlightened Buddhas? Even that Blessed One, whose form-body was adorned with the eighty minor marks and the thirty-two marks of a great man, whose Dhamma-body was made resplendent with the treasure of purified virtue and other such qualities in every respect, who had gone beyond the far shore of great fame, great merit, great strength, great psychic power, and great wisdom, unequaled, equal only to the unequaled, without a peer, an arahant, a perfectly self-enlightened one — even he, like a great mass of fire struck by a downpour of rain, was extinguished on the spot by the downpour of death.

Thus, for one of such great power, this great sage — / neither through fear nor through shame did death come to overpower him.
This shameless thing, devoid of any diffidence, that crushes all beings — / how should it fail to overpower a being such as me?

Thus, by way of Fully Enlightened Buddhas, it should be recollected. For one who, thus comparing himself with others endowed with great fame and the rest, by way of their shared subjection to death, recollects, "death will come to me too, just as it did to those distinguished beings" — for him, the meditation subject reaches access concentration. Thus, death should be recollected by comparison with others.

"As a body shared by many": this body is shared by many. First, it is shared by eighty families of worms: those dwelling on the skin eat the skin, those on the hide eat the hide, those on the flesh eat the flesh, those on the tendons eat the tendons, those on the bones eat the bones, those on the marrow eat the marrow. There they are born, there they age, there they die, there they void excrement and urine — the body itself is their maternity house, their sick-ward, their charnel ground, their latrine, their urinal. And this body, through the disturbance of even these worm-families, does come to death. And just as it is shared by eighty families of worms, so too it is shared by the conditions for death consisting of hundreds of internal diseases, and external dangers such as snakes and scorpions.

For just as, when a target is set up at a crossroads, arrows, spears, javelins, stones, and the like, coming from every direction, fall upon it, so too every calamity falls upon the body. And this body, through the falling of even these calamities, does come to death. Hence the Blessed One said — "here, monks, a monk, when the day has departed and the night has set in, reflects thus: 'many indeed are the conditions for my death — a snake might bite me, a scorpion might bite me, a centipede might bite me, and by that I might die; that would be an obstacle for me. Or I might stumble and fall; or the food I have eaten might disagree with me; or my bile might become disturbed, or my phlegm might become disturbed, or piercing winds within me might become disturbed, and by that I might die; that would be an obstacle for me'" (A.N. 6.20). Thus, death should be recollected as a body shared by many.

"Through the fragility of life": this lifespan is powerless, fragile. For thus the life of beings is bound up with the in-breath and out-breath, bound up with the postures, bound up with heat and cold, bound up with the great elements, and bound up with food. This continues only as long as the in-breaths and out-breaths obtain an even functioning. But when the wind that has gone out through the nostrils does not enter again, or when what has entered does not go out again, then one is said to be dead. Likewise, it continues only as long as the four postures obtain an even functioning; but through the excess of one or another of them, the vital formations are cut off. Likewise, it continues only as long as cold and heat obtain an even functioning; but for one overcome by excessive cold or excessive heat, it perishes. Likewise, it continues only as long as the great elements obtain an even functioning; but through a disturbance in the earth element, or in one or another of the water element and the rest, even a person of full strength may become rigid of body, or may become one whose body is soaked and putrid through dysentery and the like, or may be overcome by a great burning fever, or may have his joints breaking apart, and so reach the end of his life. And even the physical food that nourishes continues to sustain life only as long as one obtains it at the proper time; but for one not obtaining food, it comes to complete exhaustion. Thus, death should be recollected through the fragility of life.

"As without any fixed sign": meaning, without any determination, without any delimitation. For, in the world of the living —

Life, illness, the time, / where the body will be laid down, and the destiny — / these five, in the world of the living, / are known to be without any fixed sign.

Herein, first, "life" is without any fixed sign because there is no determination that "one must live only this much, and no further." For beings die even at the time they are a mere embryonic clot, at the stages of a swelling, a lump of flesh, a solid mass, and at one month, two months, three months, four months, five months, ten months; at the moment of emerging from the womb; and thereafter they die both within and beyond a hundred years. "Illness" too is without any fixed sign, because there is no determination that "beings die by this illness only, and no other." For beings die of an eye disease, and equally of an ear disease or some other disease. "The time" too is without any fixed sign, because there is no determination that "one must die at this time only, and no other." For beings die in the morning, and equally at midday or some other time. "Where the body will be laid down" too is without any fixed sign, because there is no determination that "those dying must fall with their body here only, and nowhere else." For the body of one born inside a village may fall outside the village, and that of one born outside may fall inside — and likewise, in many ways, that of a land-creature may fall in water, and that of a water-creature on land. "Destiny" too is without any fixed sign, because there is no determination that "one passing away from here must be reborn there." For beings passing away from the deva world are reborn even among humans, and beings passing away from the human world are reborn in the deva world and elsewhere, in any of a variety of places — thus the world revolves through the five destinies like an ox yoked to a machine. Thus, death should be recollected as without any fixed sign.

"Through the brevity of the span": the span of human life at present is indeed brief. One who lives long lives a hundred years, or a little more. Hence the Blessed One said: "brief, monks, is this human lifespan; a future state must be gone to; what is wholesome should be done; the holy life should be lived; there is no non-dying for one who is born. One, monks, who lives long, lives a hundred years, or a little more."

Let the good man scorn this brief human life; / let him live as though his head were ablaze — / there is no escaping the Ender of life. (S.N. 1.145)

He said further: "once, monks, there was a teacher named Araka" — the entire discourse, adorned with seven similes, should be given in full.

He said further: "that monk, monks, who develops recollection of death thus — 'oh, that I might live a day and a night, that I might attend to the Blessed One's teaching — much indeed would then be done by me' ... these, monks, are called monks who dwell heedlessly, who develop recollection of death sluggishly, for the destruction of the taints. But that monk, monks, who develops recollection of death thus — 'oh, that I might live for just that interval within which I chew and swallow a single mouthful, that I might attend to the Blessed One's teaching — much indeed would then be done by me,' or, 'oh, that I might live for just that interval within which I breathe out after breathing in, or breathe in after breathing out, that I might attend to the Blessed One's teaching — much indeed would then be done by me' — these, monks, are called monks who dwell heedfully, who develop recollection of death keenly, for the destruction of the taints" (A.N. 6.19). Thus, the span of life is untrustworthy and brief, amounting to no more than the time it takes to chew four or five mouthfuls — thus death should be recollected through the brevity of the span.

"Through the momentariness of the interval": in the ultimate sense, indeed, the life-moment of beings is extremely brief — amounting to no more than the occurrence of a single moment of consciousness. Just as a cart-wheel, whether rolling or standing still, touches the ground at only a single point of its rim, so too the life of beings lasts for only a single moment of consciousness. As soon as that consciousness has ceased, the being is said to have ceased. As it is said: "in a past moment of consciousness one lived, one does not live, one will not live. In a future moment of consciousness one did not live, one does not live, one will live. In the present moment of consciousness one did not live, one lives, one will not live.

"Life, personal existence, pleasure and pain, all together, / are bound up with a single moment of consciousness; that moment passes swiftly.
Whether for one dying or one still standing here, / the aggregates that have ceased are all alike — gone, without renewal of the link.
Not yet arisen, one is not born; one lives through the present; / the world dies with the breaking-up of consciousness — such is the designation in the ultimate sense." (Mahāniddesa 39)

Thus, death should be recollected through the momentariness of the interval.

Thus, for one recollecting death by any one or another of these eight approaches, the mind gains repeated practice through this constant attention; mindfulness with death as its object becomes established; the hindrances are suppressed; the jhāna factors become manifest. But, because the object is an actual, real state, and because it induces a sense of urgency, the jhāna that arises does not reach absorption, but only reaches access. The supramundane jhāna, however, as well as the second and fourth immaterial jhānas, do reach absorption even with respect to actual, real states, through the distinctive power of their development — for the supramundane reaches absorption by way of the successive order of purification, and the immaterial by way of the development that surpasses its object. For, in the case of a jhāna that has already reached absorption, only the mere surpassing of its object occurs there. But here, neither of these two conditions is present. Therefore, the jhāna that results here reaches only access. And this, because it has arisen by the strength of recollecting death, is reckoned simply as recollection of death.

And a monk devoted to this recollection of death becomes constantly heedful; he acquires the perception of non-delight in all forms of existence; he abandons attachment to life; he becomes one who condemns evil; he becomes one who does not accumulate an excess of requisites, free from the stain of stinginess regarding them; and the perception of impermanence becomes familiar to him, and, following upon that, the perception of suffering and the perception of non-self become established as well. Just as beings who have not developed this recollection of death fall, at the time of death, into fear, terror, and confusion, as though suddenly overcome by fierce wild animals, non-human beings, snakes, robbers, or an executioner — so he, without falling into any such state, dies unafraid and unconfused. And if he does not attain the deathless in this very life, then, at the breaking-up of the body, he becomes one bound for a happy destination.

Therefore let the wise one always practice / diligence toward this recollection of death, / so greatly powerful.

This is the opening of the detailed discussion on recollection of death.

Now comes the exposition of the development of that meditation subject which, apart from a Buddha's appearance, had never before existed, and lies beyond the domain of all sectarian teachers — the subject which, in this and that discourse, the Blessed One praised in many ways: "one thing, monks, developed and made much of, conduces to great urgency, conduces to great benefit, conduces to great security from bondage, conduces to great mindfulness and full awareness, conduces to the attainment of knowledge and vision, conduces to a happy dwelling here and now, conduces to the realization of the fruit of true knowledge and deliverance. What is that one thing? Mindfulness of the body..." (A.N. 1.563 and following). "They partake of the deathless, monks, who partake of mindfulness of the body. They do not partake of the deathless, monks, who do not partake of mindfulness of the body. The deathless has been partaken of by them... has not been partaken of... has been neglected... has not been neglected... has been missed... has not been missed, by those for whom mindfulness of the body has been undertaken" (A.N. 1.603) — having thus praised it by the Blessed One in many ways, the meditation subject of mindfulness of the body was set forth by way of these fourteen sections: "and how, monks, is mindfulness of the body developed, how, made much of, is it of great fruit and great benefit? Here, monks, a monk gone to the forest..." (M.N. 3.154) and so on — the breathing section, the postures section, the four-kinds-of-full-awareness section, the section on attention to repulsiveness, the section on attention to the elements, and the nine charnel-ground sections. The exposition of its development has now been reached.

Herein, since the postures section, the four-kinds-of-full-awareness section, and the elements section are stated by way of insight; and the nine charnel-ground sections are stated, within the very knowledges of insight, by way of contemplating danger; and whatever development of concentration might succeed in regard to the bloated and the rest has already been made known in the description of the foul — therefore, of these, it is only the breathing section and the section on attention to repulsiveness that are stated here by way of concentration. Of these two, the breathing section, by way of mindfulness of breathing, is itself already a separate meditation subject in its own right. As for what remains — "furthermore, monks, a monk reviews this very body, from the soles of the feet upward, from the tips of the hairs downward, bounded by the skin, as full of manifold impurity: 'there are, in this body, head-hairs, body-hairs...urine'" (M.N. 3.154) — this, taught by way of attention to repulsiveness, gathering the brain together with the bone-marrow, is what is intended here as mindfulness of the body.

Herein, this is the exposition of development that proceeds first by way of commenting on the canonical text. "This very body" means this foul body composed of the four great elements. "From the soles of the feet upward" means: above from the soles of the feet. "From the tips of the hairs downward" means: below from the tips of the hairs. "Bounded by the skin" means: delimited crosswise by the skin. "Reviews as full of manifold impurity" means: he sees, "this body is filled with manifold impurity, hair and the rest." How? "There are, in this body, head-hairs...urine."

Herein, "there are" means: they are found to exist. "In this" means: in that body which is spoken of as "from the soles of the feet upward, from the tips of the hairs downward, bounded by the skin, full of manifold impurity." "The body" means the physical frame — for the body is called "kāya" because it is the accumulation-point of impurity, and the origin of hundreds of diseases such as those of the hairs and the rest, and of the eyes and the rest. "Head-hairs, body-hairs" refers to these thirty-two aspects, hair and the rest. Herein, the connection should be understood thus: "there are, in this body, head-hairs; there are, in this body, body-hairs."

For, in this body-frame measuring a mere fathom, bounded above from the soles of the feet, below from the tips of the hairs, and around from the skin, a meditator investigating in every possible way finds not the slightest speck of anything pure — not a pearl, nor a gem, nor beryl, nor aloeswood, nor saffron, nor camphor, nor scented powder, or the like — but sees only, in the manifold divisions of hair and the rest, an impurity that is extremely foul-smelling, disgusting, and unlovely to behold. For this it was said: "there are, in this body, head-hairs, body-hairs... urine." This, herein, is the commentary by way of the connection of the words.

