The Experience of Meditation

The breath comes in, the breath goes out. Baring witness to the stream of life bursting out from within me. A patient game of watching and waiting, seeing everything as impermanent, and nothing as "me". And yet another part of me understands that it's all me--that there's nowhere to draw the line. Thoughts can be heard bouncing off the walls of the cave of my mind, hoping to grab my attention. The impulse to follow arises, but follow I do not. Staying with the direct experience, nowhere to go and no place in particular to rest my attention. Knowing that in this moment, there is no time or space, that the whole field of 'that which is' resides here, and always has.

Bending back the tip of the wings of tomorrow to touch the tail of yesterday, I find a saddle on which to sit in the here and now. Experience comes and goes and yet the watcher remains unmoved. Sensations pour in, looking for a reaction. Another breath. Such a sway of the pendulum, between the seemingly opposite worlds of pleasant and unpleasant, but I've seen this show before, I already know how it ends. It's just a game of back and forth, nothing to get excited about, and yet beauty seems to pervade both ends of the spectrum. How can we hold such a dichotomy of truths?

Coming back to the breath, there is no need for an answer. I fall deeper into the moment, only to get pulled out again. If only there were more concentration, more focus. But then I realize, there's nothing wrong with this moment, with where I'm at, with how it's going. Nothing to be, nothing to judge, just a gentle curiosity and the willingness to accept and let go of whatever arises to be met with the loving awareness of 'the one who knows'. With such a complete picture, I'll just stay out of this one...

The Desire To Be Understood and the Need For Approval

So here I am, I just moved to China. It’s not that I wasn’t happy in Thailand, but maybe that I was too comfortable, and it was time for a change. 2013 was a big year for me, I was able to realize many dreams I've had and used my time wisely. It also brought what I’ll call a breakthrough in my perspective on my life’s journey, and I'd like to take this opportunity to share that with you. I remember at the end of 2012, I was meditating in Myanmar, and I had this sort of realization that everything I was doing had an underlying driving force or motivating factor to it, and that was the desire to be understood.

 

In the meditation practice I do, I seek to understand what is happening, not to change it. I let change come on its own accord, when the conditions are right, and by doing this, I've watched the changes roll in over the last few years. My task is just to pay attention to know what is happening, so when I came to learn of this desire to be understood, I accepted it, and even nurtured it. At the time, I didn’t have any judgments about it, I just knew it was there, and it felt good to lift the veil that may have been in place for quite some time.

But last year, in 2013, while traveling in India, something else occurred to me. I realized, at some point, that this desire was gone, and that felt like a relief. I hadn't realized the desire to be understood was burdensome until it was gone. Maybe it just didn't make sense anymore. After all, what exactly about me can be understood? If you think about it, there is no solid, unchanging entity within me that I could hope for one to understand. Trying to understand each other, or one self for that matter, is a bit like taking a picture of a river, and saying yes, this is the river. But you can’t say this picture is the river, that was just a snapshot in time, a representation of only part that part of the river at that moment. The actual river is something much greater than that. So yes, it might be possible to take a snapshot of ourselves and then use that for examination, and through that investigation we might say we could be understood by ourselves or others, but this does not account for the underlying process that is happening in each living entity.

A process is constantly changing and although only exists in the moment, has a history in the past and also a trajectory into the future. Oftentimes, we don't at all take this into account when we define ourselves or others. Think about your best friend. What sort of things come up? I'd be willing to bet that you have something of a collection of memories that have feelings attached to them, some positive and possibly others negative. You put all these memories of your friend together, things you like and don't like, and then you slap the name of your friend onto them, don't you? This is especially true for a friend you haven't seen for a long time. Do you not still think you know who your friend is? But think about it, how can you possibly know who your friend is at this point in time when you haven't been around them in a long time? You can't! You just have your conceptions about who your friend is based on your past experiences and memories with them, or of them. This is neither fair nor accurate! The worst part is that we then go on to treat each other based on this model that WE'VE created! We have expectations of them, and judgments, and we fail to see who or what they have become, or where they are trying to go, because we refuse to let go of who we THINK they are and always will be. 

So when I investigated this desire to be understood, which I assume is something that lies very deep in the hearts of many people, especially young people, I found that there was something else there, this fear that I’m not good enough. Because this fear is there, there comes a need for approval from others. What we hope is that if other people could only understand us, they would approve of us, and we could prove to ourselves that the fear of not being good enough isn’t valid, or something like that. Does that make sense?

Jing'An Temple

It’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just another thing to realize is happening and practice acceptance. We can let wisdom do its own work on its own time, it’s not our job to be making these big decisions and implementing changes. But, having said that, we can keep watching and keep investigating, and we might be able to sort of provide the information that wisdom needs to make a wise choice. 

Is our perspective serving us on our path to liberation? If not, it might be time to let go of it.

So by moving to China, I feel good, because I didn’t really look for anyone’s approval in my decision, and I could really care less if I get it or not. I’m not living my life for anyone else but me. I don’t mean that I don’t care about other people, because I do, it’s just that at the end of the day, I need to do what’s best for me and only I can know what that is.

How can I know what that is?

