Hi Jayarava,
Not trying to keep the discussion going, but you pointed to something very important: “In Pāḷi, rūpa is to cakkhu as sadda is to sota ; and as phoṭṭhabba is to kāya .”
I think it is arguable that cakkhu, or more specifically, maṁsacakkhu (“fleshy eye”, Iti 61), being an aspect of kāya, is also rūpa, but only from a certain perspective. It depends what is being considered. I think the point here is that at a very general level there can be descriptions in terms of elements; also the arrangement of those elements into something more specific: form; and getting even more specific, there is the togetherness of different capabilities of that form: the six sense base. Elements, form, and sense bases each represent a different level of specificity about things that I am made up of; of what is wrongly considered to be dear and meaningful; and in the end, the suttas address each in a similar way: suffering, subject to change, perilous, not mine, etc.
That is often what has the potential to bring seemingly contradictory and ambiguous meanings together, and tends to tie up any loose ends that arise when ideas are not taken personally enough. A great reminder of this can be found in one of the more lovely endings to a sutta:
Then Queen Subhaddā thought, ‘The king’s faculties are so very clear, and the complexion of his skin is pure and bright. Let him not pass away!’ She said to him, ‘Sire, you have 84,000 cities, with the royal capital of Kusāvatī foremost. Arouse desire for these! Take an interest in life!’
And she likewise urged the king to live on by taking an interest in all his possessions as described above.
When the queen had spoken, the king said to her, ‘For a long time, my queen, you have spoken to me with loving, desirable, pleasant, and agreeable words. And yet in my final hour, your words are undesirable, unpleasant, and disagreeable!’
‘Then how exactly, Your Majesty, am I to speak to you?’
‘Like this, my queen: “Sire, we must be parted and separated from all we hold dear and beloved. Don’t pass away with concerns. Such concern is suffering, and it’s criticized. Sire, you have 84,000 cities, with the royal capital of Kusāvatī foremost. Give up desire for these! Take no interest in life!”’ And so on for all the king’s possessions.
When the king had spoken, Queen Subhaddā cried and burst out in tears. Wiping away her tears, the queen said to the king: ‘Sire, we must be parted and separated from all we hold dear and beloved. Don’t pass away with concerns. Such concern is suffering, and it’s criticized. Sire, you have 84,000 cities, with the royal capital of Kusāvatī foremost. Give up desire for these! Take no interest in life!’ And she continued, listing all the king’s possessions.
Not long after that, King Mahāsudassana passed away. And the feeling he had close to death was like a householder or their child falling asleep after eating a delectable meal.
When he passed away King Mahāsudassana was reborn in a good place, a Brahmā realm. Ānanda, King Mahāsudassana played children’s games for 84,000 years. He ruled as viceroy for 84,000 years. He ruled as king for 84,000 years. He led the spiritual life as a layman in the Palace of Principle for 84,000 years. And having developed the four Brahmā meditations, when his body broke up, after death, he was reborn in a good place, a Brahmā realm.
Now, Ānanda, you might think: ‘Surely King Mahāsudassana must have been someone else at that time?’ But you should not see it like that. I myself was King Mahāsudassana at that time.
Mine were the 84,000 cities, with the royal capital of Kusāvatī foremost. And mine were all the other possessions.
Of those 84,000 cities, I only stayed in one, the capital Kusāvatī. Of those 84,000 mansions, I only dwelt in one, the Palace of Principle. Of those 84,000 chambers, I only dwelt in the great foyer. Of those 84,000 couches, I only used one, made of gold or silver or ivory or heartwood. Of those 84,000 bull elephants, I only rode one, the royal bull elephant named Sabbath. Of those 84,000 horses, I only rode one, the royal horse named Thundercloud. Of those 84,000 chariots, I only rode one, the chariot named Triumph. Of those 84,000 women, I was only served by one, a maiden of the aristocratic or merchant classes. Of those 8,400,000,000 cloths, I only wore one pair, made of fine linen, cotton, silk, or wool. Of those 84,000 servings of food, I only had one, eating at most a serving of rice and suitable sauce.
See, Ānanda! All those conditioned phenomena have passed, ceased, and perished. So impermanent are conditions, so unstable are conditions, so unreliable are conditions. This is quite enough for you to become disillusioned, dispassionate, and freed regarding all conditions.
Six times, Ānanda, I recall having laid down my body at this place. And the seventh time was as a wheel-turning monarch, a just and principled king, at which time my dominion extended to all four sides, I achieved stability in the country, and I possessed the seven treasures. But Ānanda, I do not see any place in this world with its gods, Māras, and Brahmās, this population with its ascetics and brahmins, its gods and humans where the Realized One would lay down his body for the eighth time.”
That is what the Buddha said. Then the Holy One, the Teacher, went on to say:
“Oh! Conditions are impermanent,
their nature is to rise and fall;
having arisen, they cease;
their stilling is true bliss. -DN 17