Śakra
What does it look like when one achieves the pinnacle of good karma?
Suppose in this life you accumulate great merit,
giving alms, building roads,
and helping the poor.
And you don't just do it for one lifetime;
you do it for countless lifetimes.
Finally, one day,
you reach the peak of your cultivation.
After death, you are reborn on the very summit of Mount Meru,
living in a palace called the City of Good Views.
You become the King of the Thirty-Three Heavens,
with the entire human world beneath your feet.
Your lifespan,
converted into human years,
is 36 million years.
Your palace is built of seven treasures,
surrounded by countless celestial maidens.
Whatever you desire,
at just a flicker of thought,
appears before your eyes.
You might think
that at this stage,
it should be enough.
But the Buddha said,
"It's not enough."
Hello,
everyone,
I am Wang Lijie.
Today, we're discussing a unique figure in Buddhist cosmology:
Śakra.
He is one of the most frequently appearing Guardian Deities in Buddhist sutras,
holding a status similar to the Jade Emperor in Chinese folk religion.
But his true identity is much more interesting than the Jade Emperor's.
Because he isn't just a fictional mythological character.
In the Buddha's teachings,
he is a real case study,
a living specimen used to answer the question:
"How far can being a 'good person' actually take you?"
First, let's look at a map.
In Buddhist cosmology,
there is a concept called the Six Heavens of the Desire Realm.
From lowest to highest,
they are Cāturmahārājika, Trāyastriṃśa, Yāma,
Tuṣita, Nirmāṇarati, and Paranirmita-vaśavartin.
These six heavens
are like a six-story apartment building.
The higher you live,
the longer your life
and the more subtle your pleasures.
But there is one commonality:
the residents of all six floors
still possess desires,
though their expressions differ.
In the bottom two levels,
the Four Heavenly Kings and Trāyastriṃśa,
it is still much like the human world,
involving physical contact.
By the third level, Yāma,
only a hug is needed.
In the fourth level, Tuṣita,
holding hands is enough.
In the fifth level, Nirmāṇarati,
a simple smile suffices.
In the sixth level, Paranirmita-vaśavartin,
they don't even need to smile;
a single glance is enough.
Desire goes from coarse to subtle,
but it is always there.
That is why it's called the Desire Realm.
Śakra lives on the second level,
Trāyastriṃśa,
the summit of Mount Meru.
Trāyastriṃśa is the transliteration of the Sanskrit word
meaning "thirty-three."
The Thirty-Three Heavens are not thirty-three floors,
but rather thirty-three regions,
like a vast horizontal kingdom
spread across the peak of Mount Meru.
Śakra is the king of this kingdom.
So how did he become the king?
This starts from his past life.
According to the Pali Canon,
Sakra was once a young Brahmin man named Magha,
living in a small village in Magadha.
Magha had a particularly simple trait:
he loved doing good deeds.
Not just occasional acts of kindness,
but making good deeds a way of life.
He built roads, pavilions, dug wells, and cared for the elderly.
And he didn't do it alone;
he brought thirty-two friends along with him.
These thirty-three people formed an alliance for good,
spending their lives accumulating merit.
The scriptures record seven vows Magha made.
He vowed to support his parents for life;
vowed to respect his elders;
vowed to use gentle speech;
vowed never to backbite or sow discord;
vowed to overcome greed and be generous;
vowed to speak the truth;
and vowed to never harbor anger.
Look closely at these seven rules;
none are difficult to understand,
but each requires a lifetime of persistence.
It's not about a single grand gesture of charity,
or a one-time donation to make the news,
but day after day, controlling your speech,
your mind, and your wallet.
This kind of goodness
is the most basic,
yet also the most difficult.
After these thirty-three people passed away,
they were all reborn at the summit of Mount Meru,
forming the Trayastrimsha—the Heaven of the Thirty-Three.
Because Magha was the leader,
he became the Lord of Devas,
known as Sakra.
The other thirty-two became his ministers.
The Samyukta Agama records eight names for Sakra;
one of them is Maghava,
his original name from his past life.
Even as the Heavenly King,
his name carries the trace of that young man
who built roads and wells in the village.
So you see,
the "Thirty-Three" is not an abstract number;
it represents thirty-three people
who earned a world through their good karma.
The very foundation of this celestial realm
was cast from a lifetime of good deeds.
Hearing this,
you might think this is just a Buddhist version of Heaven.
Good people are rewarded;
doing good leads to Heaven.
It sounds similar to the stories of other religions.
But what comes next
is where Buddhism fundamentally differs from others.
Does Sakra live a good life in Heaven?
Of course.
The City of Good Views is made of seven treasures;
heavenly robes appear naturally;
divine music never stops.
But he faces a problem—
a problem
that you also encounter in the human world.
He has to go to war.
That's right;
there is war even in Heaven.
Sakra's main enemies are the Asuras.
In Buddhist cosmology, Asuras have the blessings of gods
but lack their virtue.
In plain terms,
they are talented but have a bad temper;
capable but highly competitive.
