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.

Taking the "Edge" Off

Despite the fact that I've been sober for 8 months now, I still find other ways to "take the edge off" after a long day at work. In this article I want to a.) define this "edge" and b.) find wholesome ways to "take it off."

a.) defining the edge

I'm sure you know the feeling. Whether it's pressure from your job, or just the build of stress from the hustle and bustle of your daily life, you get that feeling that you need some sort of release. It's an uneasy feeling, one that lets you know that things aren't okay, and it feels uncomfortable just to have it around. Usually, what happens next is it triggers the voice in your head to start scheming for its removal. And this is precisely why so many people are driven to use substances such as alcohol, marijuana, or tobacco to bring them back to their comfort zone. 

b.) taking it off

When we feel uncomfortable, we usually adjust something to fix it. When we are hungry, we might take some food, and when we have pain, we might take a pain-killer. It might even be something as simple as rolling over in bed when we can't fall asleep. While these processes are quite natural and helpful, they tend to happen automatically, and if we're not careful, we lose the ability to monitor and control what we end up doing in order to seek this level of comfort. 

Before we know it, we've become slaves to our comfort-seeking tendencies and almost look for an excuse to need to tip the scales back in our favor, another excuse to indulge. For me, having quit smoking and drinking, I now turn to movies and food. I feel it before I leave work, that uneasy feeling, and I can't wait to get home to some food and turn on my favorite show or put in a movie. Now, this seems like a preferred alternative to going out and getting wasted or even ingesting some mind-altering substance into my body in order to relax, but it does the same thing in terms of rendering my ability to cope with myself useless. 

On occasion, when I've noticed this happening and feel strong, I intuitively know what to do: slow down, and take a deep breath in. Just allowing myself to "catch up" to the moment, to face this uneasy feeling in its entirety, actually makes the feeling lessen. What seems to multiply the feeling of uneasiness is the mind's sense of urgency to escape from it, so by turning to face it, we empower ourselves to handle the situation without the use of external stimuli. Even if we are going to come home, eat some food, and sit down to watch something, can we at least do it with a little bit of poise and mindfulness, instead of feeling like we are racing against our minds?

In addition to slowing down and taking a deep breath in, we can use meditation and yoga to get in touch with ourselves and see the truth of the situation we are in. The truth is, it's just a passing feeling, and it doesn't represent who or what we really are. It's almost like we think there is something wrong with us, and so we run away from ourselves, but if we see the truth of the emptiness of such states, we can sort of laugh at them and treat them as a leaf blowing in the wind. There is nothing here that can harm us, only this compulsion to hide from the way we are feeling. Instead of being scared to feel something uncomfortable, we should be scared to go unconscious. Consciousness is perhaps the greatest tool we have been given, so let's not waste it. If what you are conscious of is unpleasant, simply acknowledge it as so and remind yourself that "this too will pass." Then wrap yourself in a warm blanket of compassionate understanding and ride the storm out, remembering that clear skies are on the other side. 

A Forest Full of Dhamma Friends

I can't even tell you how happy I am to be here, at Wat Baan Taad Forest Monastery in Udon Thani, Northeastern Thailand. I've been looking for a place like this, a place to come to be with myself and practice the Dhamma. It's not that I'm happy in the sense that I'm elated, but a more profound sense of connecting with my purpose. The late Abbot, the Venerable Luang Ta Maha Bua, was arguably Thailand's greatest monk of the 20th century. Having died just a few short years ago, I feel like his presence is still here, and the monks here (most of them) are diligently following his teachings.

My walking meditation path.

With virtually no schedule, other than an 8am meal and 30 minutes of sweeping at 3pm, the whole day is left to the meditator to practice at their own pace. There aren't many rules here. Talking is permitted, as is reading, writing, and listening to recorded Dhamma talks, if you have the electronics to do so. You don't even have to wake up at a certain hour, what freedom!

