We’ve often been told to think before we speak or act.
But have we ever been taught to think before we think?
This doesn’t mean suppressing thoughts, but observing them mindfully—watching them arise and pass away without clinging.
When a thought appears, pause. Ask:
Is this thought kind? Is it necessary? Is it true?
If it isn’t, let it go.
Just as our body naturally eliminates waste, our mind should do the same with mental toxins.
Unwholesome thoughts—those driven by greed, hatred, or delusion—slowly corrode our peace.
They can influence our speech, action, and even our health without us realizing.
Studies suggest we have around 70,000 thoughts per day.
Even if just 10% are unwholesome, that’s 7,000 mental pollutants daily.
Left unchecked, they become habits.
We repeat the same narratives, feel the same emotions, and unknowingly build mental prisons.
In Buddhist history, we find a powerful lesson in the story of Pakkinaya Sangharakkhita, a monk ordained by his own uncle. Despite his spiritual training, he let his imagination spiral out of control.
A monk named Venerable Sangharakkhita became a monk after listening to the Buddha’s teachings.
Within just a few days, he became an arahant.
Later, his younger brother brought his son to become a monk too.
This young monk was called Pakkinaya Sangharakkhita—which means nephew of Sangharakkhita.
One day, the nephew got two pieces of cloth—one seven spans long and the other eight.
He thought, “I’ll give the longer one to my uncle.”
He went to see him at Jetavana Monastery, but his uncle wasn’t there yet.
So, he cleaned the hut, prepared water for drinking and washing, laid out a seat, and when his uncle came back, he respectfully offered the cloth.
But the elder monk said, “I already have robes, my dear. You keep it for yourself.”
The nephew insisted, “Please take it, uncle. I brought it just for you. I want to make merit.”
Still, the elder monk refused.
This made the young monk feel very discouraged.
While he was fanning his uncle, his thoughts started running wild:
“Before I became a monk, I was his nephew. Now, I’m his student too, and still he won’t accept my gift! Maybe I shouldn’t be a monk anymore…”
And then he imagined his whole future:
“I’ll leave the monkhood. I’ll sell this cloth. With that money, I’ll buy a goat. The goat will give birth. I’ll sell the kids and make more money. I’ll get married. We’ll have a child. One day we’ll visit my uncle together, but on the way, we’ll argue about who holds the baby. The baby will fall off the cart. I’ll get angry and hit my wife with a stick!”
As he thought of this last part, he suddenly hit his uncle on the head with the fan he was holding!
The elder monk turned to him, surprised, and said,
“You didn’t hit your wife—you hit me. What did I do wrong?”
Suddenly, the nephew realized what he had done—and panicked.
“Oh no! I hit my teacher! He can read my mind too! I’d better disrobe and run away.”
He dropped the fan and fled.
The elder monk sent the other monks to bring him to the Buddha.
The Buddha asked, “Is it true that you want to leave the monkhood?”
“Yes, Lord,” he replied.
The Buddha asked, “Why would you do such a thing? What happened?”
The monk told him everything.
The Buddha then gently encouraged him:
“Don’t give up so easily. The mind has a tendency to run off, to wander far. But we can train it, so that we can free ourselves from desire, anger, and delusion.”
The Buddha gave this verse:
“Those who can tame the wandering mind,
That roams far, alone, and bodiless—
Those will be free from the chains of Māra (temptation and suffering).”
After hearing this, the young monk calmed down, practiced sincerely, and eventually reached sotāpanna, the first stage of enlightenment.
This story reminds us: Even a monk can be overtaken by untrained thoughts.
But even a wayward mind can be transformed through inner observation.
Luang Por Dhammajayo often taught:
“We should be mindful of our thoughts.
If a thought is unwholesome, don’t accept it. If it arises on its own, just stay neutral. Don’t feed it.
It won’t last long. Every emotion comes and goes.
It arises, stays briefly, and fades away.
That’s what we need to train ourselves to see.When we learn this, our meditation becomes easier.
We can settle into stillness more quickly.
So when you sit to meditate, start with what’s easy, what’s comfortable.
No need to force anything. Just keep practicing, gently and consistently, along the Middle Way.”
Through meditation, we learn to see more and react less.
We start by cultivating peace in small moments—one breath, one still pause—until it becomes our nature.
So today, let us think before we think.
Let’s give our heart the gift of space—clean, light, and still.
From that inner clarity, peace spreads.