A clansman just beginning, desiring to develop this meditation subject, should approach a good friend of the kind already described and take up this meditation subject from him. And that teacher too, in explaining the meditation subject, should explain the sevenfold skill in learning and the tenfold skill in attention. Herein, the sevenfold skill in learning should be explained as: verbally, mentally, by color, by shape, by direction, by location, and by delimitation.

For in this meditation subject of attention to repulsiveness, even one who has mastered the entire Tipiṭaka should, at the time of attending to it, first recite it aloud. For some, the meditation subject becomes manifest simply through the very act of reciting, as happened for the two elders who took up their meditation subject in the presence of the Elder Mahādeva, a dweller in the hill country. It is told that this elder, when asked by them for a meditation subject, gave them the thirty-two-part canonical text, saying, "recite just this for four months." Although they had already mastered two or three of the Nikāyas, nevertheless, through their thoroughgoing manner of learning, they became stream-enterers simply by reciting the thirty-two parts for four months. Therefore, the teacher explaining a meditation subject should tell his pupil, "first, recite it aloud."

And, in reciting it, it should be recited forward and backward, delimited into groups of five beginning with the skin-pentad. Having said "head-hairs, body-hairs, nails, teeth, skin," it should then be said in reverse: "skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Next, in the kidney-pentad: having said "flesh, sinews, bones, bone-marrow, kidneys," it should then be said in reverse: "kidneys, bone-marrow, bones, sinews, flesh; skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Next, in the lung-pentad: having said "heart, liver, diaphragm, spleen, lungs," it should then be said in reverse: "lungs, spleen, diaphragm, liver, heart; kidneys, bone-marrow, bones, sinews, flesh; skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Next, in the brain-pentad: having said "intestines, mesentery, stomach-contents, feces, brain," it should then be said in reverse: "brain, feces, stomach-contents, mesentery, intestines; lungs, spleen, diaphragm, liver, heart; kidneys, bone-marrow, bones, sinews, flesh; skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Next, in the fat-hexad: having said "bile, phlegm, pus, blood, sweat, fat," it should then be said in reverse: "fat, sweat, blood, pus, phlegm, bile; brain, feces, stomach-contents, mesentery, intestines; lungs, spleen, diaphragm, liver, heart; kidneys, bone-marrow, bones, sinews, flesh; skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Next, in the urine-hexad: having said "tears, oil-of-the-skin, saliva, nasal mucus, synovial fluid, urine," it should then be said in reverse: "urine, synovial fluid, nasal mucus, saliva, oil-of-the-skin, tears; fat, sweat, blood, pus, phlegm, bile; brain, feces, stomach-contents, mesentery, intestines; lungs, spleen, diaphragm, liver, heart; kidneys, bone-marrow, bones, sinews, flesh; skin, teeth, nails, body-hairs, head-hairs."

Thus, oral recitation should be performed a hundred times, a thousand times, even a hundred thousand times. For through oral recitation, the meditation subject's own text becomes thoroughly mastered, and the mind does not run about here and there; the parts become manifest, and appear as though linked together like the joints of the fingers, or like the boundary-markers of a fence.

Just as by voice, so too by mind, recitation should be performed. For oral recitation is a condition for mental recitation, and mental recitation is a condition for the penetration of the characteristic.

"By color" means: the color of head-hairs and the rest should be determined. "By shape" means: their shape too should be determined. "By direction" means: in this body, there is an upper direction above the navel and a lower direction below it; therefore it should be determined that "this part belongs to such-and-such a direction." "By location" means: it should be determined, "this part is situated in such-and-such a location." "By delimitation" means: there are two delimitations, delimitation by similar parts and delimitation by dissimilar parts. Herein, it should be understood as delimitation by similar parts that "this part is delimited below, above, and across by this much"; and it should be understood as delimitation by dissimilar parts, by way of non-admixture, that "head-hairs are not body-hairs, and body-hairs are not head-hairs."

In explaining the sevenfold skill in learning thus, the teacher should also explain, having ascertained it, that this meditation subject is taught by way of repulsiveness in one discourse and by way of the elements in another. For it is taught by way of repulsiveness alone in the Great Discourse on the Establishing of Mindfulness (D.N. 2.377); by way of the elements in the Simile of the Elephant's Footprint, the Greater Discourse of Advice to Rāhula, and the Discourse on the Exposition of the Elements. But in the Discourse on Mindfulness of the Body, with reference to one for whom it becomes manifest by way of color, the four jhānas are analyzed. Herein, what is taught by way of the elements is an insight meditation subject; what is taught by way of repulsiveness is a serenity meditation subject. This one, here, is precisely the serenity meditation subject.

Having thus explained the sevenfold skill in learning, the tenfold skill in attention should also be explained: proceeding in order, not too quickly, not too slowly, warding off distraction, going beyond the mere concept, releasing them in succession, by way of absorption, and the three discourses. Herein, "in order" means: it should be attended to in due sequence, beginning from the recitation, not by skipping alternately. For one attending to it by skipping alternately is like an unskilled man climbing a thirty-two-runged ladder by skipping every other rung, who falls exhausted before completing the climb — just so, without reaching the enjoyment to be attained through the accomplishment of development, one's mind grows weary and falls away, failing to accomplish the development.

And even one attending in due order should not attend too quickly. For one attending too quickly is like a man setting out on a three-league road, who, without noting the side-paths and turnings, travels back and forth swiftly even a hundred times — though the distance itself is thereby used up, he must still go and ask the way. Just so, the meditation subject merely reaches its conclusion, but remains unclear and brings no distinction. Therefore it should not be attended to too quickly.

And just as not too quickly, so too not too slowly. For one attending too slowly is like a man wishing to travel a three-league road that same day, who, lingering along the way at trees, mountains, and lakes, does not use up the distance, and must complete the journey in two or three days instead. Just so, the meditation subject does not reach its conclusion, and does not become a condition for the attainment of distinction.

"Warding off distraction" means: having let go of the meditation subject, the mind's distraction toward a variety of external objects should be warded off. For, without warding it off, one is like a man walking a single-track path along a precipice who, without noting where to place his footsteps, looks this way and that, misses his footing, and must fall down a hundred-man-deep precipice. Just so, when there is external distraction, the meditation subject deteriorates and collapses. Therefore it should be attended to by way of warding off distraction.

"Going beyond the mere concept" means: the mind should be fixed on repulsiveness, going beyond the concept "hair, body-hair," and so on. For just as, at a time when water is scarce, people, having seen a well in the forest, tie some marker, such as a palm-leaf, there, and, by means of that marker, come and bathe and drink — but when, through their constant coming and going, the path there and back becomes evident, the marker is no longer needed, and they go and bathe and drink at whatever moment they wish — just so, in the earlier stage, for one attending by way of the concept "hair, body-hair," the state of repulsiveness becomes evident; then, having gone beyond the concept "hair, body-hair," the mind should be fixed on the state of repulsiveness itself.

"Releasing them in succession" means: whichever part fails to appear should be released, attending by way of releasing them one after another. For a beginner, attending "hair," his attention, proceeding onward, comes to rest precisely on that final part, "urine." And, attending "urine," his attention, proceeding onward, comes to rest precisely on that first part, "hair." Then, as he attends again and again, some parts become manifest and some do not. Of these, work should be done, first, on whichever ones do become manifest. Once two of these have become manifest, one of even these two becomes more clearly manifest than the other; and, attending again and again to that very one thus manifest, absorption should be produced.

Here is a simile: just as a hunter, wishing to catch a monkey living in a grove of thirty-two palm trees, might pierce the leaf of the tree standing first with an arrow and give a shout — whereupon that monkey, leaping in succession from tree to tree, would go all the way to the last tree, and, the hunter having done the same there too, would by that same method come back to the first tree — and, being thus made to leap back and forth again and again, would eventually, right at the very spot where the shout is given, leap up, and, alighting by degrees upon one tree, would firmly seize the sharp tip of a young palm-leaf in its middle and, even when pierced there, would no longer leap up — just so should this be understood.

Here is the correspondence of the simile: just as there are thirty-two palm trees in the grove, so are there thirty-two parts in this body. The mind is like the monkey; the meditator is like the hunter. The monkey's dwelling in the grove of thirty-two palm trees is like the meditator's mind ranging, by way of its object, throughout the body of thirty-two parts. The monkey's leaping from tree to tree, all the way to the last tree, after the hunter has pierced the leaf of the first tree with an arrow and given a shout, is like the mind's settling precisely on the last part, once the meditator, attending "hair," has proceeded in due order. The same applies to the return journey. The monkey's leaping up again and again, right at the very spot where the shout is given, is like the meditator's doing preparatory work on whichever parts do become manifest, having released those that do not, as he attends again and again. The monkey's eventually alighting by degrees upon one tree, firmly seizing the sharp tip of a young palm-leaf, and no longer leaping up even when pierced there, is like the production of absorption through attending again and again to whichever of two manifest parts becomes the more clearly manifest, in the end.

Here is a further simile: just as an almsround monk, dwelling in dependence on a village of thirty-two families, might, having received two portions of alms-food at the very first house, give up asking at one further house; and, on the next day, having received three portions, give up asking at two further houses; and, on the third day, having received a bowlful right at the very first house, go to the sitting-hall and eat there — just so should this be understood. The village of thirty-two families is like the thirty-two aspects; the almsround monk is like the meditator; his dwelling in dependence on that village is like the meditator's preparatory work on the thirty-two aspects. Receiving two portions at the first house and giving up one further house, and, the next day, receiving three and giving up two, is like doing preparatory work, as he attends again and again, on up to two parts, having released those that do not become manifest, until two do. Receiving a bowlful right at the first house on the third day, and going to the sitting-hall to eat, is like the production of absorption through attending again and again to whichever of the two becomes the more clearly manifest, in the end.

"By way of absorption" means precisely this: it should be understood that absorption occurs in one or another single part among hair and the rest, reckoned as the part of absorption — this alone is the intent here.

"The three discourses" means: the discourses on higher mind, on coolness, and on skill in the enlightenment factors — these three discourses should be understood as intended for the purpose of applying energy and concentration in the right measure.

In doing this, the sign should first be grasped in the hair. How? Having plucked out one or two hairs and placed them on the palm of the hand, the color should first be determined. It is also proper to look at the hair on the spot where it has been cut, or to look at it in a bowl of water or of rice-gruel. Seeing it black in color, it should be attended to as "black"; white, as "white"; and when mixed, it should be attended to by way of its predominant color. And just as with the hair, so too the sign should be grasped by seeing it throughout the whole of the skin-pentad.

Having grasped the sign in this way, having determined all the parts by way of color, shape, direction, location, and delimitation, they should then be determined as repulsive in five ways: by color, shape, smell, origin, and location.

Here, this is the discussion proceeding in order through all the parts. First, head-hairs: by their natural color, they are black, the color of a fresh myrobalan seed. By shape, they are long and round, in the shape of a measuring-rod. By direction, they arise in the upper direction. By location, they are bounded, on both sides, by the ear-lobes, in front by the edge of the forehead, and behind by the nape of the neck; the moist skin wrapping the skull is the location of the hairs. By delimitation: the hairs, having entered a rice-grain's depth into the skin wrapping the skull and become fixed there, are delimited below by their own root-surface, above by space, and across by one another — no two hairs occupy the same spot; this is their delimitation by similar parts. That head-hairs are hair alone, unmixed with the remaining thirty-one parts — "hair is not body-hair, body-hair is not hair" — is their delimitation by dissimilar parts, by way of non-admixture. This is the determination of the hairs by way of color and the rest.

This, now, is their determination as repulsive in five ways, by way of color and the rest. Hairs, indeed, are repulsive by color; they are also repulsive by shape, by smell, by origin, and by location.

For even in agreeable rice-gruel or rice, on seeing some hair-colored thing, people are disgusted, saying, "take away this thing mixed with hair" — thus hairs are repulsive by color. Even those eating at night, having touched something of a hair-like shape, such as an akka-fiber or a hemp-fiber, are disgusted in just the same way — thus they are repulsive by shape.

And the smell of hairs devoid of such preparation as oiling, flower-scenting, or perfuming with incense, is extremely disgusting; more disgusting still is the smell of hairs thrown into a fire. For hairs might well be unrepulsive by color and shape, yet are repulsive by smell nonetheless. For just as a young child's excrement is, in color, the color of turmeric, and, in shape, the shape of a lump of turmeric; and just as a bloated black dog's corpse, thrown away in a rubbish-heap, is, in color, the color of a ripe palm-fruit, and, in shape, rounded like a drum laid on its side, with its fangs resembling jasmine buds — both of these might well be unrepulsive by color and shape, yet are repulsive by smell nonetheless; just so, hairs too might be unrepulsive by color and shape, yet are repulsive by smell nonetheless.