You may think it's so lax that I've come here just to lounge around and eat free food. The truth is, I've been so inspired that I've done nothing but practice or read Dhamma books the entire time. For the time being, I've given up the luxuries of the modern world, as I sit on the hardwood floor and write this by candlelight. No phone, no internet, no electricity, just the animals, the Dhamma friends of the forest, to keep me company, and there are plenty of them! Chickens and peacocks are everywhere, and the trees are full of white squirrels that jump from limb to limb. Last night, I had to stop for a turtle to cross my walking-meditation path, which was also lit by candles. I'm getting used to creatures stirring in the bushes, so I'm not as jumpy as I was when I first got here. Back and forth I pace, contemplating the ever-passing moment.

White rabbits, snakes, giant lizards five-feet long, frogs that almost glow in the dark, spiders the size of your palm, and miniature deer, about the size of a wiener dog, also call this place home. I've never seen a forest so abundant with wildlife! I guess people aren't the only ones privy to the greatness of Maha Bua.

I'm so full of the Dhamma right now that I didn't bother taking the one meal of the day today, and I'm not the least bit hungry (I actually ended up skipping the next day's meal as well). I've got 3 full water bottles, a stack of candles, Dhamma books, and mosquito coils, and am determined to use my time here wisely. As I continue to dive into Maha Bua's teachings, and put them into practice, I feel in my heart that there is enough here to discover the true nature of the mind. The citta, what Maha Bua calls
"the essential knowing-nature of the mind," is never born and never dies, it is the deathless.

He emphasizes the use of Samadhi, or a concentrated state of one-pointedness of mind, to develop wisdom and eventually find peace. I've largely neglected developing samadhi in my practice, and have spent most of my time trying to use wisdom directly to perceive of the truth of the passing moment. While this has been effective, to some extent, as Maha Bua puts it, the practice becomes "pachy" if you don't have a strong base of concentration.

His instructions are quite simple, to use a "preparatory meditation-word whose continuous mental repetition acts as an anchor that quickly grounds the meditator's mind in a state of meditative calm and concentration."

From that point of stillness and clarity, the real work of investigation can begin.

I've come across this teaching before, but I sort of wrote it off as being an elementary practice, this just repeating a word or focusing on the breath. Now, I'm getting back to the basics...

Miniature deer!

Finding Gratitude for Every Experience of Suffering

Lotus flowers in Nepal. 

Just now, as I was feeling rather awful again, I experienced of a moment of gratitude for exactly what I was going through. With every obstacle an opportunity, there's always a reason to be grateful. In fact, we can go even further to truly appreciate the hardships in life, honoring as them as our great teachers of life.

The problem with me, like many others, is that I'm scared to suffer. As soon as I feel something that is less-than-desirable, I shrivel up a bit inside and try to cover it up with something. Anything that I can do to not have to face that feeling is done out of some idea that I need to be shielded from the harshness that life inevitably brings. I know I'm doing this because I can see myself doing it. I'm watching my reactions and finding that inside, I'm nothing but a big baby. Although I've been able to exercise some amount of discipline and self-control in my practice and my life lately, I'm still just as afraid of embracing the pain as I ever was.

I've heard it said that suffering is pain multiplied by resistance. We can try our hardest to avoid pain, but that just seems silly. Pain is going to come, we all have to die someday, and we are all subject to old-age and sickness. Resistance, on the other hand, seems to be somewhat of a choice. No, I don't believe that labeling something as a choice and walking away helps us understand how the mind works. Just because a choice is possible, doesn't mean that it's readily available to us. That all depends on past choices that we've made as well. For example, if we are raised in a violent household, and violence is all we know, it's not helpful to say that when we are met with violence, we should just choose non-violence. When we are dealing with years of conditioning, we must understand that freedom, or the ability to do otherwise, is very limited or maybe even impossible.

What it takes then is a radical willingness to change our lives, and that's where we can come in, at whichever moment we finally choose to surrender. If we keep going along with whatever is happening like there is no problem, nothing will ever really change. It's only when we're completely fed up with our lack of freedom that we have a chance at tipping the scales in our favor. You'll know when you've had enough of being led around by the conditioned mind, and are ready to step into a new world that is fresh and full of possibilities.

If you're like me, you might have come to this place but then wondered exactly what to do next.

