Aṭṭhārasa dhātuyo: Eighteen Elements

“Mendicants, I will teach you the diversity of elements. Listen and apply your mind well, I will speak.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied. The Buddha said this:

“And what is the diversity of elements? The eye element, sight element, and eye consciousness element. The ear element, sound element, and ear consciousness element. The nose element, smell element, and nose consciousness element. The tongue element, taste element, and tongue consciousness element. The body element, touch element, and body consciousness element. The mind element, idea element, and mind consciousness element. This is called the diversity of elements.”

Dhātunānattasutta: Diversity of Elements (SN 14.1),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

Today we will talk about vipassanā. We can practice it in the context of the six āyatanā (spheres of perception), but there is also an explanation through the aṭṭhārasa dhātuyo: eighteen elements.

1. The element of the eye (cakkhu-dhātu).
2. The element of color (rūpa-dhātu).
3. The element of eye-consciousness (cakkhu-viññāṇa-dhātu).
4. The element of the ear (sota-dhātu).
5. The element of sound (sadda-dhātu).
6. The element of ear-consciousness (sota-viññāṇa-dhātu).
7. The element of the nose (ghāna-dhātu).
8. The element of smell (gandha-dhātu).
9. The element of nose-consciousness (ghāna-viññāṇa-dhātu).
10. The element of the tongue (jivhā-dhātu).
11. The element of taste (rasa-dhātu).
12. The element of tongue-consciousness (jivhā-viññāṇa-dhātu).
13. The element of the body (kāya-dhātu).
14. The element of tangible objects (photthabba-dhātu).
15. The element of body-consciousness (kāya-viññāṇa-dhātu).
16. The element of the mind (mano-dhātu).
17. The element of mental objects (dhammā-dhātu).
18. The element of mind-consciousness (mano-viññāṇa-dhātu).

If we take this definition, then there are only these eighteen elements in the world. Besides the elements, there is nothing else in the world. Vipassanā will show us what paramārtha (ultimate truth, absolute reality) is.

Usually, when we hear a sound, and then a thought arises in our mind, “there is a person there” (the thought that the world is there), it means that we are already in the world.

Why are dhātu considered suñña (empty), why are the elements empty? Because there is only paramārtha (primary reality), nothing else. There is no person or meaning there, so we say it is suñña (empty).

Then the Venerable Ānanda approached the Blessed One …and said to him: “Venerable sir, it is said, ‘Empty is the world, empty is the world.’ In what way, venerable sir, is it said, ‘Empty is the world’?”

“It is, Ānanda, because it is empty of self and of what belongs to self that it is said, ‘Empty is the world.’ And what is empty of self and of what belongs to self? The eye, Ānanda, is empty of self and of what belongs to self. Forms are empty of self and of what belongs to self. Eye-consciousness is empty of self and of what belongs to self. Eye-contact is empty of self and of what belongs to self…. Whatever feeling arises with mind-contact as condition — whether pleasant or painful or neither-painful-nor-pleasant — that too is empty of self and of what belongs to self.

It is, Ānanda, because it is empty of self and of what belongs to self that it is said, ‘Empty is the world.’”

Suññatalokasutta: Empty Is the World (SN 35.85),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

If we manage to stop the sound as sound and not follow it further, this is already vipassanā. But if we do not manage and follow it, then we are late in saṃsāra. This is why we meditate, this is why we must practice and develop our mindfulness.

Doing this immediately is not easy, but we need to know how exactly to practice, we need to understand where we are striving. And if we know this, we can perceive our body precisely as elements, we can perceive the āyatanā as elements, and the objects of the āyatanā as elements. And we can continue to practice this.

The shortest instruction on vipassanā given by the Buddha goes like this: diṭṭhe diṭṭhamattaṁ, sute sutamattaṁ, mute mutamattaṁ, viññāte viññātamattaṁ — in what is seen there must be only what is seen, in what is heard there must be only what is heard, in what is sensed there must be only what is sensed, in what is cognized there must be only what is cognized ( Bāhiyasutta: With Bāhiya, Ud 1.10, translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Ānandajoti). If we can understand what vipassanā is, it becomes easier for us to practice.

In that case, Bāhiya, you should train yourself thus: In what is seen there must be only what is seen, in what is heard there must be only what is heard, in what is sensed there must be only what is sensed, in what is cognized there must be only what is cognized. This is the way, Bāhiya, you should train yourself.