Well, that’s something that I’m working on developing. If we can trust in ourselves, we can rest assured that we don’t need to look for the approval of others. So developing this trust is something that will benefit us greatly, and I think it just comes from getting to know ourselves. I don’t mean that we want to fully understand ourselves, because again, that’s just stuffing ourselves into a little box and failing to understand the bigger picture, the process. Instead, we can develop a relationship to the changing nature of this life-stream that we call ourselves. We don’t need to define ourselves, we don’t need it to look good on paper or be easily labeled and distinguishable, we just need to be in touch with the cause and effect process that is unfolding in the present moment. Remember, it is the causes and conditions that are creating us in real-time, so understanding how past causes and conditions work in tandem with present moment choices means that we can get a sense for how this life-stream is manifesting and the role we can play in steering it towards the greater ocean of freedom and awakening.

It doesn’t really matter how this looks, it can all be done within the framework of whatever personal and professional life you may already have in place. Being spiritual doesn’t mean that you need to run off to some faraway land and live in the mountains, wear a loin-cloth and grow a long beard. It just means that you are developing this relationship with the real you, this constantly changing process that doesn’t need to be understood, it just needs to be lovingly attended to.

For me at this point in my life, I see the value of taking some time away from everything in order to more fully develop this trust in myself, and what that meant was coming to China and spending some good quality time with myself. I don’t really know anyone here and no one expects anything from me. No one has any ideas about who I used to be, who I am now, or who I ought to be. It provides me with yet another wonderful opportunity to redefine myself in my highest light. I have many issues to work through and I have a pretty good idea of what they are. I’ve found that when I’m around other people too much, the work of self-improvement gets pushed to the back-burner and oftentimes is left undone. It takes strength and discipline, and I’m hoping that my journeys and insights in 2013 will provide me with the courage to take a hard look at myself with curiosity and humility, so that I can provide wisdom with enough information that it can make those positive changes in my life. This year, instead of setting objective new year’s resolutions, I’m just going to let that be my guide.

People's Square, Shanghai

The Source of Happiness

I had a great start to my day as this guy was my bus driver on the first leg. It was all downhill after that...

Have you ever taken the time to consider what it is you depend on for your happiness? If you are like most people, there are a number of things you tend to rely on to make you happy when you aren't feeling well, or keep you happy when you are. Some of these things are probably more wholesome, such as your relationships with your family, friends, and pets, and others are probably less wholesome, such as your addictions to foods, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, coffee, etc. Others still are somewhat more neutral, such as your favorite music, a good book or movie, or traveling. And just like that, we tend to categorize the things we turn to in order to have this sense of being happy or content with life. And there's nothing wrong with that, right?

Well, sure, there's nothing wrong with that, as long as you always have those things readily available. But in reality, that's pretty much impossible. Even if you are "fortunate" enough to have the illusion that these things are permanent, due to their having always been readily available to you in the past, I have news for you, they aren't permanent, and someday, you will lose them, all of them. I don't know about you, but I would like to think that there is more to life than holding on to that which is impermanent and therefore able to cause us suffering when it no longer becomes available.

Another thing we hold onto, which is possibly a bit harder to see, is our expectations. We tend to carry these expectations about what will happen, or what should happen, and even having those expectations creates an immense amount of suffering in our lives. For example, I had an extremely difficult morning today, probably the lowest I've felt in at least 6 months or perhaps all year. Actually, I don't recall the last time I was so flustered and irritable.

I left my friends apartment, whom I'm staying with at the moment, at about 8am, which should have given me plenty of time to arrive at the embassy by 9am. It opened at 9:30, so for all intents and purposes, that would have left enough time to find the closest branch of my bank in order to have a statement printed out, which was required for my visa application. Should've, would've, could've. This is the language of failed expectations.

Instead, what really happened, was that I was directed into the wrong van leaving this area which took me to the wrong destination. Not only that, but it went the slow route, so instead of arriving at around 8:45 as expected, I got in around 9:20, but I didn't know exactly where I was. I asked the driver about my stop and he just no and stopped and told me to get out. The frustration that had already been mounting on the trip boiled over, and I took it out on him, even though it had been his partner back at the first location that had incorrectly directed me into his van. At the time, I was so blinded by this frustration that I didn't even remember this fact, so I made a somewhat crude remark to him about the terrible service as I stormed out of the van.

Not knowing what to do next, I decided to hop in a taxi and had the driver take me close to the embassy. I was keeping my eye out for my bank, and when we got close, I asked him where I should go. He took me to a large mall that he said should have my bank in it. He was a friendly man, which is not always the case for Bangkok cab-drivers, and even though I was a bit on edge as I sat in the back of his cab, and couldn't relax, my mind was in a better mood and I even gave him a tip, which I normally don't do in Thailand on account of the non-tipping culture here. It was 9:37. I figured I was still looking good on time and feeling hopeful.

But as I walked around the mall, I found every bank in Thailand other than mine. I dashed back onto the street and looked around. Banks around here are on every corner, so I knew there had to be one close. There, I noticed the symbol on the even bigger shopping mall directly across the street. After overzealously trying to cross the street unsuccessfully, I opted for the safer route by taking the subway stairs down and then back up on the other side. When I got to the entrance of the mall, it was 9:47. The security guard pointed to the sign. It opened at 10. Aah, okay, I can wait, I thought, although at this point, I really had to use the bathroom. I was aware of my impatience, and tried to stay calm by focusing on my breathing. I also took the opportunity to check in with the uncomfortable feeling of having to pee. Actually, I realized, the physical sensations associated with it weren't that bad, it was just the mental formations that turned the whole affair into a story, casting myself as the victim, and the suffering was the result. If I could just stay with the physical aspect, it was manageable.

