Ajahns Pasanno, Amaro and Jayasaro at Abhayagiri Monastery
My visit to Abhayagiri Monastery last week – and the 13-hour drive to and from – is in the past. So too is the feeling that overcame me shortly after arriving early Friday evening. The Buddha speaks of three kinds of feeling: pleasant, unpleasant and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. What I experienced during the initial hours of my stay was inwardly unpleasant.
I and my two traveling companions arrived a few minutes after 5:00. We briefly greeted several others from Portland already there, then pitched our tents in a field – the guest lodgings were full. Then we joined the monks in the shrine room for tea. That’s when the mental nagging began.
There are five hindrances to one’s practice: desire, ill will, restlessness and remorse, sloth and torpor, and doubt. Yes, that’s seven, but two of them are paired. No matter. The hindrance weighing on me was doubt.
Tea time at the monastery is an opportunity for open discussion with the monks. It’s a casual affair, but there are certain formalities that the serious practitioner will follow. I had a strong sense of uncertainty about what to do. But it was more than that. I didn’t trust that I could just be with what was happening without concern about what was to happen next or what I was supposed to do.
When interacting with monastics, reverence and respect are the most important qualities to cultivate. Protocols – which can be learned over time through instruction and careful observation – are of less importance. But this mind of mine had begun to question everything about this visit. All the bowing and deference seemed so pointless. Why was I here? Why are these monks here? What do they get out of it? What’s the point of any of this? Later that night, exhausted after having been up since 3:15, I fell asleep with these questions going through my mind in the form of a doubtful mush.
The next morning I awoke at 6:00 – late by monastic standards. At 6:30 we were assigned light duties, followed by a breakfast of oatmeal at 7:00. Then we gathered in the shrine room where, after chanting and meditation, we were assigned various duties for the morning work session. Much of what needed to be done involved clearing brush and trail maintenance. I volunteered to mend some tools, something I’m suited to do. Besides, it kept me away from any exposure to the ubiquitous poison oak.
Before sending us off to work, Ajahn Pasanno advised us not to get caught up in our chores or in what others were doing. “Just watch your mind,” he said. This is standard Buddhist stuff, and I’ve heard it and done it for years. But this morning, at this very moment, it made more sense than ever before. Of course, this is why I was here. This is why the monks are here.
Monastic life is one of discipline. So too, is any spiritual life. But it’s not discipline for the sake of it. The discipline creates the conditions for training the mind. To train the mind is to watch it carefully and bring it back in before it romps away into the poison oak of ill will, desire, remorse, sluggishness and doubt. Only then can one cultivate the more wholesome qualities of kindness, joy, equanimity and tranquility.
Watching a doubtful mind
Ajahns Pasanno, Amaro and Jayasaro at Abhayagiri Monastery
My visit to Abhayagiri Monastery last week – and the 13-hour drive to and from – is in the past. So too is the feeling that overcame me shortly after arriving early Friday evening. The Buddha speaks of three kinds of feeling: pleasant, unpleasant and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. What I experienced during the initial hours of my stay was inwardly unpleasant.
I and my two traveling companions arrived a few minutes after 5:00. We briefly greeted several others from Portland already there, then pitched our tents in a field – the guest lodgings were full. Then we joined the monks in the shrine room for tea. That’s when the mental nagging began.
There are five hindrances to one’s practice: desire, ill will, restlessness and remorse, sloth and torpor, and doubt. Yes, that’s seven, but two of them are paired. No matter. The hindrance weighing on me was doubt.
Tea time at the monastery is an opportunity for open discussion with the monks. It’s a casual affair, but there are certain formalities that the serious practitioner will follow. I had a strong sense of uncertainty about what to do. But it was more than that. I didn’t trust that I could just be with what was happening without concern about what was to happen next or what I was supposed to do.
When interacting with monastics, reverence and respect are the most important qualities to cultivate. Protocols – which can be learned over time through instruction and careful observation – are of less importance. But this mind of mine had begun to question everything about this visit. All the bowing and deference seemed so pointless. Why was I here? Why are these monks here? What do they get out of it? What’s the point of any of this? Later that night, exhausted after having been up since 3:15, I fell asleep with these questions going through my mind in the form of a doubtful mush.
The next morning I awoke at 6:00 – late by monastic standards. At 6:30 we were assigned light duties, followed by a breakfast of oatmeal at 7:00. Then we gathered in the shrine room where, after chanting and meditation, we were assigned various duties for the morning work session. Much of what needed to be done involved clearing brush and trail maintenance. I volunteered to mend some tools, something I’m suited to do. Besides, it kept me away from any exposure to the ubiquitous poison oak.
Before sending us off to work, Ajahn Pasanno advised us not to get caught up in our chores or in what others were doing. “Just watch your mind,” he said. This is standard Buddhist stuff, and I’ve heard it and done it for years. But this morning, at this very moment, it made more sense than ever before. Of course, this is why I was here. This is why the monks are here.
Monastic life is one of discipline. So too, is any spiritual life. But it’s not discipline for the sake of it. The discipline creates the conditions for training the mind. To train the mind is to watch it carefully and bring it back in before it romps away into the poison oak of ill will, desire, remorse, sluggishness and doubt. Only then can one cultivate the more wholesome qualities of kindness, joy, equanimity and tranquility.
That’s the point.