jane austen style presentation of SN 47.6, by claude ai, Dhamma portions reworked by frankk:
The Hawk and the Quail: A Moral Tale Concerning the Imprudence of Venturing Beyond One's Proper Sphere
SN 47.6 - A Rendering in the Manner of Polite Society
It is a truth universally acknowledged,
that a creature in possession of good sense must be in want of the wisdom to remain within its proper domain.
Yet how often do we observe, in both the natural world and in the drawing rooms of civilized society,
individuals who, believing themselves exempt from this maxim,
venture forth into territories where they have neither knowledge nor advantage,
and there meet with consequences most disagreeable.
The Buddha, whose understanding of human folly was as comprehensive as it was compassionate,
took occasion one morning to address his assembled disciples upon this very subject.
The gentleman—for such must we call him,
despite his having renounced worldly titles—gathered his monks
about him with that particular air of one who is about to impart a lesson of some significance.
"I shall relate to you," said he, "an incident concerning a hawk and a quail,
from which those possessed of discernment may derive instruction
applicable to circumstances far removed from the barnyard.
"
Chapter I: In Which a Quail Exhibits a Lamentable Want of Judgment
The quail with whom our narrative concerns itself had been blessed by Providence with a situation of no small advantage.
His ancestral estate—if one may apply such elevated language
to a ploughed field—afforded him every reasonable accommodation for safety and sustenance.
Yet this quail, like many a gentleman of our acquaintance who finds his own grounds insufficient to his ambitions,
had developed a decided inclination to wander.
It must be acknowledged that the neighboring territory presented attractions of a most seductive nature.
The seeds there appeared somehow superior,
the prospect more agreeable, and the whole situation calculated
to gratify that restless desire for novelty which afflicts both birds and rational beings alike.
That such attractions were illusory, and that his removal from his proper sphere would prove most imprudent,
were considerations which the quail,
in his eagerness, neglected to entertain with sufficient seriousness.
His neglect was soon to be corrected in a manner both sudden and severe.
A hawk—for such predatory creatures exist in nature as certainly
as fortune-hunters exist in society—had been observing the quail's perambulations with interest.
Perceiving her opportunity, she descended upon him with a swiftness
that would have done credit to any dowager perceiving an eligible bachelor enter a ballroom.
The quail found himself seized in a grip of such firmness as to render all hope of escape quite impossible.
As he was borne aloft, his reflections upon his situation were
of that melancholy nature which invariably accompanies the recognition of one's own folly.
"How wretched is my condition!"
he cried, with feeling.
"How unlucky, how unfortunate, to have quitted the safety of my own territory for the false promises of another!
Had I but remained within the bounds of my ancestral field—where my father before me,
and his father before him, exercised their modest but sufficient
existence—this hawk should never have obtained such advantage over me.
What madness possessed me to think myself above the wisdom of my forebears!
"
The hawk, who possessed that species of confidence which comes from repeated success in her chosen profession,
inquired with some amusement:
"Your ancestral field, you say?
Pray, what particular virtues does this property possess that you believe would have secured your safety?
"
"It is a ploughed field, distinguished by an abundance of earth-clods,"
replied the quail.
"In that domain, I assure you, I am not without resources.
"
Chapter II: In Which Pride Precedeth a Most Literal Fall
Now the hawk, it must be observed, had enjoyed considerable success in her hunting endeavors.
This success had naturally produced in her that excessive self-assurance which so often attends prosperity,
and which renders its possessor blind to the possibility of reversal.
She had never encountered a situation which her superior strength could not master,
and she saw no reason to suppose that this occasion would prove exceptional.
"How very interesting," said she, with that particular sort of
condescension which the powerful are wont to display toward the powerless.
"I confess myself curious to witness these remarkable defensive capabilities of which you speak.
I shall therefore—in a spirit of what I can only call extraordinary generosity—release you,
that you may repair to your cherished field.
I shall follow directly, and we shall discover whether your sentimental
attachment to your inheritance has any foundation in reality,
or whether it is merely the sort of romantic fancy to which your kind is regrettably prone.
"
With this speech, she opened her talons.
The quail, experiencing that mixture of terror and relief which must attend so dramatic a change in circumstances,
descended with considerable rapidity and made all haste toward his ancestral property.
Upon achieving his destination, he found himself possessed of a most extraordinary transformation of feeling.
Where moments before he had known only fear,
he now experienced a calm certainty born of intimate familiarity with his surroundings.
He positioned himself atop the largest clod of earth available and,
with a boldness that in other circumstances might have been deemed improper,
called out to his pursuer:
"I await your arrival with composure,
madam!
Come, if you will, and test your strength against knowledge and belonging!
"
The challenge was delivered with such conviction as to have given pause to any creature possessed of prudence.
The hawk, however, was not in a frame of mind to entertain doubt.