Finally, a couple minutes past 10, she opened the door and I ran to relieve myself before finding my bank on the 5th floor. As I walked up, to my disappointment, I saw the gate was down and a sign saying the bank opened at 10:30. It was 10:05. From what I had read on the internet, it was best to get to this embassy early, and it closed for submissions at 11:30. I still had to get to a copy shop to make some copies and print out my flight and hotel reservations, and fill out my application forms. Little did I know, that I only had to arrive by 11:30 in order to get a cue, and that all those who arrived by then would be served. Like they say, knowledge is power. The only problem was, I didn't know. This is called ignorance.

Ignorance, according to the Buddha's teachings, is one of 3 causes of suffering. When it comes to relying on temporary things for our happiness, this is always a matter of ignorance, regardless of how wholesome you may think the source is. It's not that there is anything inherently wrong with family, a good movie, or even pigging out on ice-cream, but if you depend on these things for your happiness, you are bound to suffer. Dependency is weakness, and the more attached you are, that is to say the more dependent you are, the weaker you are.

When I woke up this morning, I was really depending on getting this visa today, in order to leave the country this weekend for a retreat in Myanmar. Otherwise, I'd have to wait until next week and I didn't feel like waiting around Bangkok for another weekend. I was holding onto this idea so tightly that I felt like my head was going to pop off. Even though I implemented calming practices to help me relax, and was aware of how much stress I was under, it didn't relieve the situation.

After I got my bank statement, I ran back under the street to the other side, hopped on a motor-bike taxi, and arrived on the street with the embassy. I still had to find a copy shop, and ended up walking a couple hundred meters down the street until I saw one. By this time, I was already feeling a bit better, because my faith in my ability to get their on time was waning. I had started to let go, and was feeling lighter. I had prepared myself to fail, and had started to accept that it probably wasn't going to happen. Either way, I figured I'd give it my best shot. I printed out several things and made a few copies, and when I asked the guy how much it was, he typed in his little calculator a ridiculous price of about $9. First of all, I can speak Thai, and had been speaking Thai to him throughout the process of having things copied, etc. Second of all, a normal fee for copying something in Thailand is equivalent 6 cents, and he was charging a dollar a page. That's 15 times what I'd normally pay. I understand jacking the price up a bit in these places that cater to embassies, but 15 times is outrageous.

In Thai baht, my bill came to 275. "Are you kidding me?" I said as I laughed in disbelief. I took out my wallet, pulled out 300 baht, and hastily threw it on the table, even though the man stood nearby with his hands out like a beggar. He didn't even look me in the eye, because he  knew was practically stealing from me. One of the bills floated to the floor and I saw him diving for it as I stormed out, yelling in Thai something that translates to, "Bad display of character!" now laughing even harder.

I actually thought it was funny, too. The whole thing had become a tragicomedy, and I was no longer holding on to any shred of hope for getting my visa application in on time. But nevertheless, I pushed on to my final destination, and as you may have guessed, everything was fine. I made it there by 11, and had plenty of time to fill out my application and ask the super-friendly guy at the front counter all the questions I was unsure about. Even though I was home-free, I was still wound super tight and noticed my whole body was shaking. I could barely hold the pen steady to fill in the blanks.

It's a strange thing that hope was the killer. As soon as I abandoned all sense of hope, I was free from the mental suffering. My body was still wound up, but my mind was nice and light, and I was able to see the humor in the whole thing. Hope is nothing more than attachment to the results of an expectation. Sure, sometimes it's helpful to stay positive, but for me, on this day, that was the last thing I needed.

Instead of relying on myself for happiness, I had put all my eggs in the basket of the favorable outcome of my situation, and this was extremely unwise. As the story unfolded, and I witnessed the blunt end of my suffering, I found myself wondering why I hadn't been acting wiser. And therein lies another lesson. When you find that you aren't living up to your own expectations, you multiply your suffering by adding layers of disappointment, confusion, and judgment. Instead of seeing things how they are and accepting them, you are comparing what you are experiencing to some notion of what you think you should be experiencing, and frankly, this isn't fair to yourself.

So what if I was flustered, irritable, frustrated, and impatient! Am I not human? No, I probably didn't handle the situation too well, and probably could have treated those people with more kindness and compassion, but being hard on myself here is not going to make the situation any better. I have to forgive myself for my childish actions and move on. Knowing now that I'm still subject to these unattractive states of mind is a good reminder to me that I have so much juicy stuff to work with in my practice. It had been so long since I'd lost my cool that I was beginning to be a bit disillusioned about where I was and how far I'd come. Now I know, if the conditions are ripe for me to revert back to that childish state where I can't control myself, I might not be able to rise above them (the conditions), and I'm OK with that.

This is all a beautiful reminder to me that in every step, in every moment, I need to incline the mind to connect with my innate goodness and use that as the source of my happiness. By abandoning all expectations and thoughts about what should and shouldn't be, what's left is what is. We don't need anything other than what we have, regardless of what it is we have in any moment. To know this is to be happy in a deeper sort of way, and even if were not smiling, we can carry ourselves with dignity and contentedness, knowing that life is perfect, just as it is.

And a sleeping dog in front of the subway escalator to end my day with a laugh. 

