6. The Eightfold Path: Right Effort
The next three steps of the Eightfold Path have to do more with inner
work of meditation than outer work of Right Livelihood and Right
Speech, and so forth. The next step is called Right Effort. It's
very important in understanding spiritual practice.
Ramana Maharshi, the great Indian master, one of the greatest ever,
and certainly in the last century or so, said:
Enlightenment is not your birthright.
Those who succeed do so only through proper effort.
It was an amazing thing for him to say because he became fully
enlightened at seventeen years old when he went to his uncle's house
and said, "I wonder what it would be like to die. I think I'll try
it." And he laid down on the floor and died, and then came back
somehow. It's hard to know whether he physically died, but it seemed
like he died, and he came back with a very different perspective on
life. Nevertheless, he taught for many, many years, and even he said
One day Nasrudin went to the market with a recipe for some kind of
liver and kidney pie, or something like that, and he bought the meat.
He had the recipe in one hand and he took the stuff for his pie in the
other hand. And a huge raven or crow saw him walking home and swooped
down from a tree nearby and grabbed the meat out of his hand and flew
off with it. And Nasrudin shook his head and said, "It won't do you
any good. You don't have the recipe."
It gets kind of reversed for us. Most of us, especially living in
California, as we do, are overburdened with spiritual recipes. How
many Dharma talks, how many spiritual books, how many retreats, how
many good therapy things, how many //sesshins//, and how many whatever
have you had? You have the recipe. Like all the people sitting under
the bodhi tree with the Dalai Lama, and the pilgrims who had come from
miles and miles on foot from the high Himalayas to be with the Dalai
Lama in Bodhgaya, he said, "Okay, you're here, and you think you're
very fortunate because you have the blessings of being under this
bodhi tree where the Buddha was enlightened, with all these famous
lamas, and the Dalai Lama himself, and you have the teachings, the
sacred meditations, and mantras, and all these things. It won't do
you any good. The only thing that makes it work is if you take the
trouble to practice it. All the rest of it is very nice, and you
might as well watch Dallas or something like that. It's not so
different. Maybe you would learn more from Dallas, I don't know. At
least it wouldn't be pretentiously spiritual." So the answer is
Effort is central in our spiritual practice. Traditionally, there
are four kinds of effort that are talked about. The effort to deal
with unskillful things has two parts. First, the effort to abandon
that which is unskillful, and that means abandoning our grasping, our
fear, our hatred, or our anger. It doesn't mean judging oneself or
resisting it. It means learning skillful means not to be so caught up
in things, not to be so attached. Then, the effort to maintain their
absence, once you're figured out how to let go of them some. It's
like Mark Twain and smoking. You all heard that. When someone asked
if he had ever stopped smoking, he said, "Sure, it was easy. I've
done it thousands of times." The second effort is the effort to
maintain that abandonment in some fashion.
The other two traditional definitions of Right Effort have to do
with that which is skillful; the effort to develop or cultivate or
nourish that which is skillful within ourselves, and then the effort
to maintain or sustain it, so that in some fashion it stays with us.
This is from the //Dhammapada://
One person on the battlefield conquers an army
of a thousand persons,
Another conquers himself,
and that is greater.
Conquer yourself and not others,
and thereupon learn freedom.
So it's the effort of learning how to cultivate or generate that
which is skillful -- which means awareness, loving-kindness, or caring
for the world around you, or living more in the present, the effort to
abandon the habits, the fears of things that we get caught in that
create suffering and that keeps us in the muck, and the effort to
sustain them. This is wonderful because it's a teaching that can
apply very much to our daily life; it's not just a retreat teaching.
It's small habits and all the little pieces. Our life is made up of
little activities, little pieces, little habits, and little ways. And
we can begin to work with the way we drive our car, the way that we
relate to people at work, or the way we eat, what we choose to eat,
and how we set about eating -- to make those things more conscious. To
make our approach to these bear the fruit of greater awareness,
greater attention, of more caring, of more kindness.
Think now for just a moment: what are a few things in your own life
that could well be served by bringing a little more of this effort,
this effort to pay attention, or the effort to let go and abandon?
What little things do you do that you could use in some way to wake up
more, to awaken?
