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Venerable Ajahn Brahmavamso -
Becoming Enlightened
So there I was, in a foreign
land, trying so hard,
giving up so much -and for what?
I wasn't quite sure.
When
I was very young I wanted desperately to become a
train driver. My grandfather had taken my brother and me to Euston Station in
London where I began an infatuation with
those massive, black and green steel machines that hissed, with so much
strength. Wouldn't it be wonderful, I dreamt, one day...if...
Some years later I wanted
desperately to become enlightened. I had read all about it in the books. To a
starry-eyed young man, the idea of living in permanent bliss and saving humanity
at the same time was irresistibly appealing. Wouldn't it be wonderful, I used to
dream, one day. ..if. ..
When I first heard the story of
the Lord Buddha's enlightenment, I was still many glasses of beer away from
being a monk. I was a student, doing most of those outrageous activities
students enjoyed in the late sixties - and regretted in the late seventies. But
I had been meditating off and on - mostly the former - for some time, and I had
begun to notice some unmistakable changes in my daily life. I was attending the
Vesak celebration at the local Buddhist Society and as the Venerable Sri Lankan
monk was reading out the Enlightenment Story, I became more and more inspired
and excited. I especially relished the bit where the Buddha-to-be sat at the
root of the Bodhi Tree and made that earth-shaking resolution:
'Though my blood dries up and my bones turn to dust, I will not move from
this spot until I have penetrated to Supreme and Complete Enlightenment!'
Wow! As the story moved on, a thought began to solidify in
my mind. I could hardly wait until the end of the chanting. I impatiently gulped
down the cup of tea, which was all but obligatory at the occasion, and then I
hurried back to my room at college. I had heard enough talks on Buddhism, I had
read plenty of books on the subject. I had been meditating for a whole year now,
at least once a week - well most weeks anyway. If the Buddha could do it, why
not me?
Thus it was that I, in the
arrogant stupidity of youth, a novice mediator who could hardly manage to sit
still for thirty minutes, decided that it was time to become enlightened. It was
now or never, I resolved, for the next day I had an exam. I locked the door of
my room. I sat down on my meditation cushion. I collected myself. Then I
pronounced in a low, clear, solemn voice:
'Though my blood dries up and my bones turn to dust, I will not move from
this very cushion until I, also, become enlightened.'
That was it. No more mucking about. I was dead serious.
Forty minutes later I was in extreme agony. Though my
blood appeared as liquid as ever and no disintegration of my bones was
discernible yet, my knees were giving me hell! What was really worrying me
though, was that over half an hour had gone by and I hadn't seen the anticipated
brilliant and flashing lights yet. There hadn't even been a twinkle to suggest
that I was getting near. It was very depressing - and very painful. I gave in. I
got up very disappointed. Not becoming enlightened had spoiled the whole day.
A few years later and a little
more sensible - though only a little - I was at London airport being sent off to
Thailand by two Thai bhikkhus. I was going to Bangkok to be ordained. I still
remember the parting words of the senior of the bhikkhus, who was my teacher
then: 'Please come back when you become enlightened.' I was planning to be a
monk in Thailand for two years at most. I had told my relatives and friends that
I'd be back within two summers. After all, two whole years as a Buddhist monk in
Thailand - surely that is long enough even for those of slow intelligence
to become enlightened. As for me, I had a degree from university, so there was
no doubt in my mind that I would be back in England within two years,
enlightened. Once I had got that out of the way, I planned to get married and go
live in a commune - in Wales of course. I had made enquiries before I left.
Two
years down the track, it was becoming obvious that this enlightenment business
might not be so easy. For some reason, though I was a Westerner with a good
degree from a top university, I was acting more stupidly than the Thai monks who
had barely finished grade four in village schools. My conceit was taking a fair
hammering. The strange thing was that, even though I still wasn't enlightened, I
was enjoying the peace, simplicity and morality of monastic life. I didn't want
to leave. What I had in mind to do on the commune in Wales had lost its appeal.
In my fourth Rains Retreat I
was pulling out all the stops. Word had come to Thailand that Chithurst House
had been bought, a Sangha was being established in England and they needed more
bhikkhus. This would be a great time to become enlightened. I was in a very
quiet monastery. My meditation practice was in high gear. All the omens were
favorable. Then it happened!
