him to the point of death. This kind of longing is the way of worldly
people everywhere. Even though my reason for missing him is associ-
ated with Dhamma, it is still contaminated by worldly concerns, and
thus hardly worthy of a Buddhist monk. Such thoughts are especially
inappropriate for someone like me who has set his sights firmly on
achieving the highest level of Dhamma. The Lord Buddha stated that
whoever practices the Dhamma properly is, in fact, worshipping the
Buddha, that whoever realizes the Dhamma, realizes the Buddha as
well. It is clear that my longing is not in perfect accord with Dhamma.
To be in perfect accord with Dhamma I must practice precisely what
Ãcariya Mun taught me. This is the correct way for me to show how
much I miss him. Should I die while engaged in those harsh training
methods that he recommended, I shall feel confident that my death is
in harmony with the principles of Dhamma. This is the only sensible
way to behave. I must not obstruct my own progress by longing for
him in an unreasonable, worldly manner – I’ll only harm myself.
In this way I regained mindfulness, allowing reason a chance
to intervene and forestall the maelstrom raging in my heart at the
time. And so I avoided being buried alive in my own futility.
The Funeral
By midmorning, reports of Ãcariya Mun’s death had spread through-
out the adjacent communities; senior monks and government offi-
cials of all levels had heard the news. All hurried to the monas-
tery, anxious to pay their last respects to his body. While gathered
there, they conferred with Ãcariya Mun’s senior disciples to reach
a consensus on the most suitable way to arrange the funeral. They