Hitchhiking for Dhamma on the Big Mountain

After returning from two weeks of practicing yoga and meditation in Cambodia at Hariharalaya Retreat Center, I was eager to jump back into a Buddhist monastery and get down to business. Hariharalaya was just what I needed to unwind from my 6-month stretch of teaching English full-time, a good chance to open up my body and relax my mind. I found the setting there to be very supportive of individual needs and practices, but for me, there's no place like a Buddhist monastery to get the real work done.

Entrance to the cave at Ban Sawang Jai.

So I set off to Thailand's Khao Yai (Big Mountain) in search of a good place to practice. I had never visited the area before, besides briefly passing en-route to Laos or Cambodia, but had heard that there was some good things happening there in terms of monasteries. From what I gathered, after having spent the past week hitch-hiking around, and staying in 3 different monasteries, is that the area is indeed a prime location to practice meditation. 

I hadn't had a good adventure since India, so at the time of leaving, I wasn't sure where I would end up. I had a couple places in mind, but sort of decided to see which one I would find first. I wasn't positive where these monasteries where, and didn't bother to spend much time online trying to figure out. Instead, I thought, I'd use the opportunity to put myself in a situation where I'd have to use Thai to get by and see where the road took me. 

The first place I ended up was Ban Sawang Jai. It's a branch monastery of another place I'd previously stayed at called Wat Sanghathan, which is closer to Bangkok. I found Wat Sanghathan to be a bit overwhelming, as it was extremely strict and didn't offer much in the way of English. The place was flooded with Thai meditators wearing white, and the monks offer a daily schedule of chanting and ceremony to cater to continuos influx of lay-people, mostly likely coming from Bangkok and fairly undisciplined.                                                                            Needless to say, it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. 

But, I didn't give up on them. They are a serious forest monastery with branches all over the country, and even internationally, and I figured there must be a reason for their popularity. In Ban Sawang Jai, I found exactly what I was looking for. Technically, the monastery is called Wat Thamkrissana Dhammaram. Ban Sawang Jai is the name of the community surrounding the monastery, which is a quaint neighborhood consisting of new houses going up and plenty of empty lots. Apparently, the monastery had plans to sell lots only to their followers, but have ended up selling them to anyone. Either way, the place is somewhat special as it is gated and has a very monastic feeling to it. 

My kuti for 3 nights, super nice!

I was given my own kuti (monk's dwelling hut) to stay in and enjoyed beautiful views of the surrounding fields and of the mountain. The mountain gets it name from the size of the area it covers on the map, and not necessarily it's height. The national park itself, which lies within the mountain, is over 2,000 sq. kilometers, and the area I was visiting was on a plateau near the entrance to the park. The Abbott, Ven. Ajahn Tippakorn, was very welcoming, spoke pretty good English, and offered helpful guidance for my practice. Besides having one meal a day and afternoon sweeping at 3, I spent the entire time in my kuti practicing on my own. I pushed myself pretty hard, but I found that the middle way is not in the external features of the practice, but rather what's happening within, because I never felt stressed or strained even though I practiced 8-10 hours a day. 

That was by far the most disciplined I've ever been outside of an intensive retreat setting, but it came fairly naturally and frankly, by surprise. I had expected to be quite lazy while there, but I guess the inner drive wouldn't let that happen. Here's the schedule from the day I practiced 10 hours:

5-6  Sitting

6-7  Walking

7-8  Sitting

8-9  Yoga

9-9:30 Shower

9:30-10:30 Meal

10:30-12:00 Laundry and Rest

12-1 Walking

1-2 Sitting

2-3 Walking

3-3:30 Sweeping

4-5 Sitting

5-6 Walking

6-7 Sitting

7-8 Dhamma Talk on MP3

8-9 Sitting

9:00 Lights Out

As you can see, I didn't have to get up insanely early or stay up late in order to practice 10 hours, and I still had time to rest, do yoga, and listen to a Dhamma talk. To be honest, I skimmed the sweeping duty a bit short, in order to have another quick rest at 3:30, but I only stayed a few nights, so I think I got away with it. If I had stayed longer, I would have taken the duty more seriously. 

What I learned from this is that there is a lot of time to be productive in a single day, and managing that time to include time for sitting and walking meditation is extremely valuable. Of course, I wouldn't try to keep this schedule everyday that I had free time, but I find intensive practice from time-to-time to be very beneficial. Again, it's about keeping the balance of the mind during that 

intensity of the schedule, otherwise, you are 

just wasting your time. 

Houseboat at Ban Sawang Jai. Yes, please!

Hitchhike #1: 

The third car picked me up after putting my thumb up. I sat in the front seat next to the driver, a middle-aged Thai man who spoke English very well. He had spent 5 months as a monk at Wat Chom Tong in Chiang Mai Province, where I stayed for 21 days just over a year ago. Not only that, but he's visited Alaska before, so we had plenty to talk about. He went about 20 kilometers out of his way to take me all the way to... 

...Thai Plum Village, which is one of 5 or 6 branches of Tich Nhat Hanh's Plum Village in France. Tich Nhat Hanh, who is probably the second most famous Buddhist monk after the Dalai Lama, is a Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk who was exiled from Vietnam after choosing to support neither side in the Vietnam War and instead supporting peace for his people. At 87 years old, his mind is extremely sharp and his heart radiates peace and wisdom. He travels the world teaching and leading retreats, and although he came to Thailand earlier this year, I had not yet returned from India and therefore missed him. 

