face of his meditation path to facilitate smooth, easy walking. As
he moved stones around and put them neatly into place, the nãga
complained: “What kind of a monk are you, always moving things
around – you’re never satisfied. Don’t you realize that all your fuss-
ing about gives others a splitting headache?”
Ãcariya Mun had to exercise special care with whatever he
did at that cave. Even then, this opinionated nãga would find an
excuse to criticize him. Should his body move slightly while he
slept at night, he could sense psychically upon awakening that the
nãga had been criticizing him for tossing, turning, wheezing, snor-
ing, and so on. Focusing his attention on this angry, hypercriti-
cal nãga, Ãcariya Mun always found its head sticking out, peering
at him intently, as though it never took its eyes off him. Vicious-
looking and mean-spirited, it refused to accept any merit dedi-
cated to it and was determined to indulge in feelings of anger that
burned like a fire inside its heart. Seeing that it compounded its
evil kamma all the time, Ãcariya Mun felt truly sorry for the nãga.
But as long as it showed no interest in reasonable discourse, it was
impossible for him to help in any way. All it could think about
was fault-finding.
On one occasion, Ãcariya Mun explained the general prin-
ciples underlying a monk’s life, specifically mentioning his own
purpose and intentions:
“My purpose for being here is not to cause trouble to some-
body else, but rather to work as best I can for my own benefit
and the benefit of others. So you should not entertain ignoble
thoughts, thinking that I’m here to cause you harm or discom-
fort. I am here consciously trying to do good so that I can share
the merit of my actions with all living beings without exception.
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
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