Fundamentally, the meaning for Right Effort can be expressed in a
simple way: it's the effort to be aware, the effort to see clearly, to
pay attention. That's Right Effort. One Zen master was asked, "Would
you give me the essence of the teachings?" He wrote down,
"attention". Then the person said, "Fine. Now would you give me the
whole teachings, the commentary, and how I should undertake it?" He
wrote down, "Attention, attention." The person said, "Isn't there
anything else?" And he said, 'Attention, attention, attention. That
is it, to be present, to see clearly."
Right Effort isn't so much the effort to make the world a different
place, as it is the effort to understand the nature of this world, of
our body, our mind, this life.
Why is it hard to make the Right Effort, why is it hard to pay
attention? It's hard for different reasons. It's hard because we
sometimes don't want to see. You know, this idea of "Be Here Now,"
and so forth, it sounds good,.It's not so good. It isn't, because
what happens when you're here now? Has anybody looked? What do you
have to be here now with? Pain, boredom, fear, loneliness, pleasure,
joy, beautiful sunsets, wonderful tastes, horrible experiences, people
being born, people dying, light, dark, up, down, parking your car on
the wrong side of the street, getting your car towed; all those
things. For if you live here, it means that you have to be open to
what Zorba called "The whole catastrophe." Sometimes we don't want
Right effort is the effort to see clearly. This world is crazed.
There's war, there's prejudice, there's political prisoners, there's
all this kind of suffering that we need to remember living in Marin,
because it's really kind of a ghetto that we live in, and we forget
how incredibly fortunate we are.
I had a letter today from someone I know . She's kind of
middle-aged and very poor, and just gets by doing some sewing, and her
husband works in a gas station. They live in Florida. They are
related to some people I know. They've had a very hard life. She has
some kind of progressive degenerative disease. They do not live in
such a nice neighborhood, and their house was broken into, and the few
things of any value that they had were just stolen. I thought, "God,
here I live in such a nice place, and have nice things, and I leave
the front door open most of the time, and don't worry about it," and
we forget what blessings we have. We forget about the sorrow and the
struggle in the world. Part of the effort is to really wake up and to
look at ourselves and at the world around us, and to be conscious of
it, not to be just asleep.
My teacher Achaan Chah said there are two basic ways of practice.
One way of practice is to be comfortable. And it's valuable. You can
sit a little and get yourself quiet. You keep the precepts, so you
don't harm people, and they start to like you. You say "Om" at
dinner. You chant a little before you eat. And everything becomes
nicer in your life. It becomes more comfortable and more pleasant
because you live a good life and you're peaceful. The other way to
approach spiritual practice is not to be involved in trying to be
comfortable, but rather to be free or liberated. And that way of
practice has nothing whatsoever to do with comfort. Comfort may come
and it may not. Sometimes it may be terribly uncomfortable, but its
goal or its direction is not comfort; its goal is freedom. It's a
wonderful thing, and it's a real legacy of the Buddha.
Right Effort means we really need to start to pay attention, and to
see how fortunate we are, and to begin to see the laws that govern the
world within which we live.
Another friend of mine just called me this week and said her husband
who is in his mid-forties has advanced lung cancer; he just found out
about it a few days earlier. Then she called about four days after
that. She asked me what was the lesson in that. She said, "You're a
teacher. Tell me what the lesson is." I don't know what the lesson
is. I said, "I don't know. Call me later, maybe I can think of one."
And she called back. If you trust people they generally find out what
the lesson is anyway. She said, "I know what the lesson is." I said,
"What?" And she said, "The lesson is to love people while you have
them, when they're here." It was so sweet and so touching because it
came from a place where she really, really knew it. It's to take care
with what we have that's beautiful, and nourish it; and that which
isn't, to abandon it.
I'll read you a passage from Nisargadatta Maharaj, the old bidi
wallah who I studied with in Bombay; wonderful old teacher. He sold
little Indian cigarettes on the street corner, and he was fully
enlightened somehow at the same time. He had these classes. He died
a couple of years ago. He was a wonderful old man.
What can truth or reality gain by all our practice?
He uses truth and love interchangeably. He says:
Nothing whatsoever, of course. But it is in the nature of truth
or love, cosmic consciousness, whatever you want to call it, to
express itself, to affirm itself, to overcome difficulties. Once
you've understood that the world is love in action,
consciousness or love in action, you will look at it quite
differently. But first your attitude to suffering must change.
Suffering is primarily a call for attention, which itself is a
movement of love. More than happiness, love wants growth, the
widening and deepening of awareness and consciousness and
being. Whatever prevents that becomes a cause of pain, and love
does not shirk from pain.
