Udāna (Heartfelt Sayings)

“Excellent idea,” he replied. He went to the Buddha, told him the good news, and conveyed his wife’s invitation.

Now at that time a certain lay follower had already invited the Saṅgha of monks headed by the Buddha for the meal on the following day. That lay follower was Venerable Mahāmoggallāna’s supporter. Then the Buddha addressed Venerable Mahāmoggallāna, “Please, Moggallāna, go to that lay follower and say to him, ‘Suppavāsā the Koliyan, who was pregnant for seven years, and in obstructed labor for seven days, is now happy and healthy and has given birth to a healthy child. She invites the mendicant Saṅgha headed by the Buddha to a meal for seven days. Let Suppavāsā make seven meals, afterwards you can make yours.’ He is your supporter.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Mahāmoggallāna. He went to that lay follower and conveyed the Buddha’s request.

“If, sir, Master Mahāmoggallāna can guarantee me three things— wealth, life, and faith— then let Suppavāsā make seven meals, afterwards I shall make mine.” “I can guarantee you two things— wealth and life. But as for faith, you alone are the guarantor.”

“If, sir Master Mahāmoggallāna can guarantee me two things— wealth and life— then let Suppavāsā make seven meals, afterwards I shall make mine.”

Having persuaded that lay follower, Mahāmoggallāna went to the Buddha and said, “I’ve persuaded the lay follower. Let Suppavāsā make seven meals, afterwards he shall make his.”

For seven days Suppavāsā served and satisfied the mendicant Saṅgha headed by the Buddha with her own hands with delicious fresh and cooked foods. And she made her little boy bow to the Buddha and the mendicant Saṅgha.

Then Sāriputta said to the boy, “I hope you’re keeping well, little boy, I hope you’re all right. I hope you are not in pain.” “How could I be keeping well? How could I be getting by? For seven years I lived in a pot of blood.”

Then Suppavāsā, thinking, “My child is conversing with the General of the Dhamma!” was uplifted and overjoyed, full of rapture and happiness. Knowing this, the Buddha said to her, “Would you like to have another child like this?” “Sir, I would like to have seven more children like this!”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“Pain in the guise of pleasure, the disliked in the guise of the liked, suffering in the guise of happiness, overpower the negligent.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in the stilt longhouse of Migāra’s mother in the Eastern Monastery. Now at that time Visākhā was caught up in some business with King Pasenadi. But the king’s settlement did not meet her expectations.

Then, in the middle of the day, she went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down. The Buddha said to her: “So, Visākhā, where are you coming from in the middle of the day?” “Sir, I am caught up in some business with King Pasenadi. But the king’s settlement did not meet my expectations.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“All under another’s control is suffering, all under one’s own authority is pleasing; what’s shared is stressful for both parties, for yokes are hard to escape.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Anupiya in a mango grove. Now at that time, Venerable Bhaddiya son of Kāḷīgodhā, even in the wilderness, at the foot of a tree, or in an empty dwelling, frequently expressed this heartfelt sentiment: “Oh, what bliss! Oh, what bliss!”

Several mendicants heard him and thought, “Without a doubt, Venerable Bhaddiya leads the spiritual life dissatisfied. It’s when recalling the pleasures of royalty he formerly enjoyed as a layperson that, even in the wilderness, at the foot of a tree, or in an empty dwelling, he frequently expresses this heartfelt sentiment: ‘Oh, what bliss! Oh, what bliss!’”

Then those mendicants went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and told him what was happening.

So the Buddha addressed one of the monks, “Please, monk, in my name tell the mendicant Bhaddiya that the Teacher summons him.”

“Yes, sir,” that monk replied. He went to Bhaddiya and said to him, “Reverend Bhaddiya, the Teacher summons you.” “Yes, reverend,” Bhaddiya replied. He went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down to one side. The Buddha said to him:

“Is it really true, Bhaddiya, that even in the wilderness, at the foot of a tree, or in an empty dwelling, you frequently express this heartfelt sentiment: ‘Oh, what bliss! Oh, what bliss!’?” “Yes, sir.”

