by Bhikkhu Anīgha
What The Buddha Actually Thought About Sensuality
Contrary to ideas often promoted in modern teachings, to say that the Buddha spoke disapprovingly of sensuality is an understatement:
“… And how has a bhikkhu seen sensuality in such a way that no underlying tendency for desire, affection, infatuation, and passion for sensuality underlies him?
Suppose there was a charcoal pit deeper than a man’s height, filled with glowing coals that neither flamed nor smoked. Then a man would come along who wants to live and does not want to die, who desires happiness and is averse to suffering. Two strong men would grab him by the arms and drag him towards the charcoal pit. He would writhe and struggle to and fro. Why is that? For that man knows, ‘If I fall in that charcoal pit, that will lead to my death or deadly pain.’
In the same way, when a bhikkhu has seen sensuality as a charcoal pit, no underlying tendency for desire, affection, infatuation, and passion for sensuality underlies him. …”
—SN 35.244
“… Is it true, Ariṭṭha, that you have such a pernicious view: ‘As I understand the Buddha’s teaching, the things he calls obstructions are not true obstructions for one who engages in them’?”
“Indeed, venerable sir. As I understand the Buddha’s teaching, the things he calls obstructions are not true obstructions for one who engages in them.”
“Inept man, who on earth have you ever known me to teach the Dhamma like that? Inept man, have I not said in many ways that obstructive things are obstructive, and that they truly obstruct one who engages in them? I have said that sensuality provides little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater. With the similes of a skeleton … a scrap of meat … a grass torch … a pit of glowing coals … a dream … borrowed goods … fruit on a tree … a butcher’s knife and chopping block … a staking sword … a snake’s head, I have said that sensuality provides little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater. Even so, inept man, you misrepresent us with your misunderstanding, harm yourself, and create much demerit. This will be for your lasting harm and suffering.”
Then the Buddha addressed the bhikkhus: “What do you think, bhikkhus? Is this bhikkhu Ariṭṭha, the former vulture catcher, warmed up at all in this teaching and discipline?”
“How could that be, venerable sir? Of course not, venerable sir.”
When this was said, the bhikkhu Ariṭṭha, the former vulture catcher, sat silent, humiliated, with his trunk drooping, facing downwards, brooding and speechless.
Knowing this, the Buddha said, “Inept man, you will be known by your own pernicious view. I shall question the bhikkhus about this.”
Then the Buddha said to the bhikkhus, “Bhikkhus, do you understand my teaching as this Ariṭṭha does, when he misrepresents us with his misunderstanding, harms himself, and creates much demerit?”
“No, venerable sir. For in many ways the Buddha has told us that obstructive things are obstructive, and that they truly obstruct one who engages in them. The Buddha has said that sensuality provides little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater. With the similes of a skeleton … a snake’s head, the Buddha has said that sensuality provides little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater.”
“Very good, bhikkhus! It is good that you understand my teaching like this. For in many ways I have said that obstructive things are obstructive …
I’ve said that sensuality provides little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater. But still this Ariṭṭha misrepresents us with his misunderstanding, harms himself, and creates much demerit. This will be for his lasting harm and suffering. Truly, bhikkhus, it is impossible to partake in sensuality without sensual desires, sensual perceptions, and sensual thoughts.
—MN 22
“If a novice should say this: ‘As I understand the Buddha’s teaching, the things he calls obstructions are not true obstructions for one who engages in them.’
That novice should be spoken to by the bhikkhus thus: ‘Friend novice, do not say this. Do not misrepresent the Buddha. It is not good to misrepresent the Buddha. The Buddha would not speak thus. In many ways, friend novice, have obstructive things been called obstructive by the Buddha. They truly obstruct one who engages in them.’
And if that novice, being spoken to thus by the bhikkhus, should hold to that same view, that novice should be spoken to by the bhikkhus thus: ‘From this day forth, friend novice, you are not to refer to the Buddha as your Teacher. And that which other novices receive—lodging for two or three nights with the bhikkhus—that is not for you. Away with you! Be gone!’
Whatever bhikkhu, knowing such a banished novice, should associate with him, or support him, or eat with him, or lie down together with him, it is an offense entailing confession.”
—Bhikkhu Pācittiya 701
“Is This Sensuality?”
Passionate intention is a man’s sensuality.
The pretty things in the world aren’t sensuality.
Passionate intention is a man’s sensuality.
The pretty things in the world stay just as they are,
But the wise dispel desire there.
—AN 6.63
Sensuality isn’t everything agreeable to your senses. There will be enjoyable things, even fully mundane ones, that are not sensuality. Conversely, there are things you might not at first glance associate with sensuality, yet they are because of your relationship with them.
Whether something is sensuality is determined by one question: how would you feel if you lost that thing, forever? If the mere thought fills you with dread, that thing is sensuality for you.
