mn.94 Majjhima Nikāya (Middle Discourses)

With Ghoṭamukha

So I have heard.
At one time Venerable Udena was staying near Benares in the Khemiya Mango Grove.
Now at that time the brahmin Ghoṭamukha had arrived at Benares on some business.
Then as he was going for a walk he went to the Khemiya Mango Grove.
At that time Venerable Udena was walking mindfully in the open air.
Ghoṭamukha approached and exchanged greetings with him.
Walking alongside Udena, he said,
“Mister ascetic, there is no such thing as a principled renunciate life;
that’s what I think.
And that’s without seeing gentlemen such as yourself, or a relevant teaching.”
When he said this, Udena stepped down from the walking path, entered his dwelling, and sat down on the seat spread out.
Ghoṭamukha also stepped down from the walking path and entered the dwelling, where he stood to one side.
Udena said to him,
“There are seats, brahmin.
Please sit if you wish.”
“I was just waiting for you to sit down.
For how could one such as I presume to sit first without being invited?”
Then he took a low seat and sat to one side,
where he said,
“Mister ascetic, there is no such thing as a principled renunciate life;
that’s what I think.
And that’s without seeing gentlemen such as yourself, or a relevant teaching.”
“Brahmin, we can discuss this. But only if you allow what should be allowed, and reject what should be rejected. And if you ask me the meaning of anything you don’t understand, saying:
‘Sir, why is this? What does that mean?’”
“Let us discuss this. I will do as you say.”
“Brahmin, these four people are found in the world.
What four?
One person mortifies themselves, committed to the practice of mortifying themselves.
One person mortifies others, committed to the practice of mortifying others.
One person mortifies themselves and others, committed to the practice of mortifying themselves and others.
One person doesn’t mortify either themselves or others, committed to the practice of not mortifying themselves or others.
They live without wishes in the present life, extinguished, cooled, experiencing bliss, having become holy in themselves.
Which one of these four people do you like the sound of?”
“Sir, I don’t like the sound of the first three people.



I only like the sound of the last person, who doesn’t mortify either themselves or others.”
“But why don’t you like the sound of those three people?”
“Sir, the person who mortifies themselves does so even though they want to be happy and recoil from pain.
That’s why I don’t like the sound of that person.
The person who mortifies others does so even though others want to be happy and recoil from pain.
That’s why I don’t like the sound of that person.
The person who mortifies themselves and others does so even though both themselves and others want to be happy and recoil from pain.
That’s why I don’t like the sound of that person.
The person who doesn’t mortify either themselves or others—living without wishes, extinguished, cooled, experiencing bliss, having become holy in themselves—does not torment themselves or others, both of whom want to be happy and recoil from pain.
That’s why I like the sound of that person.”
“There are, brahmin, these two groups of people.
What two?
There’s one group of people who, being infatuated with jeweled earrings, seeks partners and children, male and female bondservants, fields and lands, and gold and money.
And there’s another group of people who, not being infatuated with jeweled earrings, has given up partner and children, male and female bondservants, fields and lands, and gold and money, and goes forth from the lay life to homelessness.
Now, brahmin, that person who doesn’t mortify either themselves or others—

in which of these two groups of people do you usually find such a person?”

“I usually find such a person in
the group that has gone forth from the lay life to homelessness.”
“Just now I understood you to say:
‘Mister ascetic, there is no such thing as a principled renunciate life;
that’s what I think.
And that’s without seeing gentlemen such as yourself, nor a relevant teaching.’”
“Well, I obviously had my reasons for saying that, master Udena.
But there is such a thing as a principled renunciate life;
that’s what I think.
Please remember me as saying this.
Now, these four kinds of people that you’ve spoken of in a brief summary: please explain them to me in detail, out of compassion.”
“Well then, brahmin, listen and pay close attention, I will speak.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Ghoṭamukha.
Udena said this:
“What person mortifies themselves, committed to the practice of mortifying themselves?
It’s when someone goes naked, ignoring conventions. They lick their hands, and don’t come or wait when called. They don’t consent to food brought to them, or food prepared on purpose for them, or an invitation for a meal.
They don’t receive anything from a pot or bowl; or from someone who keeps sheep, or who has a weapon or a shovel in their home; or where a couple is eating; or where there is a woman who is pregnant, breastfeeding, or who has a man in her home; or where there’s a dog waiting or flies buzzing. They accept no fish or meat or liquor or wine, and drink no beer.