And just as vegetables suitable for curry, grown from the outflow of a village at an impure spot, are disgusting and unusable to city-dwelling people, so too hairs, having grown from the outflow of pus, blood, urine, feces, bile, phlegm, and the like, are disgusting — this is their repulsiveness by origin.

And these hairs, growing in the mass of the thirty-one remaining parts as though a tuft sprouting up from a heap of dung, are extremely disgusting through having grown at an impure location, like a vegetable grown in a charnel ground or a rubbish-heap, or like a lotus or blue water-lily growing amid refuse — this is their repulsiveness by location.

And just as with the hairs, so too the fivefold repulsiveness of all the parts should be understood, by way of color, shape, smell, origin, and location. And all of them, likewise, should be individually determined by way of color, shape, direction, location, and delimitation.

Herein, first, body-hairs: by natural color, unlike hairs, they are not uniformly black, but rather dark brown. By shape, they curve at the tip, in the shape of a palm-tree root. By direction, they arise in both directions. By location, apart from the location occupied by the hairs and the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, they grow for the most part on the remaining skin covering the body. By delimitation: having entered the skin covering the body to the depth of a mere scratch and become fixed there, they are delimited below by their own root-surface, above by space, and across by one another — no two body-hairs occupy the same spot; this is their delimitation by similar parts. Their delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Nails is the name for the twenty nail-plates. All of them, by color, are white. By shape, they are in the shape of fish-scales. By direction, the toenails arise in the lower direction, the fingernails in the upper direction — thus in both directions. By location, they are fixed on the upper surfaces of the fingers and toes. By delimitation: they are delimited, on both sides, by the flesh at the tips of the fingers and toes, within by the flesh on the back of the fingers and toes, without and at the tip by space, and across by one another — no two nails occupy the same spot; this is their delimitation by similar parts. Their delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Teeth: for one of complete dentition, thirty-two tooth-bones. These too, by color, are white. By shape, of various shapes. For, first, in the lower row of teeth, the middle four teeth are in the shape of gourd-seeds set in succession in a lump of clay. On both sides of these, one tooth each has a single root and a single point, in the shape of a jasmine bud. Next to that, one tooth each has two roots and two points, in the shape of a cart's supporting prop. Next, two teeth each have three roots and three points. Next, two teeth each have four roots and four points. The same method applies to the upper row as well. By direction, they arise in the upper direction. By location, they are fixed in the two jawbones. By delimitation: fixed below in the jawbone, they are delimited by their own root-surface, above by space, and across by one another — no two teeth occupy the same spot; this is their delimitation by similar parts. Their delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Skin is the hide that stands wrapping the whole body. On its surface is what is called the "cuticle," black, tawny, or yellow in color and the like, which, gathered together from the entire body, amounts to no more than the size of a jujube-stone. Skin itself, however, is white in color; and this whiteness of it becomes evident when the cuticle has been destroyed by the blast of a flame or by the blow of a weapon. By shape, it is simply the shape of the body. This, herein, is the summary.

In detail, however: the skin of the toes is in the shape of a silk-worm's cocoon. The skin of the top of the foot is in the shape of a shoe stitched with a covered toe-piece. The skin of the calf is in the shape of a rice-wrapped palm-leaf packet. The skin of the thigh is in the shape of a long sack filled with rice. The skin of the buttocks is in the shape of a water-filled straining-cloth. The skin of the back is in the shape of a hide stretched over a plank. The skin of the flank is in the shape of a hide stretched over the resonating-body of a lute. The skin of the chest is, for the most part, in the shape of a square. The skin of both arms is in the shape of a hide-covered quiver. The skin of the back of the hand is in the shape of a razor-case, or the shape of a comb-case. The skin of the fingers is in the shape of a key-case. The skin of the neck is in the shape of a bodice covering the throat. The skin of the face is riddled with holes, like the nest of a certain insect. The skin of the head is in the shape of a bowl-cover.

By direction, it arises in both directions. By location, it stands wrapping the entire body. By delimitation: it is delimited below by its own fixed surface, and above by space; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Flesh: nine hundred pieces of flesh. All of it, by color, is red, like the flame-of-the-forest flower. By shape: the flesh of the calf is in the shape of cooked rice wrapped in a palm-leaf packet. The flesh of the thigh is in the shape of a pounding-stone's roller. The flesh of the buttocks is in the shape of an oven's ridge. The flesh of the back is in the shape of a slab of palm-sugar. The flesh over the two rows of ribs is in the shape of a thin coating of clay on the inner wall of a large jar. The flesh of the breast is in the shape of a rounded lump of clay dropped down. The flesh of the two upper arms is in the shape of a large skinned rat, doubled over and set down. Thus, for one grasping it from the grossest downward, even the finest becomes evident. By direction, it arises in both directions. By location, it stands smeared over three hundred and twenty bones. By delimitation: it is delimited below by the fixed surface resting on the mass of bones, above by the skin, and across by one another; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Sinews: nine hundred sinews. By color, all sinews are white. By shape, of various shapes. Among these, five great sinews, binding the body, descend on the front side beginning from the upper part of the neck; five on the back side; five on the right side; five on the left side. Binding the right hand too, five descend on the front of the hand, five on the back; likewise binding the left hand. Binding the right foot too, five descend on the front of the foot, five on the back; likewise binding the left foot. Thus, sixty great body-sustaining sinews, binding the body, descend through it. These are also called "cords." All of these are in the shape of banana-shoots. Others lie spread over this or that region. Finer than these are ones in the shape of a thread-cord. Others, finer still, are in the shape of a putilatā-creeper. Others, finer still, are in the shape of a great lute's strings. Others are in the shape of a thick thread. The sinews on the backs of the hands and feet are in the shape of a bird's foot. The sinews on the head are in the shape of a child's hair-net. The sinews on the back are in the shape of a wet net spread out in the sun. The remaining sinews, following each limb and member, are in the shape of a net-garment fitted over the body. By direction, they arise in both directions. By location, they stand binding the bones throughout the entire body. By delimitation: they are delimited below by the surfaces resting upon the three hundred bones, above by the places where they meet the flesh and skin, and across by one another; this is their delimitation by similar parts. Their delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Bones: setting aside the thirty-two tooth-bones, the remaining are sixty-four hand-bones, sixty-four foot-bones, sixty-four soft bones resting on flesh, two heel-bones, two ankle-bones in each foot, two shin-bones, one knee-bone, one thigh-bone, two hip-bones, eighteen spine-bones, twenty-four rib-bones, fourteen breast-bones, one heart-bone, two collar-bones, two shoulder-blade-bones, two upper-arm-bones, two forearm-bones each, seven neck-bones, two jaw-bones, one nose-bone, two eye-sockets, two ear-bones, one forehead-bone, one crown-bone, and nine skull-bones — thus, in all, three hundred bones. All of these, by color, are white. By shape, of various shapes.

Herein, the bones of the toe-tips are in the shape of kataka-seeds. The next, the middle joint-bones, are in the shape of jackfruit seeds. The base joint-bones are in the shape of small drums. The bones of the tops of the feet are in the shape of a heap of pounded banana-stem fibers. The heel-bone is in the shape of a single palm-fruit seed. The ankle-bones are in the shape of tied playing-balls. The place where the shin-bone rests on the ankle-bones is in the shape of an unhusked, young tāla-shoot. The smaller shin-bone is in the shape of a bow-stick; the larger, in the shape of an old snake's spine. The knee-bone is in the shape of a swelling worn down on one side. The place there where the shin-bone rests is in the shape of the sharpened tip of a cow's horn. The thigh-bone is in the shape of a poorly carved axe-handle. The place where it rests on the hip-bone is in the shape of a playing-ball. The place where the hip-bone rests on that is in the shape of a great punnāga fruit with its tip cut off. The two hip-bones, joined together as one, are in the shape of a potter's kiln; separately, in the shape of a smith's tongs-cord. The tail-bone, standing at the end, turned downward, is in the shape of a cobra's hood grasped, riddled with seven or eight holes. The spine-bones, from within, are in the shape of a row of head-cloth coils placed one above another; from without, in the shape of a strand of rounded beads. Between them, here and there, are two or three spurs resembling saw-teeth. Of the twenty-four rib-bones, the incomplete ones are in the shape of incomplete swords; the complete ones, in the shape of complete swords. All of them together are in the shape of the outspread wings of a white cock. The fourteen breast-bones are in the shape of an old chariot's worn-out frame. The heart-bone is in the shape of a spoon's hood. The collar-bones are in the shape of small iron knife-handles. The shoulder-blade-bones are in the shape of a worn Sinhalese hoe on one side. The upper-arm-bones are in the shape of a mirror-handle. The forearm-bones are in the shape of a pair of tāla-shoots joined together. The wrist-bones are in the shape of head-cloth coils placed close together on one side. The bones of the backs of the hands are in the shape of a heap of pounded banana-stem fibers. In the fingers, the base joint-bones are in the shape of small drums; the middle joint-bones, in the shape of incomplete jackfruit seeds; the tip joint-bones, in the shape of kataka-seeds. The seven neck-bones are in the shape of bamboo-shoot segments pierced with a stick and set in a row. The lower jaw-bone is in the shape of a smith's iron-hammer's cord. The upper jaw-bone is in the shape of a scraping-knife. The eye-socket and nose-bones are in the shape of a young palm-nut with its kernel removed. The forehead-bone is in the shape of a conch-shell bowl set face-down. The temple-bones are in the shape of a barber's razor-case. Above the forehead and temple-bones, at the place of the head-band, it is in the shape of a piece of cracked pottery bent to fit a full water-pot. The crown-bone is in the shape of a curved coconut with its mouth cut off. The skull-bones are in the shape of a cracked, stitched-together gourd-shell.

By direction, they arise in both directions. By location, they stand, without distinction, throughout the entire body; but more specifically, the skull-bones rest on the neck-bones, the neck-bones on the spine-bones, the spine-bones on the hip-bones, the hip-bones on the thigh-bones, the thigh-bones on the knee-bones, the knee-bones on the shin-bones, the shin-bones on the ankle-bones, and the ankle-bones rest on the bones of the tops of the feet. By delimitation: they are delimited within by the bone-marrow, above by the flesh, and at the tips and bases by one another; this is their delimitation by similar parts. Their delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Bone-marrow: the marrow found within each of these bones. It is white in color. By shape: within the larger bones, it is in the shape of the softened tip of a large split cane placed inside a bamboo tube; within the smaller ones, it is in the shape of the softened tip of a thin cane placed inside the joints of a bamboo stick. By direction, it arises in both directions. By location, it is fixed within the bones. By delimitation: it is delimited by the inner surfaces of the bones; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Kidneys: two lumps of flesh joined by a single bond. By color, it is slightly red, the color of a pālibhaddaka-tree seed. By shape, it is in the shape of a pair of children's twin playing-balls, or of a pair of mango fruits joined by a single stalk. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands, having gone a short distance in a single root emerging from the throat-hollow and split into two, bound by a thick sinew and encircling the heart-flesh. By delimitation: it is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Heart: the flesh of the heart. By color, it is the color of the back of a red lotus petal. By shape, it is in the shape of a lotus bud, with its outer petals removed, set facing downward. Outside it is smooth; within it is like the interior of a loofah fruit. In the wise, it is opened up a little; in those of dull wisdom, it remains merely a bud. Within it there is a small hollow, the size of a punnāga seed's socket, in which about half a measure of blood collects, in dependence on which the mind-element and mind-consciousness-element function. This blood is red for one of a lustful temperament; black for one of a hating temperament; like meat-washing water for one of a deluded temperament; the color of horse-gram broth for one of a speculative temperament; the color of a kaṇikāra flower for one of a faithful temperament; and, for one of a wise temperament, it appears clear, thoroughly transparent, unclouded, pale, and pure, radiant like a well-polished, genuine gem. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it is fixed within the body, between the two breasts. By delimitation: the heart is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Liver: a twin fleshy membrane. By color, it is red, of a pale hue, the color of the back of a not-too-red water-lily's petal. By shape, single at its base and twinned at its tip, in the shape of a koviḷāra leaf. In those of slow understanding, it is one single large piece; in those of wisdom, it is two or three small pieces. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands within the two breasts, resting against the right side. By delimitation: the liver is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Diaphragm: a covering flesh, twofold by division into the covered and the uncovered kind. Both kinds, by color, are white, the color of a coarse cotton cloth. By shape, they take the shape of their own location. By direction, the covered diaphragm arises in the upper direction; the other arises in both directions. By location, the covered diaphragm stands covering the heart and the kidneys; the uncovered diaphragm stands enveloping the flesh beneath the skin throughout the entire body. By delimitation: it is delimited below by the flesh, above by the skin, and across by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Spleen: the flesh that is the "tongue" of the stomach. By color, it is dark blue, the color of a nigguṇḍi flower. By shape, it is about seven fingers in measure, unattached, in the shape of a black calf's tongue. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands on the left side of the heart, resting against the upper side of the stomach's membrane; and when it comes out from a wound caused by a blow, the life of beings comes to its end. By delimitation: it is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Lungs: the fleshy tissue divided into thirty-two pieces of flesh. By color, it is red, the color of a not-quite-ripe fig. By shape, it is in the shape of a thick cake, unevenly cut. Inside, in the absence of anything eaten or drunk, being struck by the heat born of kamma rising up within it, it is flavorless and without nourishment, like a lump of chewed straw. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands within the body, between the two breasts, hanging down and covering the heart and liver from above. By delimitation: it is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Intestines: a coiled intestinal cord, thirty-two hand-spans in a man, twenty-eight in a woman, folded at twenty-one places. By color, it is white, the color of lime made from shells. By shape, it is in the shape of a headless snake curled up and placed in a trough of blood. By direction, it arises in both directions. By location, it is bound above at the throat-hollow and below at the excretory passage, and stands, within the body, between the throat-hollow and the excretory passage. By delimitation: it is delimited by its own intestinal portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Mesentery: the binding at the places where the intestine coils. By color, it is white, the color of the root of a water-lily. By shape, exactly in the shape of a water-lily root. By direction, it arises in both directions. By location, just as, when people doing work with a spade, an axe, or the like use a machine's own draw-cord to bind the machine's parts together where the coil would otherwise slip loose, and, sewn through the middle of a foot-wiping rope-circle, a cord stands there — just so, it stands between the twenty-one coils of the intestine. By delimitation: it is delimited by its own mesenteric portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Stomach-contents: whatever, in the stomach, has been eaten, drunk, chewed, and tasted. By color, it is the color of swallowed food. By shape, it is in the shape of loosely packed rice in a straining-cloth. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands in the stomach.