And since for you, Bāhiya, in what is seen there will be only what is seen, in what is heard there will be only what is heard, in what is sensed there will be only what is sensed, in what is cognized there will be only what is cognized, therefore, Bāhiya, you will not be with that; and since, Bāhiya, you will not be with that, therefore, Bāhiya, you will not be in that; and since, Bāhiya, you will not be in that, therefore, Bāhiya, you will not be here or hereafter or in between the two — just this is the end of suffering.

Bāhiyasutta: With Bāhiya (Ud 1.10),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Ānandajoti

When we sit and meditate, we observe our bodily sensations. But what is the body? This is already our papañca (conceptual proliferation). We can say that papañca are erroneous concepts, concepts with kilesa (mental defilements), in which we believe they exist.

The body can also be perceived as viññāṇa (consciousness), as kāya-viññāṇa-dhātu (the element of body-consciousness). If thoughts about this arise, we can recognize them as mano-viññāṇa-dhātu (the element of mind-consciousness). This is precisely what the Buddha shows us as vipassanā. This is where vipassanā leads.

We have the ear and sounds, and because of the ear and sounds, saṁyojana (fetters) arise in us. Whatever thoughts arise from these sounds — these are all saṁyojana. We get the thought that something is there, and this thought is already saṁyojana; it is a fetter for us, it is our kilesa (defilements).

We need to understand what vipassanā really is. Vipassanā means observing paramārtha (reality), seeing paramārtha as it is, seeing the world as it is. Just as each āyatana has its own function, so does each dhātu (element), and we can understand and observe this. But first, we need to know and think about it: the eye can only recognize colors, the objects of the eye can only be colors. This needs to be well thought out, understood through personal experience, and internalized, assimilated. The ear can only hear, the objects of the ear can only be sounds. The nose — smells, the tongue — tastes, the body — touches, and the mind and its objects. If we think we already know this, we must understand that this is how our ignorance manifests. Our ignorance is so deep that we do not even see it.

We need to think about this very thoughtfully. Then we can monitor the mind: when the mind starts thinking about something, we can determine whether it is a mental object or, for example, an object of the ear. Only then does our ignorance diminish. Otherwise, we start thinking, and the idea arises in our minds that what we are thinking about exists somewhere out there, and these are already wrong views. We need to examine this in reverse order, and for that, we need to constantly think in this way.

How to apply this in practice: we are sitting and observing, and the mind starts perceiving, for example, the cry of a squirrel, and immediately in the mind arises the notion — “there is a squirrel there.” First of all, we need to remove this mistaken, false understanding, remove this misconception. For this, we need to think in reverse order: “No, it’s not like that, the squirrel is not out there, the squirrel is in the mind”. This means that “squirrel” is a concept. The perceptions of the ear are only sounds. There was a sound, and then a creature appeared in the mind. We need to think about this very carefully, as if we are programming the mind in reverse, not in the usual way the mind is accustomed to.

If we do this, what will happen? There was a sound, then thoughts appeared that there was some creature there, and now I’m thinking about it. Then mindfulness and wisdom appear, and we understand — there cannot be any creature there, it is impossible. And why is there nothing there? Because what I am thinking about are mental objects. Mindfulness and wisdom will show that in the external world there were just some elements — colors, sounds, smells, tastes, touches — and they have already disappeared. What exists now are mental objects, not beings. In this way, it will be easy for us to overcome our attachment, greed, and anger, because there will be no basis for clinging. There will be nothing for them to hold on to.

Let’s now look at it from the perspective of practice, considering which āyatanā are at work. Let’s take the ear as an example. A sound is heard, and then it disappears. Besides sounds, the ear hears nothing. Then in the mind, a squirrel, a bird, or a person appears. Then it is immediately clear that for the “squirrel,” we need two āyatanā, or six dhātu: the ear, sounds, ear-consciousness, the mind, mental objects, and mind-consciousness. Where exactly is the “squirrel”? The squirrel is in the mind, as a mental object. Mind-consciousness arises, and the notion — “squirrel” — appears. Because there is the mind, the mental object, and mind-consciousness. In the mind, the object “squirrel” appears, and mind-consciousness recognizes: “the squirrel, which exists there.” And after this entire process has taken place, for us, the squirrel exists.

