Yamaka Vagga — The Chapter on Pairs

Verse 1

The Buddha spoke this verse concerning the Elder Cakkhupāla, the person whose story occasioned it, teaching the assembly of monks the principle that the mind is the source of all things.

The phrase "the mind as forerunner" means that the mind is the condition that gives rise to the other mental states associated with it. He explained that the mind is by nature originally luminous, but when defilements arrive and strike it, it becomes a corrupted mind ready to express itself through speech and action. Once the mind is spoiled, speech and body are spoiled along with it, and so suffering follows close behind, like the cartwheel that turns along the track left by the hoof of the ox drawing the cart.

The lesson for us is that before speaking or doing anything, we should first tend to our own mind, for when the source—the mind—is clean, the outcome—our life—can be freed from suffering.

Verse 2

This verse was spoken to the brahmin Adinnapubbaka, the father of Maṭṭhakuṇḍali. It pairs with the first verse but turns toward the bright side.

The opening words remain the same: all mental states have the mind as forerunner, the mind as chief, and are accomplished by the mind. But this time he points out that if a person has a pure mind, speech and action will be good along with it, and when that goodness arises, happiness follows that person close behind, like a shadow that follows the body everywhere it goes.

Thus we see that happiness and suffering do not come from anyone else, but grow from our own mind. When we keep the mind luminous and full of loving-kindness, happiness naturally becomes a shadow that follows us along.

Verse 3

This verse was spoken concerning an affair among the monks, showing the harm of nursing a grudge.

When people are wronged—whether abused, struck, defeated, or robbed of what they cherish—they tend to hold onto that feeling and dwell on it again and again: "He did such and such to me." This very brooding and clinging is what he calls bearing enmity. As long as the mind still clings and will not let go, the enmity of such people is never stilled; it only keeps piling up.

The lesson is that a wound from another's words or deeds may hurt but once, whereas returning to reopen it in the mind again and again is to harm oneself endlessly.

Verse 4

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, taught in continuation of the same matter.

The wrongs done remain the same: abused, struck, defeated, robbed of possessions. But this time he points to the way out: whoever does not bear enmity, who does not take those matters and brood over them in the mind, in that person the enmity can come to be stilled.

This is a truth we can practice in everyday life. We cannot always prevent others from wronging us, but we can choose whether to keep it in the heart or set it down. When we can let go, the mind is free, and the enmity ends with us.

Verse 5

This verse was spoken to a yakkhinī named Kālī and a certain woman who had borne enmity toward each other for a long time, proclaiming the principle that is the very heart of quenching enmity.

The essential point is that at no time is enmity ever stilled by returning enmity; it only spreads into an unending cycle. But all enmities can be stilled only by not bearing enmity. And he stressed that this is an ancient truth—a path of practice that the Buddhas, Paccekabuddhas, and Arahants of the past have practiced and handed down in unbroken succession.

The lesson is that retaliating with vengeance is like washing away filth with dirty water: the more you wash, the more soiled it becomes. Only forgiveness can bring this cycle to an end.

Verse 6

This verse was spoken to the monks of the city of Kosambī who were quarreling and breaking apart in disunity.

He points out that those bent on quarreling and bickering do not realize at all that they are steadily perishing, for quarreling only causes every side to decline and leads them all to ruin. But those who are wise—those who clearly know this truth—cease their hostility. When one has the mindfulness to be so aware, the discord can be stilled. He explained that the tools for quenching enmity are khanti (patience), mettā (loving-kindness), yoniso-manasikāra (wise reflection), and constant self-examination.

The lesson is that when living together in a community, family, or society, having the mindfulness to recall that quarreling only leads everyone to ruin is the starting point of reconciliation.

Verse 7

This verse was spoken concerning the Elder Mahākāla, showing the kind of person whom Māra can easily overpower.

Māra here means the Māra of defilements. He points out that one who easily falls under the sway of defilements has these traits: being absorbed in contemplating beauty, letting the mind drift after alluring objects, failing to guard the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, eating without moderation, being lazy, and slack in effort. Such a person's mind is not firm, and so is easily blown down by defilements, like a tree whose roots are not strong, which is easily broken and toppled by the wind.