“But why do you say this?” “Formerly, as a layperson ruling the land, my guard was well organized within and without the royal compound, within and without the city, and within and without the country. But although I was guarded and defended in this way, I remained fearful, scared, suspicious, and nervous. But these days, even when alone in the wilderness, at the foot of a tree, or in an empty dwelling, I’m not fearful, scared, suspicious, or nervous. I live relaxed, unruffled, surviving on charity, my heart free as a wild deer. It is for this reason that, even in the wilderness, at the foot of a tree, or in an empty dwelling, I frequently expressed this heartfelt sentiment: ‘Oh, what bliss! Oh, what bliss!’”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“They who hide no anger within, passed beyond any kind of existence; happy, free from fear and sorrow— even the gods can’t see them.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now, at that time a certain mendicant was sitting not far from the Buddha, cross-legged, with his body straight. As a result of past deeds, he suffered painful, sharp, severe, and acute feelings, which he endured unbothered, with mindfulness and awareness.

The Buddha saw him meditating and enduring that pain.

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“A mendicant who has left all deeds behind, shaking off the dust of past deeds, unselfish, steady, unaffected, has no need to complain.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time Venerable Nanda, the Buddha’s brother and maternal cousin, informed several mendicants: “I lead the spiritual life dissatisfied. I am unable to keep up the spiritual life. I shall resign the training and return to a lesser life.”

Then a mendicant went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and told him what was happening.

So the Buddha addressed one of the monks, “Please, monk, in my name tell the mendicant Nanda that the Teacher summons him.” “Yes, sir,” that monk replied. He went to Nanda and said to him, “Reverend Nanda, the Teacher summons you.”

“Yes, reverend,” Nanda replied. He went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down to one side. The Buddha said to him:

“Is it really true, Nanda, that you informed several mendicants that you are unable to keep up the spiritual life; that you shall resign the training and return to a lesser life?” “Yes, sir,” he replied.

“But why are you so dissatisfied with the spiritual life?” “As I left my house, sir, the finest lady of the Sakyan land, her hair half-combed, glanced at me and said, ‘Hurry back, master.’ Recalling that, I am dissatisfied and shall resign the training.”

Then the Buddha took Nanda by the arm and, as easily as a strong person would extend or contract their arm, vanished from Jeta’s Grove and reappeared among the gods of the thirty-three.

Now at that time five hundred dove-footed nymphs had come to attend to Sakka, the lord of gods. Then the Buddha said to Nanda, “Nanda, do you see these five hundred dove-footed nymphs?” “Yes, sir,” he replied.

“What do you think, Nanda? Who is more attractive, good-looking, and lovely—the finest lady of the Sakyan land, or these five hundred dove-footed nymphs?” “Compared to these five hundred dove-footed nymphs, the finest lady of the Sakyan land is like a deformed monkey with its ears and nose cut off. She doesn’t count, there’s no comparison, she’s not worth a fraction. These five hundred dove-footed nymphs are far more attractive, good-looking, and lovely.”

“Rejoice, Nanda, rejoice! I guarantee you five hundred dove-footed nymphs.” “If, sir, you guarantee me five hundred dove-footed nymphs, I shall happily lead the spiritual life under the Buddha.”

Then the Buddha took Nanda by the arm and, as easily as a strong person would extend or contract their arm, vanished from the gods of the thirty-three and reappeared at Jeta’s Grove.

The mendicants heard, “It seems Venerable Nanda—who is both the Buddha’s half-brother and maternal cousin—leads the spiritual life for the sake of nymphs. And it seems that the Buddha guaranteed him five hundred dove-footed nymphs.”

Monks who were his friends accused him of being a hireling and a lackey, “It seems Nanda is a hireling, it seems he is a lackey: he leads the spiritual life for the sake of nymphs. And it seems that the Buddha guaranteed him five hundred dove-footed nymphs.”

Then Nanda—embarrassed, ashamed, and disgusted at being called a hireling and a lackey—living alone, withdrawn, diligent, keen, and resolute, soon realized the supreme culmination of the spiritual path in this very life. He lived having achieved with his own insight the goal for which gentlemen rightly go forth from the lay life to homelessness. He understood: “Rebirth is ended; the spiritual journey has been completed; what had to be done has been done; there is nothing further for this place.” Venerable Nanda became one of the perfected.

Then, late at night, a glorious deity, lighting up the entire Jeta’s Grove, went up to the Buddha, bowed, stood to one side, and said to him: “Sir, Venerable Nanda—who is both the Buddha’s half-brother and maternal cousin—has realized the undefiled freedom of heart and freedom by wisdom. He lives having realized it with his own insight in this very life due to the ending of defilements.” And the knowledge also came to the Buddha: “Nanda has realized the undefiled freedom of heart and freedom by wisdom. He lives having realized it with his own insight in this very life due to the ending of defilements.”

