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Dispelling Delusion: Exploring the Vipallāsas Through Early Buddhist Poetry

Introduction to the Vipallāsas

Okay. So, I'm going to be showing you a PowerPoint presentation as a way of giving you something more than just my voice. I think you should be seeing a slide that says "Dispelling Delusion." We are going to talk about what in Pali is called the vipallāsas^[1]. It's from this very short sutta in the numerical discourses, the Anguttara Nikaya 4.49.

Mendicants, there are these four perversions of perception, thought, and view. Sometimes they're called perversions; I've seen the translation as inversions because it's really turning things upside down from reality. So, perversions or inversions of perception, thought, and view. What four?

Taking impermanence as permanence, taking suffering as happiness, taking not-self as self, and taking ugliness as beauty.

What this really means is we think something is permanent when it's actually impermanent. We see something as bringing happiness, but actually it brings suffering. We see something as belonging to us, as "me" or "mine," as self, and it's not. And then something is beautiful, but actually is ugly or not beautiful.

The Buddha goes on to say, "Perceiving impermanence as permanence, suffering as happiness, not-self as self, and ugliness as beauty, sentient beings are ruined by wrong view, deranged, out of their minds."

I don't know if you've ever experienced a time when, looking back on it, you know you were out of your mind. One really valuable experience that many of us have had is to fall head over heels in love and not see even one fault in the person. [Laughter] We can be kind of out of our mind. And this can happen in many ways. Yoked by Māra's^[2] yoke, these people find no sanctuary from the yoke, no freedom from being bound, from being fettered.

Of course, it's not just these extreme things that we have turned upside down in our view, in our beliefs, but it's the nature of the world. We are so mired in this idea of the separate self, for example. Sentient beings continue to transmigrate with ongoing birth and death. There are many different stances on whether people see that as the way things work or not. We're open to all that conversation.

But when the Buddhas arise in the world, those beacons reveal this teaching that leads to the stilling of suffering. When a wise person hears them, they get their mind back, seeing impermanence as impermanence, suffering as suffering, not-self as not-self, and ugliness as ugliness. Taking up right view, they've risen above all suffering. The beauty of this is the fact that we can awaken, and this takes us all the way to that awakening—that full understanding, clear comprehension of things as they actually are, and the freedom from suffering.

Perceiving Impermanence as Permanence

We're going to look at this first part: perceiving impermanence as permanence. I would invite you to think about the places in your life where this happens. Where does it really not land internally, even if we know it intellectually?

Here's an image of something that we might think is pretty permanent. Very solid, very dependable. It's got to be there the way we've always seen it. And yet, yes, Mount St. Helens erupted. And it's forever different. Well, it's not forever, is it? Even the things that we take to be so solid change.

Of course, the thing we're most deeply tied to is our body, or aspects of our mind—the five khandhas^[3], for example, that the Buddha is talking about. This is what we think we are, but it's constantly changing. Even though we know that at some level, we want to think that it's much more permanent than it actually is.

We're going to look at this through the eyes of the enlightened bhikkhus and bhikkhunis, and their poetry. This is from Bhikkhu Uttara. You find these in the Theragatha or the Therigatha.

No life is permanent. And no conditions last forever. The aggregates are reborn and pass away again and again. Knowing this danger, I have no need for another life. I've escaped all sensual pleasures and attained the ending of defilements.

This is a poem that Bhikkhu Uttara spoke when he awakened. "No life is permanent." And yet, how many people are really prepared for the ending, or live in such a way that we really understand this? My experience of life—I'm 72 years old—is that every day I have woken up and been alive. So, it feels like the odds are today it will happen that way again tomorrow. There's this idea that death is a long way away.

But if I practice with that reflection on the impermanence of this body, that gives me a very strong basis for beginning to see the world the way it actually is. Everything in it is impermanent and constantly changing.

What that does to help us awaken is that we stop clinging to it. We stop wanting it to be permanent, and we stop wanting it to be perfect. Because anything that is subject to change can never be perfect. That was such a relief! [Laughter] Because I have this perfectionist streak of wanting to improve the world, make it better, make it perfect, make my own behavior perfect, perfect my personality. And it's not possible.

