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Venerable Ajahn Medhanandi -
Gone Forth, Going
Beyond
My name,
'medha' and 'ananda', translated from the Pali, means
'penetrating wisdom and bliss', hence, 'the bliss of wisdom'. Since I am
still aspiring to that, I think of it as 'love of wisdom'. And when I am
not wise, I wish to be patient until my eyes open.
I have been weaving the fabric of my life with strands of peace, knowing
it is possible to rise to the highest in myself. I have to work to
remember every day how much I want that balance and clarity so that I
can release myself from the shackles of the wanting mind and 'go
beyond'.
When I lay aside blame and discontent not lash out against anyone I
know and taste the freedom of forgiveness. In times of loss, despair,
upset, and injury, I have to rein in the mind but also give it enough
space and time to heal instead of sulking or feeling sorry for myself.
I can only bring peace to others when I overcome the mighty obstacles
accumulating over lifetimes.
I don't live in a war zone nor am I under immediate threat from
terrorism or disaster. The danger I find myself in stems from being
human, vulnerable to the moraine of sorrow, disease, pain, and loss and
stumbling through it as I make my way out of darkness back to joy. In
those times, something inside me cries out to understand what it is that
discolours my sense of the moment and prevents me from finding a clear
way through.
The way through is not by shutting down, or giving in to destructive
emotions but by recognising that there is no problem outside of me.
Instead of wrestling with mental anguish, I recycle it, filter and
purify it, and turn it on its head as I tease out the truth. I change
the way I see how I hold the world, and myself in it.
Much of the strength I gather comes from trusting deeply that one day I
will bring the low and high tides of my heart into balance and so
resonate with the exquisiteness of all things. I do not wait for that.
But I sustain my faith in it and thereby in myself knowing that I
will gradually excavate and reveal all the gems of this passage with the
spade of my endeavour and earnestness. For now, I learn to settle into
my dwelling space in the care of my supporters and the benevolence that
works through them.
I try not to have many needs. But just to look after this body, to live
as a human being in this world, so many things arise: medicines,
batteries, toiletries, robes, shrine candles, electronic things a
computer! I live on the kindness of others. I write and study and
meditate and when friends gather we share Dhamma.
One blustery morning, my bowl took me into the village on pindapat
to receive a hot meal ahh! real dana. Even if I return with
nothing, I still feel the gratitude of a daughter of the Buddha. And
then a second offering comes as I walk back along the road to my
hermitage chanting the Dhammacakkapavattana Sutta quietly to myself. An
elderly lady waits on the sidewalk some distance away. As I approach,
she cheerfully adds an apple to the hot noodles already in my bowl.
How wonderful an apple can be given in this way, spontaneously
connecting two strangers through the goodness which sustains me. But
it's never sure. Sometimes there is lack; often there is overflow,
enough for the real suburban beggars that abound birds and local
strays.
Uncertainty generates a working faith I've never known before. It's a
space where whatever kindness trickles in feeds me mysteriously on other
levels too, with stamina, confidence, courage, and gratitude.
I still have to survive bouts of anxiety and feelings of isolation when
the mind begs not for a meal, but for the company of another samana
to give encouragement and to hear and hold the rantings that well up.
For that I have had to rely on the sea and a night full of stars to help
clear out the rabble of oghas'. In the aftermath of such communion,
there is joy. It refreshes and renews me so I can keep going.
Today is gift and blessing. I am an unpolished mirror trying to reflect
perfectly that glorious pure presence to the world. I want no lies or
deception from myself or anyone. Spiritual friendship is a channelling
of Truth, an intimate dialogue with the Friend inside me. Into that
clear mirror I cast no shadow and can come close enough to see through
my delusions with humour and hope.
It has been important to shine that light of Dhamma especially when
things look bleak, to turn away from malice and open to an authentic
unconditional love through humility. If I am unable to accept conditions
as they are, how shall I develop true insight, how shall I be wise?
The strength of heart I need for this Path will emerge from constantly
giving up selfishness, devoting myself to Truth, and rekindling a love
for it in others. I know my patterns, and am grateful to be reminded how
wilful and stubborn I can be, how I hang on to control, thinking I had
already let it go through years of renunciation. An honest eye to that
knows there's yet rubbish to sweep out: brightening the mind so that the
mirror is clear that's the clarity I want.
In meditation, I spin silence and celebration together the way I learnt
to at the feet of my first teacher. Alone as hermit, I am never really
alone. I sit here and chant and listen to the morning, growing in Light
and Fearlessness to fulfil his legacy in this worldly form.
