รสชาติแห่งกุศลธรรมคือความสงบ สบายใจ ปลอดโปร่ง ต่างจากรสชาติแห่งอกุศลที่ให้ความอึดอัด ทุกข์ทรมาน แม้คนจะรู้ว่าไม่ดีแต่ค่านิยมที่อกุศลปลูกฝังก็ทำให้ติดได้ ผู้มีสัมมาทิฏฐิที่ถูกต้องเท่านั้นที่จะรู้รสแห่งธรรมได้ลึกซึ้งThe taste of wholesome Dhamma is peace, comfort, and lightness of being, while the taste of unwholesome states is tightness and suffering — yet the values that unwholesomeness plants in us can keep us hooked even when we know better. Only right view lets us taste the Dhamma deeply.
Someone asked the teacher to expand on the saying, "the taste of conquers all other tastes."
Building merit through good deeds is the single most important task of every human life, because our lives last no more than about a hundred years before death arrives — and to journey onward without merit as our companion is a frightening prospect indeed.
Everything has its own taste, just as food does. Some people become hooked on flavors so fiery they damage their health, purely because of the values instilled in them. Dhamma works the same way — its taste differs depending on which side holds the mind. We know that taste through feeling. When side is in control, the taste that arises is tightness, pressure, something hard to bear — and even though we know it's suffering, we're compelled to keep engaging with it, just like someone addicted to alcohol or drugs who knows it's bad yet still consumes it, driven by the values built up as a front.
The taste of wholesome Dhamma, by contrast, is peace, order, physical and mental ease, subtlety, spaciousness, lightness, and clean — a taste unlike anything found elsewhere. The more we study the Dhamma, the more we understand it, giving rise to vision and inspiration for doing good — quite unlike unwholesomeness, which only offers unreasonable fantasies that breed greed.
How deeply we can taste the Dhamma depends on our right view, which governs our thoughts, speech, actions, livelihood, effort, , and concentration altogether. The more correct and wholesome our right view, the deeper the taste of Dhamma becomes.
The teacher told a story of a mother dog who had just given birth with nothing to eat, so she brought her puppies to a woman known for making merit, hoping to be fed. When given rice, the four puppies didn't eat right away — instead they ran back out to bring their mother to eat with them. Seeing this, the woman burst into tears, went back inside, and instead of cooking the meal she'd set aside for her own family, offered it to the monks at her house instead. Though it was only a scene witnessed involving a dog, the taste of Dhamma was enough to instantly break the grip of that unwholesomeness had held over her. This is precisely why the taste of Dhamma truly conquers every other taste.