Considering the Suffering of Being a Clutching Ghost
There are 500 kinds of clutching ghosts, including demonic ones (gdon-’dre) that cause certain types of accidents, spirits of the departed (gshin-’dre, shi-’dre), spirits that enter and take possession of human bodies (btsan) and overpowering ghost kings (rgyal-po) that cause certain forms of madness. Not all ghosts, however, are in this category, for some are beings trapped in the bardo (bar-do-ba).
Further descriptions of the clutching ghosts and creeping creatures are to be found in the Great Sutra on the Close Placement of Mindfulness (mDo dran-pa nyer-bzhag chen-po, Skt. Mahā-smṛty-upasthāna Sūtra). Risen corpses are also included among the clutching ghosts. Although quasi-humans, such as the something-or-other-somewhat-humans (mi-’am-ci, Skt. kinnara), may be included in the category of human beings, just as the would-be divine within the category of divine beings, their lot is not much better than that of a worse state of samsaric rebirth.
In Tsongkhapa’s Grand Presentation and the Fifth Dalai Lama’s Personal Instructions from Manjushri (Lam-rim ’jam-dpal zhal-lung), the suffering of being a creeping creature is discussed before that of being a clutching ghost. This is because such creatures are more ignorant than such ghosts and consequently more obscured from seeing reality. Here, the order of discussion is reversed, as is found in the Second Panchen Lama’s Speedy Path (Lam-rim myur-lam) and Pabongka’s Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand. The clutching ghosts are discussed before the creeping creatures, since they have more severe suffering and problems.
The homeland of the clutching ghosts is an extremely desolate and hot place located beneath the ground of Rose-Apple Islands. According to the First Dalai Lama’s Clarifying the Path, their cities are 500 ancient miles beneath Rose-Apple Islands, and specifically in our world-system, directly beneath Vaishali (Yangs-pa-can) in modern Bihar, India. Some live there, while others wander about on the surface of the earth, invisible to most humans.
Considering the General Suffering of Being a Clutching Ghost
Clutching ghosts suffer like most beings from heat, cold, hunger, thirst, fatigue and fear. However, their suffering in these areas is much more serious than we have as humans. If we are reborn as a clutching ghost, we feel intense heat not only from the sun, but also from the moon. We suffer with intense cold from wind and water and sometimes even feel chilled from the sun and the moon. A rain shower can feel like a bombardment of rocks. We must remain hungry for hundreds of years. If we take any food, it turns to fire in our stomach. We have no moisture at all in our bodies. If we take anything to drink, it burns our stomach like acid. We exhaust ourselves running constantly after illusions and mirages of food and water that disappear as soon as we reach them. We always live in fear of being destroyed by larger ghosts. When we run after an illusion of food, upon reaching it, we see a terrifying giant about to chop us into pieces.
Once Buddhajnana visited the subterranean realm of the clutching ghosts and met one lady spirit with 500 children. She pathetically pleaded with him to find her husband who had gone off to the human realm in search of food and tell him to come home. “How can I recognize him?” the master asked. “By his one eye and withered limb,” she replied.
Upon returning to the surface of the earth, Buddhajnana actually located this clutching ghost. When he gave him his wife’s message, the ghost opened one of his hands and showed him a dry wad of spittle. He said, “In all my 12 years here, this is the only food I have been able to obtain. Once, a monk spit this out and dedicated it for us clutching ghosts. I had to fight off a whole horde of others just to get this.”
Considering the Suffering Peculiar to Being a Clutching Ghost
As a clutching ghost we may have external blocks and hindrances (phyi’i sgrib). For instance, we may be unable to partake of food or drink even when placed before us, because obscurations from our previous karma prevent us from seeing it. Rivers that look full of water to humans appear dried up to us; verdant fields and fruit-laden trees look desolate and barren. We may have internal hindrances (nang-gi sgrib) as well. We may have a very tall body with an odd number of limbs, ugly goiters, a huge stomach and a neck either the size of a needle or tied in a knot so that neither food nor drink can reach our stomach. We may have further specific blocks and suffering with respect to food and drink. When we take anything to eat, it becomes fire in our mouth, or when we take water, it turns to acid.
To appreciate the problems and suffering of this miserable state of existence, we should recall what it is like to go even one day without food or drink, or how agonizing it is to have an ulcer or stomach cancer. If all we can think of is our next meal or our digestive problems, there is little room left for thoughts of spiritual practice or preventive measures.