The lesson is that a life lived slackly, giving free rein to body and mind, is fragile against temptation; one should train oneself to have a firm anchor.

Verse 8

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, also spoken concerning the Elder Mahākāla, showing the kind of person whom Māra cannot overpower.

In contrast to the one infatuated with beauty, this person does not let the mind drift into delightful things, guards well all six sense faculties, is moderate in eating, has steady faith, and applies effort in earnest. The mind of this person is therefore firm, and Māra can do nothing, like a mountain of rock that no wind, however strong, can shake.

The lesson is that firmness of mind does not arise on its own but comes from training in restraint, knowing moderation, and striving with constancy. When the roots are deep and firm, the storm-wind of defilements can do nothing.

Verse 9

This verse was spoken concerning Devadatta, about the unworthiness of one who wears the ochre robe while the mind is still impure.

The phrase "defilements like a dye-stain" refers to the many kinds of defilement—such as rāga (lust), dosa (hatred), moha (delusion), as well as envy, stinginess, conceit, intoxication, and heedlessness. Whoever still has these defilements, devoid of dama (restraint of the faculties) and sacca (truthfulness of speech), even if he wraps himself in the ochre robe that is the mark of one who upholds virtue, is still not worthy of that robe.

The lesson is that a uniform or an outward status does not make a person good automatically; true worth lies in purifying the mind from within.

Verse 10

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, also spoken concerning Devadatta, showing the one who is worthy to wear the ochre robe.

In contrast to the one still steeped in defilements, this person has cast out the defilements like a dye-stain, is well established in the precepts, and possesses dama—the training and control of oneself—and sacca—earnest sincerity toward what is good. Such a person alone is truly fit to wear the ochre robe.

The lesson is that worthiness of the position one holds—whether as a monk, a teacher, or a leader—is measured by self-purification and honesty toward one's duty, not by outward dress.

Verse 11

This verse was spoken concerning Sañjaya the wanderer, about the delusion of seeing wrongly with regard to what has essence and what does not.

He points out that some people see the essenceless as having essence, and the essential as having no essence. He explained that the essenceless refers to wrong view (micchā-diṭṭhi) and whatever promotes that wrong view, while the essential is right view (sammā-diṭṭhi). When a person deludedly grasps the wrong as right in this way, he is said to have wrong intention as the path of his life, and so can never reach the true essence.

The lesson is that establishing one's views and thoughts rightly from the outset is of the utmost importance, for if one sees wrongly from the very beginning, all the effort poured in leads entirely down the wrong road.

Verse 12

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, also spoken concerning Sañjaya the wanderer, showing the one who has the wisdom to see rightly according to truth.

In contrast to the deluded one, this person knows the essence as the essence, and the essenceless as the essenceless, and so is said to have right intention as the path of his life, and in the end attains the essence. He explained that the true essence here refers to virtue, concentration, wisdom, liberation, and, highest of all, Nibbāna.

The lesson is that the wisdom to discern what is worthy of attention and what is mere outer husk is the compass that guides life toward the noble essence.

Verse 13

This verse was spoken concerning the Elder Nanda, comparing an untrained, undeveloped mind to a house with a poor roof.

Just as rain easily leaks into a house that is not thatched tightly, so lust leaks into an undeveloped mind. He elaborated that an undeveloped mind is one that lacks training through both calm meditation (samatha) and insight meditation (vipassanā), and that not only lust can flood in, but other defilements such as hatred (dosa) and delusion (moha) as well.

The lesson is that a mind left neglected and never trained keeps opening the way for defilements to flood in; one should diligently repair the "roof of the mind" through constant meditation.

Verse 14

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, also spoken concerning the Elder Nanda.

In contrast to the house poorly thatched, into a house whose roof is well made rain cannot leak; just so, into a well-developed mind, lust cannot leak. A mind trained through calm and insight until it is firm becomes a shelter against all defilements, keeping them from flooding in.

