Speaker: Ven. Anuvidita Bhikkhuni
Topic: The Five Aggregates (Khandhas), the Pheṇa Sutta (SN 22.95), and Guided Meditation
1. Introduction: The Simile of the Leashed Dog
The topic I have chosen for today is the five khandhas. That is the way how the Buddha explained to us the reality we find ourselves in.
There is one sutta that impressed me a lot regarding the khandhas, where he says that a normal person is like a dog tied with a leash to a post or a pole, right? And the only range that this dog can walk is the range of these five khandhas. No matter if the dog walks, stands, moves, or lies down, it's always in this range of the five khandhas—the five aggregates of our reality, the five aspects of our reality.
So I think that's really something very worthwhile to put our attention into, to investigate, and to understand. I have looked up a sutta that I would like to read for you now, and then afterwards I will tell a little bit about it if that's fine for you.
The sutta is called The Lump of Foam (Pheṇa Sutta). Maybe someone among you knows it.
2. Reading of the Pheṇa Sutta (SN 22.95)
On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling at Āyojjhā on the bank of the river Ganges. There the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus thus:
"Bhikkhus, suppose that this river Ganges was carrying along a great lump of foam. A person with good sight would inspect it, ponder it, and carefully investigate it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in a lump of foam?
So too, bhikkhus, whatever kind of form there is—whether past, future, or present; internal or external; gross or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near—a bhikkhu inspects it, ponders it, and carefully investigates it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in form?
Suppose that in autumn, when the rain is falling in big drops on a water puddle, a bubble arises and bursts on the surface of the water. A person with good sight would inspect it, ponder it, and carefully investigate it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in a water bubble?
So too, bhikkhus, whatever kind of feeling there is—whether past, future, or present; internal or external; gross or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near—a bhikkhu inspects it, ponders it, and carefully investigates it, and it would appear to him to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in feeling?
Suppose, bhikkhus, that in the last month of the hot season, at high noon, a shimmering mirage appears. A person with good sight would inspect it, ponder it, and carefully investigate it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in a mirage?
So too, bhikkhus, whatever kind of perception there is—whether past, future, or present; internal or external; gross or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near—a bhikkhu inspects it, ponders it, and carefully investigates it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance can there be in perception?
Suppose, bhikkhus, that a man needing hardwood, seeking hardwood, wandering in search of hardwood, would take a sharp axe and enter a forest. There he would see the trunk of a large plantain (banana) tree, straight, fresh, without fruit or core. He would cut it down at the root, cut off the crown, and unroll the coil. And as he unrolled the coil, he would not find even softwood, let alone hardwood. A person with good sight would inspect it, ponder it, and carefully investigate it, and it would appear to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance could there be in the trunk of a plantain tree?
So too, bhikkhus, whatever kind of activity impulses [volitional formations] there are—whether past, future, or present; internal or external; gross or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near—a bhikkhu inspects them, ponders them, and carefully investigates them. As he investigates them, they appear to him to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance can there be in activity impulses?
Suppose, bhikkhus, that a magician or a magician's apprentice would display a magical illusion at a crossroad. A man with good sight would inspect it, ponder it, and carefully investigate it, and it would appear to him to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance can there be in a magic trick?
So too, bhikkhus, whatever kind of consciousness there is—whether past, future, or present; internal or external; gross or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near—a bhikkhu inspects it, ponders it, and carefully investigates it, and it would appear to him to be void, hollow, and insubstantial. For what substance can there be in consciousness?
Seeing thus, bhikkhus, the instructed noble disciple experiences disenchantment towards form, disenchantment towards feeling, disenchantment towards perception, disenchantment towards activity impulses, disenchantment towards consciousness. Experiencing disenchantment, he becomes dispassionate. Through dispassion, his mind is liberated. When it is liberated, there comes the knowledge: 'It is liberated.' He understands: 'Destroyed is birth, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been done, there is no more for this state of being.'"
This is what the Blessed One said. Having said this, the Fortunate One, the Teacher, further said this:
““Form is like a lump of foam,
Feeling like a water bubble;
Perception is like a mirage,
Volitions like a plantain trunk,
And consciousness like an illusion,
So explained the Kinsman of the Sun.
“However one may ponder it
And carefully investigate it,
It appears but hollow and void
When one views it carefully.”
