Discourse an.3.35 - https://dhamma.fixes.co.za

Hatthaka

On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling at Āḷavī on a heap of leaves spread out on a cow track in a siṁsapā grove. Then Hatthaka of Āḷavī, while walking and wandering for exercise, saw the Blessed One sitting there. He then approached the Blessed One, paid homage to him, sat down to one side, and said to the Blessed One:

“Bhante, did the Blessed One sleep well?”

“Yes, prince, I slept well. I am one of those in the world who sleep well.”

“But, Bhante, the winter nights are cold. It is the eight-day interval, the time when snow falls. The ground trampled by the hooves of cattle is rough, the spread of leaves is thin, the leaves on the tree are sparse, the ochre robes leave one cold, and the gale wind blows cold. Yet the Blessed One says thus: ‘Yes, prince, I slept well. I am one of those in the world who sleep well.’”

“Well then, prince, I will question you about this matter. You should answer as you see fit. What do you think, prince? A householder or a householder’s son might have a house with a peaked roof, plastered inside and out, draft-free, with bolts fastened and shutters closed. There he might have a couch spread with rugs, blankets, and covers, with an excellent covering of antelope hide, with a canopy above and red bolsters at both ends. An oil lamp would be burning and his four wives would serve him in extremely agreeable ways. What do you think, would he sleep well or not, or what do you think about this?”

“He would sleep well, Bhante. He would be one of those in the world who sleep well.”

(1) “What do you think, prince? Might there arise in that householder or householder’s son bodily and mental fevers born of lust, which would torment him so that he would sleep badly?”

“Yes, Bhante.”

“There might arise in that householder or householder’s son bodily and mental fevers born of lust, which would torment him so that he would sleep badly; but the Tathāgata has abandoned such lust, cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, obliterated it so that it is no more subject to future arising. Therefore I have slept well.

(2) “What do you think, prince? Might there arise in that householder or householder’s son bodily and mental fevers born of hatred … (3) … bodily and mental fevers born of delusion, which would torment him so that he would sleep badly?”

“Yes, Bhante.”

“There might arise in that householder or householder’s son bodily and mental fevers born of delusion, which would torment him so that he would sleep badly; but the Tathāgata has abandoned such delusion, cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, obliterated it so that it is no more subject to future arising. Therefore I have slept well.”

He always sleeps well,
the brahmin who has attained nibbāna,
cooled off, without acquisitions,
not tainted by sensual pleasures.

Having cut off all attachments,
having removed anguish in the heart,
the peaceful one sleeps well,
having attained peace of mind.

- Translator: Bhikkhu Bodhi

- Editor: Blake Walsh

With Hatthaka

So I have heard.
At one time the Buddha was staying near Āḷavī, on a mat of leaves by a cow-path in a grove of Indian Rosewood.
Then as Hatthaka of Āḷavī was going for a walk he saw the Buddha sitting on that mat of leaves.
He went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and said,
“Sir, I trust the Buddha slept well?”
“Yes, prince, I slept well.
I am one of those who sleep at ease in the world.”
“The winter nights are cold, sir, and it’s the week of mid-winter, when the snow falls. Rough is the ground trampled under the cows’ hooves, and thin is the mat of leaves. The leaves are sparse on the trees, the ocher robes are cold, and cold blows the north wind.
And yet the Buddha says,
‘Yes, prince, I slept well.
I am one of those who sleep at ease in the world.’”
“Well then, prince, I’ll ask you about this in return, and you can answer as you like.
What do you think? Take the case of a householder or his son, who lives in a bungalow, plastered inside and out, draft-free, with latches fastened and windows shuttered.
His couch is spread with woolen covers—shag-piled, pure white, or embroidered with flowers—and spread with a fine deer hide. It has a canopy above and red pillows at both ends.
An oil lamp is burning there,
while his four wives attend to him in all manner of agreeable ways.
What do you think, prince, would he sleep at ease, or not?
Or how do you see this?”
“He would sleep at ease, sir.
Of those who sleep at ease in the world, he would be one.”
“What do you think, prince?
Is it not possible that a fever born of greed—physical or mental—might arise in that householder or householder’s son, burning him so he sleeps badly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The greed that burns that householder or householder’s son, making them sleep badly, has been cut off at the root by the Realized One, made like a palm stump, obliterated, and unable to arise in the future.
That’s why I sleep at ease.
What do you think, prince?
Is it not possible that a fever born of hate …
or a fever born of delusion—physical or mental—might arise in that householder or householder’s son, burning him so he sleeps badly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The delusion that burns that householder or householder’s son, making them sleep badly, has been cut off at the root by the Realized One, made like a palm stump, obliterated, and unable to arise in the future.
That’s why I sleep at ease.
A brahmin who is fully extinguished
always sleeps at ease.
Sensual pleasures slip off them,
they’re cooled, free of attachments.
Since they’ve cut off all clinging,
and removed the stress from the heart,
the peaceful sleep at ease,
having found peace of mind.”

an.3.35 Aṅguttara Nikāya (Numbered Discourses)

Hatthaka

With Hatthaka