They go to just one house for alms, taking just one mouthful, or two houses and two mouthfuls, up to seven houses and seven mouthfuls.
They feed on one saucer a day, two saucers a day, up to seven saucers a day.
They eat once a day, once every second day, up to once a week, and so on, even up to once a fortnight. They live committed to the practice of eating food at set intervals.
They eat herbs, millet, wild rice, poor rice, water lettuce, rice bran, scum from boiling rice, sesame flour, grass, or cow dung. They survive on forest roots and fruits, or eating fallen fruit.
They wear robes of sunn hemp, mixed hemp, corpse-wrapping cloth, rags, lodh tree bark, antelope hide (whole or in strips), kusa grass, bark, wood-chips, human hair, horse-tail hair, or owls’ wings.
They tear out their hair and beard, committed to this practice.
They constantly stand, refusing seats.
They squat, committed to persisting in the squatting position.
They lie on a mat of thorns, making a mat of thorns their bed.
They’re committed to the practice of immersion in water three times a day, including the evening.
And so they live committed to practicing these various ways of mortifying and tormenting the body.
This is called a person who mortifies themselves, being committed to the practice of mortifying themselves.
And what person mortifies others, committed to the practice of mortifying others?
It’s when a person is a slaughterer of sheep, pigs, poultry, or deer, a hunter or fisher, a bandit, an executioner, a butcher of cattle, a jailer, or has some other cruel livelihood.
This is called a person who mortifies others, being committed to the practice of mortifying others.
And what person mortifies themselves and others, being committed to the practice of mortifying themselves and others?
It’s when a person is an anointed aristocratic king or a well-to-do brahmin.
He has a new temple built to the east of the city. He shaves off his hair and beard, dresses in a rough antelope hide, and smears his body with ghee and oil. Scratching his back with antlers, he enters the temple with his chief queen and the brahmin high priest.
There he lies on the bare ground strewn with grass.
The king feeds on the milk from one teat of a cow that has a calf of the same color. The chief queen feeds on the milk from the second teat. The brahmin high priest feeds on the milk from the third teat. The milk from the fourth teat is served to the sacred flame. The calf feeds on the remainder.
He says:
‘Slaughter this many bulls, bullocks, heifers, goats, rams, and horses for the sacrifice! Fell this many trees and reap this much grass for the sacrificial equipment!’
His bondservants, employees, and workers do their jobs under threat of punishment and danger, weeping with tearful faces.
This is called a person who mortifies themselves and others, being committed to the practice of mortifying themselves and others.
And what person doesn’t mortify either themselves or others, committed to the practice of not mortifying themselves or others,
living without wishes in the present life, extinguished, cooled, experiencing bliss, having become holy in themselves?
It’s when a Realized One arises in the world, perfected, a fully awakened Buddha, accomplished in knowledge and conduct, holy, knower of the world, supreme guide for those who wish to train, teacher of gods and humans, awakened, blessed.
He has realized with his own insight this world—with its gods, Māras and Brahmās, this population with its ascetics and brahmins, gods and humans—and he makes it known to others.
He teaches Dhamma that’s good in the beginning, good in the middle, and good in the end, meaningful and well-phrased. And he reveals a spiritual practice that’s entirely full and pure.
A householder hears that teaching, or a householder’s child, or someone reborn in some clan.
They gain faith in the Realized One,
and reflect:
‘Living in a house is cramped and dirty, but the life of one gone forth is wide open.
It’s not easy for someone living at home to lead the spiritual life utterly full and pure, like a polished shell.
Why don’t I shave off my hair and beard, dress in ocher robes, and go forth from the lay life to homelessness?’
After some time they give up a large or small fortune, and a large or small family circle. They shave off hair and beard, dress in ocher robes, and go forth from the lay life to homelessness.
Once they’ve gone forth, they take up the training and livelihood of the mendicants. They give up killing living creatures, renouncing the rod and the sword. They’re scrupulous and kind, living full of compassion for all living beings.
They give up stealing. They take only what’s given, and expect only what’s given. They keep themselves clean by not thieving.
They give up unchastity. They are celibate, set apart, avoiding the common practice of sex.
They give up lying. They speak the truth and stick to the truth. They’re honest and trustworthy, and don’t trick the world with their words.
They give up divisive speech. They don’t repeat in one place what they heard in another so as to divide people against each other. Instead, they reconcile those who are divided, supporting unity, delighting in harmony, loving harmony, speaking words that promote harmony.