The Asuras originally lived on Mount Meru too,
but were later driven down after various conflicts.
Since then, they have repeatedly waged war against Sakra's realm.
This war is mentioned many times in the Pali Canon.
Sakra must mobilize the armies of the Four Heavenly Kings.
unite the powers of higher heavens,
and arrange his troops for battle.
Sometimes the devas won,
and sometimes the asuras won.
They fought countless rounds,
and eventually settled for peace through a political marriage.
The Asura King married his daughter to Sakra,
and Sakra gave the divine nectar in return.
Just imagine this scene:
a man who did good deeds all his life
became a heavenly king after death,
only to find that in heaven, he still has to fight wars,
form political alliances,
and maintain peace through marriage.
Is that any different from human emperors?
The difference is indeed quite slim.
This is the deepest part of Sakra's character.
He is not a perfect deity;
he is a man who pushed good karma to its limit,
was reborn in the highest place good karma could send him,
only to find that place looks exactly like the human world.
The walls are just more magnificent,
and life is longer,
but the underlying logic hasn't changed at all.
There are enemies,
there is jealousy,
there is conflict,
and there is war.
Think about whether there are similar people around us.
Some people spend their lives doing good deeds,
and in their old age, they indeed live very well.
They are surrounded by grandchildren,
enjoy good health,
and are respected by everyone.
But if you observe their hearts closely,
they still feel uneasy because a neighbor said something wrong,
still get angry when their juniors don't listen,
and still feel an indescribable emptiness when waking up at midnight.
The environment has improved,
but not a single line of their inner program has changed.
Sakra is an amplified version of such a person.
By pushing the environment to its extreme,
you see the boundaries of good karma.
Alright.
Up to this point,
the story is just interesting.
The next part is what truly shocked me.
Sakra went to seek the Buddha's teachings.
This event is recorded in the 21st Sutta of the Digha Nikaya,
called the Sakrapañha Sutta.
The imagery in this Sutta is very vivid.
The Buddha was staying in Indra's Cave in Magadha.
Sakra descended from heaven with his musician, Pañcasikha.
He first had the musician play a song for the Buddha.
This song wasn't a solemn hymn,
but a love song Pañcasikha wrote for a goddess before the Buddha's enlightenment.
Picture the scene:
the Heavenly King arrives,
starts with a love song to warm up,
and then Sakra begins to ask questions.
His first question is very intriguing.
He didn't ask how to become a Buddha,
how to transcend rebirth,
or about the ultimate truth of the universe.
He asked:
"Why do all living beings,
including gods, humans, asuras, nagas, and celestial musicians,
clearly hope for no enmity, violence, or confrontation,
yet end up living in enmity and violence?"
Consider the weight of this question.
It was asked by a heavenly king who just finished a war.
He wasn't asking about theory;
he was asking about his own personal predicament.
"I did good all my life,
cultivated my way to heaven,
yet I still have to face conflict.
Why?"
This "why"
is not an abstract debate in a philosophy class;
it is from someone who has truly experienced the rewards of good karma.
It's the questioning that arises when one finds problems remain unsolved.
The Buddha's answer consisted of only two words:
Jealousy and avarice.
All sentient beings live in hostility
because of jealousy and avarice.
Śakra followed up,
"Where do jealousy and avarice come from?"
The Buddha said,
"They come from like and dislike."
"Where do like and dislike come from?"
"From desire."
"Where does desire come from?"
"From thinking."
"Where does thinking come from?"
"From conceptual proliferation (Papañca)."
From the proliferation of scattered, unsubstantial concepts.
With a chain of causality,
the Buddha deconstructed surface conflicts down to the base level of consciousness.
Did you notice the logical direction of this chain?
Śakra asked an external question:
"Why is there conflict in the world?"
But the Buddha gradually pulled the answer inward.
Conflict comes from jealousy;
jealousy comes from preference;
preference comes from desire;
desire comes from thinking;
thinking comes from conceptual proliferation.
Every step moves from outside to inside,
from phenomenon to origin.
The end point is not an external enemy,
but the non-stop machine of discrimination deep in your own consciousness.
This is the most subtle point of Śakra's inquiry.
He thought he was asking a political question:
"How do we eliminate conflict?"
The Buddha told him,
"This is a question of consciousness."
The root of conflict isn't a lack of resources,
or the evil of others,
but your own consciousness constantly creating discrimination,
creating preferences, wants, and atwants.
This process doesn't stop just because you are in heaven.
The walls in heaven are made of seven jewels,
but the way your consciousness works hasn't changed at all.
The scriptures record that
during this dialogue,
Śakra attained the "Stainless Dharma Eye."
What is the Dharma Eye?
It is seeing the truth with one's own eyes:
whatever has the nature to arise
has the nature to cease.
This is the first step on the path to liberation—
the realization of a Stream-enterer.
Meanwhile,
80,000 heavenly beings present also attained the same insight.
But there is a very subtle detail here.
