Two Scribbles, A Memory

Twenty three and half years

Distilled, few black dots on white

Two scribbles, The End.

I penned this little poem last year on this day. This was the day we signed our divorce papers at the mediator's office. The document had exactly 24 pages and we had to initial each page, and sign at the end. As I was going through the motions, my heart was hurting very much. Every page I initialed and gave to him, I felt like I was tearing away a piece of me. But I did it, then walked out of the office, managed to smile a goodbye as well. Then I drove to a holiday party. My friends had put together a fantastic spread, but my time spent with them is just a blur. I remember talking a lot about my marriage and the papers, may be I had bored the hell out of them. But they all were very compassionate, and made me feel very cared for. I will remain ever grateful for their love and kindness during that time.

So how do I feel today? Well, I can give you a good comparison. The great poet Rabindranath Tagore had penned poetry for every possible emotion that we humans can ever face, and gave it an appropriate tune as well. Today two songs come to mind that can aptly depict then and now. My Bengali friends will understand the beauty of the lyrics and their appropriateness. I have attempted to translate the lyrics for my non-Bengali friends. Please forgive me if I cannot make justice to the poet's intensity.

Last year, at this time, I felt I was tossing about in the ocean, within a raging storm, pelting rain and high ferocious waves, with no flotation device. I was bobbing up and down, gasping for air, barely managing to keep afloat. I was feeling like I was drowning - scared, very sad, distraught, distressed, depressed, confused - feeling like there was no way out of this. The attachment to the 23+ years of life was severe, and as it was being amputated, the wound was bleeding profusely. I was lost and exhausted, totally devoid of strength.

Where is the end for this road? What is at that end?

All this desire, all this effort, where does this lead to?
Where is the end for this road? What is at that end?

Waves of tears fill my heart and throat, 

All I see in front is darkness

They say that there is a bank out there, a beach somewhere to land on

But where is it?
Where is the end for this road? What is at that end?

Today I look back at my life and it is like an elaborate illusion

I understand that there is no end to craving

That is why my heart fears so

This boat is wandering rudderless with broken and torn sails, and with no destination.

Where is the end for this road? What is at that end?

- Translation and faults are all mine

This year, it is different. I find myself on a raft, still mid-ocean. The raging storm is gone, the waves are quieter, though sometimes they still get high. There is some sunshine, some fog. I have enough supplies on the raft to keep me going for a while. However, I do not have a compass or a map or oars. So, I am sitting here, learning to be patient with myself and my emotions, learning to trust the great healer that is Time. And a part of me is gently saying goodbye to the past, with some pain still throbbing. I will not return, I know. Metamorphosis is happening, it is very slow and it is very raw. When the wind touches my skin, it singes me.

When my steps will fall on this path no more,

Then will I stop rowing my boat to the shore,

I will end my trades and settle my debts

My visit will cease to the market place 

Remember me not then, beloved

Call not for me from those distant stars.

When dust will collect on this harp of mine

When the doors will hide behind the thorny vine,

The garden, the garb of the weeds will wear

And moss will cover the banks of the mere 

Remember me not then, beloved

Call not for me from those distant stars.

The same melody the flute will play 

The days will course in the unchanged way

Boats will be laden from the same pier,

Shepherds will frolic,

And cattle will graze in the same manner

Remember me not then, beloved

Call not for me from those distant stars.

Who is it that says I am not there that morning?

You will call me by a new name,

I will be there to join in every game

You will encircle me with renewed ties

And I will come and go as usual – the eternal I  

Remember me not then, beloved

Call not for me from those distant stars.

- Translated by Ratna De

Ten Days with the Monastics

This Thanksgiving I spent ten days with the monastics in Santa Rosa, Sonoma County, California. They are the Theravada Bhikkunis following the path of mind purification and life of simple living and meditation. I split my time in two places, about half the time in their house (Vihara) nestled in the beautiful rolling hills of Sonoma County, and the other half camping in tiny “kuti” in the cold wet redwood forest (Aranya Bodhi Hermitage) in the mountains by the ocean near Jenner By The Sea. It was an enlightening experience for me.

In the West, monasticism is a difficult concept to understand, especially here in the US, as there are not too many such opportunities available for people to see and observe. Some people also view monasticism as an escapist attitude from the world. It is also viewed with a very strict religious light, bordering on fanaticism. That is very unfortunate. In old Europe, and especially in ancient cultures like India and China, monasticism has been very much a part of normal life. In India, in the ancient times, life was supposed to be divided in four phases: first phase to be spent as a bhahmachari (a celibate student diligently focused on a career skill), then a grihastha (married, working, raising a family), next vanaprasta (somewhat retired, enjoying family time with young grandkids and preparing the mind for letting go), and finally sanyaas (monastic who has let go of worldly life and has “gone forth”). While this was a guideline, during that time young men and women of various ages also used to “go forth” anytime during their lifetime, sometimes as young as in their teens. In some families, at least one child was often encouraged to take up monasticism. Letting go of all the comforts of the world and relationships is not an easy thing to do, it takes a lot of dedication and very strong intent.