3. Explanations and Everyday Reflections
The main thing we can get out of this presentation of the five aspects of our reality is that things appear as something, but in reality they are quite different. It is like tricking us—it appears to be something solid, but it is not.
If we take the first example, the foam on the river: it's not that there is nothing, but if we just look at it from a distance, it can appear quite stable. If we don't know what foam is, we might be deceived. But when we know how foam really works, we realise it's not stable at all.
That is actually what happens with the khandhas for us. We perceive them in the opposite way the Buddha presents here: we perceive them as quite stable, compact, and solid.
Form (Rūpa)
When we talk about form, it refers to the four elements (Earth, Water, Fire, Air). Many of you might be familiar with the four elements through Chinese medicine or similar traditions. When the Buddha talks about form regarding the khandhas that we cling to (upādānakkhandha), he talks about these four elements in relation to our daily experience.
This body is basically a heap of mixed elements that we carry around all the time. It causes us quite a lot of trouble because it doesn't stay the way we want it to stay, or sometimes it hurts. This heap of elements is in a very delicate balance. Imagine a little bit of earth element in the wrong place in the brain or lungs—it causes immense trouble. Or a slight lack of the air element, and the body stops functioning altogether. It is an extremely delicate system.
The aspect that causes suffering (dukkha) for us is that we want it to be a certain way. We have rigid ideas of how our body should look or be, causing frustration. Whether we like it or not, it gets older, and we are confronted with difficulties.
How can we contemplate this in daily life?
We can start putting small cracks into our fixed view of this body:
Eating: When eating, observe: when do the elements on my plate start becoming "me"? Is it when a fly lands on it, and I think "that's my food"? Is it when I chew and swallow it? Or is it still "me" when the body excretes what it doesn't need anymore?
Hair or Fingernails: If you find a strand of hair in the sink, on the floor, or on a blanket—is that still "me"? When does the perception of "me" begin, and when does it stop? Cutting fingernails works the same way: at what point does the cut nail cease to be a part of "me"?
These small contemplations help break down attachment to the body, which is one of the strongest attachments we have. Experiencing this clearly according to reality brings immense liberation.
Feeling (Vedanā)
Vedanā refers to feelings or sensations: pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral.
If our mindfulness (sati) is not strong, we don't even notice neutral sensations—like the contact of sitting on a cushion or chair. We mostly pay attention to pleasant and unpleasant sensations, spending an immense amount of effort in life trying to avoid unpleasantness and chase pleasure. This constant striving creates a lot of stress.
If we shift our aim from wanting pleasant feelings to simply being at peace with whatever arises, we find ourselves in far less trouble.
Personal Story:
I remember during an intense retreat when I started coming down with a flu. My room was right next to the Sangha pharmacy room. I thought, "I can just go there, get medicine, and make it go away." Then I realised: almost every move I make is driven by the urge to get rid of an unpleasant feeling. It hit me deeply—that cannot be my main motivation for everything in life!
If we skip the knee-jerk reaction of "I don't like this, I want it different" and replace it with "My aim is to be peaceful with things as they are," a completely new horizon opens up.
The simile used here is water bubbles formed by raindrops in autumn. The water puddle represents our sense bases, and the raindrop represents sense objects making contact with them. Contact occurs, and immediately—without choice—a pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral feeling arises.
A water bubble is mostly air—a big round shape containing mostly nothing. Yet we take these feelings incredibly seriously and assume they are stable and long-lasting, which is why unpleasant feelings terrify us and pleasant feelings leave us disappointed when they fade away.
Perception (Saññā)
The simile for perception is a mirage. It refers to an illusion—something that appears to be there when it actually isn't.
Perception operates at different levels:
Small perceptions: Labelling objects like "microphone," "book," "pen," or "robe."
Medium perceptions: "I am sitting here attending a Dhamma talk."
Large perceptions: "I am like this, I am like that, this is who I am."
These large, self-referential perceptions have a massive impact on us. Yet all perceptions are self-made mental constructs.
Illustration:
(Demonstrating with a dot, a line, and another dot)
When you look at a dot, a line, and another dot placed near each other, your mind immediately connects them into a single concept (like a face or structure). It is very difficult to see just the isolated dot, line, or dot without forming a combined perception.