However, of course, we take action and make things better in every way that we can. That is a gift to ourselves and others. But we do it without that clinging, that intensity. As Bhikkhu Uttara says, then you don't need anything. You don't need to become anything. You don't need to crave anything or cling to anything. All the defilements that come with that fall away.

Q&A: Aging, Planning, and Fear

Mary: Where I get caught with this is as I'm aging. I'm 75, and my husband is headed towards 80 with increasing health conditions. So, we're meeting with an elder care lawyer and looking at next steps, sort of planning for the future. In a way, I see this as wisdom and a necessary thing to do. But on the other hand, I can see underneath that there's a lot of resistance, a lot of clinging, and fear that wants to set things up so things will continue to be good and safe and okay. I wonder if you have any suggestions for dealing with that.

Ayya Santussika: I do. The Buddha talked about the practicality of life. He encouraged us to safeguard our wealth and to be sensible about how we organize things. You live in this body, and you have to take care of it, and we don't know what is going to happen to it. So, having provisions in place for the kind of care that might be needed later on—a suitable house for limitations that you might need to address—all of those kinds of practical things are valid because that's what we have to do as we exist in this form. We want to take care of each other as well. All of that is correct.

But the part you're noticing that's so important is the underlying fear. The clinging, the fear of what might happen, the grasping, wanting our health and safety to continue. The way to work with that is to just be present with that experience. Be present with the feelings, but with wisdom. Think of this part as the primitive, conditioned part of the mind. Anything conditioned is changeable.

From wisdom, we can tell that part of ourselves, "It's okay to feel this fear. It's okay to feel this grasping." But because you're witnessing it, you don't have to get involved in it. You don't have to continue to cling to it. You don't have to be afraid. There's really nothing that we need to fear, only wrongdoing, actually. If we do things that are intentionally hurtful, that's going to cause difficulties. Besides that, if we let go of the sense of self—if that's not the basis for our life anymore, but we take the Dhamma as the basis for our life—then we don't have to be afraid of anything. It's only our clinging to this impermanent concept of self that keeps us worried and fearful.

Mary: Thank you very much. As you were saying that, I was reflecting on how the mind states, thoughts, and all the mental formations (saṅkhāras)^[4] around this fear and clinging to self, are also impermanent. They also come and go. I like the balance of needing to plan with wisdom, but also seeing that underbelly that we don't really want to look at.

Ayya Santussika: Thank you for that excellent example. The other thing to remind that part of yourself is that this is exactly the practice that brings us to full awakening. Do not think, "Oh, that's so far away, I have to practice many lifetimes before that happens." It's right here. When we let go of this clinging to the self, that's Nibbāna^[5] right here and now. Letting go of everything. The suffering is in the clinging.

The Eight Worldly Conditions

Now we have the worldly conditions. Think about this in terms of the changing conditions—as Mary was pointing out, all of our feelings and how we react to these worldly conditions are impermanent.

Mendicants, the eight worldly conditions revolve around the world, and the world revolves around the eight worldly conditions. What eight? Gain and loss, fame and disgrace, praise and blame, pleasure and pain.

When you think about this, we can really look at the constant change, the impermanent nature of all of these. I remember one day when I was taking care of my mom in her retirement community, one of my family members gave me a real scolding. They felt like I wasn't doing the job well enough. Lots of blame. Later that same day, someone who was watching me look after her gave me high praise about what a wonderful daughter I am. I thought, "Yeah, this is just how it is. This is praise and blame."

We can notice these worldly conditions and notice the feelings that arise when they happen, and not cling to them. We can be present with those feelings, recognize the circumstances and the people involved, but we don't have to be caught up in it. We can witness it and let it go.

The verses for that sutta:

Gain and loss, fame and disgrace, praise and blame, and pleasure and pain. These conditions among people are impermanent, transient, and perishable.

"Perishable" is an interesting word. "Subject to change" is often the translation, but they are perishable. Everything in this world has an expiration date. Our bodies have an expiration date. Not that it's predetermined, but the causes and conditions bring it to a point where it perishes.

