The great teacher Luang Pu taught that all this suffering is a play of the world — temporary, and then it ends, the scenery struck and gone, vanished without a trace. It is simply the world's drama. Someone with wisdom lets go of clinging to what is impermanent; but a foolish person clings to what is impermanent and suffering, and so weeps and grieves, mistaking it for "mine" and "me." That is not truly knowing the underlying elements of reality. Whoever truly knows those elements sees that they simply condition things to unfold in various ways — none of it belongs to anyone; there is no being, no person, no self, no "other" anywhere in it.

Life Inside a Simulated World The teacher noted that scholars at Oxford University have recently found that human life exists within a kind of simulated world — much like being an avatar inside a virtual world for a brief span of time. One moment we enter this scene, the next moment that one; one moment we play the villain, the next the hero; one moment a parent, the next a child, a grandchild, a teacher, a student — countless roles, like an actor stepping onto a stage. He noted this aligns closely with what Luang Pu had already taught, and that several universities researching this same question have found results remarkably consistent with Buddhist teaching.

Mind and Mental Factors as the Director Whatever scene we enter, both mind (citta) and mental factors (cetasika) express themselves through it. The mind is what knows clearly the realm we currently inhabit — at home, that realm is our household, and if we play the role of parent or child, the mind knows that status clearly, understanding the part it must play, what to say, what to do — like an actor who has read the script for the role. The feeling we display to suit that role is called cetasika: the mood of the mind in each moment, each scene we enter.

Every day brings many scenes to perform — the scene at work, the scene at home, the scene of the commute, the scene of chatting with a friend, the scene of returning home after work. The mind shifts with each scene, sometimes wholesome, sometimes not. Looking closely, in each moment there is really only mind and mental factors at work. The three underlying natures — wholesome, unwholesome, and neutral — bring in whichever mind and mental factors are fitting, layering them over the mind within the human body. Every thought and feeling arises at the heart and is known through the heart, because the heart is our instrument of knowing.

These minds and mental factors are what draw in different kinds of energy. A wholesome mind, paired with wholesome mental factors, draws in wholesome energy; an unwholesome mind draws in the energy of demerit. The mind exists at many levels — wholesome and unwholesome together number 89 levels — and is drawn in automatically to match the state of Dhamma present in each moment, stepping in as the manager, the director, of each scene in the play of our life.

Merit and Demerit Sealed Onto Life's Timeline The drawing-in of meritorious or unmeritorious energy happens during the time we perform each role, and each scene, as Luang Pu said, is only ever temporary. The director is the mind that comes to dwell within us, compelling the human body to speak and act as directed. Behind it all lies the ultimate backdrop: Nibbana, the source of pure, meritorious energy; the unwholesome side has its own backdrop at that same level. All three natures govern and direct us constantly, from the moment we wake until the moment we sleep.

Whenever we act well or poorly through body, speech, and mind in each scene we perform, the result is sealed into a completed sphere of merit or a completed sphere of demerit, which is then placed onto the timeline of our life, near or far into the future, waiting for its moment to bear fruit — as happiness, or as suffering and misfortune.

Letting Go of What Is Impermanent The teacher concluded that everything is impermanent, and the wise let go of clinging to it. Like an actor who, once the performance ends, should not remain too absorbed in the role — simply perform the part required, then release it. Sometimes we must play someone wealthy, sometimes someone poor; sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fail. All of it has its causes and conditions, arising from the results of our own past actions — the completed spheres of merit and demerit themselves. Not truly knowing these underlying elements, we become startled, grieving over what is merely a scene we have entered. But truly knowing them, we understand that the three natures are simply conditioning things to unfold in various ways — none of it belongs to anyone; there is no being, no person, no self, no "other" anywhere in it.