He eats food thinking of eight reasons: ‘Not for fun, indulgence, adornment, or decoration, but only to sustain this body, to avoid harm, and to support spiritual practice. In this way, I shall put an end to old discomfort and not give rise to new discomfort, and I will have the means to keep going, blamelessness, and a comfortable abiding.’
After eating, when receiving water for washing the bowl, he holds the bowl neither too straight nor too bent, neither too tight nor too loose. He receives neither too little nor too much water. He washes the bowl without making a sloshing noise, or spinning it around. He doesn’t put the bowl on the ground to wash his hands; his hands and bowl are washed at the same time. He doesn’t throw the bowl washing water away too far or too near, or splash it about.
After eating he doesn’t put the bowl on the ground too far away or too close. He’s not careless with his bowl, nor does he spend too much time on it.
After eating he sits a while in silence, but doesn’t wait too long to give the verses of appreciation. After eating he expresses appreciation without criticizing the meal or expecting another one. Invariably, he educates, encourages, fires up, and inspires that assembly with a Dhamma talk. Then he gets up from his seat and leaves.
He walks neither too fast nor too slow, without wanting to get out of there.
He wears his robe on his body neither too high nor too low, neither too clinging nor too loose. The wind doesn’t blow his robe off his body. And dust and dirt don’t stick to his body.
When he has gone to the monastery he sits on a seat spread out and washes his feet. But he doesn’t waste time with pedicures. When he has washed his feet, he sits down cross-legged, sets his body straight, and brings mindfulness to the present. He has no intention to hurt himself, hurt others, or hurt both. He only wishes for the welfare of himself, of others, of both, and of the whole world.
In the monastery when he teaches Dhamma to an assembly, he neither flatters them nor rebukes them. Invariably, he educates, encourages, fires up, and inspires that assembly with a Dhamma talk. The sound of his voice has eight qualities: it is clear, comprehensible, charming, audible, lucid, undistorted, deep, and resonant. He makes sure his voice is intelligible as far as the assembly goes, but the sound doesn’t extend outside the assembly. And when they’ve been inspired with a Dhamma talk by the worthy Gotama they get up from their seats and leave looking back at him alone, and not forgetting their lesson.