I only stayed at Thai Plum Village for 1 night, but was very impressed with the monks that I had a chance to meet. They were mostly young and spoke English very well. All the monastics living there, which were around 150 in total, are Vietnamese. The place was like an oasis of Vietnam in Thailand. The facilities for the monks and nuns are still being constructed as the place is quite new, and from what I could tell of the future plans, it will be impressive, to say the least. At the moment, the make-shift dorm for lay-guests is pretty dingy and the outdoor toilets were terrible. Since it's in transition, I could imagine this will be a great place to visit in another year or so. 

On my last stop, I visited a nearby forest monastery and once again felt at home. Thai Buddhism seems to make the most sense to me, but I can admit that it might just be because I'm most familiar with it. I'm trying to cultivate an openness and curiosity to other traditions while at the same time nurturing the practice I've already worked so hard to develop. Out of the respect to the monastery, which wishes to remain somewhat low-key, I won't disclose the name or location, but rather, speak about my experience in getting there. 

Hitchhike #2: 

I opted for walking out of Thai Plum Village to keep the spirit of wandering in search of the Dhamma, but actually, the Dhamma was in every step I took. With no place to go, no real destination, I just walked, to see where I would end up. Shortly after I got out on the dirt road, which was out in the middle of nowhere, I heard a big truck coming from behind me. It was about 10am, and dead quiet before the sound of the truck creeped up. I turned around. I wasn't even going to put my thumb up or wave him down or anything. I figured if I was going to get a ride from this guy, he'd realize I was really far from the main road and would stop regardless of what I did. I was right. The truck came to a stop right in front of me. I waited for a moment to see if the window would roll down, or the door would open, but realized this was a self-serve pick-up. I had to step on the tire to get to the door handle, as it was a big commercial-sized truck, kind of like a Thai/upcountry version of a semi-truck, but brand new and bright shiny white. 

As I opened the door, the guy's wife was climbing in the backseat to give me the front. The nice couple drove me about 20 kilometers, back to the main road, and I had plenty of chance to practice my Thai as if they did speak any English, they didn't show it, not even a word. It was a slow ride too, about 20 kilometers an hour, so it was about 11am when I got dropped off. From there, I had to go back to Ban Sawang Jai to pick up my towel, which I'd hung to dry during the meal and forgotten before I left (doh!). I was able to get a sawng-thaew baep yai yai (a big truck with two rows in the back for passenger hauling) and before I knew it, I was back on the road to my last and final destination. 

Corn fields. 

Hitchhike #3: 

After walking until the point of getting blisters from my sandals, which I bought in India and although are rugged, aren't super foot-friendly, I finally saw another sawng-thaew approaching. I waved my hand in the downward motion as is customary in Thailand, but the lady just put her hand up and drove on by. It was basically like a "I'm only going another 1.5 kilometers, so I ain't stopping." As it turns out, she's the same lady who had tried to rip me off the day before going the opposite way, which resulted in me standing up and having a bit of an argument with her over the price. I guess it's not wise to make a big deal about the price when you rely on these people for transportation in a a secluded area. Wait, scratch that, I can just hitchhike, which is exactly what I did. I turned around, and I'm pretty sure that again, it was the third car that picked me up. Pick-up truck, short confusion about the arrangement, and then the signal to hop in the back. I knew they weren't going all the way to where I was going, which was about 70kms, but I told them to take me as far as they could, and they did. 

They pulled up to a convenient store and asked the lady if there were any transportation options to get me where I was going, but the only service was a bus that didn't come for a few hours. They said something in Thai, which I didn't quite understand, but knew they were advising me to just hitch, so I did. This time, it wasn't the third car, but within a couple minutes, I got a ride. Hitchhiking in Khao Yai is way better than in the US! A brand new shiny red truck came to a screeching halt. The window rolled down, and a full load of 6 passengers asked me where I was going. They were going to the same area, so they yelled something like "let's go" in Thai and I jumped in the back and we were off. We were making really good time, which I cared little about, and resultantly the ride was a bit nervous as we flew around the corners and precariously passed cars that dared go at sane speeds.

A reservoir high up in the mountains. 

Hitchhike #4:

I had been told that one of the two monasteries I was looking for had a small sign on the road. I decided I'd go to whichever one I could find easier. I kept my eye out for this sign but never saw it, and before I knew it, we had reached the town and I knew we had already passed it, somewhere. The 6 passengers poured out of the truck, 3 guys in their 30's and their 3 girlfriends in their 20's, enjoying their weekend by taking a roadtrip. The spoke pretty decent English, and asked me where I was going. I told them the name of the monastery, and they spread out around the parking lot and asked everyone they could. Finally, someone said they knew where it was, sort of. Two of the girls pulled out their cell phones and were looking the place up online. 

"Okay, found it, eat first?" "Sure," I said, and we all sat down in an outdoor restaurant for a feast. I wasn't super hungry but knew there'd be no dinner for me at the monastery so I decided to eat as well. As typical Thai style, they ordered way too much food and plenty to share. When they heard me order vegetarian, they ordered two more vegetarian dishes so I could have a variety. One of the couples took an interest in my travels and meditation practice, the others said they didn't care much about Buddhism, which is somewhat of an uncommon thing for a Thai person to say, but probably becoming more common amongst the youth in Bangkok. Oh, and of course, they wouldn't let me pay my portion of the bill. "My guest," said one of the guys. "But you picked me up!" I protested to no avail. I guess you can't stop generosity when it's thrown at you, the only thing you can do is to catch it. 