Seeing the peril in sensuality means seeing the peril in developing such passionate relationships with anything at all, animate or inanimate. Your passion is the problem, not the things themselves.
However, there is one thing where sensuality cannot be absent, which is why an Arahant is incapable of partaking in it. Namely, sexual intercourse:
A bhikkhu who has destroyed the taints cannot engage in sexual intercourse.
—AN 9.7
The Danger
Someone who enjoys playing with venomous snakes doesn’t need to reason out some novel, elaborate idea to recognize the danger; they just need to stop habitually looking past the acute danger to their own life that is already there. If they saw that clearly, any joy that activity could have offered would become utterly incapable of justifying engagement in it.
A man attracted to sensual pleasures,
When in that he finds success,
Surely becomes joyful
In gaining what he wished.But when for one so attracted—
One whose desire is aroused—
Those pleasures abandon him
It strikes him like a piercing dart.Whoever keeps clear of attractions
As his foot from a snake’s head,
The entanglement in the world
he mindfully surmounts.Whether fields, land, gold or cattle,
Horses, slaves, servants, women or family —
All varieties of attractions —
A man who covets these things,Is overpowered by the powerless,
And crushed by difficulties;
Suffering goes along with him,
Like water in a cracked boat.Therefore a person, always mindful,
should keep clear of attractions.
With these abandoned, they would cross the flood,
As one who reaches the far shore, having bailed out the boat.—Sutta Nipāta 4.1
Imagine someone offers you that which you desire most, flawless in all respects. But they warn you: from the moment you accept it, it could be callously ripped away without warning; no amount of safety mechanisms you successfully create around the precious thing can fully remove that possibility.
This is precisely the threat that underlies every pleasure within the domain of the senses.
Ignorance Is “Bliss”
“Bhikkhus, there are these five themes that should often be reflected upon by a woman or a man, by a householder or one gone forth. What five? (1) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to old age; I am not exempt from old age.’ (2) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to illness; I am not exempt from illness.’ (3) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to death; I am not exempt from death.’ (4) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I shall be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable to me.’ (5) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am the owner of my actions, the heir of my actions; I have actions as my origin, actions as my relative, actions as my resort; I will be the heir of whatever actions, good or bad, that I do.’
—AN 5.57
The Buddha explicitly prescribed regular reflection on the impending separation from everything dear to you. But since people’s “Buddhist practice” often revolves around anything but such reflections, they continue to ignore how they live under constant risk for the sake of transient joys.
“… Suppose there was a dense forest grove not far from a town or village. And there was a tree laden with fruit, yet none of the fruit had fallen to the ground. And along came a man in need of fruit, wandering in search of fruit. Having plunged deep into that forest grove, he would see that tree laden with fruit. He would think: ‘That tree is laden with fruit, yet none of the fruit has fallen to the ground. But I know how to climb a tree. Why don’t I climb the tree, eat as much as I like, then fill my pouch?’ And that is what he would do. And along would come a second man in need of fruit, wandering in search of fruit, carrying a sharp axe. Having plunged deep into that forest grove, he would see that tree laden with fruit. He would think: ‘That tree is laden with fruit, yet none of the fruit has fallen to the ground. But I do not know how to climb a tree. Why don’t I fell this tree at the root, eat as much as I like, then fill my pouch?’ And so, he would fell the tree at the root. What do you think, householder? If the first man who climbed the tree does not quickly come down, when that tree fell, would he not break his hand, arm, or other limb, resulting in death or deadly suffering for him?”
“Yes, venerable sir.”
“In the same way, a noble disciple reflects: ‘With the simile of the fruit tree, the Buddha has said that sensuality gives little gratification and much suffering and distress, and the peril there is what is greater.’ …”
—MN 54
The disorienting array of options for replacing desirable things you lost, and for creating a false sense of safety around available ones, might seem like it mostly keeps the suffering and distress at bay. You can easily spend your entire life redirecting your passion from one thing to the next, with zero forced downtime prompting you to recognize the futility of the whole pattern.
But the danger in sensuality cannot be kept at bay by any amount of protections or replacements. It doesn’t first come into being when something is lost; it exists presently, as the inseparable counterpart of passion.
Even during the most joyful times, you know that the tree could fall.
Even if you make no deliberate effort to reflect on it, you still know that losing things you love, or not getting them to begin with, is never fully off the table. Otherwise you wouldn’t have that visceral instinct to protect them.
The inescapable uncertainty of things coupled with your passion for them means a constant undertone of anxiety. But since enjoying the fruits at the top while the tree hasn’t fallen yet is the only happiness you know, the very straightforward escape from the threat seems so unpalatable that you might even refuse to consider it:
Udāyi, there are these five avenues of sensuality. What five? Sights cognizable by the eye that are likable, desirable, agreeable, pleasing, connected with sensuality, and enticing. Sounds cognizable by the ear … Smells cognizable by the nose … Tastes cognizable by the tongue … Touches cognizable by the body that are likable, desirable, agreeable, pleasing, connected with sensuality, and enticing. These are the five avenues of sensuality.