The "stomach" is the intestinal membrane, resembling a swelling that arises in the middle of a wet cloth being wrung from both ends — smooth on the outside, and within resembling a soiled cloak-wrapping smeared with flesh-refuse, or, one might say, resembling the inside of a boiled jackfruit's rind. There dwell, moving about in confused disorder in dense clusters, worms of thirty-two distinct families — takkoṭaka, gaṇḍuppādaka, tālahīraka, sūcimukhaka, paṭatantasuttaka, and the like — who, in the absence of drink or food, leap up crying out and batter the heart's flesh; and, at the time of swallowing drink, food, and the like, turn their faces upward and race, in great haste, to strip away the first two or three mouthfuls swallowed. For these worms, this same place is their maternity house, their latrine, their sick-ward, and their charnel ground. Just as, at the gate of an outcaste village, in a cesspool, in the hot season, when thick drops of rain fall, there collects, carried along by the water, a mixture of various carcasses — urine, feces, skin, bone, bits of sinew, spittle, mucus, blood, and the like — churned together with mud and water, and, within two or three days, a mass of worms arises in it, seething with the force of the sun's heat, releasing bubbles of foam above, deep blue-black in color, extremely foul-smelling and disgusting, reaching a state fit neither to be approached nor even looked at, let alone smelled or tasted — just so, this manifold food and drink and the rest, pounded by the pestle of the teeth, seized by the tongue and hand, entangled in spittle and saliva, its color, smell, taste, and other qualities vanished at that very moment, resembling the vomit of a starving dog belonging to a weaver, falls in and, wrapped about by bile, phlegm, and wind, seethes with the force of the stomach-fire's heat, teeming with worm-families, releasing bubbles of foam one upon another, reaching a state of the utmost, refuse-like, foul-smelling disgust, and there it stands. Merely hearing of this is enough to establish distaste for drink, food, and the like — how much more so, looking upon it with the eye of wisdom. And whatever drink, food, and the like fall there separate into five portions: one portion is eaten by the worm-creatures; one portion is burned up by the stomach-fire; one portion becomes urine; one portion becomes feces; and one portion, having turned into nutriment, nourishes blood, flesh, and the rest.

By delimitation, it is delimited by the stomach's own membrane and by its own stomach-content portion. This is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Feces: excrement. By color, for the most part, it is simply the color of the food swallowed. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it arises in the lower direction. By location, it stands in the rectum. The "rectum" is a tube resembling a length of bamboo, about eight fingers in extent, situated between the lower part of the navel and the base of the spine, at the very end of the intestines — where, just as rainwater falling on an upper level of ground trickles down and stands filling the lower level of ground, so too whatever drink, food, and the like fall into the stomach, cooked again and again by the stomach-fire into a froth-boiling state, made fine as though ground on a grindstone, trickles down bit by bit through the interior of the intestine, is pressed together, and stands accumulated there, like pale clay packed into a bamboo joint. By delimitation, it is delimited by the rectum's own membrane and by its own fecal portion. This is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Brain: the mass of marrow-substance found within the skull. By color, it is white, the color of a mass of mushroom-caps; one might also say the color of spoiled milk not yet reaching the state of curd. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands gathered together within the skull, resting against the four seams, like four lumps of dough joined together. By delimitation, it is delimited by the skull's own inner surfaces and by its own brain-portion. This is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Bile: two kinds of bile, contained bile and uncontained bile. Herein, contained bile, by color, is the color of thick honey-oil. Uncontained bile is the color of a withered ākuli flower. By shape, both take the shape of their own location. By direction, contained bile arises in the upper direction; the other arises in both directions. By location, uncontained bile, apart from the places where the hair, body-hair, teeth, and nails are free of flesh, and the hard, dry skin, stands pervading the rest of the body like a drop of oil in water; when it is disturbed, the eyes become yellow, they roll about, the body trembles and itches. Contained bile stands in the bile-sac, resembling a large loofah-fruit's shell, situated between the heart and lungs, resting against the liver's flesh; when this is disturbed, beings become deranged, their minds overturned, and, casting aside moral shame and moral dread, they do what should not be done, say what should not be said, and think what should not be thought. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own bile-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Phlegm: phlegm within the body, amounting to a single bowlful. By color, it is white, the color of the leaves of the nāgabalā plant. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands on the stomach's membrane. Just as, at the time of swallowing drink, food, and the like, pond-scum or algae on water, when a piece of wood or a potsherd falls upon it, parts in two and then closes back over it, so too, when drink, food, and the like fall upon it, it parts in two and then closes back over it again; and when this diminishes, the stomach becomes extremely disgusting, with the smell of a corpse, like a ripe boil or a rotten hen's egg, and, from the smell rising up from it, even the belch and the mouth become foul-smelling, like a putrid corpse — such a person becomes one who must be told, "go away, you smell foul" — and this same substance, having grown and become thick, stands like a covering slab sealing off the corpse-like smell within the stomach's own membrane, as though it were a latrine-cover. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own phlegm-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Pus: pus that occurs by way of putrefying blood. By color, it is the color of a withered leaf; but in a dead body, it is the color of thick, rotten rice-gruel. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it occurs in both directions. By location, there is no fixed place for pus, no location where it stands accumulated; wherever, on some part of the body struck by a stake, a thorn, a blow, or a flame, blood collects and putrefies, or boils and swellings arise, there it stands. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own pus-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Blood: two kinds of blood, accumulated blood and circulating blood. Herein, accumulated blood, by color, is the color of cooked, thick lac-resin juice. Circulating blood is the color of clear lac-resin juice. By shape, both take the shape of their own location. By direction, accumulated blood arises in the upper direction; the other arises in both directions. By location, circulating blood, apart from the places where the hair, body-hair, teeth, and nails are free of flesh, and the hard, dry skin, stands pervading the whole of the sentient body, following the network of blood-vessels. Accumulated blood stands filling the lower portion of the liver's region, amounting to a single bowlful, oozing little by little over the heart, kidneys, and lungs, and keeping the kidneys, heart, and liver moist. For when the kidneys, heart, and the rest are not kept moist by it, beings become thirsty. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own blood-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Sweat: the water-element that oozes from the pores and the like. By color, it is the color of clear sesame oil. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it occurs in both directions. By location, there is no fixed place for sweat where it might stand constantly, as blood does. But when the body becomes heated through the heat of a fire, the heat of the sun, or a change in the season and the like, then, like a bundle of unevenly cut lotus-fibers, lotus-stalks, or water-lily stalks pulled up from the water, it oozes out through all the openings of the hair-pores and body-hair-pores; therefore its shape too should be understood by way of those very hair-pore and body-hair-pore openings. And a meditator investigating sweat should attend to it precisely as it stands filling the hair-pore and body-hair-pore openings. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own sweat-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Fat: a solidified unctuous substance. By color, it is the color of split turmeric. By shape: in a stout body, first, it is in the shape of a piece of turmeric-colored coarse cotton cloth placed between the skin and flesh. In a lean body, it is in the shape of a piece of turmeric-colored coarse cotton cloth, doubled or tripled and placed against the flesh of the calf, the flesh of the thigh, the flesh of the back resting on the spine, and the flesh of the belly-region. By direction, it occurs in both directions. By location, in a stout person, it stands pervading the entire body; in a lean person, it stands resting against the flesh of the calf and the rest — and this substance, though reckoned as an unctuous substance, is, on account of its extreme disgustingness, taken by no one for oiling the head, or for making nasal oil, or the like. By delimitation, it is delimited below by the flesh, above by the skin, and across by its own fat-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Tears: the water-element that oozes from the eyes. By color, it is the color of clear sesame oil. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands in the eye-sockets. And it does not stand constantly accumulated in the eye-sockets, as bile does in its own sac. But when beings, filled with joy, laugh a great laugh; or, filled with sorrow, weep and lament; or partake of some unsuitable food; or when their eyes are struck by smoke, dust, or grit — then, arising from these conditions of joy, sorrow, unsuitable food, and season, it stands filling the eye-sockets, or oozes forth. And a meditator investigating tears should investigate it precisely as it stands filling the eye-sockets. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own tear-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Oil-of-the-skin: a dissolved unctuous substance. By color, it is the color of coconut oil; one might also say the color of oil sprinkled on rice-scrapings. By shape, it is in the shape of an oily drop spreading out on the surface of clear water during bathing. By direction, it occurs in both directions. By location, it stands for the most part on the palms of the hands, the backs of the hands, the soles of the feet, the tops of the feet, the bridge of the nose, the forehead, and the points of the shoulders. And it does not stand there always in a dissolved state at these locations; but when these areas become heated through the heat of a fire, the heat of the sun, a change of season, or a disturbance in the elements, then, at that place, like an oily drop spreading over clear water during bathing, it moves about here and there. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own oily portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Saliva: the water-element mixed with foam within the mouth. By color, it is white, the color of foam. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location; one might also say the shape of foam. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it descends from both cheeks and stands upon the tongue. And it does not stand there always accumulated; but when beings see or recall some kind of food, or place something hot, bitter, pungent, salty, or sour in the mouth, or when their heart feels queasy, or some disgust arises regarding something, then saliva arises, descends from both cheeks, and settles upon the tongue. It is thin at the tip of the tongue and thick at its root, and, placed in the mouth, is capable of moistening puffed rice, ordinary rice, or any other food, without ever running out — just as water seeps into a hollow dug in a riverbank's sand. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own saliva-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Nasal mucus: the impurity that oozes from the brain. By color, it is the color of the pith of a young palm-fruit stone. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it arises in the upper direction. By location, it stands filling the nostrils. And it does not stand there always accumulated; but just as a man, having tied curd inside a lotus-leaf, might pierce it from below with a thorn, whereupon the whey would trickle out through that hole and fall outside — just so, when beings weep, or when a disturbance of the elements arises through unsuitable food or season, then the brain within the head, having reached a state of putrid phlegm, trickles down, descends through the gap at the top of the palate, and stands filling the nostrils, or oozes forth. And a meditator investigating nasal mucus should investigate it precisely as it stands filling the nostrils. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Synovial fluid: a slippery, corpse-like substance within the joints of the body. By color, it is the color of kaṇikāra-tree resin. By shape, it takes the shape of its own location. By direction, it occurs in both directions. By location, it stands within the hundred and eighty joints, accomplishing the function of lubricating the bone-joints. For one in whom it is scarce, when he rises, sits, walks forward, walks back, bends, or stretches, his bones creak, making a sound as though snapping fingers, as he moves. For one who has walked a distance of a league or two, the wind-element becomes disturbed, and his limbs ache. But for one in whom it is abundant, his bones do not creak when he rises, sits, and so on, and, even after walking a long distance, the wind-element is not disturbed, nor do his limbs ache. By delimitation, it is delimited by its own portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

Urine: the fluid of urine. By color, it is the color of an alkaline solution made from bean-ash. By shape, it is in the shape of water contained within a water-pot placed mouth-downward. By direction, it arises in the lower direction. By location, it stands within the bladder. The "bladder" is what is called the urinary receptacle. Just as, when placed in a cesspool, the liquid of the cesspool enters a jar with no visible mouth, and the path by which it enters is not apparent — just so, urine enters from the body, and the path by which it enters is not apparent, though the path by which it exits is evident. And when the bladder is full, beings feel the urge, thinking, "I must urinate." By delimitation, it is delimited by the bladder's interior and by its own urine-portion; this is its delimitation by similar parts. Its delimitation by dissimilar parts is exactly as with the hairs.