"I like adventure!" exclaimed the guy who had driven us. They said they could take me to the monastery, as it was on the way back to their hotel, but they wanted to go to this zip-line/adventure place first. I pretty much had to agree, as they had already been so nice. I didn't want to partake, as the place looked a bit cheesy and not to exciting, so I had to sit there and watch these people go through the various "adventure" activities this place had to offer, which really catered more to things like weddings and kids than anything. I was getting a bit worried as the sun was starting to drop and I knew my window of opportunity to show up at the monastery was fading. 

Finally, they were finished picking out their adventure photos and we were back on the road. We had to stop and ask a couple people where the monastery was but we finally found it and they walked me into the Sala (main meditation hall) to greet the abbot. They abbot relunctantly agreed to have me stay, seeing as I had my bags in hand and had hitchhiked there, and that the sun was pretty much down, so I said farewell to my friends in the red truck and settled in for the night. I stayed there one more night and tried to soak of up the feelings of gratitude I had for the blessings I had been receiving. Life is good! And bad, and everything in between, but just being here to observe it all come and go is truly a special opportunity. 

I wanted to share this story with you to show you the kindness and generosity of the Thai people, with the exception of that really nasty bitch that didn't pick me up in the sawng-thaew. Haha, just kidding! But really, she wasn't super nice. I thought of all the things I was going to say to her when I saw her, but by the time I had walked that last 1.5k, I'd forgotten all about it and kept moving on. My week of hitchhiking for Dhamma in the Big Mountain of Thailand was a success, in more ways than I could have imagined, and once again, I'm reminded of just why it is I've come to call this place my home, for now anyways.

The Day I Met Buddha

Annie & I. 

If you met Buddha, would you know it? Or maybe you've already met Buddha, in someone you least expected. The word Buddha, which simply means "the awakened one," doesn't just have to be reserved for the historical figure who lived in India nearly 2,600 years ago. In one sense, the term can be used to represent the inherent goodness and perfection that lies dormant within each and everyone of us, animals included. The problem is that we are ignorant to this inner beauty, and our ignorance leaves this internal gem unpolished. It is only through our own efforts to polish this precious gem that we find this inner beauty shining through.

I met a Buddha, but I didn't even realize it. Her name is Annie, and when I first met her, I didn't like her. There was something about her that rubbed me the wrong way. As she will admit, she's "loud and obnoxious." But what I didn't know, when I first met her, is that there is a reason for her overly positive attitude and joyful spirit. I know what you're thinking, why wouldn't I like someone who is joyful and positive? Well, I guess like some, I might be a bit pessimistic when it comes to someone who seems to be too happy. I guess I just don't trust it in general, and I've often found that it's a cover-up for some deeper issue and is nothing more than a show.

So I had my reservations. The other thing is that when Annie arrived at the yoga/meditation retreat center I was staying at in Cambodia, I was observing silence. To make matters worse, as Annie made her way around meeting everyone, she wasn't aware that I was in silence, so as I attempted to avoid a direct interaction with her, tension between us grew. She could tell I wasn't overly fond of her, and I knew that she could tell. Needless to say, we weren't off to a great start.

"Don't judge a book by its cover."

Okay okay, I know I've heard this a million times, and have had many revelations from this after having wrongly judged someone, yet I still fall victim to the reactive tendency to judge people whom I don't know very well. One thing about observing silence is that it makes it easier to become aware of these judgments that inevitably arise. Without having an outlet for these reactions, they end up bouncing around the head and are pretty hard to miss. Even though I have a practice to help shine a light on the shallowness of the judging mind, which is just to silently note, "judging, judging," there was still a part of myself that believed in the judgments.

Basically, the idea is that the judging mind is just a function of the mind, and its judgments are nothing but reactions based on past conditioning. The judgments themselves can therefore be seen as being temporary, fleeting, and devoid of any intrinsic value. In other words, in no way do our judgments represent who or what we really are, yet we tend to believe them. We can think of the judging mind as a childish prankster who is always fishing for our recognition of what it sends our way. Insecure on its own, it always seeks our approval of whatever judgments it conjures up. When we don't realize what is happening, we unknowingly hand over our approval and even go a step further to write our name on the judgments, thinking they are actually ours to begin with. This is mistake if we are looking to find freedom from automated tendencies of the mind, because by signing off on these judgments, we are effectively stepping down from our platform of control. I don't mean to say that we need to try to control everything, but it's nice when we have a say in the way that we think, act, and respond to life. If we don't, we're nothing more than habituated reactivity in action.

When it came to Annie, I tried not to believe in my judgments of her, but I had no evidence to say otherwise. As the days went on, I started to get more glimpses into who this person was, and she was starting to grow on me. By the time I came out of my 6 days of silence, I had already decided that she was my favorite person at the retreat, but it wasn't until the next day that I really understood why.

On the next day, Annie told her story. When she was 27, she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and she lost eyesight in both eyes, which lasted for a couple years. She also was slated, according to her doctors, to lose her ability to walk and was facing a life of a being blind and in a wheelchair. Now, she's 32, and as she was telling her story, she was clearly not the person that they said she would be. Her vision is 20/20, and she fits right into the daily yoga classes; you'd never know she had MS.

