Saṅkappa rāgo purisassa kāmo

Version in Russian: Sankappa rago, purisassa kamo

A brief explanation of this gāthā can be found in the sermon Kāma: Sensual Pleasures (by Venerable Rakwane Gnanaseeha) from the book Bhāvanā — The Art of The Mind.
Below is a more detailed explanation by Venerable Rakwane Gnanaseeha, given in response to a retreat participant’s question in February 2025 (Paramitta Center, Kandy, Sri Lanka).

Editor’s note

Could you please explain in more detail the gāthā: “saṅkappa rāgo purisassa kāmo”?

Saṅkappa rāgo purisassa kāmo.
The Buddha explains: for a person, kāma is their love for concepts.

Let’s say a person starts forming concepts — various concepts. For example, there arises love, desire, greed, passion toward those concepts — and that is kāma for a person. Kāma is what we see, what we think will bring us happiness. All of that is kāma. That means: land, houses, food, drinks, people, jewels — all of this is called kāma.

And the Buddha says: for a person, kāma is their love for concepts.

Saṅkappa means concepts, thoughts;
Rāgo means passion;
Purisassa means “for a person.”

So, the love (or passion) for concepts, for thoughts — that is kāma for a person.

In fact, all these kāma are concepts for us. Money, love, divine realms — whatever we take, in the end, all of it is just concepts of the mind for us. They are our thoughts.

Let’s take one example: what is Sri Lanka? Can we touch Sri Lanka? What we touch is the earth, the sand. Can we hug Sri Lanka? We can hug a tree—like a palm tree—but the palm tree is not Sri Lanka. The same with a person: we can hold and hug someone, but that person is not Sri Lanka either.

So, can we really touch Sri Lanka? No, we cannot.

Let’s think further: can we see Sri Lanka? When we look around—what do we actually see? At the simplest level, we see a hall, people, some trees, greenery, birds.

Now, imagine if your eyes were blindfolded, and you were taken to an airport, put on a plane, and flown somewhere into nature. When your eyes are unblindfolded, you would see land and trees—but it would be very difficult to understand which country you are in: Sri Lanka, Vietnam, or India? Even here in Sri Lanka, we get confused when shown certain videos—everything looks so similar. Even the houses and people look alike.

In fact, when we look around, we see trees. But the trees are not Sri Lanka. And of course, we cannot taste or smell Sri Lanka. When we think like this, it gradually becomes clear to us that Sri Lanka is a concept.

I remember someone once replied to me that Sri Lanka can be drawn. But, you know, back in the days of the British, Sri Lanka was shown on maps a bit wider than it is now. And again, it’s just a drawing — it’s not Sri Lanka itself. Sri Lanka is a concept.

If someone in your home country said to you, “Tell me, what is Sri Lanka?” — how would you describe Sri Lanka? You might say that you are simply recalling Sri Lanka. But what exactly are you recalling?

Actually, this is a very complex topic. I can say to you: recall your childhood home. What do you remember? 

Look at yourself right now. It is the image of the house, your pets, your spouses, children, relatives, sometimes the nature around the house, or something else.

The people of Lanka have love for Sri Lanka. And what do they love? They love their concept of it.

We have many songs like: “Sri Lanka is where I was born, where I grew up, where I will die — this is my country.” Very beautiful songs. And there are many such songs in Russian, in English too! We have this love. But in reality, when we say “Sri Lanka,” we mean our history, people, culture, the way we speak.

For example, for us, it is how we bathed in the river, how we played as children, how we went to school. All of this is Sri Lanka to me; I have love for it, and so I love this concept. And because of this, an object appears in the external world to which I am attached!

And so we say: here — this is Sri Lanka; here are our trees; this is my hometown; these are my relatives; please, come, I will show you everything.

Actually, why did this become kāma for me? Because I love these concepts. I know them.

And, in truth, reality is very simple. There are sounds to be heard, sensations of hardness and warmth, smells, and so on. Reality is other than the concepts we have in our minds.

[Editor’s note: According to the Teaching, there is a distinction between conventional reality (sammuti-sacca) and ultimate reality (paramattha-sacca). In the ultimate sense, only dhammas exist. Concepts such as “Sri Lanka” or “person” belong to conventional reality, as explained by by Venerable Rakwane Gnanaseeha. At the same time, mental objects themselves are part of ultimate reality and can be objects of contemplation (dhammas as objects of the mind in satipaṭṭhāna practice), which Bhante further mentions later in the sermon.]

Many people leave Sri Lanka. And not only from Sri Lanka — this happens in many countries: people leave their homeland to live somewhere else. Why is that?

When conflicts, crises, and problems arise in Sri Lanka, all of this accumulates. And my concept gets disturbed. And it becomes hard for me.