A wise and mindful person knows these things. Seeing that they're perishable, desirable things don't disturb their mind, nor are they repelled by the undesirable. Both favoring and opposing are cleared and ended. They are no more. Knowing the stainless, sorrowless state, they who have gone beyond rebirth understand rightly.

When we really let go of everything, there's no more becoming. Whether you think of it as another lifetime with a new body—which I recognize is how things work, despite various views—or you think about it as clinging here and now. We really only have this present moment, anyway. This is where we have the power to truly let go and see things as they actually are.

And then we have this verse from Bhikkhu Isidinna^[6]:

I have seen some lay followers who are experts in the Dhamma, and they say, "Sensual pleasures are impermanent." But they cling to jewelry, partners, and children, to possessions and family. They wish for them again and again. Truly, these lay followers don't know the Dhamma as it really is. Even though they say sensual pleasures are impermanent, they have no power to cut off their desire. Because of that, they cling to children, partners, and wealth.

Those are some of the places where we really can ask, "How deep is my understanding? Can I actually let go? Do I really get it?"

Q&A: Family, Caregiving, and the Fish Tank Story

Mary: The harder one is the clinging to children and grandchildren. We have a lot of children and grandchildren between us. It's a delight to have them in our lives, which makes me want to live a long time in a healthy manner. Wanting to live and be healthy is a good value, but I recognize my attachment. It's a hard one to let go of. Clinging is joy as well as concern.

Ayya Santussika: Yes, that's a very important workshop, you might say. Reflecting on the fact that any of them could die at any time, that you're going to die at some point and not see the rest of their lives. To reflect upon the suffering that comes from the worry about all these things we have no control over. The deep reflection on what we're clinging to helps open the mind to insight.

I know you've probably heard me tell this story before about the insight that came for me when my partner at the time had a tropical fish tank. There was always some kind of drama with it. The fish would fight, and he'd partition the tank to separate them. One would get sick, and he'd create a hospital tank with medicine. I was reflecting a lot—and I would recommend this to everyone: Reflect on impermanence in everything. If you really want to be free from suffering, look at everything around you and notice its impermanence. Every activity, every mental state, every opinion, everything you hear on the news. It's impermanent, it keeps changing, and it keeps repeating without end until we let go.

I was watching this drama with the fish tank, thinking about the suffering involved. What do you get out of it? Then he said to me, "Right now the fish tank is perfect. It's the best it's ever been. There's four fish. They're all beautiful, they're all getting along, everybody's healthy. It's great." And my heart kind of sank, because I thought, "I know what's next. This is the nature of saṃsāra. Nothing stays perfect." You have peace, and then you have war.

Sure enough, the next morning, a fish was dead, lying on the top of the water. I went to the monastery for the weekend. When I came back, two other fish had died, and the fourth was looking really bad. I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, thinking, "Fish tanks are suffering." And then the next thought was, "Family is suffering." It was like a crack, and wisdom went through. Insight drives it to a level where we don't forget.

My whole relationship with everyone in my life changed because I didn't have the same clinging anymore. But there was this incredible love for every being that came through. To love our family members without attachment is so much more rich. We're much more available, and we don't need anything from them. We don't need them to be healthy. When things happen, like my granddaughter having a ruptured appendix or my daughter having a car accident, my reaction is, "Okay. What's my job now? What can I do to help?" You still feel, but you're not attached. That's what the Buddha wants for all of us: to not be caught up in attachment, but to have a much greater universal, unconditional love.

Mary: Recently we had a couple of family reunions around my 75th birthday. To see them all together, with this non-stop clinging to sensual pleasures, I found myself feeling overwhelmed with sadness. At times, a kind of disgust when there was a degree of drinking and overeating. I longed to be a monastic and away from all that. Is this aversion, or is this saṃvega? I don't always know the difference.

Ayya Santussika: You can feel the difference. Sometimes the word virāga^[7] is translated as disgust. Recognizing that wanting to be away from unskillful behavior is a good instinct. But it has a different feeling; it's not "sticky" the way aversion is, and it's not personal. It's not getting filled with the urgency to awaken out of anger. Aversion really comes with a strong sense of self. We're not going to get rid of this conventional self immediately, but we can just be present with it. When we notice that stickiness, see it for what it is. We can witness an experience without clinging to it.