One human month is equivalent to one day in the life of a clutching ghost, and the lifespan of these beings is 500 years of these month-long days. A lifespan of 500 years of month-long days equals 15,000 years [as cited by Vasubandhu in “A Treasure House of Special Topics of Knowledge,” III.83cd]. We can be reborn as a clutching ghost after finishing a lifetime in one of the joyless realms or from having called someone a clutching ghost, especially if that person was a monk. The main cause for this type of deprived rebirth, however, is miserliness (ser-sna, Skt. mātsarya), greed and lack of generosity.
At the time when Buddha Shakyamuni graced the earth with his commonly visible presence, there was a monk whose mother was extremely stingy. The son would force his mother to make an offering to the Buddha of some wool that she had, but each time she had to part with the wool, she would steal it back at night. As a result, she was reborn as a clutching ghost who compulsively repeated like a miserly person’s complaining under his breath, “This is too big, too much, too good.”
The son met this muttering ghost on the banks of the Ganges and was very frightened. However, the ghost recognized him and said, “I was your mother.” With the hope that he could help her build up positive karmic force, the son gave her some wool again and made her offer it once more to the Buddha. As before, she simply stole it back at night. The next time she had to make this offering, the Buddha took the wool, divided it into many portions and added it to the stuffing of the monks’ cushions. This prevented her from stealing it again because of her miserliness. It is helpful to keep this example in mind if, when we have to give something to someone, the attitude arises, “This costs too much, it is too good to give.”
If we do not give freely of ourselves, but hoard all our belongings and learning without ever sharing, we run the danger of being reborn a clutching ghost. As the Kadampa geshes always said:
We wander in samsara not from a lack of knowledge but from our lack of practice.
If we never practice what we claim to be expert in, we are only fooling ourselves.
Milarepa has said:
Some clutching ghosts have a good knowledge of the sutras and tantras, as well as of language, grammar and so on. However, because they ignored the laws of behavioral cause and effect, they were reborn as clutching ghosts.
Therefore, if we are learned scholars who simply hoard facts and information without ever integrating our knowledge into our life or sharing it with others, we should recall how some clutching ghosts are even good debaters. Because of their instincts, they can write and spell well, but they were unable to prevent their rebirth in this tortured state. Even if we recite each day the sadhana of Vajrabhairava (rDo-rje ’jigs-byed), still if we lack a proper spiritual motivation, this will merely act as a cause for being reborn as a clutching ghost with a buffalo head and a pair of horns!
Considering the Suffering of Being a Creeping Creature
Creeping creatures include not only the entire animal kingdom, regardless of how these beings might move, but also various other forms of life that creep about, often unseen by ordinary people, such as the nagas (klu, half-human half-serpent beings).
As Vasubandhu explains in A Treasure House of Special Topics of Knowledge (III.83ab), nagas are a type of creeping creature with the trunk of a snake and the upper half of a human. They are most often invisible and live at the bottom of bodies of water, beneath trees and fireplaces, and also in the rings of lakes surrounding the core mountain of any world-system.
Nagas are the most intelligent of the creeping creatures and have great wealth from fabulous wish-granting gems (yid-bzhin nor-bu, Skt. cintāmaṇi), which they wear on the crown of their head. However, they can make no use of them. If slighted by unclean behavior or by desecrating or destroying the place where they live, such as by chopping down or mutilating their trees, they often cause unpleasant skin diseases such as boils, rashes or leprosy.
If not offended, they are protectors of the Dharma. For instance, Manjushri entrusted The Hundred Thousand Verse Prajnaparamita Sutra (Shes-rab-kyi pha-rol-tu phyin-pa stong-phrag brgya-pa’i mdo, Skt. Śatasāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra) to the care of the nagas who live beneath the ground at the bottom of what was once a lake that filled the Kathmandu valley in Nepal. Nagarjuna with his extraphysical powers visited their subterranean realm and brought this sutra back with him to earth as a treasure text (gter-ma, terma) when he saw that the time was ripe for the Mahayana teachings to be uplifted and further spread.
Creeping creatures are found either in the oceans and lakes or scattered about in the human and occasionally in the divine realms. With rare exceptions, they are characterized by their stubborn and ignorant lack of discrimination, being slaves to their instincts.