The lesson is that the fruit of training the mind is clearly seen: once the mind is well developed, however fiercely temptations may assail it, they cannot seep in and destroy the inner peace. Meditation is thus like thatching the roof of the mind tightly.

Verse 15

This verse was spoken concerning Cunda, who slaughtered pigs for a living, showing the grief of one who does evil.

He points out that one who habitually does evil grieves both in this world and in the world beyond, and is said to grieve in both worlds. In the present he is tormented in heart whenever he recalls his own defiled deeds, and after passing from this world he must go on grieving still through the results of that deed.

The lesson is that a defiled deed does not end when it is done, but comes back to sear the doer's heart both today and in days to come. Knowing this, one should abstain from evil from the very start, so as not to have to grieve afterward.

Verse 16

This verse was spoken concerning a lay devotee who practiced the Dhamma, as the opposite counterpart to the previous one, showing the joy of one who does merit.

In contrast to the evildoer, the one who has done merit rejoices both in this world and in the world beyond, and is said to rejoice in both worlds. In the present he is glad at heart when he recalls the purity of his own deeds, and after passing from this world he goes on receiving joy and delight through the fruits of that merit.

The lesson is that the good one has done is like a treasure that yields inexhaustible contentment; every time one recalls it, there is happiness. Diligently accumulating merit is thus preparing happiness for oneself both today and in days to come.

Verse 17

This verse was spoken concerning Devadatta, showing the anguish of one who does evil.

He points out that the habitual evildoer is tormented both in this world and in the world beyond, and is said to be tormented in both worlds. In the present he suffers in heart with the remorse, "I have done evil." That guilt sears the mind, and when he passes from this world to a woeful state (duggati), he is tormented even more heavily still.

The lesson is that the remorse arising after doing evil is a fire that burns the mind without ceasing, and the result of the deed still follows to bring suffering in the hereafter. One should therefore be careful of one's actions from the start, rather than having to endure the anguish of regret later.

Verse 18

This verse was spoken concerning Sumanā Devī, as the opposite counterpart to the previous one, showing the delight of one who does merit.

In contrast to the evildoer, the one who has done merit delights both in this world and in the world beyond, and is said to delight in both worlds. In the present he is gladdened by the recollection, "I have done merit," and when he passes from this world to a happy state (sugati), he delights even more still through the fruits of that merit.

The lesson is that the merit one has done is a sustenance that keeps the heart refreshed both now and hereafter, unlike evil that sears the heart with heat. When the fruits of the two paths are clearly seen, one can choose to walk the path of merit without difficulty.

Verse 19

This verse was spoken concerning two companion monks of differing conduct, showing one who learns much of the Dhamma but does not practice it.

He points out that a person who can recite much of the word of the Buddha, but is heedless and does not set himself to act according to that teaching, gains no fruit of the recluse's life—that is, no true path and fruition. It is like a hired cowherd who counts the cattle for the owner every day, yet never himself tastes the milk or the yield from those cattle.

The lesson is that knowledge in the texts has value only when it is put into practice. Dhamma memorized by heart but not acted upon is like the property of others that we merely stand and count, of no benefit to ourselves.

Verse 20

This verse is the opposite counterpart to the previous one, also spoken concerning the two companion monks, showing one who learns little of the Dhamma but truly practices it.

In contrast to the one who recites much but does not act, a person who can recite even but little of the word of the Buddha, yet lives practicing the Dhamma in accordance with the Dhamma—by which is meant keeping the precepts pure, undertaking the ascetic practices, and cultivating meditation—until he is able to abandon lust, hatred, and delusion (rāga, dosa, moha), rightly understanding, with a liberated mind, and clinging to nothing in this world or the next: such a person indeed gains the fruit of the recluse's life, namely the four paths and four fruitions in truth.

The lesson is that the heart of practicing the Dhamma lies not in the quantity of knowledge, but in putting it into practice until defilements are cleansed from the mind. The one who knows little but practices in earnest reaches the fruit before the one who knows much but is heedless.