Here are some things that I am looking to remind myself of now, because I know I haven't exactly been great at implementing them lately.

1. Break down the unpleasant experience. 

Let yourself see the combined parts of what you are feeling. Is it physical, mental, emotional, or maybe a combination? Try to separate the different elements that are at work in creating your suffering. You can try using mental labels to keep things clearly identified and distinguishable.

2. Let it be. 

Paul McCartney was right. Once to know what you are experiencing, just let it be. Just let the bare sensations be sensations, without letting your mind get wrapped up in identifying with them. Let heat be heat, let a throbbing sensation be a throbbing sensation. Let loneliness be loneliness.

3. Find gratitude for your pain. 

Be grateful for all that you are feeling, for it means that you're alive and able to experience life in all its fullness. It also means that your head isn't so far up your ass that you can't even realize what's happening. Even though you might be miserable, at least you know you are miserable. As it turns out, that is a crucial step in being able to step into something greater. Regardless of what you are experiencing, you can remind yourself of your gratitude by repeating, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

4. Surrender. 

Just let go of all your resistance. Let yourself feel everything, without covering it up, without feeling sorry for yourself. And if you do feel sorry for yourself, that's okay too. Just allow whatever it is that you are experiencing to be without trying to control anything. Anything you are feeling will leave just as it came in. Don't mistake a drawn out experience for something permanent. Surrender to the changing moment.

5. Be compassionate to yourself.

Sometimes, the best thing we can do is just wrap ourselves in a little bit of our own love and let something run its course. We shouldn't feel sorry for ourselves, but it's okay to acknowledge that what we're going through is indeed tough. This let's us feel our own support and desire to make it through to the other side.

6. Feel good about your endeavor to face suffering head-on.

Yes, you can give yourself a bit of a pat on the back, but not too much. Be careful to not overdo it, and develop some sort of pride about it. Remember, there is no one really here to be proud or to be proud of. Everything is always changing and existing due to the conditions that support it. Seeing the error in identifying with our suffering means that we also don't take credit for any sort of victory. Instead, we can gently acknowledge that we've done something good for ourselves and know that it hasn't gone unnoticed.


So, just like that, I hope to able to be able to have something a little more tangible to put into action the next time I feel that life has got me a bit down. It's nice to know that we all have this feeling, and that we aren't helpless in what we can do to deal with it. More than anything, we learn from these difficult situations, and without them, the human experience would be radically different. Let's be grateful for all that we have, including this.

A Call to Action at Wat Asokaram

Wat Asokaram. 

Not exactly built on solid ground.

                                                                            I didn't want to go anywhere. I woke up with     

 that feeling that I'd rather just stay at home than bother with packing my bag to head out to the monastery for the night. But, if I've done anything with my practice, I've developed a bit of a drive that can keep me going when I'd just rather give up. It's like that feeling that if I don't take advantage of the opportunities to practice, I'll be disappointed in myself, and that will be just another thing to bury under the layers of stored emotions and consciousness   

A monks living quarter, or kuti. 

So I pulled myself out of bed and hopped in a van to head down to the neighboring province of Samut Prakan, to visit Wat Asokaram. The temple, which I had previously visited nearly a year ago, is famous because it was founded by Ajahn Lee Dhammadharo, who was a disciple of the great Ajahn Mun. Coming from Ubon Ratchathani in NE Thailand, Ajahn Lee was trained in the strict Thai Forest Tradition. Although it's not purely a forest monastery, given it's close proximity to Bangkok and it's location in a marshland, they still follow the one meal a day rule and wear the brownish robes.

I swear, I didn't pick this room. Or did I?

That being said, the atmosphere is quite relaxed and I wasn't ever asked to go anywhere or do anything. It's interesting to be in a position like that. It stirs up all sorts of things in the mind, because here you've come all the way from your cozy little apartment, to be put into a much smaller room, given a thin mat to sleep with on the floor, and then left to do whatever. It makes you wonder, why didn't you just stay home and practice?

Security guard...