Considering the General Suffering of Being a Creeping Creature
The general suffering of being a creeping creature includes:
- Being eaten by each other
- Being stupid and ignorant
- Having problems with heat and cold
- Having problems with hunger and thirst
- Being exploited and used for work.
[1] We should not indulge romantic fantasies about the innocent, natural and carefree joys of life as a beast in the wilds. If we are reborn in the animal kingdom, it will not be fun. Everyone hunts and eats each other. If we are a small creeping creature like a mouse, we can be snatched away at any moment by a cat or a hawk, or swallowed alive by a snake. As a tiny, insect we will be eaten by a larger one, a bird or a lizard. Even if we are an elephant, we can be attacked by a pack of wild dogs or, as a whale, be tormented by thousands of tiny creatures nibbling on us from all sides.
It is simply part of the negative karmic force of such a rebirth that we will be killed and eaten, either by fellow predatory creatures or by hunters or in slaughterhouses. In fact, some, like exterminators, farmers and builders, will kill us merely because of our life form and leave our carcass to be eaten by insects and worms. There is no avoiding such fate if we have the misfortune to be reborn as an animal.
[2] As a creature that moves bent over or slithering on the ground, we will lack the ability to benefit ourselves in anything but the most primitive fashion. Even if we are reborn as a monkey or a parrot that can be trained to perform a few amusing tricks, we can never be taught to have a good motivation of being kind and compassionate, let alone to develop bodhichitta, dedicating our heart to others and to the highest purified state.
We can be reborn as a cobra and maybe learn to come out of a basket at the sound of a flute. Then, however, all we could do is go back down into a suffocating box. If we are reborn as a dog, then even if a Buddha came before us and tried to instruct us in something profound, all we would see is a body of flesh, and we would understand nothing. The only thing we could do is pathetically wag our tail and hope for a pat on the head or a scrap of food! As a sheep, we would lack any discrimination. With no idea of what is good or bad for us, we would blindly follow our leader to be slaughtered.
[3] Think what it would be like to be an animal with a hot, shaggy coat of hair, tied up all day in the sun and with no freedom even to move into the shade. Or imagine being an earthworm, drying up on the concrete after the rains and being baked by the sun. As a creeping creature, we would also have extreme problems with the cold. If we were a cow, unless someone put us in a barn, we would simply have to stand in the snow or freezing rain. We would have no ability to put on something warm or to build a fire.
[4] It is the rare animal that lives comfortably in a kind person’s house and is lavishly fed. Most creeping creatures must spend all their waking hours hunting for food. Even if we are someone’s pet, if they leave us locked in their house and forget to feed us or give us anything to drink, what could we do except sit there and cry!
[5] Depending on what type of creature we are, we can be exploited for our labor, speed or strength, our entertaining habits or looks, our tasty flesh, eggs, pelt, musk, tusks and so forth. Consider the quality of life we would have as a chicken imprisoned in a tiny coop, forced to lay eggs every day, never allowed to move, let alone go outside in the sun and then slaughtered in the end and made into dog food. Or think about being a pack animal crossing the mountains or a desert with a load of salt on our back, forced to work like a slave until we drop. Even if we sit all day in a rich person’s lap, we will be disposed of like an old rag if we become a bother or fall sick.
Considering the Suffering Peculiar to Being a Creeping Creature
Many creatures must live either in stifling situations (bying-na gnas-pa) or scattered about (kha-’thor-ba). If we lived on the bottom of the ocean, we would always remain in total darkness. We would have to keep our mouth open all the time and eat whatever came into it, even if it was our mother! Or we could easily have to spend our entire life locked in a cage like a prisoner or tied up all the time in solitary confinement for the amusement of people as their pet. Separated from our kind, we might have to live as scavengers on the streets of towns and cities, where we would have difficulty obtaining food and shelter and would be subject to the sadistic caprices of human beings.
Creeping creatures have no specific lifespan. Tiny insects live an extremely short time, while some nagas may live as long as an intermediate eon. The main cause for rebirth as a creeping creature is despising the Dharma or any of its teachers, letting ourselves be ruled by animal drives, such as blindly overindulging in sexual misconduct with no self-control, and also stupidly calling others the names of creeping creatures. As the Kadampa geshes used to say:
You may jokingly call someone a monkey or an ass, but when you are reborn as one, it will be no joke.