Or take the tongue: its task is to perceive tastes. Some tastes are pleasant to us, some are not. But when we eat, in reality, all āyatanā are at work, because we see, smell, taste and so on. Even just the sight of food is enough for us. For example, when people come to Sri Lanka, all the food is unfamiliar to them, and almost all the food is very spicy for them. Sometimes people see some white-colored food and think that because the food is white, it means it is not spicy, although in reality, it can be very spicy. Or vice versa: they see red-colored food and think that this food is spicy, although it is not necessarily spicy. But the mind says — this is spicy food. And the āyatana of the eye works, the āyatana of the nose (smells), the āyatana of the tongue (tastes), the āyatana of the body (touches), and the āyatana of the mind. But if we take the āyatana of the tongue, the tongue only knows taste. And for the mind the name of this food arises, and whether this food is tasty, and so on.

And if you live here for a while and get used to it, then you will develop āsavā (influxes or mental defilements). Āsavā are translated as influxes, outflows, or as streams of the mind: that this is such a form, and such a taste, such a smell, I like it or not, it exists in Sri Lanka. And then, the next time you come to Sri Lanka and see this form, then your āsava are already triggered: “Ah, I know what this is, give me two of those.”

If we look at what we are attached to, what we crave, this “food” is actually in our mind, and we have a certain history with this “food.” If it were something familiar to you, some familiar dish that we have seen many times (for example, buckwheat), we might even forget when we first ate it or how we got used to it. But the āsavā are already in our mind, so it is enough for us to simply see the color and shape, and the object of mind-consciousness immediately appears in the mind: “this is buckwheat.”

But we need to understand that when we eat, we can observe how the tongue senses taste, but in reality, two āyatanā are at work in the mouth: the tongue senses taste, and the body senses hardness, warmth, and pressure. And also probably the nose senses smells. Additionally, some thoughts appear in the mind. And if we observe what appears in the mind, it is not connected to what is in the mouth at all. If we look at what is in the mouth, it will not be pleasant to us — everything is mixed up. If we spit it out, we might even feel disgust. But while we are eating, some different food arises in our mind: pleasant, with pleasant smells, and we might even completely forget about the food and think about something entirely different. These pleasant sensations are lobha anussaya (latent tendency of greed).

Right now, many āyatanā are at work: the eye sees, the ear hears, the body feels touch, and thoughts appear in the mind — all of this together gives us the perception that I am here: I am here, sitting in the hall and listening, the teacher is speaking, and it is raining. For this whole world to appear, different āyatanā performed their tasks: the eye perceived colors, the ear perceived sounds and so on. But each time, after the eye, the mind appears, after the ear, the mind appears, after the body, the mind appears. These āyatanā work together, and the mind connects them.

“Reverend, these five faculties have different scopes and different ranges, and don’t experience each others’ scope and range. That is, Again, apparently general questions are in fact laying the groundwork for a discussion on subtle sates of meditation.the faculties of the eye, ear, nose, tongue, and body. What do these five faculties, with their different scopes and ranges, have recourse to? What experiences their scopes and ranges?”

“These five faculties, with their different scopes and ranges, have recourse to the mind. And the mind experiences their scopes and ranges.”

Mahāvedallasutta: The Great Elaboration (MN 43),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

The sense bases (āyatanā) individually could not give us such an understanding. But we need to know that this perception is also mistaken — it is a relative reality.

Remember how we visited the large monastery: we were sitting in a huge hall with many people, the teacher was sitting in front, and his face was even hard to see. There were speakers behind us, and we were sitting and listening. Each time we heard something, we thought we were listening to the teacher and that the sound was coming from him. But in reality, the sound was coming from behind, from the speakers, but the mind completely forgets this. The mind thinks: there is a person in front, he is talking, the sound is coming from there, and I am listening to him. And in the mind, a person, a teacher, appears whom we are listening to.

Look at how many āyatanā are at work! But we can separate them; for this, we first need this understanding. Then we need to think about this a lot and carefully, contemplate this knowledge, and internalize it. We need to take one āyatana and understand it very well so that the mind sees that there is nothing but elements in the external world. There are only colors, sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations. Everything that arises after them arises in the mind: it is only the mind, it is not the external world. Here, there are only sense bases (āyatanā); besides the āyatanā — the eye and its objects, the ear and its objects, and so on — there is nothing else here. Everything ends here. After that, whatever I see or think about — it is all the mind.

We can feel something behind us. But in reality, there should be no world there for us, because the entire world that we feel there is not accessible to our five sense organs. And the entire world behind us is created by our mind — it is just mental representations. In such moments, we can separate āyatanā and our mind’s representations. Then it becomes clear to us that this is a mental representation, not reality. It is relative reality, not absolute reality.

