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As taught by Venerable Sariputta in The Discourse on Right View, clinging is suffering. Therefore, the origin of suffering is the origin of clinging, the cessation of suffering is the cessation of clinging, and the way leading to the cessation of suffering is the same path leading to the cessation of clinging. After explaining this, Venerable Sariputta addressed the question of the origin of suffering, which is clinging. And the cause of clinging is craving. Thus, with the cessation of craving, clinging ceases. And when clinging ceases, suffering ceases.

Clinging arises from a sequence of dependently arisen mental phenomena. When the senses come into contact with sense-objects, consciousness arises. When the senses, sense-object, and consciousness come together, contact arises. As a result of this, contact feeling arises. Feelings depend on our mental state; objects by themselves do not have pleasantness or unpleasantness. It is the mind that labels them as pleasant or unpleasant. If the object is pleasant, a mental state of craving develops. The wish to sense, again and again, the same object that led to a pleasant feeling ensues. This pattern, reinforced by desire and strengthened by repetition, results in clinging. All these states arise in the mind and cease in the mind. Therefore, we have to look into the mind to find the secret of happiness. The solution to our suffering is not somewhere outside of ourselves but in our own mind.

Desire is reinforced when the same mental state that craves a pleasurable object becomes habitual. A desire that is thus reinforced becomes very powerful. As a result, the mind is as if glued to the object of desire. The longer we pay attention to the object and dwell on it, the stronger our desire and the more tenacious our clinging to it. We cling to sights, sounds, odors, tastes, tangibles, and thoughts—in short, to the world of the six senses. It is as if a world connected to the senses emerges whenever they become active. For instance, when we see something, the world of sight is born. Depending on the quality of the mind, worlds of thoughts arise and uncountable images are formed in the mind.

If we were to see the entire mechanism that leads to clinging, we would understand that there really isn’t anything to cling to.

In every moment, we are born into the visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, tactile, and mental worlds. Immersed in these worlds, we cling to the objects they contain. When their content depletes, we miss what we held on to and suffer. These worlds appear and disappear from moment to moment. We cling to them because we are unable to see their perpetual appearance and disappearance due to ignorance. When one sees dependent origination—when this arises, this arises; when this passes away, this passes away—one understands that there really isn’t anything to hold on to.

Clinging arises in the mind when we do not see the underlying mechanics of what is happening. In fact, we do not actually cling to the object but to the thought of the object that arises in our mind, and thus we obsess about it. However, if we were to see the entire mechanism that leads to clinging, we would understand that there really isn’t anything to cling to. But due to ignorance and craving, we fail to see this entire process. Ignorance is so strong that it distorts our senses and convinces us that what we crave will remain and bring us comfort and solace. Seeing with right understanding the mechanism of sensual thoughts arising in the mind, craving cannot arise.

Once we understand with proper wisdom that all that has come to be in the realm of the six senses is subject to passing away, we are able to let go of our grasp on these worlds. Having let go, we soar above lamentation, grief, and sadness to a world of perfect equanimity beyond all suffering.

Whenever the topic of nonclinging is discussed, the role of desires for the pursuit of activities and occupations necessary to daily life usually comes up. This argument comes from a confusion about the difference between interest and clinging. Of course one must have a desire or interest in pursuing the various activities necessary for our continued existence in the world, but this does not require clinging. The following simile illustrates this point.

Our ancient Buddhist texts tell a story of a legendary war between the devas (deities) and asuras (demons). The asuras lost the war, and Sakka, the king of the devas, ordered his attendant to bind the asura king, Vepacitti. So Vepacitti was bound in five places—his hands, legs, and neck tied by a heavy chain—and dragged to the heavenly realm. But Sakka offered him a deal to regain his freedom: If Vepacitti admitted that the devas were right and the asuras were wrong, he would immediately be freed from his shackles and allowed to stay in the deva realm to enjoy heavenly bliss. Now Vepacitti found himself in quite a predicament. How could he betray his asura people by saying that they were wrong? On the other hand, if he were to go along with Sakka’s request, he could enjoy the pleasures of the heavenly realm. But Vepacitti’s pride kept him from surrendering. In either case, he was bound. His predicament is a riddle illustrating that as long as one is bound by fivefold sensual pleasures, there is no end to suffering.

The Buddha explains that greed is just like this. When one is enmeshed in ignorance, it is impossible to live without greed; and at the same time, greed brings about much suffering. Vepacitti represents the gamut of negative traits headed by greed, while Sakka embodies all the good qualities developed by mindfulness. When both sides are in a tug-of-war, mindfulness intervenes, serving as judge and justice. It is the balancing act that allows us to regain restraint in order to bring greed back under control. Without mindfulness we remain like Vepacitti, shackled by the cords of sensual pleasures, bound by greed.

A serene and peaceful life free from clinging is like a hang glider gracefully flying on the horizon, while clinging makes the glider of serenity crash.

Human nature has always struggled with the idea of abandoning what is pleasant, and even some disciples of the Buddha rebelled against forgoing sensual pleasures. In The Discourse on the Simile of the Quail, the Venerable Udayin tells the Buddha how much suffering has been averted by restraint and abandonment. But some monastics seem to have rebelled against the rules of restraint laid out by the Buddha. When told, “Abandon this,” they would disregard the Buddha, obstinately thinking, “What a mere trifle. Our teacher is too demanding!” As a result, the small thing to be abandoned became a big, strong thick yoke.

To illustrate the danger, drawback, and painful consequences of clinging to what is pleasant, the Buddha tells the Venerable Udayin the story of a captive quail that is unable to unbind itself. The quail is bound up by a rotting creeper. But since the quail is a feeble creature, she is unable to free herself. Even though the creeper is rotting, to the quail it appears very strong and solid. In the same way, the little things and habits pertaining to the pleasures of the senses, which at first seem so insignificant and benign, become very big fetters when one is unable to abandon them. The Buddha further explains that when one is able to overcome clinging, all fetters connected with greed become like a weak and rotting creeper. For a royal tusker elephant that is tethered, a simple twist of his body would be enough to free him from a strong fetter, which to him is no more than a mere weak and rotting creeper.

A serene and peaceful life free from clinging is like a hang glider gracefully flying on the horizon, while clinging makes the glider of serenity crash. Learning to fly a hang glider provides a direct simile for how grasping works and how letting go sets one free. One grasps the bars due to fear borne out of a sense of self, or me. The orientation and balance of the wings together with the position of the glider’s nose is what controls its flow through air currents. As soon as one clings to the bars, they become off-balance and the nose tilts downward. When one grasps, the mind is absorbed in holding on tightly, paying no attention to the position of the glider’s nose. When one does not see things as they are, heedfulness is gone due to fear. One trains to barely touch the down bars at liftoff, controlling the glider by the slightest push. With time and effort this becomes natural, and one can easily take off and stay in the air some two hundred feet or more, gently controlling the apparatus with the down bar. The pilot’s success rests in his or her ability to overcome grasping. This little victory over oneself gives a great sense of freedom as one glides through the air. So if flying in a mundane way can give one such a thrill, can you imagine the joy of soaring to the heights of spiritual liberation?

♦