Life of a monastic involves adherence to strict rules of morality and some additional self-imposed guidelines which is directed to help prepare the mind to train for purity. One may choose to believe in a particular God or not, that part is not required. If one has a lot of faith in a particular God or higher power, it is easier for one to use that reverence to concentrate the mind and "take refuge". But it is not necessary to believe in a God. I stress this point because I am an atheist. The pursuit is predominantly to understand the mind and how it works, and to figure out ways to alleviate suffering that is so rife in worldly life. No matter which faith one professes, the monastics in all the faiths pursue this one goal – follow a path that eradicates suffering for self and others. Those who are successful in this pursuit become very accomplished human beings, not of worldly wealth but with immense spiritual wealth. They are not afraid of old age, sickness, or death, they become completely devoid of ego and as a result develop tremendous compassion and love for all beings and dedicate their lives to ease the suffering of all beings. They spend their life with no judgement, just in pure service of this world of sorrows. Through their intense practice they eradicate the negative emotions of greed, lust, hate, anger, delusion, pride, jealousy, laziness, foolishness, etc., and have evolve into gentle, caring, devoted, intelligent, generous, and dedicated individuals. If one goes and researches each spiritual faith in the world, there are many examples of such saintly people, and for the beautiful qualities they develop, some are revered as divine. However, only too often there are also examples of people who are fakes, and live a life of greed and gluttony, but I am not referring to those people, they are not the true accomplished beings. Most true monastics live in abject poverty for they have no need or craving for worldly wealth, and the energy that drives their lives is the realization of the truth about suffering and the way out of it, and that they show everyone that comes in contact with them with all the kindness and love in the world.

View from the front of the Vihara

Early morning at the Vihara

The backpatio

My walking meditation path at Vihara

I spent ten days with very conscious and ardent monastics and had a very nice time at Dhammadharini. The five beautiful and wise women I met were inspiring. It is hard to find such pure hearts in the "regular" world we live in. The Vihara they live in is rented. It is quite big with a cute frontyard and wrap around balcony, and a large backyard. The large family room is used as meditation room whereas the living room serves as a library. Upstairs there are four bedrooms and also a spacious attic. There is a guest room downstairs, and I shared it with another volunteer. Unfortunately this accommodation is temporary because the homeowners are not planning to renew the lease. The Bhikkunis are looking to find alternative location for a Vihara. It would be best if a new large home could be bought for them, but raising funds for such an endeavor is not easy. They have managed to raise some funds, but it is a long way to go. Monastics live on charity and have no money of their own. Their lay community, while attentive to their living needs such as food, clothing, and amenities, is not big enough to support the construction / purchase of a Vihara and the fundraising has been slow. Recently they have launched a crowdfunding site with the hopes of raising some funds. For those who are interested to help them, please see this link.

The daily routine at the Vihara and Forest Hermitage is pretty much the same. The morning starts at 5am with an hour long meditation, followed by morning chanting of excerpts from various suttas. These suttas start the day off on a contemplative mode focused on the right view, right mindfulness, right effort, along with metta (loving kindness) for all beings. Following the chanting, we all engage in various light chores, with minimal talking. One member prepares breakfast for the group. Then at about 6:30am, breakfast is served. It is very simple, mostly oatmeal, along with yogurt, milk, nuts, some fixings, and fruits. Of course, tea and coffee is available. Once complete, the utensils are washed and put away and then there is a discussion/study period. At the time of my visit, the monastics were working on a translation of the Dhammapada, and looking at the text from a feminine viewpoint. After 9AM, one or two members are engaged in the preparation of lunch.

It is a precept of the monastics that they are to have their meal before midday. So, lunch is typically served around 11am. Once the food is ready, a gong is struck. The monastics follow an elaborate ceremony for the midday meal. The lay person has to inform them that the food is served, the monastics then approach the food in silence. The lay person then formally offers them the food, which they then take into their bowls. Once back in their seat, there is some chanting, which is mainly thanking the lay persons for their generous donation of food, which is considered as alms. The monastics wish the lay people health and happiness. After that, they reflect on the meal - that it is not for fun, not for pleasure, not for fattening, not for beautification, only for the maintenance and nourishment of the body, keeping it healthy, for helping with the monastic life, and stressing that they will allay hunger without overeating, so that they can continue to live blamelessly and at ease. After that, they eat their food in total silence. The lay person also gets her food and eats in silence. I found this practice very touching, especially the reflection on the food as a necessity for life and nothing more. Note, monastics live on donated food, so there is no restriction on vegetarian food, if chicken or fish or any other non-veg is donated, it gets consumed with equal thankfulness.

After lunch, there is a short question-answer session with lay persons, that is if there are any questions the lay people may have related to the practice of a good life (and I had so many!!!). The monastics patiently listen and offer advice. Once the session is complete, the lay people clear and clean up the kitchen, and everyone retires for private study or practice. One can meditate for the rest of the afternoon, take rest, read, do work/chores, etc. Silence is encouraged all the time. People do not speak unless it is necessary, and there is no chit-chat.

