Hello Friends and Spiritual Sojourners,
I trust this finds you in soaring spirits!
My month-long retreat at the Tibetan Monastery has come to an unexpected close, and I am now back on the open road, searching for the next adventure.
I had been eagerly anticipating a deep dive into the mystical realms of Tibetan Buddhism, expecting a month of serene meditation and spiritual growth. However, what I encountered was quite the opposite - in fact, it was a bit of a disaster!
The tensions and chaos became overwhelming, prompting me to leave a week early. It's ironic that a place dedicated to peace and serenity was also the backdrop for such turmoil. There were shenanigans, scandal, conflict, drama, outbreaks of disease, and even a mini rebellion. If only there had been cameras there, it would have made for a sensational reality TV show!
Why all the craziness? The reasons are many, and the tales are ripe for telling! In this issue, I’ll begin with how it all started. But, to uncover the full depth of the drama and intrigue, I’ll be sharing a two-part deep dive, exclusive to Premium Subscribers, beginning next week. If you haven't signed up yet, now's the perfect time!
Ready for Part One? OK, lets go!
Misadventures in Mindfulness:
Twists and Turns of the Lam Rim Course.
Embarking on a month-long Buddhist Lam Rim retreat was meant to be a transformative journey, a deep dive into the Tibetan path to enlightenment. Little did I know, it would turn into a humbling account of my own limitations. In this candid retelling, I describe some of the more unusual challenges that caused me to stumble on the spiritual path.
But my premature departure wasn't just about a series of external challenges - it was also a stark reminder of my own impatience and lack of equanimity.
Join me as I navigate the quirks of Lam Rim teachings, unraveling the knots of my own shortcomings on the quest for inner peace.
A Promising Start.
Embarking on the short stroll from my hilltop guest house to the nearby monastery, a palpable sense of anticipation fills the air. Dragonflies flit ahead of me, playfully guiding me along the narrow forest path.
Upon arrival, I make my way through the stark metal gates, and take my first tentative steps into the Tibetan monastery that will be my home for the next thirty days.
Checking in, I am relieved to find that I have dodged the dorms and scored a private room. Moving through the well-kept gardens, eagles soar high above the awe-inspiring domed Stupas. These grand structures, symbolizing enlightenment itself, astonish me with their intricate carvings, vibrant colors, and intriguing imagery.
Descending the steep stairs at the bottom of the garden, I arrive at my room, which offers breathtaking views across the valley to the mountains beyond. The rabble of young school-monks enjoying a break from their lessons fills the air, adding energy to the serene landscape.
I swing open my door and am met with a neat and tidy monk's cell - just enough space for a single bed, a cupboard, a wobbly writing desk, and an even wobblier wooden chair.
I quickly unpack and head out to join the influx of new students arriving by the taxi load. It's time to embrace the camaraderie of fellow seekers, each with their own unique reasons for embarking on this spiritual escapade. The first person I run into is Albert from Switzerland, who's been staying at the same guesthouse as me.
Happy to see a familiar face, I casually ask,
"Any idea how many students are joining us on this adventure?"
"Two-hundred-and-fifty!' he exclaims. 'But, who knows? It could be more!"
Together, Albert and I stroll to the dining hall, where cups of hot and spicy chai tea are ready for the arriving newcomers. As we mingle, I begin to appreciate the diverse mix of seekers, ranging from their early twenties to late eighties and hailing from all corners of the globe.
An Australian, an American, and an Irishman walk into a Monastery.
A classic setup for a joke, right?
But hold on - I left out the Mexican, the Spaniard, the Swede, the Scot, the German, the Israeli, and the Brit, not to mention representatives from India, Asia, and South America. I've never encountered a more diverse group, and it's this mix of people from all over the world that really makes these courses special. It feels like a global gathering, with everyone bringing their own stories and perspectives.
But with each new introduction, a subtle dissonance creeps into the air. The dining hall becomes overcrowded, and the hubbub grows louder and more boisterous. I find myself yearning for a touch more reverence and a little less rowdy shouting.
Feeling jangled, I slip away to the tranquility of the Stupa gardens, patiently awaiting the upcoming introduction talk, and hoping for a shift toward a more centered and contemplative atmosphere.
The Introductory Talk:
The scale of the student body becomes strikingly evident as I step into the ‘Gompa’ - the grand hall that is to be our classroom. The space is vast, with bright orange-and-yellow walls, intricately ornamented pillars, and large glass cabinets showcasing an impressive array of golden deity statues. Despite its size, the hall struggles to contain the sheer number of attendees.