For thus, having determined the parts beginning with hair by way of color, shape, direction, location, and delimitation, and attending, in order, not too quickly, not too slowly, and by the remaining methods already stated, to their fivefold repulsiveness by way of color, shape, smell, origin, and location — thus repeatedly attending, "repulsive, repulsive" — then, once the mere concept has been gone beyond, it is just as with a man of good sight looking at a garland strung on a single thread from thirty-two kinds of flowers: all the flowers become evident to him at once, not one after another in sequence. Just so, for one looking upon this body, thinking "there are, in this body, hairs," all these states become evident at once, not one after another in sequence. For this it was said, in the discussion of skill in attention, "for a beginner attending 'hair,' his attention, proceeding onward, comes to rest precisely on that final part, 'urine.'"

And if he extends his attention outward as well, then, once all the parts have become manifest in this way, human beings, animals, and the rest, as they move about, appear to him, having abandoned the mode of being a "being," simply as a heap of parts; and whatever drink, food, and the like are being swallowed by them appears as though being placed into that very heap of parts.

Then, for one attending again and again, "repulsive, repulsive," by way of releasing them in succession and the rest, absorption arises in due order. Herein, the manifestation of hair and the rest by way of color, shape, direction, location, and delimitation is the learning-sign; the manifestation, in every aspect, by way of repulsiveness, is the counterpart-sign. For one cultivating and developing that, by the method already stated, absorption arises by way of the first jhāna alone, just as in the foulness meditation subjects.

For one for whom only a single part becomes manifest, or who, having reached absorption in one part, makes no further effort regarding another, only a single absorption arises. But for one for whom many parts become manifest, or who, having reached jhāna in one, makes further effort regarding another as well, first jhānas are produced according to the number of parts, as happened for the Elder Mallaka.

It is told that this venerable one, taking the Elder Abhaya, the reciter of the Long Discourses, by the hand, said, "friend Abhaya, learn this matter well first," and then said: "the Elder Mallaka is one who gains thirty-two first jhānas in the thirty-two parts. If he attains one at night and one by day, he accomplishes them all again in a little more than half a month; but if he attains only one each day, he accomplishes them all again in a little more than a month."

Thus, even though this meditation subject succeeds by way of the first jhāna, it is called "mindfulness of the body" because it succeeds by the power of mindfulness applied to color, shape, and the rest.

And a monk devoted to this mindfulness of the body becomes one able to withstand discontent, and discontent does not overcome him — he dwells, overcoming and overcoming any discontent that arises. He becomes one able to withstand fear and terror, and fear and terror do not overcome him — he dwells, overcoming and overcoming any fear and terror that arise. He becomes patient of cold, of heat, ... of a nature to endure things that threaten life. In dependence on the differentiation of color and the rest of the parts, he becomes one who gains the four jhānas; he penetrates the six direct knowledges (M.N. 3.159).

Therefore let the wise one, heedful, / practice this mindfulness of the body, / of such manifold benefit.

This is the opening of the detailed discussion on mindfulness of the body.

Now comes the exposition of that meditation subject which the Blessed One, having praised it thus — "this concentration through mindfulness of breathing too, monks, developed and made much of, is a peaceful and sublime dwelling, unadulterated and pleasant, and it instantly banishes and stills whatever evil, unwholesome states have arisen" —

"And how, monks, is this concentration through mindfulness of breathing developed, how, made much of, is it a peaceful and sublime dwelling, unadulterated and pleasant, and instantly banishes and stills whatever evil, unwholesome states have arisen? Here, monks, a monk, gone to the forest, or to the root of a tree, or to an empty place, sits down, having folded his legs crosswise, having set his body straight, having established mindfulness in front of him. Mindful, he breathes in; mindful, he breathes out. Breathing in long, he understands, 'I breathe in long'; breathing out long, he understands, 'I breathe out long'; breathing in short, he understands, 'I breathe in short'; breathing out short, he understands, 'I breathe out short.' 'Experiencing the whole body, I shall breathe in,' thus he trains; 'experiencing the whole body, I shall breathe out,' thus he trains. 'Calming the bodily formation, I shall breathe in,' thus he trains; 'calming the bodily formation, I shall breathe out,' thus he trains. 'Experiencing joy... experiencing happiness... experiencing the mental formation... calming the mental formation... experiencing the mind... gladdening the mind... concentrating the mind... liberating the mind... contemplating impermanence... contemplating fading away... contemplating cessation... contemplating relinquishment, I shall breathe in,' thus he trains; 'contemplating relinquishment, I shall breathe out,' thus he trains" —

Thus the meditation subject of mindfulness of breathing, with its sixteen bases, was set forth. The exposition of its development has now been reached. And since it becomes complete in every respect only when explained in accordance with a running commentary on the canonical text, the exposition here proceeds first by way of commenting on that text.

As to "and how, monks, is this concentration through mindfulness of breathing developed" — herein, first, "how" is a question intended to elicit a detailed explanation, in various ways, of the development of this concentration; "developed, monks, is this concentration through mindfulness of breathing" is an indication of the state of affairs that has been asked about, for the purpose of that detailed explanation.

"Gone to the forest ... gone to an empty place": this indicates the choice of a dwelling suited to the development of this concentration through mindfulness of breathing. For this monk's mind, having long spread out among such objects as visible forms, does not wish to mount up onto the object of concentration through mindfulness of breathing — it runs off the road entirely, like a chariot yoked to an unbroken ox. Therefore, just as a cowherd, wishing to tame an unruly calf that has drunk all its unruly mother's milk and grown up, might take it away from its mother, dig a great post into the ground somewhere, and bind it there with a rope — whereupon that calf, struggling this way and that but unable to escape, would sit or lie down right beside that very post — just so, this monk too, wishing to tame his own vicious mind, long grown wild on the flavor of drinking in visible forms and other such objects, should remove it from those objects, lead it into the forest, or to the root of a tree, or to an empty place, and there bind it with the rope of mindfulness to the post of in-and-out breathing. Then, though his mind struggles this way and that, no longer obtaining the objects it was previously accustomed to, and unable to sever the rope of mindfulness and escape, it comes to sit and lie down, by way of access and absorption, right beside that very object. Hence the ancients said —

"Just as a man here, taming a calf, / would bind it to a post, / so should one bind one's own mind firmly / to its object, by mindfulness."

Thus this dwelling is suited to development. For this it was said, "this indicates the choice of a dwelling suited to the development of this concentration through mindfulness of breathing."

Or else, since this meditation subject of mindfulness of breathing, foremost among the divisions of meditation subjects, is the proximate cause of the distinguished attainments and the happy dwelling here and now of omniscient Buddhas, Paccekabuddhas, and the Buddha's own disciples, it is not easy to develop without giving up the outskirts of a village crowded with the sounds of women, men, elephants, horses, and the like — since sound is a thorn to jhāna. But in a village-free forest, it is easy for a meditator, having taken up this meditation subject, to produce the fourth jhāna of breathing, and, making that very jhāna the foundation, to contemplate the formations and attain the highest fruit, arahantship. Therefore, showing him a suitable dwelling, the Blessed One said, "gone to the forest," and so on.

For the Blessed One is like a master of building-sites: just as a master of building-sites, having seen a piece of ground for a city and examined it thoroughly, advises, "build the city here," and, once the city is safely completed, receives great honor from the royal family — just so, having examined a dwelling suited to the meditator, he advises, "the meditation subject should be pursued here"; and then, once the meditator devoted to the meditation subject there has, in due course, attained arahantship, he receives great honor, with the thought, "that Blessed One is indeed a perfectly self-enlightened one."

This monk, moreover, is said to resemble a leopard. For just as a great leopard-king, lying in wait in the forest, concealed by a thicket of grass, or a jungle-thicket, or a mountain-thicket, seizes such prey as forest buffalo, deer, and boar — just so this monk, pursuing his meditation subject in the forest and elsewhere, seizes, in due order, the paths of stream-entry, once-return, non-return, and arahantship, together with the noble fruits — so it should be understood. Hence the ancients said —

"Just as one called a leopard, / concealed, seizes deer, / just so this child of the Buddha, / devoted to the practice, an insight-seer, / having entered the forest, / seizes the highest fruit."

Therefore, showing him the forest dwelling that is the proper ground for the speed of his exertion, the Blessed One said, "gone to the forest," and so on.

Herein, "gone to the forest" means: gone to whatever forest offers the happiness of seclusion, among those forests defined thus: "'forest' means all that lies beyond the boundary-post, outside [a village]" (Vibh. 529), and "a forest dwelling, at the least, is five hundred bow-lengths distant" (Pārā. 654). "Gone to the root of a tree" means: gone near a tree. "Gone to an empty place" means: gone to an empty, secluded spot. And here, setting aside the forest and the root of a tree, one who has gone to any of the remaining seven kinds of dwelling may also be said to have "gone to an empty place."

Having thus advised a dwelling suited to the three seasons and to a fitting elemental constitution, and appropriate for the development of mindfulness of breathing, the Blessed One, advising a peaceful posture inclined toward neither sloth nor restlessness, said "sits down." Then, showing him the firmness of a proper sitting posture, the ease with which the in-and-out breaths then proceed, and the method of grasping the object, he said "having folded his legs crosswise," and so on. Herein, "crosswise" means a posture in which the thighs are bound all around. "Having folded" means having bound. "Having set his body straight" means having placed the upper body upright, fitting vertebra-tip to vertebra-tip among the eighteen vertebrae of the spine. For one sitting thus, the skin, flesh, and tendons do not buckle; and, they not buckling, the sensations that would otherwise arise moment by moment from that buckling do not arise; and, these not arising, the mind becomes one-pointed, the meditation subject does not collapse, and it advances toward growth and increase. "Having established mindfulness in front of him" means: having placed mindfulness facing the meditation subject. Or else, "pari" has the sense of grasping; "mukha" has the sense of outlet; "sati" has the sense of establishment. By this it is said, "mindfulness in front" — and the meaning here should be seen in accordance with the method stated thus in the Paṭisambhidāmagga. This, herein, is the summary: having made mindfulness that which grasps the outlet.

"Mindful, he breathes in; mindful, he breathes out" means: this monk, having sat down thus and having established mindfulness in this way, without abandoning that mindfulness, breathes in mindfully and breathes out mindfully — he is one who acts with mindfulness, this is what is meant. Now, to show the ways in which he acts with mindfulness, it was said, "breathing in long," and so on. For it is said in the Paṭisambhidāmagga, in its own analysis of "mindful, he breathes in; mindful, he breathes out" —

"He acts with mindfulness in thirty-two ways. For one understanding, by way of a long in-breath, the one-pointedness and non-distraction of the mind, mindfulness is established; by that mindfulness, by that knowledge, he acts with mindfulness. By way of a long out-breath ... by way of an in-breath contemplating relinquishment. For one understanding, by way of an out-breath contemplating relinquishment, the one-pointedness and non-distraction of the mind, mindfulness is established; by that mindfulness, by that knowledge, he acts with mindfulness." (Paṭis. 1.165)

Herein, "breathing in long" means: causing a long in-breath to occur. "In-breath" is the wind going out; "out-breath" is the wind going in — so it is said in the Vinaya commentary. But in the Discourse commentaries, it is given in the reverse order. Herein, it should be understood that, for all those born from a womb, at the time of emerging from the mother's womb, the internal wind first goes outward; afterward, the external wind, taking in fine dust, enters within, and, striking the palate, subsides. Thus, first, in-breath and out-breath should be understood in this way.

As for their length or shortness, that should be understood by way of extent. For just as water or sand, spread out and standing over an extent of space, is said to be "long water, long sand" or "short water, short sand," so too the in-breaths and out-breaths, however finely divided, in the body of an elephant or of a snake, slowly filling and slowly emerging through the extent of space reckoned as their own bodily frame, are for that reason called "long." Those of a dog, a hare, and the like, quickly filling and quickly emerging through the extent reckoned as their own bodily frame, are for that reason called "short." Among human beings, however, some, like the elephant, the snake, and the like, breathe in and out long by way of time; others, like the dog, the hare, and the like, breathe short. Therefore, it should be understood that those whose breath, by way of time, enters and emerges over a long extent are "long," and those whose breath enters and emerges over a brief extent are "short."