I sometimes wonder why I delayed for so many years to take up the call
to 'Go Forth'. There is a thread of simplicity that runs through my
life. What may appear ascetic is for me an emulation of him:
shaven-headed, eating little, and devotion to the Path. In that
spiritual oasis, I discover diversity and beauty, suffering and
sweetness.
I am a renegade, choosing the solitary way to be closer to the heartbeat
and suffering of ordinary folk. I recognise the dangers and have tasted
hardship but I endure, and pray for strength to continue this way
without diluting my practice.
Patience is all things on the spiritual path. Sometimes I feel I have
been here for many lives. Time stops and the world slips away in the
raging winds and native birdcall. A wilderness of trees hugs the coast
and draws me skyward. This is sanctuary.
I have no wish to go anywhere and yet, already, the sad edge of going
will come too soon. I sense a deep restfulness. No mask to wear nor any
barriers to defend. I am alone and yet protected, and all my energy is
free to flow towards the still point where Knowing and Being coalesce.
Perhaps the hardest thing continues to be the factor of one, having to
rely on myself to weather discouragement or weariness, pain or weakness.
As I get older, they will only increase. But my greatest foes are
consistently the wanting mind and its coterie of expectations, phobias,
judgments, assumptions, and the turbulence they stir up.
While in the monastery, I dreamt of a solitary life. Now to live that
dream as a Sangha of one, a new truth dawns. I see exactly how
suffering is born wherever I am and whatever conditions surround me.
Faith makes it possible to stay in the middle. For me it has to be faith
in myself. To trust that it is okay to give boundaries to people no
matter how much I depend on them. And to trust their goodness as I would
my own. I become so afraid of making a mistake, of hurting someone.
Sometimes a Dhamma warrior, sometimes a shell tossed helplessly ashore
and crushed in the sand, even in the darkest moments I continue to
reflect upon and taste the sublime refuge of this Path. And it seems my
life is a river of gratitude emptying from one breath to the next.
In a world choked with tragic events, I found myself living near
villagers who fled the tsunami and lost everything. Long after the truth
of anicca burst into their lives, goodwill poured in and then
they were forgotten. How can I seal myself once more inside the monastic
cloister when suffering comes so glaringly close?
We do not know what laws are at work here. These pains we endure may
purify some dark karma to release us from them forever. In the very
depths of pain, a greater strength of spirit is born, more than courage,
more than patience, more than ordinary love one that makes us
resilient. Maybe that's the hidden blessing of this dukkha as
of all dukkha if we allow ourselves to be changed by it and
surrender to it even when that feels impossible.
Bounteous sun melding with monsoon puddles. So it is with the fear and
stress in our hearts. It's good to be heard and also to hear oneself. To
listen and ponder wisely. This is friendship with the lovely, within and
with each other.
Our losses and deaths can be terrifying and beautiful at the same time,
and our dying does not make us any less for the truth of it. Because of
what we see, the way we see, and what we are unable to see, we are
tormented. Otherwise, death might be just one magical out-breath, or a
long breathing in of all light and darkness and the dance of seasons in
between.
I wish all weariness to fall away and leave us restored, especially when
facing what is hard. Often I turn the beads of this theme in my heart.
Chanting for the health, happiness, and peace of all beings, I grow
wide-minded and serene. All will be well.
We are giant trees stretched up into the Infinite. If we could only know
pure Reality, would we not rejoice and respect the beginnings and the
endings and all the moments in between exactly as they are, just as we
love winter or spring each for its own beauty?
It is a tranquil morning beside the straits that lead to the sea apart
from a few waves tossing themselves home on a stretch of beach cramped
between concrete towers, and a pair of starlings assiduously building
their nest above my window. What a privilege to be a human being in such
fortuitous conditions rather than an orphaned cat scavenging for scraps.
Though the internal quiet of the heart comes belatedly sometimes,
knowing that it is possible is constant refuge.
As long as I lead my mind back to gratitude and contentment for the
simple joys of life, for the four requisites, for good health and noble
friendship, wanting nothing more, there is a chance to dispel the inner
suffering. That in itself is a training, naturally unfolding over a
lifetime of sacrifice, purification, and loving-kindness towards all as
to oneself.
In looking after others, I care for the jewel within that is most
important. I remind myself to relax from the stress of life and lean
towards too much rather than too little compassion.
I hope I can be strong enough, wise enough, to protect others as myself
before the storm and after the storm for we are each of that same
essence, that same fragrance infusing every flower. The confusion and
chaos of the world out there reverberate within us too. And yet we have
the choice to be as radiant and loving as the sea that holds the sky on
its bosom, like a mother. Whether we are in robes or not, the heart's
fragrance is the robe we wear.