Then, when the night had passed, Nanda went to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and said to him, “Worthy sir, you guaranteed me five hundred dove-footed nymphs. I release you from that promise.” “Nanda, I encompassed your mind and knew that you had realized the undefiled freedom of heart and freedom by wisdom. And deities also told me about this. As soon as your mind was freed from defilements by not grasping, I was released from that promise.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“The mendicant who has crossed over the bog, who has crushed the thorn of sensuality, who has reached the end of delusion, trembles not at pleasure and pain.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time five hundred mendicants headed by Yasoja arrived at Sāvatthī to see the Buddha. At that, those visiting mendicants, while exchanging pleasantries with the resident mendicants, preparing their lodgings, and putting away their bowls and robes, made a colossal racket.

Then the Buddha said to Venerable Ānanda, “Ānanda, who’s making that colossal racket? You’d think it was fishermen hauling in a catch!” “Sir, those five hundred mendicants headed by Yasoja have arrived at Sāvatthī to see the Buddha. It’s those visiting mendicants who, while exchanging pleasantries with the resident mendicants, preparing their lodgings, and putting away their bowls and robes, made a colossal racket.” “Well then, Ānanda, in my name tell those mendicants that the Teacher summons them.”

“Yes, sir,” Ānanda replied. He went to those mendicants and said, “Venerables, the Teacher summons you.” “Yes, reverend,” replied those mendicants. Then they rose from their seats and went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down to one side. The Buddha said to them,

“Mendicants, what’s with that colossal racket? You’d think it was fishermen hauling in a catch!” When he said this, Venerable Yasoja said to the Buddha, “Sir, these five hundred mendicants have arrived at Sāvatthī to see the Buddha. It’s these visiting mendicants who, while exchanging pleasantries with the resident mendicants, preparing their lodgings, and putting away their bowls and robes, made a colossal racket.” “Go away, mendicants, I dismiss you. You are not to stay in my presence.”

“Yes, sir,” replied those mendicants. They got up from their seats, bowed and respectfully circled the Buddha, keeping him on their right. They set their lodgings in order and left, taking their bowls and robes. Traveling stage by stage in the land of the Vajjis, they arrived at the Vaggumudā River. They built leaf huts near the riverbank and there they entered the rainy season.

Then Venerable Yasoja, having entered the rainy season, addressed the mendicants: “Out of sympathy, reverends, the Buddha dismissed us, wanting what’s best for us. Come, let us live in such a way that the Buddha would be pleased with us.” “Yes, reverend,” they replied. Then those mendicants, living alone, withdrawn, diligent, keen, and resolute, all realized the three knowledges in that same rainy season.

When the Buddha had stayed in Sāvatthī as long as he pleased, he set out for Vesālī. Traveling stage by stage, he arrived at Vesālī, where he stayed in the hall with the peaked roof.

Then, having applied his mind to comprehending the minds of the mendicants staying on the bank of the Vaggumudā River, the Buddha said to Venerable Ānanda, “A light, it appears to me, has arisen in this quarter, Ānanda; a brightness has arisen. I’m not put off at the thought of going to where the mendicants are staying on the bank of the Vaggumudā River. Send a message to those mendicants: ‘Venerables, the Teacher summons you. He wants to see you.’”

“Yes, sir,” Ānanda replied. He went to one of the mendicants and said, “Please, Reverend, go to the mendicants staying on the bank of the Vaggumudā River and say to them, ‘Venerables, the Teacher summons you. He wants to see you.’”

“Yes, reverend,” replied that mendicant. Then, as easily as a strong person would extend or contract their arm, he vanished from the Great Wood, in the hall with the peaked roof, and reappeared in front of those mendicants on the bank of the Vaggumudā River. Then he said to those mendicants, “Venerables, the Teacher summons you. He wants to see you.”

“Yes, reverend,” replied those mendicants. They set their lodgings in order and took their bowls and robes. Then, as easily as a strong person would extend or contract their arm, they vanished from the bank of the Vaggumudā River, and reappeared in the presence of the Buddha in the Great Wood, in the hall with the peaked roof. But at that time the Buddha was sitting immersed in imperturbable meditation. Then those mendicants thought, “What kind of meditation is the Buddha practicing right now?” They thought, “He is practicing the imperturbable meditation.” They all sat in imperturbable meditation.