For example, when we see a person, we immediately have some kind of impression or judgment about what kind of person they are. For instance, in Sri Lanka, if people see a white person, they usually think: this person definitely speaks English, and they must be rich and a tourist. People have these impressions; they just see someone, and immediately their own representations arise. But this may not be the case! We need to understand that this is how our mind works; these are representations of our mind, and they are not the reality of what is seen. What I see are only colors, not a person, so what I think is not the visible reality. What I think is the mind, and what I see are colors, and these are not the same thing.

In Pali, there is a very beautiful gatha: sankappa rago, purisassa kamo. Sankappa means concepts, rago means passion, and purisassa means for a person. Kāma is a very large term that cannot be translated with just a few words. If we look at this word in the context of this gatha, everything through which we desire to obtain sensory pleasures is kāma for a person. We can say that kāma are sensory pleasures. The hall is kāma, tea, cups, everything in this room, our relatives — all of this is kāma.

Even our religion can sometimes be kāma for us. Sometimes, for example, people come to pay respects to the Bodhi tree to gain some luck or ask for something for themselves — then the tree has already become an object of kāma for a person. Everything we see in the world, everything we desire in the world, everything we want — all of this is kāma, which is why the Teaching constantly tells us that we need to step away from kāma.

When the Buddha explains what kāma is, he says that all kāma are concepts. So, what we want, what we desire — it is all in our mind: it does not exist in the external world. What then exists for us in the external world? Hardness, warmth, colors, sounds, and so on. Dhātu: elements.

This is a very deep gatha. We can reflect on it: everything I want, everything I desire, all this kāma, all these objects of kāma — they are all in my mind. In the real world, there are objects of āyatanā, and they are neither kusala (wholesome) nor akusala (unwholesome). The Buddha says: neither the eye nor the objects of the eye are wholesome or unwholesome, they are avyākata (beyond this) — neutral. The same goes for the others: the ear and the objects of the ear, the tongue and the objects of the tongue. All wholesome and unwholesome objects are concepts in the mind.

If we can understand this even on some level — it is already very good. And then we should see this through one of the āyatanā. For example, a person appears in the mind, and we see them, and we touch them. But the touch is not the person. What is in our mind and what we touch are different things. If we can separate this — that will be the application of this knowledge in practice.

Sankappa rago, purisassa kamo: concepts and passion for them are kāma for a person (kāma is what we desire to obtain as sensory pleasures).

When we begin to observe āyatanā, we can see, for example, that the eye only perceives colors; everything else is done by the mind. At first, it seems impossible to separate this because it all seems to happen simultaneously. We see a person. And initially, the mind does not believe this. But if we start practicing — we can see this distinction, see the eye, see the work of the eye, see the appearance of the object in the mind. And we can understand that the object in the mind is not the reality of the visible, and we can separate them.

The Buddha says that if any saṁyojana (fetters) arise through the eye, we must see saṁyojana as saṁyojana. Saṁyojana means defilements that arise along with something. For example, along with seeing, some thoughts arise, and there is ignorance (avijjā). There may be aversion, pride, envy — anything. This arose and we must see: there were objects of the eye, and saṁyojana appeared, and these are no longer objects of the eye — they are our mind’s defilements, our impurities — they are the mind. Defilements are always objects of the mind; this is how we should observe them.

We practice by observing bodily sensations. There is a double benefit in this. When we observe sensations, there are pleasant and unpleasant sensations, and the Buddha says that we must overcome lobha (passion, greed) for pleasant sensations and overcome aversion to unpleasant sensations. And when we observe, defilements also arise in us. For example, we observe the body, but in the mind, there is an image of the body, with its parts. But in reality, we cannot see the body; the Buddha says that the body is anidassano (invisible) — it cannot be seen, just like the eye, ear, nose, tongue, and mind — all are anidassano. So what do we see? The objects of the eye, colors. And the mind perceives this as the body, and we think that what I see is what I touch, and this is my body.

But we can simply see the sensations, that some touches appear. And we relate to them equanimously — without feeling attraction to them or rejecting them. And when some concepts appear in the mind, we go in reverse: where did it start, which āyatanā was at work, what was the object for this. It could be a sound, some touch, or a memory. Something arose in the mind, and we clung to it and started thinking about it. But in reality, these are all defilements. If we see them as defilements, we understand that they are all objects of the mind. There was some memory, and then I started thinking about it. And these are all new kamma (actions) that I am creating now, new saṅkhārā (kamma formers). These forms I am thinking about — they do not exist in the external world now, and this can be understood. And then we continue to observe bodily sensations, practicing equanimity.