There is no dinner for the monastics, however tea, miso soup, cheese, and dark chocolates is allowed in the evening around 5:30PM. Everyone gathers around the kitchen and there is a bit of discussion about next day's plans and chores. Thereafter, at 6PM there is the evening chanting. This too is focused on a few suttas related to a particular topic of interest and study. After the chanting, there is an hour of group meditation, and everyone then retires to their rooms for further meditation, study, or sleep. Again, in silence.

While this is the general routine, during my stay, we had a day-long meditation retreat at the Vihara focused on death and body contemplation. During the retreat, from 8am through 5pm, we did continuous meditation, sometimes walking, sometimes sitting, along with a few guided meditation sessions. We also had a dharma talk on the subject. This was really a nice experience, as I had never been to such day-long sessions with walking meditation. I liked it very much. On another day, we had two visiting monastics, who came with their extended families, including few kids. It felt like a holiday house, where the guests were talking a lot with crying/squealing kids. But it was really nice, the lunch part was very ceremonious and the families seemed to enjoy the fanfare.

The forest, imagine walking in the dark here

Forest path

Forest Hermitage schedule

A tiny bridge over a tiny creek

The meditation tent and kitchen

My meditation cushion

Entrance to my "kuti"

My space of peace

It is wet and damp, but so very beautiful

An ancient pillar from Korea, gifted by a generous donor. This is also the site for a future meeting hall

Another kuti

At the forest hermitage, the mood was very different. Being in the deep forest, there is no cellular coverage at all, one is very secluded, and there is no power at the little kutis nor restrooms. (There are two outhouses near the kitchen/meditation tent area.) Nights were very dark and beautiful, being surrounded by tall redwoods and pines and forest noises. There was heating with propane tanks at the kutis, and any reading or work had to be done by candlelight. Walking to the meditation tent in the morning and going back to the kuti at night was initially hair-raising in the darkness. The first night I was afraid, I do not know why, it was so dark that my flashlight could only illuminate two feet ahead of me as I climbed up the steep incline. My mindfulness was high and I could feel every step, the heaving of my chest, and the muscles at the back of my neck and shoulders being taut. But then there was the other me which kept laughing and saying - Look! You are scared! Are you afraid of animals? Are you afraid of ghosts? - I was split into two beings, one who was having the experience and the other who was just fine and enjoying the moment.

The center has couple solar panels that provided limited electricity to the kitchen and meditation hall, and also a wifi. However, due to the short winter days, on most mornings there was no power as the batteries got discharged overnight. There was hot water in the kitchen by gas heating, but the regular spring water was ice cold. Every time I touched the cold water while doing dishes or other chores, my mind went to a memory of the maids who used to work in the cold mornings in Ranchi, where I grew up. We did not have hot water for them always, and they would sit in the cold at the balcony water tap and rinse the dishes with ice cold tap water. Somehow I felt one with them and could feel their pain. Those days are long gone and I do not know where those people are, all I could do standing there in the kitchen with ice cold water running through my fingers is to send them metta, may they be happy and peaceful wherever they are.

One afternoon, I helped put up a garden shed to store the tools. It was a fun exercise, deciphering the not-so-good instructions in fading light and then drilling and hammering. While setting up the roof, the ridgepole fell on my glasses and my glasses (and not the ridgepole) broke. I burst out laughing, remembering the Buddha's words at awakening:

"Gahakaraka! Dithosi, puna geham na kahasi."

Oh housebuilder! Now you are seen. You shall not build a house again for me.

"Sabba te phasuka bhagga, gahakutam visankhitam."

All your beams are broken, the ridgepole is shattered. 

Of course, I have a very long way to go for enlightenment!!

Life of a monastic is not easy, the women voluntarily undertake 311 precepts of renunciation and constraints. For a lay person this may seem very constricting and austere, especially since there is no acknowledgement of sensual pleasure of any kind. Along with that, the monastics cannot drive, cannot handle money, can own only three robes and alms bowl, and live a life that is 100% dependent on the favors of the lay people. This extreme situation erodes the ego and promotes a feeling of overwhelming gratitude. This, along with the practice of meditation and experiential understanding of the suttas gives the monastics the perfect opportunity to develop wisdom. They investigate and analyze on their self the fundamental truth of suffering and work out the path to the cessation of suffering into the unlimited universe of compassion, loving kindness, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. The contribution of the monastics to the world is to help the lay people ease their own suffering and show them the way to peace and joy. This they do by giving talks, like the famous Ajahn Brahm, writing books, like Thannisaro Bhikku, and also acting as free therapists to millions of pained souls!

Of course, there is the question in may of my friends' minds, as to why am I so interested in this? The simple answer is that the monastic way of life appeals to me very much - the focus on restraint yielding to actual freedom from basic desires and resultant suffering, the constant training of balancing the mind, facing the fears and defilements head-on with clarity and fortitude - all these practices are very attractive to me. I have immense respect for the monks and nuns who have "gone forth". In my own life, I try to mould myself as much as I can towards these goals, and it is not easy when one has numerous duties and responsibilities and has to run a business. With association and inspiration from such monastics, I am now gradually working on steering my life towards purity, they are lighting the path forward and showing me the way.

No dinner in my lay life anymore, only tea, cheese, and chocolate!