Leslie: I have a six-year-old grandson from Norway who is a big soccer fan. During the World Cup, he was so excited when his team scored, and then he'd reattach to another team. I saw it as engagement. Then he broke his leg, and had a lot of emotion about his sister doing things he couldn't do. I enjoyed seeing that humans have these capacities to engage, and not get stuck in the emotion. Is that attachment or is that healthy?

Ayya Santussika: I think as long as the understanding and balance are there. It's normal human behavior. But when you get down into it deeply enough, you realize that everything in this world is made up. Does being excited or depressed by a made-up game really serve us? It doesn't mean you don't feel joy, but what are we feeling joy about? The joy that comes from generosity, caring for people, and virtuous behavior is much richer. It's not like there's anything wrong with what's happening with your grandson, but there's an opportunity to gently drop in things to have joy in that are much more spiritually beneficial.

Christina: As a preschool teacher and a mom of young adults, I think we're talking about engagement versus attachment. We want to nurture engagement with life, but make sure they don't completely identify with that engagement—like "I am this soccer team." We can teach the willingness to engage, but also disengage.

Ayya Santussika: Yes, the Buddha was brilliant in putting the attention on suffering. When we're suffering, there's attachment; there's something to let go of. Being present with it instead of trying to avoid it, suppress it, or indulge in it is the key.

Perceiving Suffering as Happiness

There is a verse from the house builder, Sivaka Bhikkhu:

Houses are impermanent. On and on, life after life, I've been searching for the house builder. Painful is birth again and again. I've seen you, house builder. You won't build a house again. Your rafters are all broken. Your ridge pole is shattered. My mind is released from limits in this very life. It will dissipate.

Next, perceiving suffering as happiness. Discomfort as comfort. Pain as pleasure. What's unsatisfying as satisfying. We can start out having a good time, and it can end in a lot of suffering. Sensual pleasures are blinding. We think they are happiness, but they culminate in pain.

From Bandhura Bhikkhu:

I don't need sensual pleasures. I'm pleased and delighted by the flavor of the Dhamma. Having drunk the best drink, the sweetest drink, the drink of sweet Dhamma, I will never taste the poison of sensual pleasures again.

It's an upgrade. When we start to let go of likes and dislikes, grounding our life in the Dhamma, generosity, love, virtue, and meditation, we gain a kind of happiness that doesn't go away.

From Arahant Erakā^[8]:

Erakā, sensual pleasures are very painful. Erakā, sensual pleasures are not happy. They who desire sensual pleasures desire pain. Erakā, they who do not desire sensual pleasures do not desire pain.

There is always a downside when excitement or happiness is not mindful or balanced. I've noticed in my life, the more I reveled in something, the more pain was involved.

From Dutiya Kuṭivihārin^[9]:

This hut is very old. Do you desire a new hut? Give up that desire for a new hut, dear monk. A new hut means just another suffering.

Then we have the story of Bhikkhuni Khemā. She's in the forest, and a man accosts her. "Dear Khemā, you're still young and beautiful. I am also young and in my prime. Come, let us enjoy sensual pleasures and delight in sweet music." She replies, "The body is rotting, ailing, and frail. I'm horrified and repelled by it and I've eradicated sensual craving. Sensual pleasures are like swords and stakes. The aggregates are their chopping block. What you call sensual delight is now no delight for me."

From a worldly perspective, this can sound very negative. But from a spiritual perspective, this is freedom. She goes on to describe her past: "Worshipping the stars, serving the sacred flame in a grove, failing to grasp the true nature of things. Foolish me, I thought this was purity. But now I worship the awakened one... I am released from all suffering."

We are intoxicated by sensual pleasures, and we suffer from that. When we see through it, we can find real happiness in making our life a gift.

Q&A: Disgust vs. Awe, and Nibbāna Here and Now

Marilyn: I keep having trouble seeing the body as disgusting. I see it as really amazing. Even when it's damaged and crumbling, it's still pretty amazing. Why is that disgusting? I feel so grateful to have this funny little body.

