A Conversation About Buddhism
Author: Anup Poudyal
Publisher: The Middle Way Publications
Edition: Authorised Machine-Accessible Edition
Section: Chapter 20
Chapter Title: 5 Aggregates Subject to Appropriation
Pāli Title: Pañcupādānakkhandhā
Copyright: © 2026 Anup Poudyal. All rights reserved.

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CHAPTER TEXT

Chapter 20: 5 Aggregates Subject to Appropriation Pañcupādānakkhandhā

To explore this teaching properly, we will again step back in time 2,500 years and sit in on an actual exchange between a monk and the Buddha. Our task here is to listen and clarify what is being pointed to, without forcing the teaching into modern categories.

We will begin at the point in the discourse where this topic is addressed directly. Some sections will be set aside where they do not serve our immediate purpose. The focus of this chapter is practical and specific. We are trying to understand why suffering continues even when its causes are known and its location in experience is clearly seen. This part of the discourse speaks directly to that question.

In this discourse, the Buddha does not introduce a new doctrine. He sharpens an existing one. Here, we retain the translation of the Pāli word upādāna as ‘grasping’ in some places, for ease of reading and narrative flow. In this passage, ‘grasping’ should be understood broadly as taking up or appropriation, with the sense of fuel that sustains becoming.

Majjhima Nikāya 109* The Longer Discourse on the Full-Moon Night English translation by Bhikkhu Sujato (CC0 public domain)

So I have heard. At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in the stilt longhouse of Migāra’s mother in the Eastern Monastery.

Now, at that time it was the Sabbath, the full moon on the fifteenth day, and the Buddha was sitting in the open surrounded by the Saṅgha of monks.

Then one of the mendicants got up from their seat, arranged their robe over one shoulder, raised their joined palms toward the Buddha, and said, ‘Sir, I’d like to ask the Buddha about a certain point, if you’d take the time to answer.’

‘Well then, mendicant, take your own seat and ask what you wish.’

‘Sir, are these the five grasping aggregates: form, feeling, perception, choices, and consciousness?’

‘Yes, they are,’ replied the Buddha.

‘But sir, what is the root of these five grasping aggregates?’

‘These five grasping aggregates are rooted in desire.’

‘But sir, is that grasping the exact same thing as the five grasping aggregates? Or is grasping one thing and the five grasping aggregates another?’

This question can sound confusing at first, especially in English. ‘Grasping’ appears as an action, while the ‘five aggregates subject to grasping’ appear as a set of things. But the monk is not asking about grammar. He is asking something more precise. Is grasping just another way of describing the aggregates, or is it something that exists apart from them?

A simple analogy may help. When the body moves, we can ask: is the movement the same as the body, or is it something different from the body? In the same way, the monk is asking whether grasping is identical to the aggregates, or something distinct from them.

This distinction matters because the aggregates and grasping are closely related, yet they are not identical. The body, feelings, perceptions, saṅkhāra, and consciousness can all be present without being grasped. A liberated

being still experiences the aggregates, but no longer clings to them. Grasping depends upon the aggregates, yet it is not the same thing as the aggregates themselves.

The compound upādānakkhandhā (“aggregates subject to grasping”) brings this issue into focus. The monk is asking how these two are related.

‘Neither. The desire and greed for the five grasping aggregates is the grasping there.’

This reply shows the precision of the Buddha’s teaching. The monk presents two options, yet the answer does not fall into either. Instead, it reveals a different way of understanding the issue altogether. Grasping is not a separate entity, nor is it identical with the aggregates. It is the desire and greed that arise in relation to them. As with the earlier analogy of the body and its movement: the movement is not something that exists outside the body, yet it is not identical to the body either. It is simply the body in a particular mode of activity.

In the same way, grasping is not a separate object; it is the ‘movement’ of desire and greed directed toward the aggregates. It is the active process of taking them up as ‘I,’ ‘me,’ or ‘mine.’ This appropriating activity is what the Buddha calls upādāna.

‘But sir, can there be disparity in desire and greed for the five grasping aggregates?’

‘There can,’ said the Buddha. ‘It’s when someone thinks: “In the future, may I be of such form, such feeling, such perception, such choices, and such consciousness!” That’s how there can be disparity in desire and greed for the five grasping aggregates.’

‘Sir, what is the scope of the term “aggregates” as applied to the aggregates?’

‘Any kind of form at all, past, future, or present; internal or external; solid or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near: this is called the aggregate of form. Any kind of feeling at all ... Any kind of perception at all ... Any kind of choices at all ... Any kind of consciousness at all, past, future, or present; internal or external; solid or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near: this is called the aggregate of consciousness. That’s the scope of the term “aggregates” as applied to the aggregates.’