That's an amazing thing to say, that love doesn't shirk from pain,
that what loves wants is not pleasure. You live in Marin, you know
about pleasure. It's wonderful, but it gets boring after awhile. It
does! There is something deeper or higher, that's richer, that is our
capacity, or our birthright, or our deepest need. I don't know what
it is, but it is different than just pleasure.
What does it mean to make Right Effort? We've touched this, or we
want that, or we want to discover or open. There are two different
approaches or styles to effort. I've practiced with them both, and
I'll put them out, and you can listen and see which works better for
One is the Rinzai approach, using Zen terminology, where there is
enlightenment, and it's a goal, and you work very hard - you literally
bust your ass on your cushion or whatever you do to get to //satori//
or //kensho // or enlightenment, and you really make an effort
directed to this goal.
One of the ways of practice in the Theravada tradition that I'd done
in the Sun Lun Monastery was to sit without moving a minimum of four
sittings a day of two hours. The first hour was heavy breathing,
where you sat and did as full and deep breathing as you were capable
of for an hour. And the //sayadaw// was sort of like a football
coach, and he would come around and say, "Harder, more." And you
concentrate on it. You get very concentrated in an hour. If you were
sleepy it woke you up; if you had thoughts it kind of blasted them out
of your head; and by the end of an hour you were very present. Then
the next hour you continued to sit without moving, and used that
concentration just to be with what your experience was. It was very
Or the kind of effort in the Mahasi Monastery where I practiced
where you sit and walk l5 or l6 hours a day, or l8 if you can. You
sleep for four hours and you eat a little bit. You sit motionless,
you don't move, and the sittings are shorter, 45 minutes or an hour,
and you don't make a a movement without paying attention to it. Lift
your hand, blink your eyes, "blinking, turning, moving." You pay
attention to every single little thing. Why do that? It sounds so
hard. It is, it is very, very hard. And if you start to do it, all
the defilements, all the desires, all the fears, all the reasons that
you keep yourself spaced out and in fantasy, and don't want to pay
attention, they all come at once. Like this wall. And you just sit,
and you just walk, and you do it. The purpose is to dissolve the
sense of solidity of the world. If you pay attention that carefully,
and that fully, or that deeply with concentration -- that's next
week's talk on Right Concentration -- you begin to see that what's
solid is not solid, and that what seems as "I" or "body and mind
together" starts to dissolve into all these little parts. There are
the four physical elements, the different mood states, and
consciousness, hearing, seeing, smelling, and tasting. And that's all
there is! And it takes the whole show apart, but it takes a powerful
concentration and a sustained attention to do it. It really is going
through fire. There's even a physical transformation.
There's a book I read recently by Ireena Tweedy called "Chasm of
Fire". She's this old Sufi lady who worked with this master in India.
She talked about her experiences, more in the Kensho metaphor, but
it's not so different. It's really sitting through the fire and
letting your body, your desires, and your fears, just burn through
you, and you just sit. After awhile your attachments to things change
and you become much more detached from this that we take to be
ourselves, this physical body. And you become more detached from the
fears and feelings, and all of those things. You start with that
detachment; then you see it as it operates, clearly, because you're
not so incredibly identified with "I, me, mine, my body, my mind."
It's very powerful!
Suzaki-roshi teaches Zen //sesshin// in a very strict fashion. Or
Chan Hsun Hua who runs Gold Mountain Temple. He used to have 49-day
chant //sesshins// in San Francisco. You sit for 49 days, and you
sleep sitting up, you sleep in your place. I never wanted to do it.
I've thought about it. For some people it's terrible because they're
already tight and they do it and it just drives them crazy, it makes
them tighter; and it doesn't bring any enlightenment at all; it just
brings pain. But for some people it's a way of practice, the effort
to concentrate, the effort to pay attention, to bring yourself back --
again, and again, and again. It's not the effort of tensing your
body, but it's the willingness to sit with anything, and keep bringing
your mind back, or to walk with anything, to really do that.
If a person gives way to all their desires, or panders to them,
there will be no inner struggle in them, no friction, no fire.
But if for the sake of attaining liberation, they struggle with
their habits that hinder them, they'll create a fire which will
gradually transform their inner world into a single whole.