At some point, that might be a better idea.
Why spend the time and energy (and money) to go somewhere to practice when you can just practice wherever you are with whatever you have? Granted, it only took a couple hours door to door and only cost a couple dollars in bus fares, but upon arriving, you set your bag down, and then what? Isn't it the same?

As for now, I'll still choose to get out and connect with Thai Buddhism every chance I get, just to be filled up with the Dhamma, just to have the short conversations and the few words of encouragement from passerbyers. On this occasion, I was barely met with the temptation to practice laziness over meditation. I felt very peaceful in this place, like I was coming home. Although it's not the perfect monastery for me, it was nice to be given my own room and have the freedom to practice as I choose.

The main sala. 

In the main jedi, there are life-like statues of the great masters of this lineage. Seeing them in meditation posture, I felt a strong sense of my purpose in this life. When you have so many great individuals to look-up to, you feel compelled to follow in their footsteps. Especially with a message so clear, could they have been wrong? Or is it not for everyone?

In my opinion, it's obvious that it's not for everyone. So how to determine whether or not it's for you?

When I have been able to quiet the mind, I feel like I am being called into action. Have you ever had that feeling? It's the feeling that there is more to life than this game of worldly pursuits. There is a higher purpose, and that is to wake up from the dream. It's not common to walk this path, even over here where Buddhism is strong. Most people, monks included, aren't really concerned with waking up, they are just getting by.

And therein lies a great reminder. There is nothing that is supposed to be happening. We aren't supposed to wake up, it's only optional. But what I want to remind myself is that if the phone is ringing, pick it up. If you are receiving a message, as I am, that is telling you to take a closer look, that there's something to this idea of waking up, I urge you as I am urging myself to follow that lead to see where it goes.

Walking meditation. 

If the courage and the curiosity can come together to allow us to follow this path, I'm sure that the fruits will be better than our limited perspectives can even imagine. Part of that comes from this faith that I have been developing. Not a blind faith, but a trusting of sorts, that lets me take the words of wisdom as passed down by the Buddha and other enlightened teachers as being valid. It is truly a hopeless generation that can no longer accept the wisdom of its elders.

So it is to this generation that I am writing this to, not to instill some idea that age denotes wisdom, that is ridiculous. There are plenty of people who grow old and die and haven't learned a damn thing along the way. Very few are the ones who figure out what life is about, and fewer still are those who are able to put that into practice before breathing their last breath. It becomes our challenge, as the youth, to seek out those who have gone before us that really became the change they wished to see in the world, especially those whose ideas of change are aligned with our own. What are we willing to fight for? Are we willing to fight the darkest army in the history of humanity, our own inclination towards greed, hatred, and delusion?

If you are feeling like you need a little help, you aren't alone. Pull yourself off the couch, or out of bed, and connect with whatever resource is around you. If nothing else, utilize the internet as a resource, to find free information, e-books, audio tracks, and videos that are freely available to help spread the teachings that lead to liberation from identification with a false sense of self. And when you do, and you become infected with the power of truth, as seen and understood by your own ability to see and know, please, by all means, share it with anyone who is willing to listen!

What's called Sai-bot, or giving food to the monks.

Pindabat this morning with a Spanish monk.

THE MASTERS OF THE THAI FOREST TRADITION

Ajahn Sao.

Ajahn Mun. 

Ajahn Chah. 

Ajahn Lee, the founder of Wat Asokaram.

Inside the main sala. 

Walking meditation tracks.

It doesn't look real, does it?

Sunset over the bay. The monastery's property extends to the coast. 

Working Through the Pain

by master isolated images @ freedigitalphots.net

After talking with a friend tonight, who is going through a bit of a hard time, I realized just how much I've been skirting around my own problems lately. The tendency is to avoid the deep-seated issues at all costs, either by covering them up with pleasant experiences or getting distracted with different material altogether. While both of these options seem convenient and might serve to offer some temporary relief, the root of the problem remains and is waiting for the soil to ripen for it to sprout up again.