‘What is the cause, sir, what is the reason why the aggregate of form is found? What is the cause, what is the reason why the aggregate of feeling ... perception ... choices ... consciousness is found?’

This is an astute question because, although craving or desire is a deep underlying condition for the aggregates to arise and be appropriated, it is too

general. For example, to say that the cause of the body is ‘desire’ is true in a broad karmic sense, but it does not name the immediate condition. Here, the monk is asking for the specific supporting causes for each aggregate, not just the overall background of craving.

‘The four principal states* (meaning earth, water, fire and space) *are the reason why the aggregate of form is found. Contact is the reason why the aggregates of feeling, perception, and choices are found. Name and form are the reasons why the aggregate of consciousness is found.’

Here, the Buddha uses elements of Dependent Origination to demonstrate how each aggregate depends on causes and conditions. By tracing their arising in this way, he shows that the aggregates have no independent essence and therefore cannot support the notions of ‘I,’ ‘mine,’ or ‘myself.’

‘But sir, how does substantialist view come about?’

Meaning, how does the view of ‘I, mine and myself’ come to be?

‘It’s when an unlearned ordinary person has not seen the noble ones, and is neither skilled nor trained in the teaching of the noble ones. They’ve not seen true persons, and are neither skilled nor trained in the teaching of the true persons. They regard form as self, self as having form, form* in self, or self in form. They regard feeling as self, self as having feeling, feeling in self, or self in feeling. They regard perception as self, self as having perception, perception in self, or self in perception. They regard choices as self, self as having choices, choices in self, or self in choices. They regard consciousness as self, self as having consciousness, consciousness in self, or self in consciousness. That’s how substantialist view comes about.’

‘But sir, how does substantialist view not come about?’

This follow-up question is crucial. In the previous passage, the Buddha has described how identity view arises, what kinds of distorted ways of regarding the aggregates give birth to a ‘solid self.’ Now the monk turns the inquiry around and asks for the practical side: what needs to be seen or done so that this substantialist view does not arise, or can cease? In other words, he is moving from ‘what to stop doing’ to ‘what to cultivate instead.’

‘It’s when a learned noble disciple does not regard form as self, self as having form, form in self, or self in form. They don’t regard feeling as self, self as having feeling, feeling in self, or self in feeling. They don’t regard perception as self, self as having perception, perception in self, or

self in perception. They don’t regard choices as self, self as having choices, choices in self, or self in choices. They don’t regard consciousness as self, self as having consciousness, consciousness in self, or self in consciousness. That’s how substantialist view does not come about.’

‘Sir, what’s the appeal, the drawback, and the escape when it comes to form, feeling, perception, choices, and consciousness?’

‘The pleasure and happiness that arise from form: this is its appeal. That form is impermanent, suffering, and perishable: this is its drawback. Removing and giving up desire and greed for form: this is its escape. The pleasure and happiness that arise from feeling ... perception ... choices ... consciousness: this is its gratification. That consciousness is impermanent, suffering, and perishable: this is its drawback. Removing and giving up desire and greed for consciousness: this is its escape.’

I find this answer especially satisfying because it acknowledges something often overlooked: there is genuine pleasure and gratification in taking the aggregates to be ‘mine.’ The Buddha does not deny this. Pleasure and happiness do arise through form, feeling, perception, saṅkhārā, and consciousness, and this is precisely why appropriation occurs. It is natural and understandable. The problem is not the pleasure itself, but that what gratifies is impermanent, unstable, and unable to be held. Seeing both the appeal and the drawback clearly is what makes relinquishment possible, not denial or suppression.

‘Sir, how does one know and see so that there’s no I-making, mine-making, or underlying tendency to conceit for this conscious body and externally for all signs?’

‘One truly sees any kind of form at all, past, future, or present; internal or external; solid or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near: all form, with right understanding: “This is not mine, I am not this, this is not my self.” One truly sees any kind of feeling ... perception ... choices ... consciousness at all, past, future, or present; internal or external; solid or subtle; inferior or superior; far or near, all consciousness, with right understanding: “This is not mine, I am not this, this is not my self.” That’s how to know and see so that there’s no I-making, mine-making, or underlying tendency to conceit for this conscious body and externally for all signs.’

Here, the monk is asking how experience can actually be known and seen in this way. In response, the Buddha confirms that such seeing goes beyond

theoretical understanding. It is how the aggregates are truly seen when the tendencies towards I-making, mine-making, and conceit have been exhausted. There is something almost disarmingly simple about the answer. How do we come to see things clearly? We practise until we see them clearly for ourselves. Put very casually, the answer is almost: ‘Just do it.’ No amount of further explanation can do the seeing for us.