Ayya Santussika: It is amazing how it works. But it's about the clinging and delusion. It's about thinking, "I want my body to look a certain way," or "I want this person's body." Look at the suffering people go through with cosmetic surgeries, breaking bones in their faces to match some standard of beauty. It's not about going dark on the body or rejecting it. It's about seeing it in balance. The truth is this body is deteriorating, but I'm not mad at it. The word virāga is sometimes translated as disgust, but it can also mean "fading away." The things we craved when we were younger fade away as we age. We just aren't interested anymore.

Susan: You mentioned that when we have moments of non-craving and non-clinging, those are moments of freedom, and you used the word Nibbāna to describe it. Can you talk a little more about that?

Ayya Santussika: We often think of awakening or Nibbāna as something very far off in the distance. Ajahn Ganhā talks about letting go of everything in this present moment. Have you had that experience when you meditate? If we can let go of the sense of self—this idea of "me" as an individual person with a personality and views—what we're using to experience reality is the Dhamma. We're seeing with the Dhamma, not the sense of self. In those moments, it's Nibbāna here and now. The relief from suffering here and now.

Sinette: I have a 44-year-old son with mental illness who lives with us. He won't cooperate with going to a group home. It's very hard not to suffer because I have to make sure he takes his medication. My husband and I are getting older, and looking to the future brings more suffering.

Ayya Santussika: It is very hard. It's so important to let go of the idea of how this relates to you. Recognize that this is karma. You have to make practical arrangements, even if he doesn't like it. The Buddha said there are things none of us can avoid: getting old, falling ill, and death. Mental illness is one of those things that can happen. Do what you can do to make him comfortable and safe, but you also have to take into account yourself and your husband. Make decisions to take care of everyone involved. It doesn't mean it's going to be pleasant.

(Cynthia chimes in with practical advice about consulting NAMI^[10] and county mental health departments.)

Perceiving Not-Self as Self

Moving on to "Not Self." Consider two pictures of the same person at age 17 and age 102. Which one is the self? This is not a self.

From Jenta Bhikkhu:

I was intoxicated by my high-class birth, wealth, and status. I was intoxicated by the beauty of my body. I didn't care about anyone who was equal to me or elder to me. I was too stubborn. I lived lifting high the flag of conceit. But one day I happened to see the supreme trainer of people to be tamed, the Buddha, shining like the sun. My mind was pleased with that sight. I threw away all pride and intoxication. I knelt down with my head near the sacred feet of the Buddha. My pride of superiority and inferiority were eliminated. The conceit 'I am' is cut out.

One of the last fetters to fall away before full awakening is the conceit "I am." We can let go of seeing ourselves as the body, feelings, or thoughts, but still have this sense of being better than, worse than, or the same as others. Ajahn Ganhā said that while we cling to the sense of self, our generosity, moral discipline, and meditation cannot come to their full purpose.

In the Udāna 3.10, the Buddha surveyed the world and saw sentient beings burning with fevers born of greed, hate, and delusion. He expressed this heartfelt sentiment:

This world, born in torment, overcome by contact, speaks of disease as the self. For whatever it thinks it is, it turns out to be something else. The world is attached to continued existence... What it enjoys, that is the fear. What it fears, that is the suffering.

Spiritual seekers who say that through continued existence (eternalism) we become free, or through annihilation of existence (nihilism) we become free—neither works. Freedom is beyond that duality.

Perceiving Ugliness as Beauty

This inversion is about seeing what is inherently unbeautiful as beautiful, primarily relating to sexual desire.

From Abhaya Bhikkhu:

When you see a sight, mindfulness is lost as you focus on a pleasant feature. Experiencing it with a mind full of desire, you keep clinging to it. Your defilements grow, leading to the root of rebirth.

From Lakuṇṭaka Bhaddiya Bhikkhu^[11]:

He lives in a beautiful forest monastery called Ambāṭaka. Having uprooted craving, he meditates there happily. To enjoy themselves, some people need drums, lutes, and cymbals. But I don't need any of those. I'm sitting at the foot of this tree delighting in the path of the Buddha.