Herein, this monk, breathing in and out long by nine ways, understands, "I breathe in long, I breathe out long." For one understanding thus, it should be understood that the development of the establishment of mindfulness by way of contemplating the body is accomplished in one respect. As it is said in the Paṭisambhidāmagga —

"How does one, breathing in long, understand, 'I breathe in long'? Breathing out long, one understands, 'I breathe out long.' One breathes in a long in-breath reckoned by extent. One breathes out a long out-breath reckoned by extent. One breathes in, and also breathes out, a long in-and-out-breath reckoned by extent. For one breathing in, and also breathing out, a long in-and-out-breath reckoned by extent, zeal arises. By way of that zeal, one breathes in a long in-breath, finer than before, reckoned by extent. By way of that zeal, one breathes out a long out-breath, finer than before ... one breathes in, and also breathes out, a long in-and-out-breath, finer than before, reckoned by extent. For one, by way of that zeal, breathing in, and also breathing out, a long in-and-out-breath, finer than before, reckoned by extent, gladness arises. By way of that gladness, one breathes in a long in-breath, finer still, reckoned by extent. By way of that gladness, one breathes out a long out-breath, finer still ... one breathes in, and also breathes out, a long in-and-out-breath, finer still, reckoned by extent. For one, by way of that gladness, breathing in, and also breathing out, a long in-and-out-breath, finer still, reckoned by extent, the mind turns away from the long in-and-out-breath, and equanimity becomes established. By these nine ways, the long in-and-out-breath is the body; the establishment is mindfulness; the contemplation is knowledge. The body is the establishment, but it is not mindfulness; mindfulness is both the establishment and mindfulness. By that mindfulness, by that knowledge, one contemplates that body. Hence it is called 'the development of the establishment of mindfulness by way of contemplating the body in the body.'"

The same method applies to the "short" term as well. But this is the distinction: just as here it was said, "a long in-breath reckoned by extent," so here it comes down as, "one breathes in a short in-breath reckoned as brief." Therefore, it should be applied, by way of the short term, all the way up to "hence it is called the development of the establishment of mindfulness by way of contemplating the body in the body."

Thus, this monk, understanding the in-breaths and out-breaths by these ways, by way both of extent and of brevity, should be understood as, breathing in long, understanding, "I breathe in long" ... breathing out short, understanding, "I breathe out short." For one understanding thus —

Long and short in-breath, / and out-breath likewise such; / four kinds proceed / at the very tip of a monk's nose.

"'Experiencing the whole body, I shall breathe in ... I shall breathe out,' thus he trains": making known, making evident, the beginning, middle, and end of the entire body of the in-breath, he trains, "I shall breathe in." Making known, making evident, the beginning, middle, and end of the entire body of the out-breath, he trains, "I shall breathe out." Making it known and evident in this way, he breathes in and breathes out with a mind conjoined with knowledge. Therefore it is said, "he trains, 'I shall breathe in, I shall breathe out.'" For one monk, in the finely divided, spread-out body of the in-breath or the out-breath, the beginning is evident, but not the middle and end — he is able to grasp only the beginning, and grows weary at the middle and end. For another, the middle is evident, but not the beginning and end. For another, the end is evident, but not the beginning and middle — he is able to grasp only the end, and grows weary at the beginning and middle. For another, the whole is evident — he is able to grasp the whole, and grows weary nowhere. Showing that one should be like this last, it was said, "'experiencing the whole body, I shall breathe in ... I shall breathe out,' thus he trains."

Herein, "trains" means: he strives, he makes effort in this way. Or else: whatever restraint there is for one in that state — this, here, is the higher training in virtue; whatever concentration there is for one in that state — this is the higher training in mind; whatever understanding there is for one in that state — this is the higher training in wisdom. The meaning here should be seen thus: he trains in, cultivates, develops, and makes much of these three trainings, with regard to that object, by that mindfulness, by that attention.

Herein, since in the earlier method only breathing in and breathing out need be done, and nothing further need be done, but from this point onward, effort must be applied to such things as the production of knowledge — therefore, the canonical text there was stated by way of the present tense, "he understands, 'I breathe in'; he understands, 'I breathe out,'" but, from this point onward, in order to show the mode of what is to be done, such as the production of knowledge, the canonical text has been framed by way of the future tense, in the manner of "'experiencing the whole body, I shall breathe in,'" and so on — this should be understood.

"'Calming the bodily formation, I shall breathe in ... I shall breathe out,' thus he trains" means: calming, thoroughly calming, causing to cease, causing to subside, the gross bodily formation, he trains, "I shall breathe in, I shall breathe out." Herein, this is how grossness, fineness, and calming should be understood. For this monk, in the time before this practice was undertaken, body and mind are agitated and gross. As long as the grossness of body and mind remains unstilled, the in-breaths and out-breaths too are gross, occurring with greater force, so that the nostrils do not suffice, and he continues breathing in and out through the mouth as well. But when his body and mind have become the object of this undertaking, then they become peaceful and stilled. When they are stilled, the in-breaths and out-breaths occur subtly, reaching a state where one must consider, "do they exist, or do they not?"

Just as, for a man who has been running, or has come down from a mountain, or has just set down a heavy load from his head, the in-breaths and out-breaths are gross, so that the nostrils do not suffice, and he continues breathing in and out through the mouth as well — but when he has dispelled that fatigue, bathed, drunk, placed a wet cloth over his heart, and lain down in cool shade, then his in-breaths and out-breaths become subtle, reaching a state where one must consider, "do they exist, or do they not?" — just so, for this monk, in the time before this practice was undertaken, body and mind ... reach a state where one must consider, "do they exist, or do they not?" Why is this? Because, in the time before this practice was undertaken, there is no attention, no bringing-to-mind, no reflection such as, "I am calming the gross bodily formation" — but in the time after this practice has been undertaken, there is. Therefore, from the time before undertaking this practice to the time after undertaking it, the bodily formation becomes subtle. Hence the ancients said —

"When body and mind are agitated, / it occurs to an excessive degree; / when the body is unagitated, / it occurs subtly."

Even in the stage of grasping it, it is gross; in the access to the first jhāna, it is subtle. Even there, it is gross; in the first jhāna itself, it is subtle. In the first jhāna, and in the access to the second jhāna, it is gross; in the second jhāna, it is subtle. In the second jhāna, and in the access to the third jhāna, it is gross; in the third jhāna, it is subtle. In the third jhāna, and in the access to the fourth jhāna, it is gross; in the fourth jhāna, it is extremely subtle, reaching complete non-occurrence. This, first, is the opinion of the reciters of the Long Discourses and the Connected Discourses.

Now, since it is only this first tetrad that is stated here as the meditation subject for a beginner, while the remaining three tetrads are stated by way of the contemplation of feeling, of mind, and of mental states, for one who has already attained that jhāna — therefore, a clansman just beginning, desiring, having developed this meditation subject, to attain arahantship through insight that has the fourth jhāna of breathing as its foundation, together with the discriminations, should, having performed all the preliminary duties such as the purification of virtue in the manner already stated, take up this meditation subject with its five bonds in the presence of a teacher of the kind already described.

Herein, these are the five bonds: learning, questioning, establishing, absorption, and characteristic. Herein, "learning" means the learning of the meditation subject. "Questioning" means the questioning about the meditation subject. "Establishing" means the establishing of the meditation subject. "Absorption" means the absorption of the meditation subject. "Characteristic" means the characteristic of the meditation subject — meaning, the ascertainment of the meditation subject's own nature, thinking, "such is the characteristic of this meditation subject."

One learning the meditation subject with these five bonds neither wearies himself nor troubles his teacher. Therefore, having had it explained a little at a time, and having recited it over a long period, having thus taken up the meditation subject with its five bonds, and dwelling, whether in the presence of the teacher or elsewhere, in a dwelling of the kind already described, with minor impediments cut off, his meal-duty performed, drowsiness from eating dispelled, sitting comfortably, having gladdened his mind by recollecting the qualities of the Triple Gem, and without confusion about even a single word learned from the teacher, this meditation subject of mindfulness of breathing should be attended to. Herein, this is the method of attention —

Counting, following, touching, fixing, observing, / turning away, purification, and reviewing of these.

Herein, "counting" is simply counting. "Following" is continuous accompaniment. "Touching" is the point of contact. "Fixing" is absorption. "Observing" is insight. "Turning away" is the path. "Purification" is the fruit. "Reviewing of these" is reflective review.

Herein, this beginning clansman should first attend to this meditation subject by way of counting. And, in counting, he should not stop below five, nor carry it beyond ten, nor show a break in the middle. For one who stops below five, the mental arising flutters about within a cramped space, like a herd of cattle penned in a narrow enclosure. For one who carries it beyond ten, the mental arising becomes dependent on the counting itself. For one who shows a break in the middle, the mind wavers, thinking, "has my meditation subject reached its peak, or not?" Therefore, avoiding these faults, one should count.

And, in counting, one should first count by the slow counting of a grain-measurer. For a grain-measurer, having filled the measure, says "one," and pours it out; then, filling it again, on seeing some piece of chaff, discards it, saying, "one, one." The same method applies to "two, two," and so on. Just so, this meditator too, having taken hold of whatever in-breath or out-breath becomes manifest, should count, beginning with "one, one," and noting each occurrence in turn, up to "ten, ten." For one counting in this way, the in-breaths and out-breaths, as they emerge and enter, become manifest.

He should then give up that slow, grain-measurer's counting, and count by the swift counting of a cowherd. For a skilled cowherd, taking up pebbles and the like in his lap, with a rope and stick in hand, goes to the pen at the very break of day, strikes the cows on the back, and, sitting on the top of a bar-post, counts, throwing down a pebble for each cow as it reaches the gate, saying "one, two." For, having spent an uncomfortable night in a cramped space, the herd of cattle, as it emerges, jostling against one another, emerges swiftly, in dense clusters — so he counts swiftly, "three, four, five, ten." Just so, this meditator too, counting by the earlier method, finds that the in-breaths and out-breaths, having become manifest, now move swiftly, again and again. Knowing then that they "move again and again," he should, without grasping at what is within or without, but only at what has reached the point of contact, count swiftly indeed: "one, two, three, four, five, six; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven ... eight, nine, ten." For, in a meditation subject bound up with counting, the mind becomes one-pointed by the very strength of the counting, like a boat held steady in a swift current by the support of its rudder.

For one counting thus, swiftly and swiftly, the meditation subject comes to appear as occurring without interruption. Knowing then that it occurs without interruption, one should, without grasping the wind within or without, count swiftly and swiftly by the earlier method still. For one who directs the mind, together with the wind entering within, becomes as though the interior were struck by wind and filled with fat; and one who leads the mind out together with the wind emerging without scatters the mind among a variety of external objects. But for one developing it while fixing mindfulness precisely at the point of contact, the development succeeds. For this it was said: "without grasping the wind within or without, one should count swiftly and swiftly by the earlier method still."

For how long should this counting be done? Until, without counting, mindfulness stands firm with the in-breath and out-breath as its object. For counting exists only for the purpose of cutting off thought scattered outward and establishing mindfulness on the object of the in-breath and out-breath.

Having thus attended by way of counting, attention should be given by way of following. "Following" means the continuous accompaniment, by mindfulness, of the in-breaths and out-breaths, having given up counting. But this is not by way of following their beginning, middle, and end. For, in the case of the outward-going wind, the navel is the beginning, the heart the middle, and the tip of the nose the end; and, in the case of the inward-going wind, the tip of the nose is the beginning, the heart the middle, and the navel the end. And, for one following it in this way, the mind, having gone to distraction, becomes both agitated and shaken. As it is said —

"For one following, by mindfulness, the beginning, middle, and end of the in-breath, with a mind that has gone to internal distraction, both body and mind become agitated, shaken, and trembling. For one following, by mindfulness, the beginning, middle, and end of the out-breath, with a mind that has gone to external distraction, both body and mind become agitated, shaken, and trembling." (Paṭis. 1.157)

Therefore, one attending by way of following should not attend by way of beginning, middle, and end. Rather, attention should be given by way of touching and by way of fixing. For there is no separate act of attention by way of touching and fixing, as there is by way of counting and following; rather, in the very act of counting at the point of contact again and again, one attends both by counting and by touching. It is precisely there, having given up counting, following them by mindfulness, and fixing the mind by way of absorption, that one is said to attend by way of following, touching, and fixing. This meaning should be understood by the similes of the lame man and the gatekeeper, as stated in the commentaries, and by the simile of the saw, as stated in the Paṭisambhidāmagga.

Herein, this is the simile of the lame man: just as a lame man, having set a swing in motion for a mother and child at play, sits right there at the foot of the swing-post and sees both ends and the middle of the swing-board as it comes and goes in turn, without being occupied with watching both ends and the middle — just so, this monk, standing, as it were, at the foot of the post of binding by way of mindfulness, having set the swing of the in-breath and out-breath in motion, sitting with mindfulness right there at the sign, following, by mindfulness, the beginning, middle, and end of the in-breaths and out-breaths as they come and go in turn at the point of contact, and fixing the mind there, sees them without being occupied with watching them — this is the simile of the lame man.

