About This Teaching
In this first-person account, Ajahn Chah describes forcing himself to spend nights in a cremation forest despite paralysing fear. On the first evening villagers buried a corpse beside his umbrella tent; he sat awake all night, feeling as safe inside his mosquito net as behind a seven-tiered wall, his almsbowl seeming like an old friend. The next morning village dogs snapped at his ankles and he let them.
The second night a body was burned in front of him, and later heavy footsteps approached and stopped right before him. His fear rose like water poured into a jar until it overflowed. Asking himself what he feared, the answer came that death lies within us; there is nowhere to run. Fear turned to fearlessness as simply as flipping a hand. A storm broke, he wept, and he understood the Dhamma as something each person must see for themselves. At dawn he passed blood, and answered his worry plainly: dying while practising would be fitting. A short closing narration notes his fever and recovery.