Udāyi, the pleasure and joy that arise based on these five avenues of sensuality is called sensual pleasure—the pleasure of excrement, the pleasure of ordinary people, the ignoble pleasure. It is not to be partaken in, cultivated, or made much of.
I say that this pleasure ought to be feared.
—MN 66
The Danger Must Become Apparent
It’s not enough to give up sensuality as a calculated trade-off for the positive benefits of the practice, which leaves open the possibility to have both if only you could. Even if you’ve given it up outwardly, unless the connection between sensuality and acute peril is crystal-clear, a thread of passion towards it automatically remains. Strengthening your discernment of that connection is the one and only path to peace; any peace while that passion remains would feel like peace only to a leper who takes his condition entirely for granted.
“Suppose, Māgandiya, there was a leper with sores and blisters on his limbs, being devoured by worms, scratching the scabs off the openings of his wounds with his nails, cauterizing his body over a burning charcoal pit. Then his friends and companions, his kinsmen and relatives, brought a physician to treat him. The physician would make medicine for him, and by means of that medicine the man would be cured of his leprosy and would become well and happy, independent, master of himself, able to go where he likes. Then two strong men would seize him by both arms and drag him towards a burning charcoal pit. What do you think, Māgandiya? Would that man twist his body this way and that?”
“Yes, Master Gotama. Why is that? Because that fire is indeed painful to touch, hot, and scorching.”
“What do you think, Māgandiya? Is it only now that the fire is painful to touch, hot, and scorching, or previously too was that fire painful to touch, hot, and scorching?”
“Master Gotama, that fire is now painful to touch, hot, and scorching, and previously too that fire was painful to touch, hot, and scorching. For when that man was a leper with sores and blisters on his limbs, being devoured by worms, scratching the scabs off the openings of his wounds with his nails, his faculties were impaired; thus, though the fire was actually painful to touch, he gained a mistaken perception of it as pleasant.”
“So too, Māgandiya, in the past sensuality was painful to touch, hot, and scorching; in the future sensuality will be painful to touch, hot, and scorching; and now at present sensuality is painful to touch, hot, and scorching. But these beings who are not free from lust for sensuality, who are devoured by craving for sensuality, who burn with fever for sensuality, have broken faculties; thus, though sensuality is actually painful to touch, they gained a distorted perception of it as pleasant.
“Suppose, Māgandiya, there was a leper with sores and blisters on his limbs, being devoured by worms, scratching the scabs off the openings of his wounds with his nails, cauterizing his body over a burning charcoal pit; the more he scratches the scabs and cauterises his body, the fouler, more evil-smelling and more infected the openings of his wounds would become, yet he would find a certain measure of satisfaction and enjoyment in scratching the openings of his wounds. So too, Māgandiya, beings who are not free from lust for sensuality, who are devoured by craving for sensuality, who burn with fever for sensuality, still indulge in sensuality; the more such beings indulge in sensuality, the more their craving for sensuality increases and the more they are burned by their fever for sensuality, yet they find a certain measure of satisfaction and enjoyment in dependence on the five avenues of sensuality.
“What do you think, Māgandiya? Have you ever seen or heard of a king or a king’s minister enjoying himself, provided and endowed with the five avenues of sensuality, not having abandoned craving for sensuality, not having removed fever for sensuality, who could abide free from thirst, with a mind inwardly at peace, or who is able or who will be able to so abide?”—“No, Master Gotama.”
“Good, Māgandiya. I too have never seen or heard of a king or a king’s minister enjoying himself, provided and endowed with the five avenues of sensuality, not having abandoned craving for sensuality, not having removed fever for sensuality, who could abide free from thirst, with a mind inwardly at peace, or who is able or who will be able to so abide. On the contrary, Māgandiya, those recluses or brahmins who abided or abide or will abide free from thirst, with a mind inwardly at peace, all do so after having understood as they actually are the origin, the disappearance, the gratification, the danger, and the escape regarding sensuality, and it is after abandoning craving for sensuality and removing fever for sensuality that they abided or abide or will abide free from thirst, with a mind inwardly at peace.”
—MN 75
There simply could not be an effective path to freedom from dukkha, regardless of time or culture, wherein the need to give up sensuality was anything less than absolute. Delight in sensuality requires an attitude of denial regarding the essence of the Dhamma: liability to cessation that makes no exceptions. Hence, without abandoning that delight, there is no room for the Right View.
- See also Sudinna’s story at Pārājika 1. ↩︎