Q&A: Muditā and Equanimity

Mary: I get confused about muditā^[12] when people around me are really enjoying their sensuality. I was in a hot tub with older women, and they were having a lively, fun discussion. I felt muditā, but then they told me they were talking about sex. I felt shocked and disgusted. Can we feel muditā when people have unwholesome objects of happiness?

Ayya Santussika: I think what comes up as a brahma vihāra^[13] then is equanimity. Sexual desire is intoxicating. It's a natural part of the human experience, but the intoxication around it is what leads to suffering. Muditā is the joy in goodness, the joy in what's wholesome and beneficial. When people are indulging in what's unwholesome, equanimity helps balance our reaction. The sense of self gets huge when we judge others. It's valuable to notice that "holier-than-thou" feeling and step back to observe it without attachment.

The Stories of Sundarī Nandā and Subhā

The Buddha's half-sister, Sundarī Nandā Bhikkhuni, was very beautiful. She became a nun mostly to be with her family, but was still caught up in her beauty. The Buddha caused her to see a vision of a beautiful young woman rapidly aging and decaying in front of her. She realized that was going to happen to her body as well. The Buddha told her, "See this body as diseased, impure, and rotten. Cultivate awareness of the unattractive." As this body is, so a dead body is the same. She investigated this relentlessly and attained awakening.

Then there is the story of Bhikkhuni Subhā of Jīvaka's Mango Grove. A rogue man blocked her path in the forest and tried to seduce her, praising the beauty of the forest and comparing her to a golden statue with beautiful eyes like a doe. He offered her a luxurious life in his palace.

Subhā replied, "What is it that you consider substantial here in this body, which is full of filth, filling the cemetery, and is destined to break up?"

He insisted, "It's your eyes that I appreciate. No eyes are dearer to me than yours."

Subhā, completely unattached to her body, suddenly tore out one of her eyes and handed it to him, saying, "Here, take this eye for yourself."

Instantly, the man's lust ceased. Horrified, he apologized profusely. Subhā went to the Buddha, and the moment she saw him, her eye was completely restored to its former condition.

Guided Meditation

Let's meditate for a little while. Just find a comfortable position. Let the things that we've been saying sink in. Our words matter. Notice how this session is affecting you. What is it like to be present with the way it is right now?

When we're present with whatever we're experiencing, it means our mindfulness is well established. We're seeing our experience from a little bit of a distance. Stepping back, and stepping up to see with the Dhamma. We can do this in any moment. We're not trying to suppress it or change it; we're just aware.

Whenever we take this position of witness, the awareness is not caught up in what we're feeling. We step back and experience it the way it really is. The witness is peaceful. Equanimity. This is how we come to understand our attachments and experience relief from suffering. It's a gentle practice. See if you can relax into that awareness.

Final Reflections and Q&A

Paula: As a layperson, I find myself striving after experiences—like kayaking in beautiful places—thinking it will satisfy some part of me, and all the while I just didn't have a good time. I was in such delusion about it. I'm going to try to just observe it more and see it with wisdom.

Ayya Santussika: When we observe how it really feels, whether it's focusing on the Dhamma or taking a vacation, that's something to learn from. At a family camp recently, a child asked me what I missed from lay life. I said, "I don't miss anything. I have no bucket list." The only thing you need on your bucket list is awakening! It's not bad to do those things, but we have to find our own way to see what brings peace, insight, and freedom.

Alan: I am the main caretaker for my wife right now. I have fear about being enough to help her, and what will be asked of me next. The only thing that helps is the mind practice. I don't know from moment to moment what I'll be called to do, but I'm available, open, and caring.

Ayya Santussika: That is beautiful generosity. It's never going to be perfect. We're not going to make the right decisions all the time. But that heart you're describing—saying "I'm here to help"—is a gift. Bhante Gunaratana said, "Everything you do, do it as a gift." However it lands, whatever the outcome is, we can't control it. We just make our best stab at it, without the anxiety of having to be the best. Just: "This is a gift."