I know what I need to do, but yet I am playing the game of denial and avoidance. The last couple months have been pretty challenging for me. I've subjected myself to this ongoing experiment, determined to invite austerity and renunciation into my life, with some idea that it will bring me closer to the truth. But the truth is, it won't, at least not by itself. Yes, it has brought this truth into the limelight for me to see many times, the truth of the myriads of problems that I have yet to work through, but if I continue to avoid them, my experiments will prove to be of no service to me at all.

I remember on my first meditation retreat, the teacher talked about how if we weren't careful, it could actually make us regress in our practice. At the time, I refused to believe that all that time and effort could result in a situation where it would have been better off if I hadn't gone at all. I think I'm starting to understand what he really meant. If we grab onto pleasant experiences and push unpleasant ones away, we are just reinforcing the very reactive tendencies of the mind that we are trying to do away with in the first place. You could argue that the trying is the problem, but I'm not as interested in a philosophical inquiry into the role of effort as I am in finding tangible solutions.

On the surface, I've had quite a bit of success with my little experiments. I've managed to keep to the 90 minutes of meditation a day rule for the last 60 days, and I've also done at least 12 sun-salutations (a yoga sequence) everyday. I've chanted in the morning and evening nearly everyday, and my diet has been mostly vegan, with the exception of giving in to some ice-cream from time-to-time. So from a materialistic standpoint, I've been doing really well. Nonetheless, after one of my co-workers, who seems to be supportive of my ambition, asked me last week if I was still going strong, I admitted, "Yeah, but not on the inside."

But isn't that what really counts? 

The truth is, I'm going through the motions, but I'm still avoiding the pain. Sure, I've been working through the pain a little bit, but only because I've had to, there hasn't been any real intention or system to dealing with it. I guess what it took was a good reminder from a friend for me to see that I could be doing more to meet my pain head-on so as to uproot the core of the problem itself.

So what can I do to work through the pain?

Well, I guess it depends on what's there. You shouldn't bite off more than you can chew. If the problem is really big, don't try to tackle it all at once. You have to chip away, like a sculptor hoping to slowly reveal the inner beauty of a finished piece. And to chip away, we need to do our best to see what material is in front of us. We can invite the problem to show itself so as to be able to identify when it's at work in our lives. When we know what it is, we can at least be aware of it and have a chance to act accordingly.

What does it mean to act accordingly?

Again, it depends on what we are suffering from, but if we know that avoiding the problem is effectively multiplying it, we can start by allowing ourselves to feel whatever is there. As it arises, we can do our best to refrain from resisting it. Instead of being trapped in the mind, which is bound to be spinning out on the typical story of "poor me, I shouldn't have to suffer," we can try to stay present with the actual physical experience of suffering. What I've found in the past is that by allowing myself to suffer, the suffering in turn diminishes. Getting out of the story and into the direct experience means that we are able to break down the sensations associated with the unpleasantness and see it for what it really is, nothing more than passing phenomena.

When we see our suffering as being impermanent, we can take a step back and not take it personally. It's not really who or what we are, it's just something we are experiencing. If we take it personal, as the mind would have it, we are reinforcing its power over us. Although we aren't looking for power here, we want to be careful about letting the mind suck us into the trap of feeling sorry for ourselves.

Instead, we can practice surrender, knowingly and intentionally, and stop trying to fight the fact that suffering is a part of life.

I think what I'm learning from this, as it's coming up in this very moment, is that the surface details don't matter in the end. The only thing that matters is the extent to which we are free from the confines of our own habituated tendencies to react to incoming phenomena without even a shred of awareness or the ability to choose. I don't know about you, but I'm personally more scared of being an automated drone than I am of death itself, for it's much worse to die free than to live a prisoner of the mind.

by markuso @ freedigitalphotos.net

The thing that separates us from machines is not our ability to think, but rather our ability to feel. So when you feel that you are ready to face your pain, sit down and let yourself feel what's there. Allow yourself to become intimate with this pain, to know it fully. Know what it feels like, where it arises in the body, what triggers it, what makes it go away. Know the way it causes your mind to react. Notice as much as you can about your suffering and try to stay as objective as possible. Notice that all experiences come and go, and yet you remain, the witness to the passing moment.

Dig down deep, and then give up completely, for absolute strength is total surrender.