Solitude reveals where I am with myself and with the world, and bestows
authentic refuge. I see how I am caught and work to free myself, taking
time to recover and making peace with the conditions I face. The old
habit of seeking external approval or security is not liberating but
it's easy to fall into that trap. I use all my mindfulness and awareness
to slash through its tenacious fetters again and again confident in
what I know to be true from the core of my being.
I'm forced to try harder to discipline myself. Neither be arrogant nor
veer towards the extreme of self-neglect. Just be in this body as it
cries out, not shut my ears to it even when that is painful. Today I
must accomplish nothing more than enter the stillness in myself enough
to lead others to it.
Though I may be an outsider looking in, physically remote from my
monastic siblings and in keeping my Rule also separate from the
lives of householders, at the same time I am in their midst. Living on
the same streets, watching my neighbours wave their children off to
school, or hearing their comings and goings, I share the minutiae of
their world. This vantage only enhances my sense of connection and
kinship with them all.
Yet I remain apart. But to live just for myself, that's not enough. Am I
only to be fed? Sometimes I don't want to eat any more, just eating what
others think is good though I may not be able to digest. The hardest
renunciation of all is being helpless because of this choicelessness. I
feel resistant to it. Ultimately, aren't we all helpless? It is fantasy
to think we are anything but powerless to escape the inexorable rhythm
of birth, suffering, and death.
How much we are reduced to the present moment in old age to the body's
immediate needs and what we can know or connect to today. I once
believed it would be better to start old and grow into youth. Though
heartbreaking, I realise now that it cannot be any other way, for nature
is wise. In the end, we are compelled to focus on the present moment and
let go everything of the world.
I refuse to put much store in what is said about the future or worry
about what does not and may never exist. This is wasted energy. I don't
dwell there so as not to miss the present what I can truly know at
the same time not to exaggerate what I can do.
I have no great work except to be with, and receptive to, what is
arising in each moment. How difficult that is! Listening to these inner
murmurings, gently and diligently I distil all goodness in the heart,
expelling every trace of hostility. To what end? So that no harm might
come to anyone. So that I plant no karmic seeds.
For peace to work through me, I stop so that I can feel what I am
feeling. Am I disgruntled, critical, defensive, or appeasing? Why? Am I
not whole enough yet, not fully integrated? We are so tangled and torn
inside.
Slowly I sort through the debris of my life, not to shut the door on any
part of me however wretched it may seem. Otherwise something in me
dies, and if it doesn't die, it festers. Someday, somehow, it leaks out
and infects my interactions with others, bringing harm in its wake.
I choose not to go this way but to reel in my irritation and recognise
the good in myself and others, not to let unkind chatter deafen me to
that goodness. I can choose kind words, chant, and forgive.
People ask me what I do, how I serve? If I live with mindfulness and
kindness, I serve. Wherever we are in life, the small moments and simple
acts of generosity to family, friends, ourselves all beings are
service. Then our life becomes one seamless blessing.
In the world there are different kinds of servants those who attract
attention to their service and those who quietly look after others. They
care nothing for limelight, praise, or reward. To live the Buddha's
teachings, I move toward this quality of selflessness, doing what I do
pure-heartedly.
The sky has turned crimson and black. Bulbul calls echo deliriously for
miles. A sheer fresh wind demands its space and propels its timeless
breath through my window. This beauty asks nothing of me while endowing
me with unquantifiable peace. I touch it but for a moment and am spared
the wraiths of the mind.
More than the small comforts of my days: cups of coffee, walks by the
sea, and intoxicating views of the hills, it is attachment and fear
and lifetimes of habit that deflect me from resting in the
unassailable quiet of the heart. I bridge that distance with letting go
what I believe I must have, emptying myself to sit and bask in the
luminous presence of this moment.
Stopping is compassion. Sometimes I long just to be with others and not
have to be wise for them. When I ponder more deeply, I see that these
impulses are not 'mine'. They are the baggage we need to shed: the angst
and the craving for human contact, the insufficiency within, the
tantrums and tears.
For the present moment to be true and nurturing, I cannot honour it with
my mind churning or spilling over. I have to be equanimous and impart
equanimity instead of being fearful and imparting fear; to be a wave
that yearns for the shore where it can stop and rest forever.
Clambering over the rocks of my wayfaring, I learn to be vulnerable and
trust, to make a bouquet of forgiveness and acceptance for all that
arises in my heart. Compassion unlocks the gate of my refuge. I become
complete not because I have given up wanting but because I am content
not to want or have.
I can be empty and feel full in the same moment. Alone with myself, the
world is with me.
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