This, now, is the simile of the gatekeeper: just as a gatekeeper does not investigate the men inside and outside the city, asking, "who are you, where have you come from, where are you going, what is in your hands" — for these are not his concern — but investigates only those actually arriving at the gate — just so, for this monk, the wind that has entered within and the wind that has emerged without are not his concern; only what has arrived at the gate is his concern. This is the simile of the gatekeeper.

The simile of the saw, however, should be understood from the very beginning, as follows. For it is said —

"The sign, the in-breath, and the out-breath are not the object of a single consciousness; and, for one who does not know these three states, development is not obtained.
"The sign, the in-breath, and the out-breath are not the object of a single consciousness; and, for one who does know these three states, development is obtained." (Paṭis. 1.159)

"How is it that these three states are not the object of a single consciousness, yet these three states are not unknown, and the mind does not become distracted, and the endeavor becomes evident, and the undertaking is accomplished, and distinction is reached? Just as a log placed on level ground — a man might cut it with a saw. The man's mindfulness is established by way of the saw's teeth as they touch the log; he does not attend to the teeth of the saw as they come or go, yet the teeth of the saw, as they come and go, are not unknown to him, and the endeavor becomes evident, and the undertaking is accomplished, and distinction is reached.

"Just as the log placed on level ground is the sign of binding, so are the in-breath and out-breath like the teeth of the saw. Just as the man's mindfulness is established by way of the saw's teeth touching the log, and he does not attend to the teeth as they come or go, yet they are not unknown to him, and the endeavor becomes evident, and the undertaking is accomplished, and distinction is reached — just so, a monk, having established mindfulness at the tip of the nose or at the sign in the mouth, sits without attending to the in-breaths and out-breaths as they come or go, yet they are not unknown to him, and the endeavor becomes evident, and the undertaking is accomplished, and distinction is reached.

"What is the 'endeavor'? For one of aroused energy, both body and mind become workable — this is the endeavor. What is the 'undertaking'? For one of aroused energy, defilements are abandoned, thoughts are stilled — this is the undertaking. What is the 'distinction'? For one of aroused energy, the fetters are abandoned, the underlying tendencies come to an end — this is the distinction. Thus these three states are not the object of a single consciousness, yet these three states are not unknown, and the mind does not become distracted, and the endeavor becomes evident, and the undertaking is accomplished, and distinction is reached." (Paṭis. 1.159)

"He whose mindfulness of breathing / is complete and well developed, / gradually cultivated, / just as taught by the Buddha —
He illuminates this world, / like the moon freed from a cloud." (Paṭis. 1.160)

This is the simile of the saw. Here, the point intended is simply non-attention by way of the breath's coming and going.

For one attending to this meditation subject, in some the sign arises very quickly, and the fixing reckoned as absorption, adorned with the remaining jhāna factors, is accomplished. But for another, from the very time of attending by way of counting, gross in-breaths and out-breaths cease in due order, and, the disturbance of the body being stilled, both body and mind become light, and the body seems as though it has reached a condition of leaping up into the air. Just as, for one of agitated body sitting on a bed or a bench, the bed or bench sags and creaks, and the covering wrinkles; but for one of unagitated body sitting there, the bed or bench neither sags nor creaks, nor does the covering wrinkle, and the bed or bench becomes as though filled with cotton-down — why? Because an unagitated body is light. Just so, from the time of attending by way of counting, gross in-breaths and out-breaths cease in due order, and, the disturbance of the body being stilled, both body and mind become light, and the body seems as though it has reached a condition of leaping up into the air.

For him, once the gross in-breaths and out-breaths have ceased, the mind proceeds with the sign of the subtle in-breath and out-breath as its object. Once that too has ceased, a sign-object finer and finer still continues to occur, again and again. How? Just as, if a man were to strike a bronze bowl with a great iron rod, a loud sound would arise from that single blow, and his mind would proceed with that gross sound as its object; and, once that gross sound has ceased, afterward the mind proceeds with the sign of a subtle sound as its object; and, once that too has ceased, a sign of sound finer and finer still continues to occur — just so should this be understood. This too was said in the passage beginning, "just as, when a bronze bowl is struck" (Paṭis. 1.171), given in full elsewhere.

For, unlike other meditation subjects, which become clearer and clearer the more they are developed, this one is not so. Rather, the more it is developed, the more subtle it becomes, to the point of not even appearing at all. And, when it fails to appear in this way, that monk should not rise from his seat, brush off his leather mat, and go elsewhere. What should be done? He should not get up thinking, "I will ask my teacher," or "my meditation subject is now lost." For, upsetting one's posture and going elsewhere, the meditation subject only becomes ever newer. Therefore, it should be recovered from that very spot, just as one is sitting.

Herein, this is the method of recovery: that monk, knowing that the meditation subject has failed to appear, should reflect thus: "where do these in-breaths and out-breaths exist, and where do they not exist? For whom do they exist, and for whom do they not?" Reflecting thus, and knowing that they do not exist for one still in the mother's womb, nor for those submerged in water, nor likewise for the unconscious, for the dead, for one who has attained the fourth jhāna, for one possessed of the immaterial states of existence, and for one who has attained cessation — he should reprove himself thus: "surely, wise one, you are neither in the womb, nor submerged in water, nor unconscious, nor dead, nor one who has attained the fourth jhāna, nor possessed of the immaterial states of existence, nor one who has attained cessation. Your in-breaths and out-breaths do indeed exist — it is only through weakness of understanding that you are unable to grasp them." He should then fix his mind by way of the natural point of contact and let attention proceed. For these breaths, in one with a long nose, strike against the nostril's rim as they occur; in one with a short nose, against the upper lip. Therefore, the sign should be fixed thus: "they strike against this particular spot." For it was with reference to this very meaning that the Blessed One said: "I do not speak, monks, of the development of mindfulness of breathing for one of confused mindfulness, lacking full awareness" (M.N. 3.149; S.N. 5.992).

For although it is true that any meditation subject succeeds only for one who is mindful and fully aware, this particular one becomes evident to one attending to it more than any other does. This meditation subject of mindfulness of breathing is weighty, its development a weighty matter, the very domain of attention proper to great beings — Buddhas, Paccekabuddhas, and the Buddha's own disciples — and not something trivial, nor something practiced by trivial beings. The more it is attended to, the more peaceful and subtle it becomes. Therefore, powerful mindfulness and understanding are required here.

For just as, in stitching a fine garment, a fine needle is required, and an even finer instrument still is needed to thread that needle — just so, in the development of this meditation subject, comparable to a fine garment, powerful mindfulness, comparable to the needle, is required, and understanding conjoined with it, comparable to the instrument for threading the needle, is required as well. And a monk possessed of such mindfulness and understanding should not seek out those in-breaths and out-breaths anywhere other than at their natural point of contact.

Just as a farmer, having plowed his field, might release his oxen, direct them toward pasture, and, sitting in the shade, rest — whereupon those oxen might swiftly enter a forest — a skilled farmer, wishing to catch and yoke them again, would not go tracking them step by step through the forest, but, taking a rope and a goad, would go straight to the ford where they must come down to drink, and sit or lie down there; and then, seeing those oxen, having grazed for the day's portion, come down to the ford, bathe, drink, and climb back up to stand there, he would bind them with the rope, drive them on with the goad, bring them back, yoke them, and resume his work — just so, that monk should not seek out those in-breaths and out-breaths anywhere other than at their natural point of contact. Rather, taking up the rope of mindfulness and the goad of understanding, he should fix his mind at the natural point of contact and let attention proceed. For one attending thus, they soon become manifest to him, like the oxen at the ford. He should then, having bound them with the rope of mindfulness, and yoked them right at that very spot, pursue the meditation subject again and again, driving it on with the goad of understanding.

For one pursuing it thus, the sign soon becomes manifest. But this is not the same for everyone. Some say that, for some, producing a pleasant tactile sensation, it appears like a tuft of cotton-down, like a wisp of raw cotton, or like a current of air.

But this is the judgment given in the commentaries: for some, it appears like a star, or a ball of gems, or a string of pearls; for some, having a rough touch, it appears like a cotton-seed, or a peg of heartwood; for some, it appears like a long, twisted thread, or a garland of flowers, or a wisp of smoke; for some, it appears spread out like a spider's web, or a layer of cloud, or a lotus flower, or a chariot-wheel, or the disc of the moon, or the disc of the sun. And this is so in the same way that, when several monks, having recited a discourse together, are sitting, and one monk asks, "in what form does this discourse appear to you," one says, "to me it appears like a great mountain river"; another, "to me, like a single line of forest"; another, "to me, like a single tree, cool-shaded, richly branched, laden with fruit" — for that same single discourse appears differently to them, owing to the difference in their own perception. Just so, this same single meditation subject appears differently, owing to the difference in perception. For this sign is born of perception, has perception as its source, has perception as its origin. Therefore it should be understood that it appears differently owing to the difference in perception.

And here, the consciousness having the in-breath as its object is one thing; that having the out-breath as its object is another; and that having the sign as its object is yet another. For one in whom these three states are not present, the meditation subject reaches neither absorption nor access. But for one in whom these three states are present, that very meditation subject reaches both access and absorption. For it is said —

"The sign, the in-breath, and the out-breath are not the object of a single consciousness; and, for one who does not know these three states, development is not obtained.
"The sign, the in-breath, and the out-breath are not the object of a single consciousness; and, for one who does indeed know these three states, development is obtained." (Pārājika Commentary 2.165)

Now, once the sign has appeared in this way, that monk should go to his teacher and report it, saying, "venerable sir, such and such appears to me." But the teacher should say neither "this is the sign" nor "this is not the sign." He should say, "it is so, friend; attend to it again and again." For, were he to say "this is the sign," the monk might come to a premature stop; and were he to say "this is not the sign," he might become discouraged and dejected. Therefore, without saying either of these, he should simply direct him to continue his attention. This, first, is the view of the reciters of the Long Discourses.

The reciters of the Middle Discourses, however, say that he should be told, "this, friend, is the sign; attend to this meditation subject again and again, good man." Then that monk should fix his mind precisely on the sign. In this way, from this point on, his development proceeds by way of fixing. For this the ancients said —

"Fixing the mind upon the sign, / discerning its various modes, / the wise one binds his own mind / to the in-breaths and out-breaths."

For one thus manifesting the sign, the hindrances are already suppressed, the defilements already settled, mindfulness already established, and the mind already concentrated by access concentration. He should then attend to that sign neither by way of its color, nor should he review it by way of its characteristic. Rather, just as a chief queen guards a would-be universal monarch still in the womb, or as a farmer guards a rice crop about to ripen, avoiding the seven unsuitable conditions concerning the dwelling and the rest, and cultivating the seven suitable ones, he should carefully guard it. Having thus guarded it, and, by way of repeated attention, brought it to growth and increase, he should bring the tenfold skill in absorption to completion, and apply the balance of energy. For one making effort thus, in that very sign, the fourfold and fivefold jhānas are produced, exactly in the order already stated for the earth kasiṇa.

Now, a monk who has thus produced the fourfold and fivefold jhānas, desiring, by way of observing and turning away, to develop this meditation subject further and reach purity, having made that very jhāna mastered and thoroughly familiar by the five kinds of mastery, determines mentality-materiality, and sets insight in motion. How? For, emerging from the attainment, he sees that the arising of the in-breaths and out-breaths depends on the physical body and the mind. Just as, when a blacksmith's bellows is being blown, wind moves in dependence on both the bag and a man's corresponding effort, so too the in-breaths and out-breaths occur in dependence on the body and the mind. Then he determines that the in-breaths and out-breaths, together with the body, are materiality, and that the mind, together with the states associated with it, are mentality. This, here, is the summary; in detail, however, the determination of mentality-materiality will become evident later.

Having thus determined mentality-materiality, he searches out its condition. And, searching it out and seeing it, he crosses beyond doubt concerning the occurrence of mentality-materiality across all three time-periods. Having crossed beyond doubt, applying the three characteristics by way of comprehending it as a group, and, in the earlier stage of the contemplation of rise and fall, having abandoned the ten corruptions of insight — such as illumination and the rest — he determines the knowledge of the path free from those corruptions as "the path"; then, abandoning attention to arising, and reaching the contemplation of dissolution, and, through the uninterrupted contemplation of dissolution, growing disenchanted, dispassionate, and liberated with regard to all formations that appear as passing away — he attains, in due order, the four noble paths, and, established in the fruit of arahantship, reaches the culmination of the nineteenfold knowledge of reviewing, becoming the foremost recipient of offerings for the world together with its gods.

By this much — taking counting as its beginning and insight as its conclusion — the development of concentration through mindfulness of breathing is complete. This is the commentary on the first tetrad in every respect.