They give up harsh speech. They speak in a way that’s mellow, pleasing to the ear, lovely, going to the heart, polite, likable and agreeable to the people.
They give up talking nonsense. Their words are timely, true, and meaningful, in line with the teaching and training. They say things at the right time which are valuable, reasonable, succinct, and beneficial.
They avoid injuring plants and seeds.
They eat in one part of the day, abstaining from eating at night and food at the wrong time.
They avoid dancing, singing, music, and seeing shows.
They avoid beautifying and adorning themselves with garlands, perfumes, and makeup.
They avoid high and luxurious beds.
They avoid receiving gold and money,
raw grains,
raw meat,
women and girls,
male and female bondservants,
goats and sheep,
chickens and pigs,
elephants, cows, horses, and mares,
and fields and land.
They avoid running errands and messages;
buying and selling;
falsifying weights, metals, or measures;
bribery, fraud, cheating, and duplicity;
mutilation, murder, abduction, banditry, plunder, and violence.
They’re content with robes to look after the body and almsfood to look after the belly. Wherever they go, they set out taking only these things.
They’re like a bird: wherever it flies, wings are its only burden.
In the same way, a mendicant is content with robes to look after the body and almsfood to look after the belly. Wherever they go, they set out taking only these things.
When they have this entire spectrum of noble ethics, they experience a blameless happiness inside themselves.
When they see a sight with their eyes, they don’t get caught up in the features and details.
If the faculty of sight were left unrestrained, bad unskillful qualities of desire and aversion would become overwhelming. For this reason, they practice restraint, protecting the faculty of sight, and achieving its restraint.
When they hear a sound with their ears …
When they smell an odor with their nose …
When they taste a flavor with their tongue …
When they feel a touch with their body …
When they know a thought with their mind, they don’t get caught up in the features and details.
If the faculty of mind were left unrestrained, bad unskillful qualities of desire and aversion would become overwhelming. For this reason, they practice restraint, protecting the faculty of mind, and achieving its restraint.
When they have this noble sense restraint, they experience an unsullied bliss inside themselves.
They act with situational awareness when going out and coming back; when looking ahead and aside; when bending and extending the limbs; when bearing the outer robe, bowl and robes; when eating, drinking, chewing, and tasting; when urinating and defecating; when walking, standing, sitting, sleeping, waking, speaking, and keeping silent.
When they have this noble spectrum of ethics, this noble sense restraint, and this noble mindfulness and situational awareness,
they frequent a secluded lodging—a wilderness, the root of a tree, a hill, a ravine, a mountain cave, a charnel ground, a forest, the open air, a heap of straw.
After the meal, they return from almsround, sit down cross-legged with their body straight, and establish mindfulness right there.
Giving up desire for the world, they meditate with a heart rid of desire, cleansing the mind of desire.
Giving up ill will and malevolence, they meditate with a mind rid of ill will, full of compassion for all living beings, cleansing the mind of ill will.
Giving up dullness and drowsiness, they meditate with a mind rid of dullness and drowsiness, perceiving light, mindful and aware, cleansing the mind of dullness and drowsiness.
Giving up restlessness and remorse, they meditate without restlessness, their mind peaceful inside, cleansing the mind of restlessness and remorse.
Giving up doubt, they meditate having gone beyond doubt, not undecided about skillful qualities, cleansing the mind of doubt.
They give up these five hindrances, corruptions of the heart that weaken wisdom.
Then, quite secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from unskillful qualities, they enter and remain in the first absorption, which has the rapture and bliss born of seclusion, while placing the mind and keeping it connected.
As the placing of the mind and keeping it connected are stilled, they enter and remain in the second absorption, which has the rapture and bliss born of immersion, with internal clarity and confidence, and unified mind, without placing the mind and keeping it connected.
And with the fading away of rapture, they enter and remain in the third absorption, where they meditate with equanimity, mindful and aware, personally experiencing the bliss of which the noble ones declare, ‘Equanimous and mindful, one meditates in bliss.’
Giving up pleasure and pain, and ending former happiness and sadness, they enter and remain in the fourth absorption, without pleasure or pain, with pure equanimity and mindfulness.
When their mind has become immersed in samādhi like this—purified, bright, flawless, rid of corruptions, pliable, workable, steady, and imperturbable—they extend it toward recollection of past lives.
