Someone asked: for the past several days, sitting in meditation before bed hasn't felt restless, and I've tried to enter the center by recalling merit, but couldn't focus no matter how many days I tried. Yet yesterday, while meditating at the ordination hall, circumambulating the chedi, and later while scattering flowers to receive new monks, I felt at ease and could enter the center easily. Why is it hard to reach the center late at night lately, and what should I do?

Why the Time of Day for Meditation Matters

In meditation practice we must continuously observe and purify defilements. If the defilement is light, it's easy; if heavy, it's difficult. So we need a time when the mind has the right kind of strength — not when we're drowsy or when mindfulness isn't yet fully present, such as late at night close to bedtime. We should instead use the time of day when the mind is fresh and clear to do something of great benefit to our lives, and we need to manage our time wisely, because when the mind's quality is suited to the task, the wholesome current flows continuously and purifies defilements more effectively.

Physical and mental discomfort are qualities of the unwholesome dhamma; whenever the unwholesome side seizes control of the mind, we feel unwell. We must patiently observe this state of suffering — the Buddha taught that suffering exists simply to be recognized, without either delighting in or resisting it. It's like a dirty house that needs cleaning — not a house we leave dirty because we don't feel like cleaning it. Once the "house of the mind" is purified, we'll feel at ease without needing to endure anything. Whenever suffering arises, recognize that a defilement is bearing fruit, and act quickly to purify and lighten it.

Why Can't Mara Block the Merit of Gratitude?

Someone asked: I once heard that Luang Phor said the merit of gratitude toward one's caregivers is a merit that Mara cannot block. Please explain why.

Pra Ajarn recounted the case of a young girl, about nine years old, whose story appeared in the media some years back. She lived with her mother, who was paralyzed and blind; her father had disappeared, and her older sisters had gone to work elsewhere, leaving her to care for her mother entirely alone — feeding her mother before herself each morning, helping her to the bathroom, then running to school; rushing home at midday to check on her again before running back; and repeating the routine each evening. Despite sometimes missing school to care for her mother when she was unwell, this girl scored top marks in every subject, and whenever she was entered into competitions, she nearly always won. Her teachers were astonished, since she barely had time to study.

Pra Ajarn explained that this was because her mind was established in the dhamma called gratitude (kataññū-katavedī). This wholesome quality drew in the power of merit to continuously purify her mind, keeping it bright, clean, and pure — so her faculties of seeing, remembering, thinking, and knowing were clear enough that she needed to hear a lesson only once to remember it. Moreover, every time she ran between home and school, the local devas, tree spirits, and sky spirits would see the brightness radiating from her sphere of merit and feel moved to rejoice; at school, the resident devas would inspire her teachers to enter her in competitions out of loving care. Eventually, news of her devotion reached a benefactor in the city, who came to find her and took her and her mother under his care — supporting her education, arranging medical treatment for her mother's eyes, and buying them a home. Through just these two qualities — gratitude and repaying kindness — her entire life circumstance was transformed, freeing her from suffering.

Pra Ajarn shared two more examples. One was a listener's niece who excelled far beyond her cousins in school despite no one else in the family being particularly studious — she never talked back to her parents when corrected, always putting their minds at ease. The other was about a mother dog that, while the homeowner was away, carried her puppies one by one to the fence of a devoted lay follower's home. That follower brought out food, but the puppies wouldn't eat — they ran back outside to fetch their mother, so they could eat together. Witnessing this act of gratitude even from an animal moved the follower to tears, and she brought out her own family's meal for the dogs instead; from then on, both mother and puppies were well cared for. Pra Ajarn concluded that images of goodness — whether from humans or animals — invariably move the wholesome dhamma to arise and draw in the flow of merit toward those who witness it. This is why the merit of gratitude is one that Mara simply cannot block.