That's one way of undertaking practice. And when you look at how
powerful our habits are, and how much we go to sleep, and how much the
world really needs somebody to have the courage to say "no" or "stop"
or "wake up" or "live differently," it becomes very compelling. I
know that you're not on retreat, that we live in busy household lives
-- but the same spirit, this kind which is just half of the effort
I'll talk about, can be brought to your daily life. It can be the
effort to do whatever it happens to be in your life that you know is
really going to make a difference. So one can bring that effort, and
it's a wonderful thing to do. And if you learn to do it -- it takes
practice - it's really empowering; it brings a certain inner strength
with it as well.
The other approach to Right Effort is actually a bridge between these
two that would be nice to read about. Someone recently gave me this
book called ""Peace Pilgrim." It's about this woman who walked around
the country for 20 years wearing her blue jogging suit that said
"Peace Pilgrim" on it, carrying a toothbrush. She spoke about peace,
that you had to make yourself peaceful and the world peaceful. She
never took food unless it was offered to her. She fasted otherwise.
And she never took rides until much later in her life. She just
walked and talked about peace. And this is her story, and it's a
During my earlier spiritual growth period -- The ten years that
she was getting prepared to do her peace walk -- I desired to
know and do God's will for me. Spiritual growth is not easily
attained, you know, but it is well worth the effort. It takes
time, just as any growth takes time. One should rejoice at small
gains, and not be impatient, as impatience hampers growth.
The path of gradual relinquishment of things hindering spiritual
progress is a difficult path, but only when relinquishment is
complete do the rewards really come fully. The path of quick
relinquishment is an easy path, for it brings immediate
blessings, and when God fills your life or the truth fills your
life, the gifts overflow and bless all that you touch.
What she said is very beautiful. It takes time, just as any growth
takes time, and it's not easily attained but well worth the effort. If
you do a lot of it, you get a lot of reward; if you do it slowly,
which most of us do, then it's a little more frustrating because a lot
of the reward comes when you're much, much freer. It's the way it
goes. What can you do? It's still worth it. It talks about both
these kinds of effort, that if you're willing to make the effort to
really do a lot, or let go of a lot, or transform your life, then
tremendous fruits can come. You can change how you live this week,
how you relate, or you can take it slower.
The other kind of effort is not goal-oriented, to get to //kensho//,
or //satori//, or enlightenment, or dissolve the world, transcend
yourself; it's the Soto Zen approach. It's the approach that says that
you're already enlightened. And that is enlightenment; it's not
something else. It's just what's here. And the only thing that
blocks our enlightenment is all these thoughts that say, "This isn't
enough; I want it different." If you could just live with things as
they are; that's all; this is it.
Krishnamurti speaks about it very beautifully when he said:
It's the truth which liberates and not your effort to be free.
"All year I'm going to get this, and be that, and now I'll be --" I
remember when the first interesting meditation practice experiences
started to come, I got very excited, and my mind started to fill with
thoughts again. There were these lights and things, and I thought,
"Gee, this is really exciting," because I started to think about what
I'd do when I was enlightened, who I would go visit and what I would
say. It's like that ego, that part of us that wants to take it as a
kind of a merit badge or something that you can wear; or a degree. And
it's not that at all. It's to live with things as they are, to see
them clearly, directly, and truly in each moment.
Ramana Maharshi said:
There are two paths to awakening. One is that of self-inquiry,
where you look to see.
The main koan is, "Who am I?" or " What am I?" And you do it
through awareness; or through whatever training that you can, to
discover and investigate the body and mind. And the other is the path
of surrender, where you say, "Not my will but thine." It's actually
the same if you really look at it. "Okay, in this moment I'll be
aware of what's here without trying to change it and just see what it
is." In that awareness you start to see the truth of it -- that it's
impermanent -- that it's not "I, me, mine"; that it's not self; that
we're not separate; then it begins to reveal its nature.
This way of effort then is the effort more of surrender, of letting
go, rather than trying to attain something. It's surrender to be in
each moment in a balanced way.
Don Juan says:
If one is to succeed in anything, the success must come gently.
With a great deal of effort. but with no stress or obsession.
So it's rather the effort to be here again and again and again, and
to truly see that things arise and that they pass away; that they're
born; that they die; that we don't own anything; that none of it is
ours. Our thoughts, do you control your thoughts? Does anybody here
have control of their thoughts? We think that they're ours. Or our
bodies. We do a little better at that, but not very well, if you look
There's something I want to read. I've been reading all these books
on early child development and labor and whatever. It's from a book
that I've come to appreciate very much called "Whole Child, Whole
Parent." If anyone is looking for a spiritual guide to parenting,
it's the best that I've found. It's called "Zen and the Art of
Throwing a Ball." It gives a much more Taoist sense, instead of
making the effort to come back again and again and dissolve the world.