They recollect many kinds of past lives. That is: one, two, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand rebirths; many eons of the world contracting, many eons of the world expanding, many eons of the world contracting and expanding. They remember: ‘There, I was named this, my clan was that, I looked like this, and that was my food. This was how I felt pleasure and pain, and that was how my life ended. When I passed away from that place I was reborn somewhere else. There, too, I was named this, my clan was that, I looked like this, and that was my food. This was how I felt pleasure and pain, and that was how my life ended. When I passed away from that place I was reborn here.’ And so they recollect their many kinds of past lives, with features and details.
When their mind has become immersed in samādhi like this—purified, bright, flawless, rid of corruptions, pliable, workable, steady, and imperturbable—they extend it toward knowledge of the death and rebirth of sentient beings.
With clairvoyance that is purified and superhuman, they see sentient beings passing away and being reborn—inferior and superior, beautiful and ugly, in a good place or a bad place. They understand how sentient beings are reborn according to their deeds: ‘These dear beings did bad things by way of body, speech, and mind. They spoke ill of the noble ones; they had wrong view; and they chose to act out of that wrong view. When their body breaks up, after death, they’re reborn in a place of loss, a bad place, the underworld, hell. These dear beings, however, did good things by way of body, speech, and mind. They never spoke ill of the noble ones; they had right view; and they chose to act out of that right view. When their body breaks up, after death, they’re reborn in a good place, a heavenly realm.’ And so, with clairvoyance that is purified and superhuman, they see sentient beings passing away and being reborn—inferior and superior, beautiful and ugly, in a good place or a bad place. They understand how sentient beings are reborn according to their deeds.
When their mind has become immersed in samādhi like this—purified, bright, flawless, rid of corruptions, pliable, workable, steady, and imperturbable—they extend it toward knowledge of the ending of defilements.
They truly understand: ‘This is suffering’ … ‘This is the origin of suffering’ … ‘This is the cessation of suffering’ … ‘This is the practice that leads to the cessation of suffering’.
They truly understand: ‘These are defilements’ … ‘This is the origin of defilements’ … ‘This is the cessation of defilements’ … ‘This is the practice that leads to the cessation of defilements’.
Knowing and seeing like this, their mind is freed from the defilements of sensuality, desire to be reborn, and ignorance.
When they’re freed, they know they’re freed.
They understand: ‘Rebirth is ended, the spiritual journey has been completed, what had to be done has been done, there is no return to any state of existence.’
This is called a person who neither mortifies themselves or others, being committed to the practice of not mortifying themselves or others.
They live without wishes in the present life, extinguished, cooled, experiencing bliss, having become holy in themselves.”
When he had spoken, Ghoṭamukha said to him,
“Excellent, Master Udena! Excellent!
As if he were righting the overturned, or revealing the hidden, or pointing out the path to the lost, or lighting a lamp in the dark so people with good eyes can see what’s there, Master Udena has made the teaching clear in many ways.
I go for refuge to Master Udena, to the teaching, and to the mendicant Saṅgha.
From this day forth, may Master Udena remember me as a lay follower who has gone for refuge for life.”
“Brahmin, don’t go for refuge to me.
You should go for refuge to that same Blessed One to whom I have gone for refuge.”
“But Master Udena, where is the Blessed One at present, the perfected one, the fully awakened Buddha?”
“Brahmin, the Buddha has already become fully extinguished.”
“Master Udena, if I heard that the Buddha was within ten leagues, or twenty, or even up to a hundred leagues away, I’d go a hundred leagues to see him.





But since the Buddha has become fully extinguished, I go for refuge to that fully extinguished Buddha, to the teaching, and to the Saṅgha.
From this day forth, may Master Udena remember me as a lay follower who has gone for refuge for life.
Master Udena, the king of Aṅga gives me a regular daily allowance. I will give you one portion of that.”
“But brahmin, what does the king of Aṅga give you as a regular daily allowance?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“It’s not proper for us to receive gold and money.”
“If that’s not proper, I will have a dwelling built for Master Udena.”
“If you want to build me a dwelling, then build an assembly hall for the Saṅgha at Pāṭaliputta.”
“Now I’m even more delighted and satisfied with Master Udena, since he encourages me to give to the Saṅgha.
So with this allowance and another one I will have an assembly hall built for the Saṅgha at Pāṭaliputta.”
And so he had that hall built.
And these days it’s called the “Ghoṭamukhī”.