Chapter III: In Which Superior Knowledge Triumphs Over Superior Force
She folded her wings with elegant precision and commenced her descent.
The speed at which she traveled was truly remarkable,
and the force of her approach would have overpowered any ordinary obstacle.
Victory appeared so certain as to be already accomplished.
Yet the quail, it transpired, possessed an advantage which no
amount of physical strength could counter: he knew his ground
with that perfect intimacy which comes only from long habitation and ancestral inheritance.
At the precise moment when the hawk's talons were extended for
the seizure—at that critical instant when the difference between
success and failure measured no more than a heartbeat—the quail executed a movement of elegant simplicity.
He stepped aside.
The hawk, unable to alter her trajectory,
struck the earth with tremendous force.
The impact was of such violence as to quite overcome her,
and she lay insensible among the very clods she had so lately disdained.
The reversal of fortune was complete,
sudden, and instructive.
Chapter IV: In Which the Moral Application Is Made Clear
The Buddha observed his monks with that penetrating gaze which
suggested he understood perfectly well that they had not yet apprehended the full significance of his narrative.
"I perceive," said he, "that some among you may suppose I have merely entertained you with a rustic fable.
Permit me to correct this misapprehension.
The quail of whom I speak is yourselves.
The hawk represents Māra—which is to say,
all those temptations and delusions which seek to draw you from your proper path.
"
The monks, who had indeed been somewhat uncertain as to the application of the tale,
now attended with renewed interest.
"When you permit yourselves to be drawn into the realm of sensual pleasures—when you pursue sights that entrance,
sounds that seduce, scents that bewitch,
tastes that captivate, and sensations that inflame—you are as
imprudent as that quail who ventured beyond his inheritance.
In such territory, you possess no advantage.
Māra's power there is absolute, and your defeat is not merely probable but certain.
You are as ill-equipped for such an encounter as a young lady
of gentle breeding would be ill-equipped to manage a gaming house.
"
One of the younger monks, emboldened by genuine curiosity,
ventured to inquire:
"But what, Lord Buddha, constitutes our proper domain?
Where are we to find this ploughed field of which you speak?
"
The Buddha's countenance expressed that particular satisfaction
which a teacher feels when a student asks precisely the right question.
"Your proper domain, your ancestral inheritance as spiritual practitioners,
consists of the fourfold establishment of remembering and applying Dhamma.
These are not novel inventions, but rather the accumulated wisdom of all who have achieved awakening before you:
First, you must observe the body as the body truly is.
Attend to its breathing, its sensations,
its movements—not with the vanity of one admiring a reflection,
but with the clear-eyed discernment of one who understands the true nature of physical existence.
Second, you must observe sensations as sensations truly are,
rather than something you cling to or wish to avoid.
Whether pleasant, unpleasant, or neither,
these sensations arise and pass away.
You must neither grasp at the agreeable nor recoil from the disagreeable,
but equanimously-observe with true understanding.
Third, you must observe the mind as the mind truly is.
States of mind dependently arisen on conditions moment to moment,
flimsy, hollow, always changing, unreliable, no owner or soul behind the curtains.
Fourth, you must observe Dharma as Dharma truly is.
In other words, you constantly validate your understanding of Dhamma,
that it accords with the heard, learned, memorized teachings of the Awakened ones,
that it accords with the natural laws of reality,
rather than corrupted and impure Dhammas that arise when disciples
don't propery reflect, compare, validate their practice against the true Dhamma.
This understanding is your truest inheritance.
In each of these practices, you must maintain ardency, that is, right effort—
not the feverish exertion of one attempting the impossible,
but the steady application of one engaged in meaningful Dhamma work.
Keep your discernment sharp, your recollection constant,
and release all grasping at the transient pleasures and pains of worldly existence,
which puts you right in the midst of first jhāna."
He rose then, and his presence commanded the attention of all
assembled with a natural authority that required no assertion.
"This fourfold remembering and applying Dhamma is your true estate,
bequeathed to you by every awakened being who has preceded you.
Remain within its bounds, cultivate its resources,
and make it the center of your existence.
Do this, and Māra—with all his cunning,
all his power, all his extensive experience in the corruption of the unwary—
shall find no purchase upon you.
"
The Buddha paused, allowing his words to settle upon his audience before delivering his conclusion.
"The hawk was powerful indeed.
Yet the quail who remained true to his proper sphere was preserved.
Let this be your guide in all matters: know your proper domain,
and do not be tempted to abandon it for illusions of greater
happiness elsewhere. For it is a truth universally demonstrated,
in both nature and society, that those who venture imprudently
beyond their sphere invariably discover their error—
though the discovery often comes too late for remedy.
"
Thus concluded the Buddha's instruction,
leaving his monks to reflect upon whether they should prefer
the fleeting pleasures of foreign territories to
the enduring security of their own well-cultivated inheritance.
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