And then, as the night was getting late, in the first watch of the night, Venerable Ānanda rose from his seat, arranged his robe over one shoulder, raised his cupped palms toward the Buddha and said, “Sir, the night is getting late. It is the first watch of the night, and the visiting mendicants have been sitting long. Sir, please greet the visiting mendicants.” But the Buddha kept silent.

For a second time, as the night was getting late, in the middle watch of the night, Ānanda rose from his seat, arranged his robe over one shoulder, raised his cupped palms toward the Buddha and said, “Sir, the night is getting late. It is the second watch of the night, and the visiting mendicants have been sitting long. Sir, please greet the visiting mendicants.” But for a second time the Buddha kept silent.

For a third time, as the night was getting late, in the last watch of the night, as dawn stirred, bringing joy to the night, Ānanda rose from his seat, arranged his robe over one shoulder, raised his cupped palms toward the Buddha and said, “Sir, the night is getting late. It is the last watch of the night; dawn stirs, bringing joy to the night, and the visiting mendicants have been sitting long. Sir, please greet the visiting mendicants.”

Then the Buddha emerged from that immersion and addressed Ānanda, “If you’d known, Ānanda, you wouldn’t have said so much. Both I and these five hundred mendicants have been sitting in imperturbable meditation.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“A mendicant who has beaten <j>the thorn of sensuality— and abuse, killing, and caging— steady as a mountain, imperturbable, trembles not at pleasure and pain.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time Venerable Sāriputta was sitting not far from the Buddha, cross-legged, his body set straight, and mindfulness brought to the present. The Buddha saw him meditating there.

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“As a rocky mountain is unwavering and well grounded, so when delusion ends, a monk, like a mountain, doesn’t tremble.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time Venerable Mahāmoggallāna was sitting not far from the Buddha, cross-legged, with his body straight and mindfulness of the body well-established in himself. The Buddha saw him meditating there.

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“With mindfulness of the body established, restrained in the six fields of contact, a mendicant always immersed in samādhi would know extinguishment in themselves.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Rājagaha in the Bamboo Grove, the squirrels’ feeding ground. Now at that time Venerable Pilindavaccha addressed the mendicants as “lowlifes”. Then several mendicants went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and said to him, “Sir, Venerable Pilindavaccha addresses the mendicants as ‘lowlifes’.”

So the Buddha addressed one of the monks, “Please, monk, in my name tell the mendicant Pilindavaccha that the Teacher summons him.” “Yes, sir,” that monk replied. He went to Pilindavaccha and said to him, “Reverend Pilindavaccha, the Teacher summons you.”

“Yes, reverend,” Pilindavaccha replied. He went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down to one side. The Buddha said to him: “Is it really true, Vaccha, that you addressed the mendicants as ‘lowlifes’?” “Yes, sir,” he replied.

Then, having applied his mind to Pilindavaccha’s past lives, the Buddha said to the mendicants, “Mendicants, don’t complain about the mendicant Vaccha. He doesn’t address the mendicants as ‘lowlifes’ out of hate. For five hundred lives without interruption he was reborn in a brahmin family. For a long time, he has addressed people as ‘lowlife’. That’s why he addresses the mendicants as ‘lowlifes’.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“In whom dwells no deceit or conceit, rid of greed, unselfish, <j>with no need for hope, with anger cast aside, quenched: they are a brahmin, an ascetic, a mendicant.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Rājagaha in the Bamboo Grove, the squirrels’ feeding ground. Now at that time Venerable Mahākassapa was staying in the Pipphali cave. Having entered a certain state of immersion, he sat cross-legged for seven days without moving. When seven days had passed, Mahākassapa emerged from that state of immersion. It occurred to him, “Why not enter Rājagaha for almsfood?”

Now at that time five hundred deities were ready and eager for the chance to offer alms to Mahākassapa. But Mahākasspa turned down those deities. In the morning, he robed up, took his bowl and robe, and entered Rājagaha for alms. Now at that time Sakka, lord of gods, wished to give alms to Mahākassapa.

