Yogi Voice: The Lesson of Kammasaka
Recently we sent out a call for practitioners to send in their thoughts, reflections, stories, and anecdotes related to meditation in Myanmar or through Burmese lineages. We’re so happy to get our first submission from a foreign monastic with deep connections to Myanmar who has asked to remain anonymous. In this excerpt, they reflects on how they learned to use Dhamma lessons as a tool for dealing with conflict within the monastery confines. Although the nature of this type of conflict is only a small microcosm when compared to the sort of conflict now widespread in the country today, we hope it can provide some wisdom and inspiration to those struggling with far worse. Her emphasis of Kammasaka in no way excuses the inexcusable, nor gives the aggressor the right to carry on injustice, and indeed, they insist at the end of her essay that “we must speak, and we must act.” So when understood properly, understanding kammasaka empowers the person negatively impacted by the action to not be a victim rolling in pain and hurt, but rather to accept the reality of the event and respond with wisdom, knowing that we will be the owners of whatever action we choose to take in response. In Myanmar today, it can feel as if the range of skillful responses are narrowing by the day due to the aggression they are being faced with. With an appreciation for kammasaka, may we all be able to choose the right actions, uninfluenced by the wrongdoings of our aggressors.
Life in monasteries is complicated sometimes. We don’t choose our companions - and everyone is human, so conflicts can easily arise. But our task is to uncover whatever deep Dhamma is in there to be found. Burmese culture – and monastic culture in particular - revolves around that.
In the middle of a particularly nasty conflict, I learned one of the deepest Dhamma lessons I’ve ever learned, from just one word.
I had been wrongly accused of something, loudly and publically. It was intense – the experience was both mortifying and infuriating. So I went to Sayadaw to explain what had happened and to ask his advice.
Telling the story took several minutes, and as I told him the convoluted details I was hoping to get back an equal quantity of concrete advice. Instead, what came back was short and to the point.
“Kammasaka,” he said, “Do you understand?”
Kammasaka in Pāļi means simply ‘ownership if action.’ What we think, what we say, and what we do all have consequences that cannot be avoided. And Sayadaw’s question could be answered in many ways, touching multiple layers of experience: past and future, self and other. What had happened could not be changed. What was clearest in the moment was to ask myself what kamma did I want to create in response?
In a moment the Dhamma of that reflection cut through so many layers of pain and identification. Forget being a victim. Forget self-pity or simmering poisonous resentment. Forget getting everyone on ‘my side’ and winning a war. Mettā (for self and for the other person both) was the most important thing, and any action and speech I made needed to arise from that place.
And for the person making trouble – who knows why? – there could only be compassion. Because the consequences for them would not be good.
Since Sayadaw asked that short but deep question, the word has bubbled up countless times when faced with the complications of life in and out of the monastery. Someone throws rubbish on the ground by the Dhamma hall? Kammasaka. Someone is being self-centered and obtuse? Kammasaka. The world is on fire because of corruption and avarice? Kammasaka.
There is never a time when kammasaka is not true. No matter what. Even faced with horror, even when we are called to say or do difficult things. Intention is the seed of action and the engine that propels us into our individual and collective future.
Knowing that is both bracing and comforting. No matter what others do or say, it gives us a clear guidance about the general way forward, even if the specifics are foggy.
Kammasaka. We can’t undo what’s already happened, or what others choose to do or say. But we can know about ownership of action – and it is a blessing and a refuge. Because we must speak, and we must act. Seeing clearly means whatever we do or say in response to this complicated world will naturally be suffused with the kind well-wishing that is mettā. And no matter what, the consequences will be in accord with that, whatever they are.