At some point, during treatment, Annie made a leap of faith. She dropped all of her meds and moved to Colorado to seek out alternative forms of healing. She gives all of the credit of her recovery to amazing healers and doctors of Chinese medicine, and she's telling her story to explain why she has now become an accupuncturist and Chinese herbalist, the very practices that gave her the life she enjoys today. "I'm happy, every single day, because I can see." Hearing her sense of profound gratitude was enough to bring tears to my eyes, especially because my mind was simultaneously being blown in regards to just how wrong I had been about her.

As she reminded us, "You don't know how special something simple like eyesight is until you lose it for two years." Okay, so that's not an exact quote, but you'll have to forgive me, I wasn't expecting anything worth taking notes on. Now, I wish I had been filming her class, which turned out to be a beautiful and moving Dhamma talk, so I could share it with all of you.

Annie's message is loud and clear, don't miss an opportunity to be grateful for all of the things you have. She even offered us the practice of thanking the various parts of our bodies. "When is the last time you thanked your ankle for doing a great job?" she asked. "Most people wait until something goes wrong with their ankle and then they start complaining, but don't they realize that their ankle was kicking-ass everyday of their life until that moment?"

Not only is she inspiring, but she's hilarious. "If you want to know more, just read my book," she joked. I told her later that she really should write a book, and try to teach as much as she can. It's all too often that someone like me, who is fairly serious and devoted to the spiritual path, becomes bogged down with hardship and finds things to be a bit grim at times. "To me, meditation is about connecting with the inner joy that we always have access to," she reminded us. To do this, we can even start by making ourselves smile, which within 20 seconds, she says, will trigger our brains and actually cause us to be happy.
Usually, it's the opposite, but she says it works both ways, and
the brain doesn't know the difference.

Meeting Annie was something that really touched my heart, and was very humbling. It's a great reminder to not trust the judging mind and to not take myself so seriously. The epitome of someone who lives the life they preach, Annie is an inspiration to us all to connect with the magic and the mystery of life in every moment, and to never take things for granted. I can't believe I was so ignorant to have almost failed to realize that I met someone who was truly a spiritual person, someone who knew what it was like to face hardships and come out smiling, a true Buddha. Thank you, Annie, for showing me the way.


*My apologies for any errors I may have made while recounting Annie's story or the details of what she said. Her quotes, as they appear in this article, are simply from my memory, and not intended to be direct quotes.

Shut Your Trap: Silence and Non-Reactivity

It's interesting that we have this little expression, shut your trap, because that's exactly what this mouth of ours is, a trap. It traps us in reactivity which becomes a form of captivity, and restricts us from freedom. Out of all the reactive tendencies we have, the tendency for reactive speech seems to be the strongest. In other words, controlling what we say is perhaps the hardest thing for us to control, because it all happens so fast.

Now in my 5th day of silence, in a community full of people who are talking, this is becoming more and more obvious to me. But don't be mistaken, reactivity doesn't take place at the level of speaking, it happens before that. Just because I'm refraining from speech, doesn't mean I'm not reacting, it just means that I'm given the opportunity to notice my reactivity more as it doesn't have such a clear outlet of expression.

Let's take a moment to look at reactivity. What causes it?

Well, we can react to any form of incoming stimuli. Whether it be a mosquito that lands on us, a sound we hear, something we see, taste, or smell, or an internal stimulus such as a thought or an emotion. Basically, we are talking about the 5 senses and what in Buddhism is the 6th sense, the mind. Incoming stimuli that trigger reactions can come from nowhere outside of these 6 senses.

It's been very interesting to keep silent like this. I've spent many days in silence on various meditation retreats, and while staying at monasteries, but those were in silent environments. Here, in this community, we have a silent day as a group on Saturday, which doesn't even last all day, and then those who are participating in the more rigid "student program" also observe silence on Friday. I've just simply decided to keep it going, and as I said, the results have been very interesting.

With everyone around me talking all the time, I notice my impulse to chime in. I've always been good at chiming in, offering my two cents or whatever. It seems that young generations are now developing this skill more than other skills, they get a quick tongue and don't hold back in the realm of speech. Although it has proven useful at times, it's also gotten me into a lot of trouble. All too often I find that what comes out of my mouth isn't a good representation of who or what I really am. Either way, it's something I'd like to exercise more control over, or at least understand the cause of. By opting for silence, I can see all of these things happening much clearer, because I'm biting my tongue and then I'm just forced have my reactions bounce around my head with no place to escape.

Reactivity is finding an outlet for incoming stimuli. The stimulus comes in, an impulse is sent out and the corresponding reaction takes place. It might be in speech, in thought, in emotion, or in a bodily action, such as pushing someone who insults you or swatting a fly that lands on your arm. The whole process takes place in the blink of an eye, and an unkeen observer might not even realize what has taken place, or that there was an opportunity to do otherwise. And that's exactly what freedom is, in this sense, is an opportunity to do something other than the impulsive reaction.

Since we spend most of our lives reacting to life impulsively, without thinking, we spend most of our lives in captivity to our own mental processes. Observing silence in your life might be the perfect way to get a glimpse at this inner world and learn how to intervene, how to voice your opinion in a way that doesn't require you to actually say anything. If you aren't able to go on a silent retreat, you might just try observing a day of silence at home. You probably think that's impossible, because of your daily responsibilities or your family, but is that just your initial reaction? You might find that you need to speak much less than you'd imagined. I'm still able to be a part of this community, doing my chores, having roommates, etc, all without opening my mouth to speak. I can still answer yes or no questions, by nodding, and even indicate where something is by way of pointing. It's all very interesting.

