During the past two weeks, the
relentless heat of March in Thailand been happily punctuated by
the occasional, and much appreciated, thunderstorm. The rain lashes
down in huge torrents, often accompanied by rumbling thunder and
sheet lightning. Experiencing such a downpour in itself is a pleasure in this climate and, barring dangers of
the electrical nature, it is actually quite enjoyable to wander along the
street and allow yourself to be well and truly soaked in such a way. Within the hour
the rain will be gone again and you will find your clothes drying quickly
as the sun resumes its normal intensity.
In this country the heat is more or less continuous and one needs to be aware of the
constant threat of de-hydration. Luckily the distractions of
flaneurial lifestyle tend to take care of any dangers of that sort; here in
Kanchanaburi there is a wide choice of cafes and eateries for one to
retire to should one feel the need. There are also the pleasures of
cartons of frozen latte to be indulged in, perhaps one of the most
quenching of drinks, although maybe not the most healthy. Many roadside retailers
offer this option.
To
survive and even thrive in such heat one needs to adopt a certain
attitude, to be capable of a certain resignation, or even surrender,
to the inevitable. Wasting energy wishing things were somehow different just leaves you even more frustrated. Resistance is futile, as famously pointed out
during a famous sci-fi series of recent times. This attitude can be useful to adopt in many areas of life and it is very much part of the culture in many Eastern countries, particularly those which have
adopted Buddhism as their national religion or where that spiritual
discipline exerts a strong influence. In the West, on the contrary,
we are often exhorted to 'fight the good fight' and to give battle to
all manner of things that we disapprove of. The symbolism involved,
even the language itself, is that of war. We feel we have to 'struggle
to survive' every day, or we are told that we need to 'overcome our
weaknesses'. These pervasive uses of language often affect us without
our even realising. We live in cultures where these pugilistic
assumptions come built in.
The
Thais, on the contrary, do not feel the need to spend their whole
lives struggling, to waste energy complaining about the inevitable. This attitude can be very frustrating when one is
first exposed to it. Coming from the West, or even as in my case, via the frenetic anthill that is China, there is a 'things need to be done and done now' assumption in
our interactions. To come from this into a culture of acceptance, of
surrender to the inevitable, can come as something of a culture shock
to many.
Our predominant and pervasive state of being in the West seems to be that of being continuously wound up about one thing or another. We are worried about our jobs, our pensions, our
families, the state of the world and the other people on the road who
always seem to be intent on cutting us up and rendering our journeys as frustrating as possible... and that is just the phenomena we
perceive as outside of ourselves. On the inside there is the constant
dialogue, the shoulds and the shouldn'ts, the musts and the
mustn'ts... worrying about the things that went wrong in the past or those that might go wrong in the future. Even worrying about ourselves and who or how we are.
It is tempting may think of this as a modern problem but it has plagued humanity for
thousands of years. About two and a half millennia ago a wandering ascetic by
the name of Siddhartha Gautama understood this as the human condition
and decided that he wanted to find a way, or a path, around it. In order to do so he
resolved to sit and meditate beneath a bodhi tree and not stop until he had found
the solution to the problem. According to legend, he meditated for
forty days and forty nights before the solution was clear to him. After his
enlightenment, Siddhartha Gautama became known as the Buddha, or 'the
Awakened One'. So began the practice of Buddhism.
For
those of us in the West used to having our religions defined by
theology and by faith, Buddhism comes as something of a challenge. In
fact, many would not consider it a religion at all. Certainly the
Buddha made no claims to Godlike status although many followers since
have chosen to deify him. He himself said little on the issue
believing it to be irrelevant to his teachings. He was far more
interested in the practice of these ideas than in theological
discussion. In this sense, Buddhism is more a philosophy, or even a form of psychology, than a religion. In essence, one can be adopt Buddhist practices without
contradicting one's own religious beliefs in the slightest. A Christian
employing these techniques is likely to end up a better Christian, a
Jew a better Jew, a Hindu likewise.
At
base, Buddhism is concerned with following a path that enables us to escape our
essentially self-inflicted sufferings. It does this by getting us to
follow ethical and disciplinary practices that aim to allow us to
achieve a sense of space between our selves and the thoughts,
emotions and concerns that monopolise our minds. Perhaps the most
basic practice of all, and one which has been explored very
thoroughly in Buddhism, is that of meditation.
Now,
there are many, many different techniques of meditation taught within
Buddhism and within other spiritual schools; far, far too many for an
article such as this to go into in any depth. For the sake of
simplicity I will refer to just two of the main practices:
Anapanasati and Vipanassana.