This is the way of effort which finds the Tao within our movement, the
way that we live.
The self -- the self-centered sense of us -- knows that freedom has
something to do with law and order but thinks that order must be
brought about by will power. The child shows us that, on the contrary,
freedom comes through subservience to existing order, to the Dharma,
through conscious alignment with it. The self knows that freedom has
something to do with pleasure, but it thinks it means feeling good and
being above the law is what pleasure is.
The child shows us that this pleasure is really spontaneity and that
it too is a by-product of absolute compliance or obedience to the law
or the dharma.
Here's a story:
Once I heard a father marvel, "How did he learn to throw that
ball so far? I didn't teach him. When did he learn to do this? I
didn't even see him do it? Why did he do it? No one in our
family is particularly interested in baseball, and yet he did."
Everything that father thought might have been a hindrance. had
it actually been present. The family's interest in baseball or
someone watching him, or anything.
Somewhere along the way, in the throwing of a ball, the child
had conceived of a possibility of freedom. Perhaps it first came
through watching someone else, perhaps once in flinging a ball,
he had let it fly and surprised himself. At any rate, some
freedom had been encountered and was now a possibility in his
After that, as long as he remained unself-conscious -- which
means undivided -- he was able to give his undivided attention
to the possibility of which he had conceived. Through his pure
desire for freedom in the sense of possibility, certain laws
were given the opportunity to gain power over the child. Aiming
himself toward a conscious possibility he became subservient to
it. And then through the child's receptive and devoted
consciousness the underlying force of being, itself, organized
and energized and utilized and coordinated everything in the
child to express himself in the form of freedom to throw the
ball so beautifully.
He must have practiced for hours on end, expending tremendous
effort but little strain because his interest in seeing what was
possible carried him along, confident that what he could
conceive of was possible and could be realized if he went at it.
Sometimes the ball fell short but he did not infer that he
lacked power. Sometimes the ball went wild, but he did not infer
that the thing was impossible or that there was no
predictability and all was chaotic.
Whatever seemed too hard only showed him that he had not yet
discovered the knack. Whatever appeared chaotic only suggested
that the order and his oneness with it had not yet been
discerned. Sometimes his shoulder hurt, but the very hurt
became a guide, directing him into better alignment with the
hidden force he did not doubt. He looked at everything for what
is and what isn't, and everything taught him, until he could
throw the ball far, fast, accurately and with remarkable ease.
And he wasn't proud. He wasn't too pleased, and he didn't feel
triumphant. He felt grateful. And he didn't feel powerful, he
felt surer. And he felt free and was freer.
It was never that he had his way with the ball, rather through
his undistracted, absolutely focused, unselfconscious attention,
the invisible laws of physics had their way with him. through
the total submission of himself to the invisible laws, he found
both dominion and spontaneity which he rightfully experienced as
true freedom and joy.
What a wonderful way to learn. It speaks to this other meaning of
effort, and it also speaks to a kind of secret about the first kind of
effort, which I've used a lot in practice, and gained from in some
ways. And that is, in the end you have to let go. No matter how much
effort you make and where it takes you, it doesn't take you all the
way, because it's not your effort that makes you free but your
discovery of what's true about yourself, and life, and its changing
nature and the laws of it; that you come into harmony with it, that
you become free. It can be big things. It can be a big //satori//
and a big awakening. Sometimes you get hit over the head by someone
near you getting cancer or a near car accident, or it can be little
things, like a child, where you just begin to take your life as a
discovery, and you start to see what are the laws that operate that
make people happy, make them unhappy, what are the laws that operate
that make war and make harmony or peace between people.
I got a letter recently from someone who had been in one of these
classes asking about the question of enlightenment. We talk so much
about precepts and following them, and Right Speech and Right Action,
what about enlightenment, where does it fit, or is this just a system
of ethical conduct? Is this Buddhism? The Buddha said it quite
explicitly a number of times in one very beautiful //sutra//. He
The reason for my teaching is not for merit or good deeds or
good karma, or concentration, or rapture, or bliss, or even
insight. None of these is the reason that I teach, but the sure
heart's release. This and this alone is the reason for the
teaching of a Buddha.