For example, when I’m in Sri Lanka, traveling somewhere and I see some news along the way — I am attached to my country — so it affects me deeply. Someone did something wrong — and it affects me because I think, “These are our people.” All of this has an impact, and it is really difficult for a person.

And if we truly understand that this is actually a concept, then it becomes easier for us to deal with all of this. Not completely, but easier.

Let’s take another example, a smaller one: mango. We can touch a mango. We can eat it and taste it. I know its smell, and so on. But in reality, “mango” is a concept.

In Sri Lanka, I think there are about fifty varieties of mango — no less. Maybe even many more. I know all the kinds I tried in my childhood. Some are very big, some small — like rambutans. Some are sour, some sweet. I remember in my childhood we had a mango tree that we called the “medicinal mango.” Even when the fruits were fully ripe and fell to the ground, no one touched them — they were so tasteless!

When we say “mango,” a certain kind of mango, its smell, and so on appear in my mind: that is a concept. In the real world, there is a smell, there is a taste. But now they make artificial smells and flavors that are very similar to the taste of real mango. So how can we tell which one is truly the taste of mango?

Suppose I touch some fruit, an apple or a mango. And just by this touch, by this hardness, I cannot determine what kind of fruit it is. Yes, if I touch more and determine the shape, then my concept comes to mind, and I can try to determine what it is: that it might be a mango, mangoes have this shape. You can see: “mango” is a concept. In the real world, there is a different reality.

Or if we take the Sun. For Hindus, for example, it is not just a planet. For them, it is something divine, alive. In our Sinhalese folk literature, the Moon is called “Uncle.” Uncle Moon. So, in the evening, Uncle Moon will come and bring you milk. 

And we say that there is a rabbit on the Moon. And we see a rabbit there, its ears. As children, we look at the Moon and want to see a rabbit there, and when we look for a long time, we can see a rabbit, its ears at the top, and so on. The Chinese say that there is a girl there, and she is playing some musical instrument. They look and they see that. Where is Uncle Moon then? This is a concept.

But there is also reality. For example, we touch the floor and feel hardness. This hardness is not a concept: it is reality. And the thought arises: “This is the floor.” In thoughts there are concepts, and concepts are not real, but the thoughts themselves, as objects of the mind, are reality.

Now let’s return to Uncle Moon.

We might think: “Well, that’s folk literature, Uncle Moon, but there is also a scientific explanation.” We even photographed it up close, even people were able to be there. This is how it looks like, it revolves around the Earth, and it is much smaller than the Earth. But what do you think — is this scientific understanding of the Moon a concept or reality?

What difference does it really make to us whether there is a rabbit or a grey earth? What difference does it make to us whether the Earth is flat, or round, or like an egg? In the past, all people thought that the Earth was flat, but they still lived on it just like we do now!

And I am not saying now that we should not study all of this through science, that science is useless and so on. I’m saying that both — scientific knowledge and folk ideas — are in our minds, and reality is actually different. That is why Buddha says: if you want to study the world, then it arises in this very body, from the top of the head down to the feet, and it also exists here, it also disappears here.

Reverend, I say it’s not possible to know or see or reach the end of the world by traveling to a place where there’s no being born, growing old, dying, passing away, or being reborn. But I also say there’s no making an end of suffering without reaching the end of the world. For it is in this fathom-long carcass with its perception and mind that I describe the world, its origin, its cessation, and the practice that leads to its cessation.

Rohitassasutta: With Rohitassa, AN 4.45, translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

Also, in the Sabbasutta, the Buddha explains what “everything” is.

“And what, bhikkhus, is the all? The eye and forms, the ear and sounds, the nose and odours, the tongue and tastes, the body and tactile objects, the mind and mental phenomena. This is called the all.

“If anyone, bhikkhus, should speak thus: ‘Having rejected this all, I shall make known another all’—that would be a mere empty boast on his part. If he were questioned he would not be able to reply and, further, he would meet with vexation. For what reason? Because, bhikkhus, that would not be within his domain.”

Sabbasutta: The All, SN 35.23, translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

We can also say that everything is:

• the eye, eye objects (colors), eye consciousness;
• the ear, ear objects (sounds), ear consciousness;
• the tongue, tongue objects (tastes), tongue consciousness;
• the nose, nose objects (smells), nose consciousness;
• the body, body objects (touches, tactile objects), body consciousness;
• the mind, mind objects, mind consciousness.

Sensations, perceptions, saṅkhāras, all kinds of thinking, concepts — these are all objects of the mind.

This is what “everything” is. If someone says there is something beyond this, they will not be able to prove it. This means that as human beings, we know nothing more. Everything else we think about — other planets, galaxies, and so on — if we truly understand this, then where are all those galaxies? They are in our mind. In our saṅkhāras. Where do we encounter these galaxies? In the mind, as objects of the mind.

