What is Avijjā (Ignorance)? — A Dialogue with Sāriputta

Sāriputta, I have something I’d like to ask. May I?

What exactly is “avijjā”?

The other day, we heard the Teacher speak, and the term “avijjā” came up.

I have a rough sense that it means “not clear”, but I’m not sure about its deeper meaning.

I wonder if it has more meanings.
Like, lacking light (not seeing) or lacking understanding. What do you think?

“Not clear about what?”

Perhaps, we could say, “not clear about the true nature of things.”
That’s what came to mind when listening to the Teacher.

“Not knowing the truth,” you mean?

Yes. We are confused because we don’t know. If we knew, we wouldn’t be confused.

It’s like a map. If you don’t know your current location or destination, you get lost. If you know, you don’t.

Interesting analogy. Fundamentally, we are lost because we don’t know where we are or where we’re going. So “avijjā” represents not knowing.

Yes, something like that. Avijjā is ignorance.

But if avijjā (ignorance) is the root of confusion, then shouldn’t the solution be to know it?

That’s right.

If avijjā could somehow cease, confusion would cease too. So people say, “just know it,” but honestly, there’s so much I simply don’t know.

Even this conversation—we probably could have worked it out ourselves. Yet here I am, asking Sāriputta.

Completely ceasing avijjā would mean achieving omniscience—knowing everything…

That’s impossible!

Yes.

Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be struggling right now. (laughing)

Exactly. That’s why the term “avijjā” can be understood in words but remains difficult to grasp in reality.

The true nature, or what could also be called truth. There are many ways to describe it, but knowing it completely would end ignorance. That much makes sense.

Yes, in theory. But in practice, humans naturally do not know everything.

Right. There are always things we cannot see or know. Even listening to the Teacher, this remains true.

Do you remember the story about the Kinsuka tree? It’s a good example.

Ah, yes. Four brothers each went to see the tree at different times.

Right. The eldest saw the buds and thought they looked like little flames.

The second brother saw the fresh leaves and felt full of energy.

The third saw the flowers and imagined them as strange red hands.

And the youngest saw the fruits and thought they looked like lucky ears.

Each brother was convinced that his own view was correct, and they ended up arguing.

Then their father brought them all together to see the tree. To their surprise, the tree had mostly lost its leaves and only the branches remained.

It showed them that the same tree can look very different depending on the time, angle, or perspective.

Exactly. Even though the views were different, each one was a truthful aspect of the tree.

So in the same way, we humans can’t perceive everything at once. We’re always seeing only one aspect of reality.

Exactly. And this illustrates the nature of avijjā—our natural incompleteness, mistakes, and limited perspective.

So, acknowledging that we are not perfect and that there are things we don’t see or know… that self-awareness is the first step toward understanding and addressing our ignorance.

So, interpreting “ceasing avijjā (ignorance) = attaining omniscience” is mistaken.

You could say it’s easy to understand that way in theory, but in practice, it’s impossible.

Exactly. If someone tells you to do it, it’s clearly impossible.

That’s why I wanted to ask Sāriputta about avijjā. I can understand the words, but not the actual experience.

We don’t want just the meaning of the words.
We want to consider it through real experience—facing the facts.

You mean something we can observe, experiment, or verify?

Like with the map analogy—you don’t just know from seeing the map; you go to the place and experience it.

For me, it’s the realization that “everything is changing.” I can see and feel it, both subjectively and objectively.

Ah, the teaching of impermanence. Nothing is permanent; all things change.

Yes. Our body will eventually decay. We age. We get sick.

Or we grow, recover from sickness; cells divide, and our body renews itself every day.

Because we experience impermanence, we recognize it as a fact through observation.

All things are in flux… Even at the level of atoms and molecules, matter is never static. Particles constantly move and interact, sometimes behaving like waves. In this way, impermanence can be observed even in the physical world.

Really? That’s enough?

I mean, if knowing impermanence alone is enough to eliminate avijjā… isn’t that too simple?

Huh?

Whenever we focus on one aspect, other aspects remain unseen.
There are things we don’t know—that is a fact. And all things are changing—that is also a fact.

I see. If we lose sight of these facts, then we cannot truly “know clearly.”

I see, thank you.

Even if it’s not a direct answer, it still answers. Thank you.