Having manifested in the appearance of an embroiderer, he wove the thread. The titan maiden Sujā spun it onto the spindle. Then, as Mahākassapa wandered indiscriminately for almsfood in Rājagaha, he approached Sakka’s house. Seeing Mahākassapa coming off in the distance, Sakka came out of his house, greeted him, and took the bowl from his hand. He re-entered the house and filled the bowl with rice from the pot. That almsfood had many tasty soups and sauces. Then it occurred to Mahākassapa, “Now, what being is this who has such psychic power?” It occurred to him, “This is Sakka, lord of gods.” Knowing this, he said to Sakka, “This is your doing, Kosiya; don’t do such a thing again.” “But Honorable Kassapa, we too need merit! We too ought to make merit.”

Then Sakka bowed and respectfully circled Mahākassapa, keeping him on his right. Then he rose into the air and, sitting cross-legged in midair, expressed this heartfelt sentiment three times: “Oh the gift, the best gift is well established in Kassapa! Oh the gift, the best gift is well established in Kassapa! Oh the gift, the best gift is well established in Kassapa!” With clairaudience that is purified and superhuman, the Buddha heard Sakka express this heartfelt sentiment while sitting in the sky.

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“A mendicant who relies on alms, self-supported, providing for no other; the unaffected one is envied by even the gods, calm and ever mindful.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time, after the meal, on return from almsround, several mendicants sat together in the pavilion by the kareri tree and this discussion came up among them:

“Reverends, when a mendicant who eats only almsfood is wandering for alms, from time to time they get to see pleasing sights, hear pleasing sounds, smell pleasing odors, taste pleasing flavors, and encounter pleasing touches. They wander for alms being honored, respected, revered, venerated, and esteemed. Come, we too should eat only almsfood. From time to time we too will get to see pleasing sights, hear pleasing sounds, smell pleasing odors, taste pleasing flavors, and encounter pleasing touches. We too shall wander for alms being honored, respected, revered, venerated, and esteemed.” At that point the conversation among those mendicants was left unfinished.

Then in the late afternoon, the Buddha came out of retreat and went to the pavilion by the kareri tree, where he sat down on the seat spread out and addressed the mendicants: “Mendicants, what were you sitting talking about just now? What conversation was left unfinished?”

So the mendicants told him what they had been talking about. The Buddha said,

“Mendicants, it is not appropriate for you gentlemen who have gone forth out of faith from the lay life to homelessness to talk about such things. When you’re sitting together you should do one of two things: discuss the teachings or keep noble silence.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“A mendicant who relies on alms, self-supported, providing for no other; the unaffected one is envied by even the gods, but not if they’re after popularity and reputation.”

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery. Now at that time, after the meal, on return from almsround, several mendicants sat together in the pavilion and this discussion came up among them: “Who knows a craft? Who is studying which craft? Which is the best craft?”

In answer, some said that elephant-craft is the best of crafts. Others said that the best craft is horse-craft, or chariot-craft, or archery, or swordsmanship, or arithmetic, or accounting, or calculating, or writing, or poetry, or cosmology, or geomancy. At that point the conversation among those mendicants was left unfinished.

Then in the late afternoon, the Buddha came out of retreat and went to the assembly hall. He sat down on the seat spread out, and addressed the mendicants: “Mendicants, what were you sitting talking about just now? What conversation was left unfinished?”

So the mendicants told him what they had been talking about when the Buddha arrived. The Buddha said,

“Mendicants, it is not appropriate for you gentlemen who have gone forth out of faith from the lay life to homelessness to talk about such things. When you’re sitting together you should do one of two things: discuss the teachings or keep noble silence.”

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“Living without a craft, light, wanting what is best, with senses controlled, everywhere free; a migrant with no bastion, unselfish, <j>with no need for hope, having given up conceit, wandering alone: <j>that is a mendicant.”

So I have heard. At one time, when he was first awakened, the Buddha was staying in Uruvelā at the root of the tree of awakening on the bank of the Nerañjarā River. There the Buddha sat cross-legged for seven days without moving, experiencing the bliss of freedom.

When seven days had passed, the Buddha emerged from that state of immersion and surveyed the world with the eye of a Buddha. He saw sentient beings tormented with many torments, and burning with many fevers born of greed, hate, and delusion.

Then, understanding this matter, on that occasion the Buddha expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

“This world, born in torment, overcome by contact, speaks of disease as the self. For however you imagine it, it turns out to be something else.

The world is attached to continued existence, <j>overcome by continued existence, taking pleasure only in continued existence, <j>yet it becomes something else. What it enjoys, that is the fear; what it fears, that is the suffering. But this spiritual life is led in order to give up continued existence.