Anapanasati
may sound like a starter that you might order in an Italian
restaurant but it has, in fact, little to do with Mediterranean
cuisine. It is perhaps the most basic of meditation technique and is
often used to help beginners at the start of their practice. In
itself, anapanasati has many forms but they all revolve around the
idea of paying attention to the breath. The breath was chosen as a focus in this way because it is always available to us. Perhaps the simplest
technique within these forms is where one is encouraged to focus on
the sensation of the breath at the tip of the nose; focus on the
breath going in; focus on the gap as the breath changes direction;
focus on the breath going out. That's it! It really is that simple. At the start you may wish to do this for 15 minutes or so. You can count if you wish, one as the breath goes in, two as it goes
out. Or even countdown from ten to one with each cycle of breathing.
It really doesn't matter too much which form you adopt but what does
matter is building the ability to keep the mind focussed on a single
point.
Anapanasati
can be thought of as the mental equivalent of callisthenics, or basic exercises for the mind. You are simply building up the
ability to stay with a single idea. Sound simple? Try it for 15
minutes and see how often your mind wanders off in that time. You may
well be surprised. When it does wander though, as it inevitably will, don't scold yourself or
become frustrated. This is where the attitude of acceptance comes in. You simply accept the fact that it has wandered and gently return your focus to your breathing. There is no 'fighting the good
fight' here, no struggling with yourself, just acceptance, gentleness, and determination. When you
first start this practice do not be surprised if your mind wanders
dozens of times during that quarter of an hour but, over time, and
much like physical exercise, you will gradually find that you are
able to maintain that focus more and more as your powers of concentration grow. As they do so you may also
begin to notice a certain peacefulness coming over your mind and your
attitudes generally.
If
Anapanasati is the beginner's exercise in meditation and
concentration then Vipanassana can be thought of as the ideal
technique for the more advanced. Having said that, it is still
remarkable simple in concept and execution. Vipanassana, in the
ancient Sankskit, actually means to see things as they really are. In
that sense, it is perhaps one of the most profound of meditation
practices. It is a process of self-observation and a realisation of
the gap between awareness and the things that pass through awareness.
Essentially, with this process, one becomes aware that thoughts come
and thoughts go but awareness remains. Emotions come and emotions go,
but awareness remains. All sort of mental activity comes and goes
again, but that essential level of awareness remains. You learn, over time, to stop
identifying yourself with the passing thoughts, the passing emotions
and the passing mental activity and instead identify with that inner
awareness; that which remains whether particular thoughts, emotions
or mental activity are there or not. We tend to believe that we are our
concerns, our worries, our fears. Using Vipanassana allows the
practitioner the inner space and calmness to realise that we are not
these things. They are just passing phenomena. They come, they go
again; that essential awareness that we are at a deeper level remains.
Many
Thais are taught these practices in monasteries and temples
throughout the land. Some may spend many months in the practice, some even years. They then take these trainings and attitudes back to their local communities. Perhaps this is another reason why Thailand is
known as 'the land of smiles'. People here are generally not 'wound
up' the way that we so often are in Europe and America. They have a
certain lightness of being that allows them to deal with the demands
of life with an enviable equanimity. Many Westerners come to learn
these techniques and spend weeks in retreats. Some of these retreats are of the silent variety. The would be practitioner is not allowed to communicate with others on the course, not even through gesture. It is that this outer quietness will reflect, eventually, on the inside. Often they will come
out of the training profoundly changed. Their troubles may not have
disappeared but how they respond to them has changed fundamentally.
To
have this freedom from the need to control, to comment (internally or
externally), to react to the passing problems and troubles we all
have to face on a regular basis, is a liberation indeed. When one
meets people who have just been through such a training one is often
struck by the peacefulness and the quietness that emanates from them.
They seem to feel no need to be anything other than what they already
and truly are. An effortless, an ease, a calmness seems to pervade all
they do and their every expression.
Some
lucky souls seem to have this inner peace quite naturally. Somehow
they escaped the need for self criticism and self correction that so
many of us feel. No one ever taught them to be that way and it
sometimes comes as a surprise to them when they learn of the
struggles that the rest of us routinely go through.
I
remember years ago reading of the great golfer, Sam Snead, known for
the beautiful fluidity of his golf swing (and for being an all-round
pleasant individual). He was once asked by a coach what he thought
about when he swung. The coach was interested in how he could use the
great golfer's mental approach and technical understanding to improve
his student's game. Snead looked at the man quizzically for a couple
of seconds and then reflected on the question for a while longer.
Finally, after considering his answer for quite some time, Snead
looked back to the coach and simply replied: “Nothing – nothing
at all.”