All the other things are secondary to it, secondary to what that
child experienced with the ball or what the old bidi wallah talked
about of the movement of love. It's not compelled by pleasure, not by
precepts, not by success or failure, but by learning to grow, learning
to open, learning the laws of the world, learning to connect. There
is enlightenment, there is freedom, it's true, it's absolutely true;
and you can experience it; you can come to that.
It says in the //Dhammapada// that:
To live one day and taste very deeply the meaning of
impermanence is better than living l00 years and not to touch
Why could that be so? Because to taste that, even for a moment, is
that you see what's true about life and you start to live out of that
truth more fully. You become free, which is what we all want most
deeply. . I ask you a few questions. Think about Right Effort for a
moment. Where are you making too much effort in your life? What
things do you do where it's too tight and too hard? You need to learn
balance. Can you think of them? Where do you try too hard or grasp
too much? Where do you make too little effort in your life? Where
are you lazy or habitual? What aspects of your life could be ennobled
or awakened with more effort? Think about them. Which ones? Where
is your life too internal? Where do you shy away out of fear from the
world of events and circumstances around you? Where is your life too
external, or you don't sit enough, you don't take enough silence? You
don't listen inside to your heart, to what you care about, make it
inform your life.
To listen in this way inside is to discover the laws like throwing
the ball of Right Effort in your life. Where do you miss the mark?
Practice a little more. What takes more effort, what takes a little
less? What takes more solitude? What takes more giving, and loving,
You actually know the answers to those things. They come pretty
easily to us. We just forget to ask, or we don't want to ask because
it means, "Ugh, I have to rearrange my life yet again in some fashion
or other." But it doesn't really matter, because that's the game.
Everything gets rearranged anyway. Either you can rearrange it or you
can wait for it to be rearranged. It's also the game; to grow. So
you can stall it for awhile. If you really drag your feet, you can;
but it's not as interesting.
I'll close with my question to my teacher Achaan Chaa.
I still have very many thoughts, my mind wanders a lot, even
though I'm trying to be mindful.
Don't worry about this, try to keep your mind in the present.
Whatever there is that arises in the mind or the heart, just
watch it, let go of it. Don't even wish to be rid of thought,
then the mind will reach a natural state, no discriminating
between good and bad, hot and cold, fast and slow, no "me" and
no "you", no self at all, just what there is.
When you walk, no need to do anything special, simply walk and
see what there is. No need to go to a cave or cling to
isolation. Wherever you are, know yourself by being natural and
watching. If doubts arise, watch them come and go. It's very
simple. Hold on to nothing.
It's as though you're walking down a road, periodically you run
into obstacles. When you meet difficulties, see them and
overcome them by letting go. Don't think about the obstacles
you've passed already, don't worry about the ones you haven't
seen yet. Stay in the present. Don't worry about the length of
the road or a destination either.
Everything is changing. Whatever you pass, do not cling to it,
and eventually the mind will reach its natural balance where
practice becomes automatic and effort becomes effortless. All
things will come and go of themselves.
Sitting hours on end is not necessary. Some people think that
the longer you sit the wiser you must be. I've seen chickens sit
on their nests for days on end.
Wisdom comes from being mindful in all postures. Your practice
should begin as you awaken in the morning and continue until you
fall asleep. What is important is only that you keep aware,
whether you're working or sitting or going to the bathroom.
Each person has their own natural pace. Some of you will die at
age fifty, some at age sixty-five, and some at age ninety. Don't
think or worry about this. Try to be mindful and let things take
their natural course. Then your mind will become quieter and
quieter in any surroundings, like a still forest pool. All kinds
of wonderful, rare animals will come and drink at the pool. You
will see clearly the nature of all things in the world. Many
wonderful strange things come and go, but you will be still.
This is the happiness of the Buddha.
* * * * * * * *
TITLE OF WORK: The Eightfold Path for the Householder: Ten Talks
(Transcribed from audio tape)
AUTHOR: Jack Kornfield
AUTHOR'S ADDRESS: Spirit Rock Meditation Center
PO Box 909
Woodacre, CA 94973
PUBLISHER'S ADDRESS: N/A
COPYRIGHT HOLDER: Jack Kornfield (1995)
DATE OF PUBLICATION: 1995
RIGHTS AND RESTRICTIONS: See paragraph below.
DATE OF DHARMANET DISTRIBUTION: February, 1995
ORIGIN SITE: Access to Insight BBS, Pepperell MA * (508) 433-5847 (96:903/1)
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