We do this constantly with ourselves, with events, and with other people. It is quite sad because we form fixed ideas about people ("This person is like this; they did that to me in the past"), losing an innocent, open attitude toward others because we believe our own self-made perceptions.
Volitional Formations / Activity Impulses (Saṅkhāra)
Saṅkhāra refers to volitional formations, mental choices, or impulses for action—the driving forces that fabricate reality.
The simile is a man entering a forest with an axe to chop down a banana/plantain tree in search of hardwood. Anyone living in Asia knows that a banana tree has no hardwood inside; it is just layers of coiled fibrous leaves with no solid core.
When people search for hardwood, it is because they want to build something stable and long-lasting—like a house. Similarly, we are constantly driven by the impulse to build long-lasting structures in our lives. But once you build something, the work doesn't stop; you have to maintain it, care for it, and it eventually falls apart anyway.
Personal Story:
In the small kuṭī (hut) where I live, a senior monk recently said to me, "Oh, this kuṭī was looking so nice a few years ago; it was a really beautiful hut." I replied, "It is still a beautiful hut!" But I understood what he meant. When it was newly built, it felt fresh and solid. We hold this subtle hope that once we build something, it will last forever.
This doesn't mean we shouldn’t build things! It is wonderful to build places where people can gather and practice Dhamma. But we avoid vast amounts of suffering when we recognise that whatever we construct comes with impermanence. The Dhamma clears our sight and gives us a realistic perspective, freeing us from the stories and expectations that cause dukkha.
Consciousness (Viññāṇa)
The simile for consciousness is a magician's trick. Consciousness presents an illusion that we swallow continuously.
Consciousness (viññāṇa) is involved in all our experiences across the six senses: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind consciousness.
Magicians work by creating an illusion that deceives our perception. Consciousness works similarly: it tricks us into confusing similarity with identity.
Faucet Analogy:
If you open a water faucet, let a few drops fall, close it, and then open it again—the new drops coming out are also water, but they are not the same drops that fell before.
Because consciousness is constantly present whenever we see, hear, smell, taste, touch, or think, it creates a powerful illusion of a continuous, permanent "me." It feels like the one thing that is always there. If we can penetrate and see through this illusion, we reach a truly liberated place.
4. Guided Meditation on the Five Aggregates
(Please adjust your posture and sit comfortably.)
Let us arrive here in the present moment, receiving this body sitting on the mat, cushion, or chair. Be fully here. We can feel happy and grateful that there is nothing else to do right now.
As we decide to observe these five aggregates of our reality, we start with Form (Rūpa):
Scan the body. Feel any heat, cooling sensations, or tickling.
Feel the softness or firmness of the earth element, the fluidity of the water element, the heat of the fire element, and the movement of the air element as the abdomen and chest rise and fall.
Observe these subtle elemental sensations from a fresh perspective: observe when a sensation begins, notice it staying for a moment, and see it fade away.
Next, move your attention to Feeling (Vedanā):
Check what sensations are present right now. Is there any unpleasantness, pleasantness, or neutral physical sensation?
Simply observe the changing, transient nature of these feelings without trying to alter them.
Next, observe Perception (Saññā):
Notice how perception labels experiences. When you breathe in and mentally note "in-breath," that is a perception. When you note "out-breath," that is a perception.
See when a label or perception arises, and see when it ends.
If the mind is restless, include those perceptions too: "I should meditate now," or "Why is the mind talking?" Recognise these simply as mental labels that limit our view of reality.
Next, observe Volitional Formations / Activity Impulses (Saṅkhāra):
Notice impulses and mental formations as they arise: "I should do this after meditation," or "I need to fix that when I get home."
Watch these planning or restless thoughts pop up during moments of rest. Observe how they arise, and allow them to pass away without reacting or acting upon them.
Finally, observe Consciousness (Viññāṇa):
Observe the simple fact of awareness—knowing experience through one of the six senses.
See how attention illuminates an object, making consciousness perceivable to us.
The Buddha encouraged us to investigate all five aggregates as void, hollow, and insubstantial—the elements, feelings, perceptions, mental impulses, and consciousness.
Let us close this practice by developing a heart of loving-kindness towards all living beings, including ourselves. We can be glad and grateful that we made the effort to understand our reality better, which naturally leads to the ending of suffering.
5. Dedication of Merit
Whatever good may come out of our Dhamma practice, we share this merit with every single living being. May all beings be free from suffering.