backed away and stood listening from a distance. No sooner had
I backed away than the low cadence of his chanting started up
again, now too faint to be heard clearly. So again I sneaked forward
- and again he went silent. In the end, I never did find out what
suttas he was chanting. I was afraid that if I stubbornly insisted
on standing there eavesdropping, a bolt of lightning might strike
and a sharp rebuke thunder out. Meeting him the next morn-
ing I glanced away. I did not dare to look him in the face. But he
looked directly at me with a sharp, menacing glare. I learned my
lesson the hard way: never again did I dare to sneak up and try to
listen in on his chanting. I was afraid I would receive something
severe for my trouble. From what I had observed of him, if I per-
sisted there was a real chance I’d get just what I was asking for.
It was only later, after long association with him, that I
clearly understood just how well he perceived everything going on
around him. Thinking about it now, how could he possibly have
been unaware that I was standing there like an idiot and listening
so intently. It’s obvious – he was fully aware. But before making
any comment, he wanted first to wait and check out this stub-
born, silly monk. Any further such behavior was bound to invoke
a severe response. What amazed me was: each time I crept close
to his hut he stopped chanting straight away. He obviously knew
exactly what was going on.
Fellowship with Pigs
One day, shortly after my arrival – during a time when I was
extremely wary of Ãcariya Mun – I laid down in the middle of
