pice, or that of being attacked by a tiger. As soon as it became
apparent that fear of the precipice was the greatest, he gathered
his mindfulness and focused intensively on one of his two med-
itation themes: either the repetition of buddho or the recollec-
tion of death – depending on which one arose in his mind at any
one moment. Meditating thus, poised on the brink of death, his
citta soon gathered itself into one point of focus, and then sud-
denly dropped down to the very base of appanã samãdhi,^9 rapidly
converging into a state of total calm. In an instant, he was oblivi-
ous to all the fiery turmoil that had engulfed his mind for so long.
All that remained was the essential knowing nature of the citta –
existing alone, by itself, in all its amazing splendor. Fear of death
had utterly vanished.
The hour was ten P.M. when the monk’s citta ‘converged’ dra-
matically into appanã samãdhi, an experience so profound that he
did not withdraw from that state until ten o’clock the next morn-
ing. Opening his eyes, he saw the sun halfway up the sky. Since it
was already too late for morning almsround, he didn’t bother to
go to the village – he simply went without food that day. With-
drawing from samãdhi, he was aware of a complete absence of fear.
In its place was an amazing sense of courage he had never before
experienced. His fever was gone as well – completely cured that
night, and he never again suffered a recurrence of malaria. He was
convinced that the ‘therapeutic powers of Dhamma’ had cured
both his malaria and his fear of tigers. From that day on, his body
was never again plagued by malaria, his mind never again ravaged
by fear. No longer terrified of tigers, he could go anywhere, live
anywhere – unperturbed.
Occasionally, he wished a tiger would show up to test his
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
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