It makes me want to spend a much longer period of time in silence, because what I'm also experiencing, that I haven't yet mentioned, is that some of these reactive thoughts, after finding no outlet of expression, start to disappear. Space opens up and with that comes clarity, insight, and a much more stable connection to the infinite stillness that is within each and every one of us. I'm finding that I'm much more connected to my own body, my thoughts, and my emotions. Not only that, but as you could imagine, I have lots of extra free time because I'm not spending hours chatting about nothing.

If you can't find an entire day to be silent, you might just try to pick a morning or an evening to spend quietly by yourself. If necessary, just share your intentions with your friends and family, turn your cell phone off, and even give yourself some space, so that you might tune-in to the inner workings of your own mind, in order to find freedom from impulsive reactivity to incoming stimuli. 

Slow Down and Show Up For Your Life

As you may have noticed, if you've been paying attention, it's been some time since my last blog post. You might have thought, "Maybe he's lost his inspiration, or he's stopped practicing."Or, maybe you haven't thought twice about it, but either way, I'm here, writing, again. Despite a few bumps in my practice, it's still going and stronger than ever, but I've been considering dissolving this blog back into the emptiness from which it came. I have many reasons, for and against this idea, with which I won't bother you now. For the time being, the blog lives on, with yet another post.

Slow down. Where are you going so fast? Have you somewhere to be?

We tend to rush through life, always trying to get somewhere, but then when we arrive, we can't wait for the next thing. It's tragic really, because we are missing out on the very stuff of life. Having spent the past 6 months living in Bangkok, I've really become aware of how fast I usually walk. I've never really noticed it before, but I walk pretty fast. This practice that I've come to adopt, one of making an intention to slow down, starts for me by noticing how fast I'm actually going. Once I can acknowledge this and accept it, I'm on my way to learning how to slow down.

As Pema Chodron put it, "Start where you are."We don't get down on ourselves for being broken or needing improvement, we simply become aware of where we are and that's where we start. Maybe you'd like to have more patience, or more presence, or more grace, and that's fine, it's good to have wholesome aspirations for the ways we'd like to improve ourselves.

But then again, maybe you don't, maybe you think you're fine as you are, and that's fine too. I'm not here to try to spoil your picture of reality, just to encourage you to actually know the truth for yourself. If, upon an honest assessment, you find that your picture of reality holds up, then by all means, stick with it. If, like the rest of us, the idea you've been holding onto doesn't quite stand up to the test of observation, then you can consider yourself lucky, because now you have the wonderful opportunity to throw it away and start over again. The more we can start over again, with our ideas and our conceptions, the more able we'll be to stay connected to the magic and the mystery of the ever-passing moment.

One way to find this connection to the present moment is to slow down a bit, to take our time as we move through life. We might have somewhere to be, but that's okay, we can keep things nice and slow simply by leaving a bit early. The secret to patience is to never be in a hurry. We rush to work, and then when we get there, we can't wait to get home again. And then we rush home, and when we get there, we stuff ourselves with food, quite unconsciously and mechanically, and then we turn the TV on, in order to escape the pains of being at home.

Most of the things we do are done in this mechanical and unconscious fashion. It's like we've turned into the machines that we've created. The invitation here is not see every step along the way as a means to an end, but an end in itself. If we give ourselves more time, who knows, we might even enjoy the commute to work, or the long walk through campus to get to class. Maybe we hate work and we hate being at home, for whatever reasons, but we can at least find the spaces in between to be our refuge, our practice.

As I'm writing this, I'm on my third day of silence at a yoga and meditation retreat in Cambodia, and it's this very silence that has really put me in touch with my own tendency to hurry. Just walking around this community, I see the temptation to pick up the pace. But why? Isn't there enough time? Ah, the gentle reminder to slow down, and a sense of gratitude that follows. Without this gentle reminder, that comes from the awareness of what it is I'm actually doing, I wouldn't have ever realized how fast I was going in the first place. So we can start by setting the intention to slow things down, and then pay attention to the reminders as they arise.

My parents always go for a walk around the circular neighborhood they live in, and I remember always being confused by that. "Why go for a walk in a circle, only to come right back to where you started?," I'd think. But now I understand the wisdom in this intentional act. The point was never to go somewhere, but simply to arrive right here and enjoy the moment. Hell, even if you don't enjoy it, at least youre showing up for your life, whatever it may be, and that's more than most people can say.

So as I walk, barefoot, along the dirt paths that wind through this beautiful community here in Cambodia, keeping to myself and trying my best to stay present, I'm reminded of just how real life can feel when we pay attention. I can feel the ground beneath my feet, I can hear the sounds of the birds and the insects, and I can feel this urge to speed things up. They're all there, it's all happening in the now. There's nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be. It's just my life unfolding before my very eyes, and it's beautiful. It's also painful, and lonely, and neurotic, and compulsive, and judgmental, and sometimes it makes me want to scream and break my voluntary silence, but it's beautiful, because it's real.

I invite you to take the time you need for yourself, by slowing down, to be with the passing moments of your short time here on this earth. You'll find that there's never a dull moment, and even though not everything is pleasant, just being here is enough.