‘Now at that time one of the mendicants had the thought, ‘So it seems, worthy sir, that form, feeling, perception, choices, and consciousness are not-self. Then how will the deeds done by not-self affect the self?’

This section feels remarkably contemporary. The mendicant has encountered a genuine difficulty in the teaching. If form, feeling, perception, saṅkhārā, and consciousness are all not-self, then who performs an action, and who later experiences its consequences?

The Buddha’s response, however, suggests that something more than philosophical confusion is occurring. He describes the mendicant as unknowing and ignorant, with a mind dominated by craving, thinking that he can ‘overstep the teacher’s instructions’. The problem is therefore not simply that the mendicant has asked a difficult question. The danger lies in where the reasoning is beginning to lead.

This is one of the subtler ways craving can work. It does not always oppose the teaching directly. Sometimes it takes hold of the teaching itself and follows it towards a conclusion that serves its own interests. If everything is not-self, the mind may reason, perhaps there is ultimately no one responsible for action and no one who receives its results. A genuine philosophical difficulty can then become an intellectual loophole.

Yet the underlying confusion remains understandable. The mind is accustomed to thinking in terms of a continuing identity that persists through time. If an action occurs now and its result appears later, we instinctively assume that someone must travel from one point to the other to receive it. Once that permanent someone is removed, the relationship between action and consequence can become difficult to understand.

The Buddha’s teaching points towards continuity through conditions. Actions bring results, and those results are experienced, without requiring an unchanging owner to pass from one moment to the next. The challenge is to understand how continuity can exist without identity, and how consequences can unfold without a permanent self standing behind the process.

We can think of it this way: in a forest that has existed for over ten

thousand years, not a single tree that stood at the beginning is still alive. The soil has changed, generations of animals have come and gone, and count-

less trees have grown, died, and been replaced. Yet there is continuity. Seeds dropped by earlier trees influenced what grew later. Fallen vegetation changed the soil, which shaped the conditions for the generations that followed. There is no single, unchanging ‘forest’ that has persisted through time. What we

call the forest is a continuous process in which present conditions have arisen dependent upon what came before. The forest today is neither identical to the forest of ten thousand years ago nor entirely separate from it.

‘But the Buddha, knowing that mendicant’s train of thought, addressed the mendicants: ‘It’s possible that some futile person here, unknowing and ignorant, their mind dominated by craving, thinks they can overstep the teacher’s instructions. They think: “So it seems, worthy sir, that form, feeling, perception, choices, and consciousness are not-self. Then how will the deeds done by not-self affect the self?” Now, mendicants, you have been educated by me in questioning with regard to all these things in all such cases.’

The Buddha then continues the discourse by returning to the ‘Five Aggregates’ themselves. Rather than searching for a self hidden behind experience, either in the present or in the future, he directs attention to form, feeling, perception, saṅkhārā, and consciousness. By examining these carefully, the mistaken assumption of a self, whether as the doer of actions or the receiver of their results, begins to dissolve.

Conclusion

As we step back and review what has been covered, it becomes clear that the Buddha did not present the Dhamma as a collection of separate theories, but rather as a set of interrelated lenses that illuminate the same process from different angles. Dependent Origination, the five aggregates, and the five aggregates subject to appropriation are not competing explanations. They are three ways of seeing the same living movement of suffering.

Dependent Origination shows how suffering unfolds in accordance with conditions. The five aggregates show where suffering is experienced, in the immediacy of body, feeling, perception, saṅkhāra, and consciousness. The five aggregates subject to appropriation reveal why suffering continues, by showing how these very aggregates are taken up as ‘I,’ ‘me,’ and ‘mine.’ None of these frameworks stands alone, and none replaces the others.

This overlapping quality can make the Buddha’s teaching feel repetitive, especially to a modern reader. In one sense, that impression is correct. The Dhamma does circle back on itself. The same truths reappear in different forms, emphasised from different entry points. But this was never meant to overwhelm the practitioner. The Buddha did not teach everything at once. Teachings unfolded in response to where a person was on the path and to the obstacle that had become visible at that stage.

The challenge for modern practitioners is that we now receive the entire map at once. The temptation is to try to practise everything simultaneously. This almost always leads to confusion, strain, or discouragement. The wiser approach is simpler and far more faithful to the spirit of the Dhamma: take one or two principles, practise them thoroughly, and return to the teachings when new difficulties arise.

This chapter has tried to clarify one very specific point: how suffering continues to be taken up and sustained even when its causes are understood, and its location is clearly seen. As the Buddha’s teaching unfolds, new frameworks will continue to appear, but they always circle back to the same two constants: dukkha, the fact of suffering, and nibbāna, the ending of suffering. Nothing essential ever moves away from these.