When we sit down to meditate and close our eyes, we feel the body. And we also have the world around us: people, the hall, Sri Lanka — the perception of where we are. We can immediately think at the beginning that all of this — are representations of the mind, objects of the mind. With closed eyes, I actually feel only this hardness, warmth that is here, sometimes some sounds are heard, subtle smells. This is if we look at what is in reality. And sometimes some thoughts appear and disappear — that is also normal. But if we start believing in them, that here are other people sitting and meditating, and then we have some erroneous thoughts, we must understand that this is not in the external world — these are objects of the mind, and in the external world, there are only elements. And by meditating in this way, we can free ourselves from this. The Buddha says:

Just as, monks, the great ocean has one taste, the taste of salt, so, monks, this Dhamma and Discipline has one taste, the taste of freedom.

Uposathasutta: The Discourse about the Observance (Ud 5.5),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Ānandajoti

What do we liberate ourselves with? And what are we bound by? What do we liberate ourselves from? I am bound to this cup, I am bound to this tea. I can close my eyes, but the mind still says that the tea is here — that is already a binding. But we can liberate ourselves from everything. From the earth, from the sky, from people, birds, trees, from the Buddha — from everyone. All of these are objects of the mind, so when we close our eyes, everything that comes to mind is primarily objects of the mind.

I saw a machine through which old cars are passed, and it dismantles them into parts, into components. Similarly, vipassanā allows us to dismantle the whole world into six components: the eye and objects of the eye, the ear and objects of the ear, the nose and objects of the nose, the tongue and objects of the tongue, the body and objects of the body, and the mind and objects of the mind. The Buddha called his Teaching vibhajjavāda: vibhajati means to dismantle, separate, analyze, and vāda means teaching. Therefore, vipassanā teaches us to see the world differently. For example, everyone sees a bad person who did something wrong and is sent to prison. By practicing vipassanā, we also have the thought of a bad person in our mind, but we immediately see that it is an object of the mind, causing defilements of the mind. And then we see not an unwholesome person, but our own unwholesome mind. And therefore, we can see the world differently; we can rely on reality — this is what vipassanā teaches us.

This is a very profound Dhamma, but still, when we begin, we start from the very beginning — just observing. Observing our body, our sensations, what we hear, and so on. But if we work diligently, there will definitely be results. The Buddha gave the example of an egg: it’s as if our world is an egg, and the Buddha is the one who first broke a hole in the shell.

“Suppose, brahmin, there was a hen with eight, ten, or twelve eggs that she had properly covered, incubated, and nurtured. Should the first among those chicks to pierce its shell with the points of its claws or beak and safely hatch be called the eldest or the youngest?”

“It should be called the eldest, Master Gotama. So it is the eldest among them.”

“So too, brahmin, in a population immersed in ignorance, become like an egg, completely enveloped, I have pierced the eggshell of ignorance. I am the sole person in the world who has awakened to the unsurpassed perfect enlightenment. So I am the eldest, the best in the world.”

Verañjasutta: Verañjā (AN 8.11), translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Now the Buddha has already opened the Path for us, and we can see that there is more than just the egg. Therefore, our task is to take advantage of this opportunity, to follow the Path proclaimed by the Buddha.

“Bhikkhus, suppose that this great earth had become one mass of water, and a man would throw a yoke with a single hole upon it. An easterly wind would drive it westward; a westerly wind would drive it eastward; a northerly wind would drive it southward; a southerly wind would drive it northward. There was a blind turtle which would come to the surface once every hundred years. What do you think, bhikkhus, would that blind turtle, coming to the surface once every hundred years, insert its neck into that yoke with a single hole?”

“It would be by chance, venerable sir, that that blind turtle, coming to the surface once every hundred years, would insert its neck into that yoke with a single hole.”

“So too, bhikkhus, it is by chance that one obtains the human state; by chance that a Tathagata, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One arises in the world; by chance that the Dhamma and Discipline proclaimed by the Tathagata shines in the world.

You have obtained that human state, bhikkhus; a Tathagata, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One has arisen in the world; the Dhamma and Discipline proclaimed by the Tathagata shines in the world.

Therefore, bhikkhus, an exertion should be made to understand: ‘This is suffering.’…An exertion should be made to understand: ‘This is the way leading to the cessation of suffering.’”

Dutiyachiggaḷayugasutta: Yoke with a Hole (2), SN 56.48,
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi