This special episode is compiled and translated from 'Lok Thip' (World of the Divine), Thailand’s most renowned magazine of the 80s and 90s dedicated to the supernatural. It specializes in true stories of mysterious Forest Monks, miracles, and the mystical side of Buddhism—serving as a chronicle of Thailand’s masters who possessed extraordinary spiritual powers.
Let us begin.
A white road sign with black lettering by the roadside reads: "Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary 5 km." Along the asphalt road, lush green trees, a cerulean sky, and complex mountain ranges alternate in view. The weather at this moment is clear and comfortable.
I am the Chief of the Chanaen Forest Protection Unit, Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary, Bueng Kan District, Nong Khai Province. My name is Buaphet Prakaisit, known to the villagers generally as "Biew Chaiyaporn." I reside at 84/3 Moo 11, Ban Mai Chaiyaporn, Tambon Chaiyaporn, Bueng Kan District, Nong Khai Province. I have a family and two children. As I drive my car to inspect the forest area, I sit recalling a certain The Renegade Dhutaṅga Monk (Dhutaṅga-bhikkhu)—"The One Who Does Not Return."
It is true that I was born a Buddhist (Upāsaka), but I adhered to the religion only in speech; I spoke of it and performed acts of paying respect, but nothing more.
When I say I adhered to it in speech, I mean that if anyone asked what religion I followed, I would answer, "Buddhism." If filling out a form with a space for religion, I would write "Buddhism." That was all. When I say I adhered by paying respect, I mean that if there was a Buddhist event—such as a temple fair, offering Kathina robes, offering Pha Pa, circumambulation, building sand pagodas, or the beginning and end of the Rains Retreat—I would always participate. Yet, my mind was not deeply moved by the taste of the Dhamma. I did not yet firmly believe; I was full of hesitation and doubt.
The house I live in today is opposite Wat Si Sawang Arom, but there is also a Christian church nearby called "St. Joseph's Church." There is no mosque for Muslims. As for Hindu places of worship, no Indians have settled here, but there is an intelligent Indian milkman who knows Hinduism well and is familiar with me. In my free time, I liked to converse with the monks at the temple opposite my house, talk to the priests and sisters at St. Joseph's Church, occasionally converse with Hajjis who practice Islam, and sometimes speak with the milkman. This gave me a fair amount of knowledge regarding various religions.
Knowing many religions did not help bring any clarity to my mind; on the contrary, it caused even more doubt and hesitation. If one were to compare me at that time, I was like a traveler standing at a four-way intersection, confused, not knowing which way to decide to walk. At the mouth of each path stood people inviting me to follow their way, offering various promises, such as: "If you choose our path, you will attain immortal life and eternal happiness." But those promises did not attract my mind very much. My life at that time was rather difficult, making me feel that life was not particularly delightful. Just enduring 70 or 80 years in this world was almost unbearable; if I had to have immortal life, eternal and undying, I surely could not cope.
Finally, I decided to walk down one path which leads to Unbinding (Nibbāna), which was close to where I stood. But I had not walked far before I had to stop, for it appeared that this path split into tens of smaller paths. I stood hesitating again, not knowing which way was the correct one to lead to Unbinding as desired.
I only came to believe that I was traveling the correct path in the year 1985. The story of the Renegade Dhutaṅga Monk who came to aid me is as follows:
In early 1985, a young monk came to wander and dwell at "Tham Khilek Lai" (Cave of the Flowing Iron Ores) within the Chanaen Forest Protection Unit, Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary, near our village of Chaiyaporn. No one knew his name or where he came from, as he never told anyone. He was a Dhutaṅga-bhikkhu who practiced very strictly: wearing ochre-colored Robes (Cīvara), eating only one meal a day, and eating from his Alms Bowl (Patta). He went out for Alms Gathering (Piṇḍapāta) every day without fail, regardless of rain, sun, or illness. Because of this, his observance of Ascetic Practices (Dhutaṅga-vatta) was highly respected by the villagers. Everyone familiarly called him "Luang Pho" (Venerable Father).
Aside from his strict practice, our Luang Pho had another special characteristic: he spoke very little. It could be said that no one ever heard him speak three sentences at one time. Sometimes he would sit silently all day, even with the laity sitting fully in front of him. Consequently, the laity who intended to talk to Luang Pho ended up talking amongst themselves. However, Luang Pho was not entirely mute. Once in a long while, he would utter a sentence or two, and every sentence that escaped his lips was usually a profound Dhamma riddle or a proverb with a touching moral. For this reason, every word of his was incredibly valuable. Some laypeople would endure sitting and waiting on him all day just to hear a single sentence. Once heard, they would take it to contemplate, debate, and critique until they developed a better understanding of the Dhamma than if they had listened to long sermons. The reputation of Luang Pho immediately sparked my interest.
One day, when I had free time, I went to pay respects and found him resting under a rock overhang at the mouth of the cave. "Luang Pho, sir," I spoke up after bowing to him. "Although I am a Buddhist, I still have much doubt and hesitation. I do not know what principle of practice to hold onto. I have asked many monks at many temples. Some teach Giving (Dāna), some teach Observing Precepts (Sīla-samādāna). Some teach Mental Cultivation (Bhāvanā)—there is 'Rising-Falling', 'Samma Arahang', 'Bud-dho', and hand movements. Some encourage Insight Meditation (Vipassanā) and contemplation. Some invite me to Go Forth (Pabbajjā). Some recommend making the Consciousness (Citta) void. I am completely confused and do not know what to hold as a certainty. Luang Pho, please tell me, what must I do to walk the right path and reach the core of the religion?"
"Know," Luang Pho answered briefly in his typical style. Then he said nothing more.
I was utterly bewildered, because I did not understand his meaning. I did not know if he "Knew" the story I told him, or if he was advising me to "Know." When I was sure he would not explain further, I asked him, "Know what, sir?"
"Know yourself (Roo Tua)," Luang Pho answered, then rose and walked into the cave before I could ask anything further.
While walking home, I tried to interpret the meaning of "Know yourself" the entire way. In my mind, I argued with Luang Pho: "I already know myself," I argued in my mind. I know my name, my surname, my age, my education level, my occupation, my habit of researching strange new knowledge, and my chronic stomach pain. I could answer every question about myself. I never went to fortune tellers because I did not believe a fortune teller would know me better than I knew myself. How else would Luang Pho have me "Know myself"? I lay thinking about this problem for many days but could not figure it out.
One day, when the opportunity arose, I walked into the market in Nong Khai city. My goal was to visit a bookstore, believing that perhaps books could help solve the problem. I entered a large bookstore and browsed. I found books of all types, both Thai and English—novels, documentaries, fables, textbooks, and picture books. I spent about an hour walking through the shop but did not find what I wanted. Just as I was about to leave, my eye caught a book displayed in a cabinet. The most striking thing on the book was a sketch of a human bisected, colored to reveal the internal organs clearly. I walked closer and found the title: Mechanism of the Human Body, written by a famous doctor. I paid 150 Baht and took the book home. Upon arriving, I immediately began reading. Because the author used simple language and had dazzling illustrations, it was very easy to understand.
Within three days, I finished the book and remembered all the essential points. Now, I knew how many bones the human body consists of, how many muscle bundles, how many tendons, and where they were. I knew the functions of various organs like the heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, stomach, intestines, and glands. I knew details down to the structure, composition, growth, and reproduction of cells. This book made me see the human body as a massive factory, consisting of tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of machines working closely together day and night, from birth until death.
Believing I "Knew myself" well, I went to see Luang Pho at the cave and described the mechanism of the human body to him in detail, as I remembered from the book. When I finished, I sat waiting intently to hear what Luang Pho's opinion would be.
"You do not yet know yourself," Luang Pho spoke up after sitting silently the whole time. "What you know is merely Conventional Truth (Sammuti-sacca)."
Before I could reply, he rose and walked into the cave, leaving me sitting there sighing in disappointment alone.
I walked home dejected and began thinking of the meaning of "Know yourself" in other ways. But the more I thought, the more I was in the dark. One Sunday morning, I decided to go into the provincial city again. The purpose was to meet and seek advice from a science teacher who used to teach me.
"Teacher," I said after customary greetings. "At my home, there is a forest monk. He taught me that if I want to walk the right path and reach the core of Buddhism, I must 'Know myself.' I explained our self according to Physiology (Sarīravijjā) to him, but he said, 'What I know is merely Conventional Truth.' I do not yet 'Know myself.' Teacher, please advise me, in what other aspect should I know myself?"
The teacher, who held a Master's degree in Science, thought for a moment and said, "Physiology or Anatomy is not yet the final knowledge regarding the human self. To reach the ultimate, one must study it in terms of Chemistry."
The teacher then began to explain the human body in chemical terms. He started by classifying the chemical compounds of the body, then separating each compound into pure elements, meaning Atoms (Paramāṇu). He explained the atomic structure of various elements in detail, including the isotopes of the same elements.
"This atom is the smallest component of the body," the teacher concluded. "You will see that each atom has characteristics similar to a solar system, with a nucleus as the sun and electrons as planets orbiting around it. Therefore, our body is nothing but a group of countless atoms, just as a galaxy is a group of many solar systems."
I went back to see Luang Pho again and explained the "Self" in terms of Chemistry to him in detail for over 30 minutes. Luang Pho seemed to listen with interest, giving me a faint hope that this time he would surely certify that I "Knew myself." When I finished explaining, Luang Pho remained sitting still, as if reviewing the story I had just told. After a long while, Luang Pho spoke: "You still do not know yourself. What you know is merely the Truth of Natural Phenomena (Sabhāva-sacca)." With that, he rose and entered the cave as usual.
I had to carry my disappointment home once again. But the failures of the past two times did not cause me to lose the perseverance to search for the truth.
I continued trying to crack the meaning of "Know yourself," but received no clarity. I tried asking many people to no avail. Until one evening, while eating dinner, the local radio announced that an expert teacher in Higher Doctrine (Abhidhamma) would be coming to give a special lecture on "The Secret of Life" at the central auditorium, Honor to the King Building in the city, in two days.
Hearing that announcement, hope arose in me immediately. This time I would surely "Know myself." The previous two times, I studied the "Self" only on the material side, completely forgetting the mental side. This time I would have the opportunity to know myself regarding the mind, which Buddhism regards as important. I noted the date and time of the lecture in my pocketbook and waited with anxious anticipation. Finally, the awaited day arrived. I went into the city early in the morning and sat waiting in the auditorium almost an hour before the time.
That day, the audience was exceptionally large. Though the auditorium was vast, it was packed with interested citizens. When the time came, the lecturer stepped onto the stage. He stated that people nowadays have much knowledge, knowledge that is wide and far—far from themselves to the world, from the world to the sky and space. People can know the diameter of tiny stars twinkling in deep space, their circumference, their weight, their elemental composition, and how many light-years away they are. But at the same time, they completely forget themselves. They do not study themselves, so they have very little knowledge about themselves. Humans do not know what they are, what they are composed of, how they came to be born, or where they will go after death. Then, the lecturer entered the main point of the talk.
He explained the nature of the Consciousness (Citta), the hundreds of types of Consciousness, the function of Consciousness, the moods of the mind, the various Mental Factors (Cetasika) intertwined with Consciousness, the performance of Action (Kamma), the power of Kamma, and rebirth. Furthermore, he explained about Ghosts, Deities (Deva), Hungry Ghosts (Peta), as well as various mysterious powers of the occult. After the lecture ended, the speaker opened the floor for the audience to ask questions. I asked 2-3 questions and listened to the answers clearly and to my satisfaction. I traveled home with more confidence than any previous time. Listening to this lecture made me "Know myself" regarding the mind in thorough detail. "Luang Pho will surely have to surrender this time," I said to myself with delight. The past two times, I presented the "Self" in terms of Matter (Rūpa) according to scientific views; it was right for him to reject it. But this time, it is the story of the profound mind in the Abhidhamma Pitaka which the Lord Buddha expounded himself. If Luang Pho rejects it again, so be it.
That same evening, after bathing and eating, I hurried to meet Luang Pho at the cave. When I had bowed to him properly, I began to recite the matters of Citta (Consciousness), Cetasika (Mental Factors), Rūpa (Matter), and Nibbāna (Unbinding) according to the principles of Abhidhamma for Luang Pho to hear, with special confidence. Just as before, when I finished, I waited intently to hear the answer from Luang Pho. "You still do not know yourself," Luang Pho said with a straight face. "What you know is merely Ultimate Truth (Paramattha-sacca)." With that, he walked into the cave.
I felt disappointed, like a person who has nearly finished building a house only to have it blown down by a storm before their eyes. Meeting disappointment three times caused me to feel discouraged because I was confident that I "Knew myself" completely—both in terms of matter and mind, both in terms of science and Buddhism. Beyond this, there was nothing left.
Thinking this way, I abandoned the idea of searching for the truth of "Know yourself." In a human being, there is nothing left to know. "Enough," I said to myself. As for Luang Pho's complicated "Know yourself," if it is so hard to know, then I won't know it. It is better to make merit and observe precepts as usual. After that, I lived my lay life normally. I did not think to find the meaning of "Know yourself" and did not go to see Luang Pho again.
About one month later, I had business requiring travel to another district, so I went to board a bus at the station. That day the weather was rather hot and muggy. The passengers were crowded, inducing drowsiness. As the bus ran along the smooth road, I sat nodding off throughout the journey. When I regained consciousness and opened my eyes again, I experienced the greatest surprise of my life. Instead of finding myself in the bus, I found myself lying in a large room.
The sounds I heard, instead of the roaring hum of an engine, were the sounds of human moaning in pain. I tried turning my face to look to the right and found a man lying on a bed. His face, arms, and legs were wrapped in white plaster until he looked like a bound corpse. Next to that, I saw the knees of a man, thin to the point of skin and bones, protruding up. I tried turning to look to the left and found a man, his body yellow and emaciated like a corpse, sitting hugging his knees on the bed in misery. Next was another man lying moaning in pain; one of his legs was tied and suspended from a rail above. I turned my face back, closed my eyes, and reviewed my memory again to ensure I was not dreaming. But when I opened my eyes, I found the same scene. It showed I was certainly not dreaming.
"Hospital."
I exclaimed to myself softly, "Hospital." I tried to flex my arms to push myself up to sit, but had to abandon the effort because I felt agonizing pain all over my body. I tried to bend my legs to brace my knees up, but failed again. So I lay still and smiled slightly, feeling amused at the uncertainty of human fate.
Later, when a nurse brought me medicine to take, I learned from her that the bus I was on had a loose accelerator, lost control, plunged off the roadside, and overturned. Seven passengers died instantly. The rest were injured, some critically, some not. As for me, my right leg was broken and had to be in a cast, and I had to stay for treatment in the hospital for at least two weeks. In this hospital, I came to know another side of the truth of life: severe pain and various inconveniences arising from that pain. The images of fellow human beings emaciated from various diseases were right before my eyes every day.
The sounds of moaning in pain, the sounds of vomiting, the sounds of delirious rambling from suffering echoing all night long. The images of sick people dying before my eyes and being put on carts and wheeled out amidst the crying and wailing of their loved ones. These images made me view life in a new way. I began to see that life is Suffering (Dukkha); each person is a lump of suffering. Everyone born into the world is a sick person—sick with the disease of hunger, thirst, sleepiness, fatigue, love, hate, craving, fear, stupidity, loneliness, sadness, and all sorts of suffering.
I saw further that the whole world is a massive hospital. Every piece of property humans possess and seek is medicine to cure diseases. Food cures the disease of hunger. Water cures the disease of thirst. Shelter cures the disease of heat and cold. Clothing cures the disease of cold, heat, and shame. Friends, spouses, and children cure the disease of loneliness. Sleep cures the disease of drowsiness. Learning cures the disease of stupidity. But no matter how much medicine one has, in the end, one cannot escape the disease of old age, the disease of sickness, and the disease of death, which no medicine can cure.
The truth of life I encountered caused a deep sense of Spiritual Urgency (Saṃvega). This urgency reached its peak one morning. Beside my bed, there was a fellow sufferer lying ill. He was a young man of 28 and was talkative, so he was well-known and close to all the patients on the nearby beds, especially me. We became very compatible companions. He told me he had a small shop back home and his business was progressing. He told me of various plans he would carry out once he left the hospital.
His wife and small child, about three and a half years old, came to sleep and watch over him at the hospital, tying a mosquito net to the leg of the bed between his bed and mine.
Early the next morning, I was startled awake by the sound of wailing coming from beside my bed. When I sat up, I found his wife crying profusely. The small child was hugging his mother's neck and crying too. It was a heart-rending sight. I asked why she was crying. His wife did not answer, but pointed to her husband lying motionless on the bed. I got down from my bed, walked unsteadily to touch his feet. I flinched and pulled my hand back in shock because his feet were cold and stiff in a peculiar way. When I felt for a pulse at his ankle again, I found he had already breathed his last! "Go to a good place, dear friend."
I spoke out like a person talking in their sleep, while reaching out to close his eyelids which were slightly open. A voice echoed in my mind:
In this human world, once born, death is certain.
Some do not reach old age before they are extinguished.
Some are sick until they are in a bad way, dying with difficulty, oh dear.
Young or old, none can escape; the certainty is "Death."
Soon, hospital staff brought a cart alongside, lifted his soulless body onto the cart, and wheeled it out, with his wife carrying the child and clutching clothes, crying and following weakly behind. The other patients looked at each other, blinking. "He is gone," an elderly patient in the bed in front of me exclaimed with a trembling voice. "But soon, we will all follow him." With that, he lay down, put his hand on his forehead, and stared at the ceiling. I lay down too, but then sat up immediately, because a thought arose suddenly, like a flash of light in my mind: 'To be aware' is to 'know Dukkha.' To 'know Dukkha' is to 'be aware.'"
"Awareness of self is knowledge of Dukkha. Knowledge of Dukkha is awareness of self." Along with this thought, I felt a weariness mixed with spiritual urgency towards the cycle of birth and death in the Cycle of Existence (Vaṭṭa). I made a resolution that from this moment on, if I do any good, I will not do it to be reborn in heaven, which would be a cause for circling around in birth and death again. Instead, I will do it to scrub my inherent traits clean and pure, for the sake of freedom from suffering. If I refrain from doing evil, I will not refrain for fear of falling into hell, but refrain for fear of the cycle of birth and death in Vaṭṭa.
While I was sitting and contemplating, my mind turned to Luang Pho at the cave. I felt a strange confidence that now I was 'truly self-aware.' This confidence made me want to recover quickly so I could hurry back to report the result to Luang Pho. I lay down with a joyous heart and a smiling face, different from previous days. The rapture born of this newfound insight made me forget my illness almost entirely.
While I lay thinking, an event I never dreamed of occurred. Luang Pho, whom I was thinking of, walked through the door right into the room! Luang Pho came to stand beside my bed but did not speak. I hurried to sit up and raised my hands in respect, but could not say anything due to being stunned by this unforeseen event. When I regained my Mindfulness and Clear Comprehension (Sati-sampajañña), I prepared to open my mouth to report the result of "Knowing myself" to him.But before I could open my mouth to speak, Luang Pho raised his right hand as a gesture to stop me. Then Luang Pho spoke out clearly and distinctly on his own:
"You understand correctly. Whoever is aware of Dukkha, truly knows themselves. Whoever sees themselves, sees Dukkha. If you know Sammuti-sacca (Conventional Truth), you are merely clever in worldly ways. If you know Sabhāva-sacca (Truth of Natural Phenomena), you are merely a scientist. If you know Paramattha-sacca (Ultimate Truth), you can be merely a philosopher. But if you see Dukkha, you see the Noble Truth (Ariya-sacca) and are stepping towards becoming a Noble Person (Ariya-puggala).
You have begun to step onto the correct path and will never turn back. Prince Siddhattha saw the suffering that came in the form of the old, the sick, and the dead. He became weary and went forth to ordain. Then, He did not return to the world full of suffering again. Yasa the Clansman woke up in the middle of the night and saw the pathetic state of his female attendants sleeping, looking like corpses in a charnel ground. He walked muttering out of his house until he met the Lord Buddha at the Deer Park in Isipatana. Then, he did not return again.
Venerable Sariputta and Venerable Maha Moggallana saw suffering while watching a show on a mountain top. They became weary, went forth to ordain, and did not return again. Anyone, if they have not yet seen Dukkha, even if they go forth, they must still return. Now you are truly self-aware. You are a Buddhist complete in Body, Speech, and Mind. May you walk forward along the Noble Path (Ariya-magga) to extinguish the Origin of Suffering (Samudaya) and attain the Cessation of Suffering (Nirodha) in the end."
After speaking, Luang Pho turned and walked out through the door immediately, before I could make any reply.
I raised my hands in respect to his retreating figure and lowered my head to review Luang Pho's teachings. It was the first time I had heard Luang Pho speak at such length. I was indescribably delighted that Luang Pho had taken the trouble to visit and, most importantly, to certify that my view was correct.
Once I healed and was permitted to leave the hospital, I traveled home immediately. The goal was to visit and pay respects to Luang Pho as fast as possible. Upon reaching home, I bathed and ate hurriedly, then set out heading for Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary, to the cave.
When I reached the mouth of the cave, I did not find Luang Pho resting there as before. The general atmosphere seemed unusually quiet and desolate. I felt greatly surprised but still hoped that Luang Pho might be resting inside the cave. I stuck my head into the cave and called out, "Luang Pho! Luang Pho!" several times, but there was no answer except the echo of my own voice. I explored the interior of the cave thoroughly but found no trace of Luang Pho.
In the end, I walked back home. "Luang Pho has left the cave," an old man walking past me said.
"And no one knows where he went. Someone saw him slinging his alms bowl and carrying his umbrella-tent (Glod), walking up the mountain since yesterday evening."
Even though Luang Pho has wandered away on pilgrimage, I feel as though Luang Pho is still with me all the time.
This story was disseminated by a magazine in the Lok Thip (Divine World) group, which published the story of Luang Pho Tham Ngahm, the Ascetic Monk, Sophontham Sophonno, of the Tham Ngahm Floating Ashram on the banks of the Mekong, to fulfill the intentions of the faithful lay disciples who respect this ascetic monk. "Luang Pho Tham Ngahm," the Ascetic Monk, Dweller at the Root of a Tree (Rukkhamūlika) and Ancient Master, was born in 1954. He has a total of 8 siblings. All his siblings, including his mother, are in the United States. He studied at Kasetsart University, in the Department of Business Administration, Faculty of Economics and Business Administration, KU Class 33. He was part of the "Red Arm Unit - Phra Pirun Unit" until the day of the attack on Thammasat University on October 6, 1976. Due to that event, he fled to Israel and studied for a Master's degree at Tel Aviv University. There, he suffered an accident where his car rolled over 4 times, but he did not die. However... all his friends in the car passed away. He survived by the power of the Triple Gem. Luang Pho therefore returned to study the Dhamma and stopped to work in Saudi Arabia as well. He once said that he had an accident... but he survived. Therefore, the remaining life is profit, so he came to ordain. If he had died then, life would have been "breaking-even."
Luang Pho ordained for the first time according to tradition when he turned 20. Later, he ordained again after returning from Israel... at the age of 28, affiliated with the Dhammayuttika Nikaya. For 6 Rains Retreats, he practiced Dhamma with 4 important masters of the lineage of Venerable Ajahn Mun Bhuridatto... namely: Luang Pu Sim Buddhacaro, Wat Tham Pha Plong, Chiang Dao District, Chiang Mai Province, by going up to stay with the Lisu hill tribe at Doi Chiang Dao; then stayed with Luang Pu Nu while Luang Pu Waen Sujinno was still alive at Wat Doi Mae Pang, Phrao District, Chiang Mai Province; then came to the Northeast to stay with Phra Ajahn Chaichan Chayadhammo, Wat Hin Mak Peng, Phra Phutthabat Subdistrict, Si Chiang Mai District, Nong Khai Province, practicing Dhamma with Luang Pu Tesk Tesrangsi; then entered Wat Pa Ban Tad, Mueang District, Udon Thani Province, joining with Phra Chainarong Karudhammo to practice the monastic duties under Luang Ta Maha Bua Nanasampanno, Wat Pa Ban Tad, Udon Thani. Thus, Luang Pho Tham Ngahm is considered the 3rd generation of the Dhamma Army of Luang Pu Mun's lineage...