Contemplative Practice (Vipaśyanā-caryā) on the Impurity of the Physical Body

Ru Chun: For a while I accompanied my family members during their hospitalization. In the same ward were two retired officials. One had undergone a tracheotomy, with two tubes installed in his throat—one for breathing and one for eating. He could not manage his own urination and defecation, and at night he was constantly choked by phlegm and unable to breathe; he could neither spit it out nor swallow it, coughing and gasping desperately, nearly suffocating. It was painful to watch him suffer so much. At such a time, even if he had a lot of money in the bank, high status, power, fame, talent, and an excellent, loving family, what use would any of that be in the face of illness, pain, aging, and death? Could it exempt him from these sufferings? Could he trade his money, status, success, and love with the great ghost of impermanence for one more day of life, or a little less suffering? Certainly not.

The other patient had Parkinson's disease and could basically take care of himself—he could eat and go to the bathroom on his own. But his family caregivers were very impatient, constantly scolding him and showing disdain for him. When he ate, sticky liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth as he chewed, and he could never clean himself properly after using the toilet. Just think—what kind of thing is a human being? What exactly is inside this skin-bag of ours? Such a wretched, foul skin-bag, and yet we still consider it quite lovable and noble, greedily clinging to our own and others' five aggregates, striving to achieve merit and establish enterprises for it, exerting all our strength to create all kinds of appearances to make it look mighty and splendid. How utterly foolish and shameful this truly is.

Assessment: Judging from all these phenomena, the physical body is indeed impure. The seeds of the pure four great elements, according to impure karmic seeds, combine in various ways to create an impure physical body—and then to crave and cling to it is truly foolish. In a whole lifetime, one creates far too much karma and pays far too much for this impure thing; most of a person's time is spent busying oneself for it, and one should have long since grown weary of it. For the sake of the Path, one need not abandon this physical body—just use it, make use of it to cultivate the Way, cultivate blessings, cultivate goodness, and establish virtue, accomplishing all kinds of merit and virtue. Apart from this, it really has little meaning. Yet so many people cling to this thing intensely. Beings of the six realms all cling to this thing, not knowing that using it temporarily is enough—clinging is useless and unnecessary. Having clinging thoughts means losing right mindfulness; it is wrong knowledge and wrong view (mithyā-dṛṣṭi), it is delusion and karma, and it can lead to the suffering of birth-and-death transmigration. When the Buddha was in the world, he pointed at a group of ants and said: because this group of ants clings to their own physical bodies, even after seven Buddhas have appeared in the world, they are still ants. One can see that clinging and greedy love have caused oneself to pass through countless immeasurable kalpas without being able to evolve toward a higher form of life—let alone speak of liberation.

Now we have encountered the dharma of liberation of both the Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna. Although we can accept it with faith and practice it, that clinging is still deeply rooted and cannot be shaken in the slightest. In matters of food, clothing, housing, daily use, and travel, we are extremely attached to the physical body, greedily cherishing, treasuring, and valuing it, unwilling to lower our standard of living even a little, unwilling to enjoy a little less—otherwise we feel we are at a loss. Yet we are constantly suffering losses, great losses, without knowing it; we have no feeling for how foolish we are, and no power of introspection.