Walking on my meditation path
one evening, my mind already calm from many hours of sitting, I suddenly
understood the cause of all problems and my heart immediately felt the joy of
release. All around seemed brilliant. Bliss filled my whole being. Energy and
clarity were there in abundance. Though it was late at night I sat in meditation
perfectly mindful, perfectly still. Then I lay down to rest, sleeping
oh-so-lightly for just a few hours. I rose at 3
a. m. and was first in the grass Meeting Hall for the morning meditation. I sat
through until dawn as if without effort and without the slightest drowsiness.
That was it! It was immeasurable joy being enlightened. Pity it didn't last
long.
The monastery where this
happened was very poor and the food was very coarse. It was the sort of
North-Eastern Thai monastery where you were happy to eat just one meal a
day - facing such an ordeal twice in one day being beyond the
pale! The morning after my experience of 'release', though, the fare was more
reasonable. Along with the staple 'rotten-fish curry', which is actually made
from stewing small fish which have been kept most unhygienically until they go
'off, there was a saucepan of pork curry. That day even the Thai abbot visibly
reacted at the sight of the reeking fish stew and took a whopping big helping
from the pot of pork curry. I didn't mind; I was second in line and there was
plenty left for me. However, the pot of pork never reached me. Instead, the
abbot poured what was left of the pork curry into the mess of rotten fish stew
and stirred it all up saying that it all gets mixed up in the stomach anyway. I
was incensed! Of all the hypocrites! he really thought that, then why didn't he
mix the curries before he took out his share? I peered angrily into the saucepan
he handed me - rotten smelly pieces of rubbery fish swimming alongside my
delicious pork- my one lucky meal ruined. Oooh, that abbot, was I mad at him!
Was I angry!
Then a thought struck me with a
depressing thud, or rather a sickening squelch - maybe I wasn't enlightened at
all. Enlightened beings aren't supposed to get angry. Arahants don't care if
they eat putrid fish or delicious pork. I had to admit I was angry – therefore
I had to own up that I wasn't enlightened. What a letdown. Utterly depressed, I
scooped a ladle of rotten fish cum pork into my bowl. I was too disappointed to
notice the taste of what I ate that day.
In spite of these spiritual
hiccups coming from Dhamma - indigestion (a poor ability to assimilate the
Teachings), my following years as a bhikkhu were definitely producing results of more tranquility, clarity and joy. It was the
humble insights, the sort that arrive without a fanfare, which were proving the
more effective. My wish to become enlightened now appeared suspiciously akin to
my childish wish to become a train driver, or to my later ambitions to become
the first English astronaut. ..a professional footballer. .: a lead guitarist in
a rock band. ..the greatest lover in my college. ..(I am too embarrassed to
mention my other aspirations). In a way, wanting to become enlightened was even
more foolish. At least I had some idea of what driving a train
was about. As for enlightenment, I wasn't quite sure what that was! And whenever
I would try to find out by asking one of the senior monks, I would never get a
straight answer. So there I was in a very foreign land, eating rotten fish and
things much worse, enduring ravenous mosquitoes and unending heat, trying so
hard and giving up so much -and for what? I wasn't quite sure. So the only
rational thing to do was to give up trying to become enlightened until I knew
what enlightenment was! I didn't want to give up being a bhikkhu, I understood
that and it made sense. I just had to let go of chasing my fantasies, and my
idea of enlightenment was the ultimate fantasy.
On the other side of insight
one seldom thinks that one is now wise, for one is overwhelmed by the thought of
how stupid one has been. How could I have been so thick? It is written in so
many of the Buddhist scriptures, and it is emphasized by so many fine teachers,
that BECOMING IS SUFFERING - becoming anything. The Buddha, speaking as
plain as ever, thundered that he didn't recommend ANY becoming. Becoming is what
the ego does all day. Becoming fashions the identity. Becoming is the 'skin'
which holds together the bubble of self. Stop all becoming and the illusion is
shattered.
So that was the end of my
becoming enlightened. I focused instead on the question of WHO it was who wanted
to become enlightened, if there was anyone there at all? I investigated no-self,
which is much more illuminating than trying to become enlightened. But still
people ask me, as they do of other bhikkhus, the bottom-line question: Are you
enlightened? Now I have a splendid answer, which I plagiarize from the late
Venerable Ananda Mangala Mahanayakathera (I know he won't mind) who, terrific
teacher that he was, gave the perfect reply to this very question:
'No sir!', replied the venerable Sri Lankan Thera, 'I am not enlightened.
But I am highly eliminated!'
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