After Śakra attained the Dharma Eye,
he didn't immediately transcend Samsara.
He was still Śakra,
still living in the Trayastrimsa Heaven,
still facing the Asuras,
and still managing the Thirty-three Heavens.
He simply "saw."
Seeing and walking out
are two different things.
It's like living in a luxury room for a long time
and suddenly realizing the door was never locked.
The door has always been open,
but you haven't stood up to leave yet,
because the room is too comfortable,
and you aren't ready for the road outside.
But this "seeing" itself is a qualitative change.
Before attaining the Dharma Eye,
Śakra thought heaven was the destination.
After attaining it,
he knew heaven was just part of the journey.
He still lived in the City of Sudarsana,
still held the title of Heavenly King,
but his internal map had completely changed.
He knew where he was,
and he knew which way to find the exit.
Compared to those devas still indulging in heavenly pleasures,
he is already an entire dimension ahead.
Now,
I want to ask you a question.
Where does the daily pursuit of 'being a good person'
fit into the Buddha's coordinate system?
Doing good deeds, accumulating merit, charity, or being filial to parents—
is this spiritual practice?
Yes.
The Buddha never denied the value of good karma.
Good karma is necessary;
it is the foundation
and the first step on any path of cultivation.
But Shakra's story tells you one thing:
good karma has a ceiling.
Good karma can improve your circumstances—
from hell to the human realm,
from humanity to the heavens,
and from suffering to joy.
But good karma cannot change how your consciousness operates.
No matter how many good deeds you do,
your consciousness will still distinguish between 'self' and 'other'.
It will still generate likes and dislikes,
and still feel joy from gaining or pain from losing.
This is a core distinction in the Buddha's teaching.
Good karma belongs to 'conditioned phenomena' (Sankhara).
What are conditioned phenomena?
Things that arise from a convergence of conditions
and must change as those conditions change.
You do good,
accumulate merit,
and are reborn in heaven.
But good karma eventually runs out.
A lifespan in the Trayastrimsha Heaven is 36 million years.
It sounds long,
but compared to eternity, it is finite.
The day Shakra's good karma is exhausted,
he must face his next rebirth.
Where he goes
depends on what seeds remain in him.
Good karma is a painkiller,
not a scalpel.
It can relieve symptoms,
but it cannot remove the root of the disease.
You can perform a thought experiment.
Suppose you possess everything Shakra has:
a palace of seven treasures,
a lifespan of 36 million years,
and anything you desire.
Do you think you would be happy?
You might be happy for a while,
but can you guarantee you won't feel envy?
Or stop making comparisons?
Won't you, in some silent moment,
feel an inexplicable emptiness?
If your answer is that you can't guarantee it,
then you have encountered Shakra's dilemma.
It's not that heaven is bad;
it's that the 'operating system' you brought with you hasn't changed.
What is the root cause?
It is found in the answer to the question Shakra asked the Buddha.
Envy, stinginess, likes, dislikes, desire, obsession, and mental proliferation—
these don't disappear just because your residence changes,
or because your income or social status increases.
They are not in your environment;
they are in your consciousness.
You move to a bigger house,
but anxiety doesn't move out because of it.
You are promoted to a higher position,
but insecurity doesn't resign because of it.
You do good deeds your whole life,
but the sense of satisfaction and identity that comes from doing good
is itself a subtle form of attachment.
Shakra's story holds a particularly cruel metaphor.
He is the one in the universe who has reached the pinnacle of 'being good'.
If being a good person could solve the fundamental problem,
he would have solved it already.
But he hasn't.
He is still at war,
and he is still suffering.
He even ran to the Buddha to ask why.
This isn't denouncing being a good person.
Quite the opposite,
it is telling you
that being good is a necessary direction,
but not the end goal.
The destination isn't anywhere that good karma can deliver you.
The end is the moment you see that good karma itself is conditioned.
Just like when Sakra gained the Eye of Dharma,
he saw that
whatever has the nature to arise
is also destined to pass away—
including heavenly joys,
the fruits of good karma,
and even his throne as a celestial king.
This isn't pessimism.
Seeing the ceiling
means you finally know where the exit is.
But Sakra is only the king of the second level of the Desire Realm.
He represents the pinnacle of good karma.
On the highest of the six heavens of the Desire Realm—
the Heaven of Controlling Others' Emanations—
dwells a completely different character.
If Sakra is the "best person" in the Desire Realm,
then this individual is its cleverest controller.
His name is Papiyan (Mara).
He doesn't do good deeds.
He does something far more terrifying:
He makes you feel that doing good is enough.
He doesn't block your path;
he makes you think the path has already reached its end.
Sakra's story is about the ceiling of good karma.
Papiyan's story
is about the one who prevents you from seeing that ceiling.
But that's for the next episode.
What inspiration do you take from Sakra's story?
Have you ever thought about this concept
of a "ceiling for good karma"?
The good things you pursue in daily life—
what level of problem are they truly solving in your heart?
I am Leo Wang.
See you next time.