The Buddha also says that people suffer, feel sorrow and distress. The Buddha says these people lack the understanding that there are only 18 elements here. [Editor’s note: see Aṭṭhārasa dhātuyo: Eighteen Elements — Venerable Rakwane Gnanaseeha]

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 a person knows that there are only eighteen elements here, then they do not have that grief, sorrow, frustration. They have a different freedom, a different peace. 

Just think: what we are talking about now — is it just knowledge, or is it the Truth? That too is a concept; it is also in the mind. But can we see this concept as reality?

The Teaching is also a concept. I once thought, a long time ago, that for us as monks, what are the greatest attachments? First of all comes religion — my religion is Theravāda. I develop some attachment to it. In fact, this attachment helps me to keep going, to practice, but still, it is a concept.

Therefore, the Buddha says: use the teaching as a raft to cross to the other shore. And then you will have to leave it behind.

“Bhikkhus, I shall show you how the Dhamma is similar to a raft, being for the purpose of crossing over, not for the purpose of grasping. Listen and attend closely to what I shall say.”—“Yes, venerable sir,” the bhikkhus replied. The Blessed One said this:

“Bhikkhus, suppose a man in the course of a journey saw a great expanse of water, whose near shore was dangerous and fearful and whose further shore was safe and free from fear, but there was no ferryboat or bridge for going to the far shore. Then he thought: ‘There is this great expanse of water, whose near shore is dangerous and fearful and whose further shore is safe and free from fear, but there is no ferryboat or bridge for going to the far shore. Suppose I collect grass, twigs, branches, and leaves and bind them together into a raft, and supported by the raft and making an effort with my hands and feet, I got safely across to the far shore.’ And then the man collected grass, twigs, branches, and leaves and bound them together into a raft, and supported by the raft and making an effort with his hands and feet, he got safely across to the far shore. Then, when he had got across and had arrived at the far shore, he might think thus: ‘This raft has been very helpful to me, since supported by it and making an effort with my hands and feet, I got safely across to the far shore. Suppose I were to hoist it on my head or load it on my shoulder, and then go wherever I want.’ Now, bhikkhus, what do you think? By doing so, would that man be doing what should be done with that raft?”

“No, venerable sir.”

“By doing what would that man be doing what should be done with that raft? Here, bhikkhus, when that man got across and had arrived at the far shore, he might think thus: ‘This raft has been very helpful to me, since supported by it and making an effort with my hands and feet, I got safely across to the far shore. Suppose I were to haul it onto the dry land or set it adrift in the water, and then go wherever I want.’ Now, bhikkhus, it is by so doing that that man would be doing what should be done with that raft. So I have shown you how the Dhamma is similar to a raft, being for the purpose of crossing over, not for the purpose of grasping.

“Bhikkhus, when you know the Dhamma to be similar to a raft, you should abandon even the teachings, how much more so things contrary to the teachings.

Alagaddūpamasutta: The Simile of the Snake, MN 22, translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

So if we do not understand what concepts are, how they arise, we can fall into useless philosophy — just sitting and endlessly discussing. Why do we want to understand this? Why do we study, go on retreats, try to develop our minds? We want not to suffer. The problem is that due to ignorance, we don’t recognize what it is, we don’t know that these are concepts, and how much we suffer from it.

There’s a very good example. We see that a child — or someone else — is having a nightmare. They’re twitching, unable to wake up. We can see they are breathing heavily and suffering. What is the first thing we want to do? We want to wake them up and tell them: «It was just a nightmare. It was only a dream. It’s not reality.»

There is another level: a person is having a nightmare, but they understand that it’s a dream. They haven’t woken up yet, but they no longer twitch or suffer in the same way.

And there are people who no longer dream at all anymore. That is where we want to arrive. But for now, we just want to stop having such nightmares — we don’t want to suffer like that, because it’s frightening. Those who are still in the nightmare and don’t realize it’s a dream — they truly feel it.

If we understand at least a little bit how the mind works, how the mind deceives us, what kinds of traps it creates, how it builds this mirage — then we can begin to step back from it, even just a little. Because it’s not just a trap — it’s an immense amount of suffering.

The Buddha says that we don’t see this nightmare just in this life. Saṁsāra is beginningless — so from beginningless time, we’ve been seeing this nightmare and haven’t been able to wake up. If it were just one life, and after death the nightmare ended, then maybe it would be bearable. But still, I feel it’s better not to see such nightmares even for a single day.

Saṅkappa rāgo purisassa kāmo.

Love for concepts is the cause for kāma. Because of it, beloved things and disliked things appear for us in the world — beloved people and those we dislike — those we are tied to, those we cannot let go of.

Keep practicing. 

Try to see reality.