Now, as for the remaining three tetrads, since there is no distinct meditation-subject method for their development, their meaning should be understood simply by way of a running commentary on each term.

"'Experiencing joy, I shall breathe in ... breathe out,' thus he trains" means: making joy experienced, making it evident, he trains thus. Herein, joy is experienced in two ways: by way of the object, and by way of non-confusion. How is joy experienced by way of the object? One attains the two jhānas that have joy. At the moment of that attainment, through the obtaining of jhāna, joy is experienced by way of the object, since the object is experienced. How, by way of non-confusion? Having attained the two jhānas that have joy, and emerged, one comprehends the joy conjoined with that jhāna as subject to destruction and to falling away. At the moment of that insight, through the penetration of its characteristic, joy is experienced without confusion.

This, herein, is the distinctive point: happiness is experienced in the same way, by way of the three jhānas; and the mental formation is experienced by way of all four jhānas. The "mental formation" is the two aggregates of feeling and perception. "'Calming the mental formation, I shall breathe in ... breathe out'" means: calming, causing to cease, the mental formation, gross by gross degrees.

Moreover, herein, in the term "joy," feeling is spoken of under the heading of joy; in the term "happiness," feeling is spoken of directly, in its own form. In the two terms concerning the mental formation, since it is said, "perception and feeling, being mental, are mental states bound up with the mind, and are mental formations" (Paṭis. 1.174; M.N. 1.463), it is feeling conjoined with perception that is meant. Thus it should be understood that this tetrad is spoken by way of the method of contemplating feeling.

In the third tetrad too, the mind is experienced by way of the four jhānas. "'Gladdening the mind, I shall breathe in ... breathe out,' thus he trains" means: gladdening, delighting, cheering, rejoicing the mind, he trains thus. Herein, gladdening occurs in two ways: by way of concentration, and by way of insight. How, by way of concentration? One attains the two jhānas that have joy. At the moment of that attainment, by means of the conjoined joy, one gladdens and delights the mind. How, by way of insight? Having attained the two jhānas that have joy, and emerged, one comprehends the joy conjoined with that jhāna as subject to destruction and to falling away. Thus, at the moment of insight, taking the jhāna-conjoined joy as its object, one gladdens and delights the mind.

"'Concentrating the mind'" means: by way of the first jhāna and the rest, evenly settling and evenly fixing the mind on its object. Or else: having attained those jhānas and emerged, and, contemplating the jhāna-conjoined mind as subject to destruction and to falling away, at the moment of insight, through the penetration of its characteristic, momentary one-pointedness of mind arises.

"'Liberating the mind'" means: by the first jhāna, freeing and liberating the mind from the hindrances; by the second, from applied and sustained thought; by the third, from joy; by the fourth, freeing and liberating the mind from pleasure and pain. Or else: having attained those jhānas and emerged, one comprehends the jhāna-conjoined mind as subject to destruction and to falling away. At the moment of insight, by the contemplation of impermanence, freeing the mind from the perception of permanence; by the contemplation of suffering, from the perception of pleasure; by the contemplation of non-self, from the perception of self; by the contemplation of disenchantment, from delight; by the contemplation of fading away, from lust; by the contemplation of cessation, from arising; by the contemplation of relinquishment, from grasping — freeing the mind in this way, one breathes in and breathes out. Thus it should be understood that this tetrad is spoken by way of the method of contemplating mind.

In the fourth tetrad, as to "contemplating impermanence" — herein, first, "the impermanent" should be understood; "impermanence" should be understood; "the contemplation of impermanence" should be understood; "one who contemplates impermanence" should be understood. Herein, "the impermanent" means the five aggregates. Why? Because of their nature of arising, passing away, and change. "Impermanence" means precisely that nature of arising, passing away, and change in them — that is, their having been and then ceasing to be, or their breaking up, moment by moment, without remaining even in that same mode once produced. "The contemplation of impermanence" means the contemplation, by way of that impermanence, of visible form and the rest as impermanent. "One who contemplates impermanence" means one possessed of that contemplation.

As for "contemplating fading away" — herein, there are two kinds of fading away: the fading away of destruction, and the absolute fading away. Herein, "the fading away of destruction" is the momentary dissolution of formations. "Absolute fading away" is Nibbāna. "The contemplation of fading away" is the insight and the path that occur by way of seeing both of these. The same method applies to "contemplating cessation" as well.

As for "contemplating relinquishment" — here too there are two kinds of relinquishment: relinquishment as giving up, and relinquishment as entering into. For insight, by way of the substitution of opposites, gives up the defilements together with the aggregates and their formations, and, through seeing the fault in the conditioned, enters into its opposite, Nibbāna, by inclining toward it — hence it is called both "relinquishment as giving up" and "relinquishment as entering into." The path, by way of complete cutting off, gives up the defilements together with the aggregates and their formations, and, by making Nibbāna its object, enters into it — hence it too is called both "relinquishment as giving up" and "relinquishment as entering into."

This fourth tetrad is spoken purely by way of insight alone. The preceding three, however, are by way of both serenity and insight. Thus, by way of these four tetrads, the development of mindfulness of breathing, with its sixteen bases, should be understood. And thus, by way of these sixteen bases, this mindfulness of breathing is of great fruit and great benefit.

Herein, from the statement, "this concentration through mindfulness of breathing too, monks, developed and made much of, is peaceful and sublime," its great benefit should be understood by way of its peaceful nature and the rest, and also by way of its capacity to cut off thought. For this, on account of its being a peaceful, sublime, unadulterated, pleasant dwelling, cuts off the mind's running about here and there under the sway of thoughts that create obstacles to concentration, and turns the mind exclusively toward the object of breathing. For this very reason it was said, "mindfulness of breathing should be developed for the cutting off of thought" (A.N. 9.1).

Its great benefit should also be understood by way of its being the root cause for the fulfillment of true knowledge and deliverance. For it was said by the Blessed One: "mindfulness of breathing, monks, developed and made much of, fulfills the four establishments of mindfulness; the four establishments of mindfulness, developed and made much of, fulfill the seven enlightenment factors; the seven enlightenment factors, developed and made much of, fulfill true knowledge and deliverance" (M.N. 3.147).

Moreover, its great benefit should be understood by way of its making even the final breaths known. For it was said by the Blessed One: "Rāhula, for one who has thus developed and thus made much of mindfulness of breathing, even those final in-breaths and out-breaths cease known, not unknown" (M.N. 2.121).

Herein, by way of cessation, there are three kinds of "final": final with respect to existence, final with respect to jhāna, and final with respect to the death-consciousness. For, among the realms of existence, in-breaths and out-breaths occur in the sense-sphere existence, but do not occur in the fine-material or immaterial existences — hence these are "final with respect to existence." Among the jhānas, they occur in the first three jhānas, but do not occur in the fourth — hence these are "final with respect to jhāna." And those which, arising together with the sixteenth consciousness before the death-consciousness, cease together with the death-consciousness — these are called "final with respect to the death-consciousness." It is these that are intended here as "the final ones."

It is told that, for a monk devoted to this meditation subject, because the object of breathing has been so thoroughly grasped, at the moment of the arising of that sixteenth consciousness before the death-consciousness, the arising itself becomes evident to him as he attends to it; the persistence, too, becomes evident as he attends to it; and the dissolution, too, becomes evident as he attends to it.

For a monk who has developed some other meditation subject and attained arahantship, the remaining span of his life may be either determined or undetermined. But for one who has developed this sixteen-based mindfulness of breathing and attained arahantship, the remaining span of his life is always determined. Knowing, "my vital formations will now continue only this much longer, no further," he performs, of his own natural accord, all his final duties — tending to his body, putting on and arranging his robes, and the like — and closes his eyes, as did the Elder Tissa, a dweller at Koṭapabbata monastery; the Elder Mahātissa, a dweller at Mahākarañjiya monastery; the Elder Piṇḍapātika Tissa, of Devaputta in the great province; and the two brother-elders, dwellers at Cittalapabbata monastery.

Here is an account illustrating one such matter. It is told that one of the two brother-elders, having recited the Pātimokkha on the full-moon uposatha day, went, surrounded by the community of monks, to his own dwelling-place, and, standing on the walking-path, looked at the moonlight, and, having ascertained his own vital formations, said to the community of monks: "how have you seen monks passing into final Nibbāna before?" Some among them said, "we have seen monks passing into final Nibbāna seated in their seats." Others said, "we have seen them seated cross-legged in the air." The elder said, "I shall now show you one passing into final Nibbāna in the very act of walking." He then made a mark on the walking-path and said, "having gone from this end of the walking-path to the far end, and turning back, I shall pass into final Nibbāna exactly upon reaching this mark." Descending onto the walking-path, he went to the far side, and, turning back, at the very moment his foot touched the mark, he passed into final Nibbāna.

Therefore let the wise one, heedful, / practice this mindfulness of breathing, / of such manifold benefit.

This is the opening of the detailed discussion on mindfulness of breathing.

One desiring to develop recollection of peace, taught next after mindfulness of breathing, alone in a secluded place, withdrawn, should recollect the qualities of Nibbāna, reckoned as the stilling of all suffering, thus: "whatever states there are, monks, conditioned or unconditioned, fading away is declared to be the foremost of those states — that is to say, the crushing of pride, the removal of thirst, the uprooting of attachment, the cutting-off of the round, the destruction of craving, fading away, cessation, Nibbāna" (A.N. 4.34; Iti. 90).

Herein, "whatever" means: as many as there are. "States" means: their own natures. "Conditioned or unconditioned" means: made or unmade, through the coming together and convergence of conditions. "Fading away is declared to be the foremost of those states" means: fading away is declared, spoken of, as the foremost, the best, the supreme, among those conditioned and unconditioned states. Herein, "fading away" does not mean the mere absence of lust; rather, it should be understood that the very unconditioned state that receives such names as "the crushing of pride" and the rest — that same state, that is to say, Nibbāna — is to be identified as "fading away." For, because, in dependence on it, all forms of pride — the pride of conceit, the pride of virility, and the rest — become without pride, pride-free, and are destroyed, it is called "the crushing of pride." And because, in dependence on it, all thirst for sensual pleasure goes to its removal, is utterly done away with, it is called "the removal of thirst." And because, in dependence on it, attachment to the five strands of sensual pleasure is uprooted, it is called "the uprooting of attachment." And because, in dependence on it, the round belonging to the three planes of existence is cut off, it is called "the cutting-off of the round." And because, in dependence on it, craving is utterly destroyed, fades away, and ceases, it is called "the destruction of craving, fading away, cessation." And because this state has departed from, gone forth from, and become disjoined from craving — craving which, by weaving, binding, and stitching together the four modes of generation, the five destinies, the seven stations of consciousness, and the nine abodes of beings toward further and further becoming, has received the name "vāna" (weaving) — it is therefore called "Nibbāna" (the departure from weaving).

Thus, by way of these qualities such as "the crushing of pride" and the rest, peace, reckoned as Nibbāna, should be recollected. Or else, whatever other qualities of peace are stated by the Blessed One, in such discourses as — "I shall teach you, monks, the unconditioned ... and the truth ... and the far shore ... and the extremely hard to see ... and the unaging ... and the stable ... and the undiversified ... and the deathless ... and the auspicious ... and the secure ... and the marvelous ... and the unafflicted ... and that which is not oppressive ... and purity ... and the island ... and the shelter ... and the refuge, monks, shall I teach you" (S.N. 4.366) — by way of these too, it should indeed be recollected.

For one recollecting peace in this way, by way of such qualities as "the crushing of pride" and the rest, his mind, at that time, is possessed neither by greed, nor by hatred, nor by delusion. His mind at that time is simply straight, with peace as its object — and, by the same method already stated in the sections on recollection of the Buddha and the rest, the jhāna factors arise within a single moment, his hindrances suppressed. But, owing to the profundity of the qualities of peace, or owing to his mind's being devoted to recollecting their many different kinds, the jhāna that results does not reach absorption, but only reaches access. And this, because it has arisen by way of recollecting the qualities of peace, is reckoned simply as recollection of peace.

And, just as the six recollections already discussed, this one too succeeds only for a noble disciple; nevertheless, even an ordinary person who holds peace in high regard should attend to it. For even by way of mere report, the mind becomes settled and clear with regard to peace. And a monk devoted to this recollection of peace sleeps well and wakes well; he becomes one of peaceful faculties and a peaceful mind, possessed of moral shame and moral dread, endearing, of sublime inclination, respected and esteemed by his fellows in the holy life. And, even if he penetrates no further, he becomes one bound for a happy destination.

Therefore let the discerning one, heedful, / develop this recollection, / of such manifold benefit, / of the noble peace.

This is the opening of the detailed discussion on recollection of peace.

Thus, in the Visuddhimagga, composed for the gladdening of good people, in the section on the development of concentration, this is the eighth chapter, called the Description of the Meditation Subjects Consisting in Recollection.