An example of this has been related by Kshemendra (dGe-ba’i dbang-po) in A Wish-Granting Tree of Hundreds of Illustrative Accounts (dPag-bsam khrid-shing, Skt. Avadāna-kalpalatā), XXXIX. Once, a group of 500 fishermen caught in their net a sea monster (chu-srin, Skt. makara) that had eighteen heads, each of a different animal. They asked Buddha Shakyamuni what the cause of such a strange rebirth was. The Buddha explained that in a previous life during the time of the Third Buddha, Kashyapa, this monster had been a non-Buddhist scholar from the brahmin priest caste whose name was Kapila, son of Manu (Shed-bu Ser-skya). Having defeated all the scholars in his village in formal debate and still not having gained recognition, he was told by his mother that in order to become famous he must debate with the monks at one of the large Buddhist monastic universities. Kapila said that if he were to do so, he could not possibly defeat them. His mother, however, devised a clever plan. She told her son to call each of the monks the name of a different creeping creature. Because they would react to this name-calling with patient tolerance and would remain silent, he would be declared the victor. Kapila did so with eighteen monks and as a result of his foolish pride was reborn as this sea monster with the eighteen heads of these different beasts.
Many of us may find it difficult at first to relate to the sufferings of a trapped being in a joyless realm or a clutching ghost, but the suffering of being a creeping creature, such as an animal, is quite apparent. We build up a habit of being aware of their quality of life by imagining ourselves as a sheep, for instance, being led to the slaughter, looking up at the butcher with a knife in his hand and then having our throat slit. Or we think what it is like to be a tiny sea creature locked into a piece of coral or a donkey piled with an enormous load, with open festering sores on our back, flies all over our face and someone madly whipping us. We can also picture ourselves as a cockroach or a fly and how, when we enter a room, it is as if the world’s worst villain has arrived. Everyone who sees us just wants to squash us.
Next time we think to indulge ourselves in an improper sexual whim, we should imagine ourselves as an aged, decrepit, flea-ridden bitch in heat being attacked by a horde of fighting, howling mongrels, or visualize ourselves as one of that pack. In such ways as these, the experience of the horrors and sufferings of this misfortunate state of rebirth, to which we may easily go after death if we are not careful, will become concrete and vivid to us. This should certainly inspire us to take some preventive measures and feel compassion for these poor creatures.
We do not have to ask lamas to do divination (mo, thugs-dam) to find out where we will be reborn. If we examine the kind of karmic impulses that continually arise in our minds and the type of actions we compulsively do, we can know fully well in what direction we are heading. The only thing that separates us from having a coat of hair, a tail and four paws is the space of one breath. If we stop breathing now, we can immediately die, go into the bardo in the form of a rodent, enter the womb of a rat in a sewer, and before we know it, we are lying in filth with a long pink tail and squealing for milk.
Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend (83):
Anyone with negative karmic force, who’s not terrified, in a thousand ways, from hearing about the immeasurable sufferings in the joyless realms that they are cut off from by merely the stopping of a single breath, must have a nature (as hard) as a diamond.
Therefore, it is the tradition of Geshe Chengawa that before any meditation session we recite from Chandrakirti’s Engaging in the Middle Way (dBu-ma-la ’jug-pa, Skt. Madhyamakāvatāra), II.5:
Now, when I have entered into (a rebirth in which I am under) my own control and can live correspondingly, if I do not hold myself back (from destructive actions), then once I have fallen into the abyss (of a worse realm) and have entered (a rebirth in which I am) under the control of other (forces) (gzhan-dbang), how will I ever be able to raise myself out of that again?
Some of us might feel it does not matter if we fall to a worse rebirth because if we wait long enough, our negative karmic force to be in this state will exhaust itself, and then from our previous positive karmic force we will be reborn as a human. However, who are we kidding? If when we want something badly, we cannot tolerate having to wait for even a day, let alone standing an hour in a queue, how will we ever be able to endure waiting for eons in one of the joyless realms?
Once we have fallen to one of the worse rebirth states, we will have no freedom to better our condition. In fact, almost everything we do will be self-destructive. Compulsively acting out our negative propensities, we will just make life worse for ourselves in the future. Each time, as a cat, that we torture or kill a mouse or a bug, we plummet ourselves further away from any purified state.
It is entirely up to us what we do with our precious human lives. We have the power to make ourselves anything in the future – a human, a divine being, a trapped being or an insect. It would be pathetic not to take any measures to prevent ourselves from experiencing a disastrous rebirth.
As Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend (60):
Even more foolish than someone who uses a golden vessel adorned with gems to collect his vomit, is someone who, having been born as a human, performs negative deeds.
Therefore, during our meditation sessions, we repeatedly go through the following sequence of thoughts in order to work ourselves up to an initial scope of spiritual motivation of wishing to benefit our future lives:
- First, we reaffirm our wholehearted commitment to our spiritual mentor. We remind ourselves how we are doubly fortunate because not only do we have a Buddha to guide us, but we also have a precious human life with respites and rich opportunities to be able to improve our condition.
- Then, we think about how we will lose all this at death. With the realization that we definitely will die, and that we may do so at any moment, we become motivated to take advantage of our situation and take the essence of life. We will prepare for our deaths by following our teacher’s instructions on practicing the Dharma, for this will be our only help when we pass away.
- Next, we consider the sufferings and problems of the worse rebirth states that can follow our deaths if we have not practiced the Dharma. As Geshe Potowa (dGe-bshes Po-to-ba Rin-chen-gsal) has said, “I do not fear death as much as I fear rebirth. Death lasts only a moment, but a rebirth in one of the worse states of existence can last a hell of a long time.”
Realization of what might happen after death if we have taken no preventive measures causes us to want desperately to work toward benefiting our future rebirths. Also, it reinforces our conviction to take the essence of our precious human lives by following the guidance of our spiritual mentor. Unless we do something constructive now to ensure that we continue to enjoy such precious rebirths, this will have been our only chance. We must find a safe direction to take.
In the Foundation for The Rules of Discipline Scriptural Texts (’Dul-ba lung gzhi, Skt. Vinaya Vastu), the account has been related of Ananda’s two nephews who became monks but were so lazy, they made no effort to learn how to read. Their uncle entrusted them to Maudgalyayana who used his extraphysical powers to emanate in the courtyard a scene from one of the joyless realms. The boys heard terrible screams outside, and when they came out and saw two cauldrons of boiling copper, they asked what this was. Maudgalyayana told them, “These are the pots in which will be boiled Ananda’s lazy nephews who became monks but never wanted to read or study!”
The boys were terrified, and when they asked further about how to avoid such a fate, Maudgalyayana taught them about behavioral cause and effect. After this, they worked hard with joyful perseverance and learned how to read. Whenever they recalled the hellish scene they had seen, they would lose their appetite if they had not yet eaten or would become nauseous and ill if it was after their meal.
After a while, Maudgalyayana manifested another scene in the courtyard, this time of one of the divine realms. The boys heard the enchanting sounds of heavenly music, and when they came outside, beheld a palace filled with the most enticing and beautiful dakinis. When they asked what this was, Maudgalyayana said, “This is what awaits Ananda’s nephews who became monks and studied hard.” After this, the lads worked at their studies and practices with even more diligence and joy.
One day, they asked if they were reborn in such a divine realm, would they ever fall back. “Of course,” said Maudgalyayana. “So long as you are tied up with disturbing emotions and with karma, there is no certainty where you will be reborn. Samsara is like a rolling wheel (’khor-lo, Skt. cakra): the bottom comes to the top but then goes back down.” The nephews said, “If this is the case, then teach us the practices that can get us out of this predicament altogether.” Maudgalyayana then explained about the four noble truths. In this way, they quickly became arhats, liberated beings who overcame their internal enemies and gained nirvana, a release from all their troubles. Thus, considering the suffering of the worse rebirth states has a very important place in the graded process of learning how to take the essence of life.
In summary, Tsongkhapa has said in his Abbreviated Points of the Graded Path (Lam-rim bsdus-don), 10:
This working basis (of a precious human life) with (eight) respites is more exceptional than a wish-granting gem. (A rebirth) like this is gained (perhaps) only this one time. Hard to acquire and easily lost, (it passes in a flash) like lightning in the sky. Considering (my precious human life) in these ways and realizing that (engaging in) any worldly activities is like (trying to) winnow (something meaningful from) chaff, I must take the essence (of life) at all (times), day and night.
The ennobling, impeccable Lama has practiced like that. Let me, too, who strives for liberation, cultivate myself in the same way.