Many of the cushions have already been claimed, but I am fortunate to find one towards the front and against a wall.
As soon as I have settled, the side door suddenly swings open, causing several students to jump to their feet. Like a Mexican wave, the entire roomful of students rises, as a jolly-looking nun makes her entrance, playfully waving us all back to our cushions. The energy in the room shifts, now infused with a quiet excitement and anticipation.
In the enveloping silence, we patiently wait as the nun leisurely strolls up and down past the deity statues. It seems as though she is personally checking in with each in turn, ensuring that all is in divine order. A brief exchange with Chenrezig, his one thousand arms poised to reach all sentient beings - a silent communion with the Buddha, benevolent as always - a moment with Tara, the ever watchful female deity, not to mention a quick encounter with the formidable Guru Rinpoche, clutching his indestructible ‘thunderbolt of compassion’.
I find it a little strange to do this with over two hundred people expectantly waiting - it feels deliberate, almost as if we are being purposefully ignored.
Just as I am about to raise an eyebrow, I spy a few latecomers - students still making a noisy entrance through the imposing Gompa doors and seeking out vacant cushions.
So who is keeping whom waiting?
It dawns on me that perhaps we are being taught a silent lesson in punctuality and respect.
If this is indeed the case, then unfortunately, as we will see later, it backfires - spectacularly.
As the last of the stragglers settle in, the rest of us have been waiting in silent expectancy for what feels like an eternity. The atmosphere, tinged with agitated anticipation, shifts as the nun finally assumes her cross-legged position at the podium. Perhaps sensing the restlessness, she engages us with a warm and hearty welcome.
Setting the Rules.
The introductory talk includes guidelines for conduct within the monastery grounds - they are as you might expect - showing respect to the monks and nuns by dressing appropriately, observing silence in the Gompa and other sacred areas, and remaining within the monastery grounds for the duration of the retreat. We are explicitly informed that the use of phones, internet devices, photography, and public displays of affection are strictly forbidden. Notably, there is a strong emphasis on punctuality, as it is considered deeply disrespectful to arrive after the revered teacher.
By the end of the day, all of these rules have not only been broken, but are blatantly disregarded.
Meeting our Venerable Teacher:
On the morning of the second day, we encounter our teacher, a native English speaker in his seventies. Venerable enters through the side door of the Gompa, adjusting his burgundy and saffron robes as he prostrates to the Buddha statue. Those of us who have managed to be on time, stand in a gesture of respect as he comfortably settles into a cross-legged position at the podium.
A microphone is delicately placed in front of Venerable, resulting in piercing squeals of feedback and the buzz and crackle of loose connections. Even after resolving the audio issues, and the morning's teachings have begun, students continue to arrive, chatting noisily amongst themselves.
Our septuagenarian sage takes it in stride, but a quick glance at the nuns off to the side reveals their utter dismay.
Unfazed, Venerable continues the lesson in breathy whispers. His barely audible words carried on each tired exhale. He seems to ponder his own words, asking rhetorical questions under his breath, partially answering them, only to change his mind mid-sentence.
"Something like that," he concludes, leaving us to decipher his cryptic trail of thoughts.
We are halfway through the lesson, and I've barely grasped a single word. Venerable mutters as though talking only to himself. When his words can be discerned, they jump randomly from one topic to another, veering into unrelated tangents, and focusing on details that seem irrelevant. Honestly, my initial impression isn't glowing, leaving me to wonder how I'll manage to endure an entire month of his teachings.
Adding to the frustration, the microphone randomly emits squeals of ear-splitting feedback or bursts of unsettling static. These persistent audio issues become a daily nuisance, disrupting every lecture.
The Students are Revolting.
As the days progress, my respect for Venerable slowly grows - he certainly knows his stuff, and has quite a mischievous sense of humour. However, he does tend to ramble, and needs to be constantly reminded to speak more clearly.
The students each have their own way of coping with these auditory challenges. Some relocate closer to the front, others attempt to follow along using the texts we have been provided. Many however, seem to simply tune him out, bringing their own books to read during class. One woman spends each session drawing mandalas with coloured pencils, another brings her knitting along. I spot one chap with ear buds in, perhaps listening to a podcast or music as a more engaging alternative to the mumbled teachings.
One particularly popular coping strategy is to skip the class altogether, with many opting to head to the monastery cafe for open conversations, laughter, and general merriment, despite daily reminders of noble silence. Others go even further, blatantly ignoring the boundaries by leaving the monastery to wander into town.
I adopt my own approach - I listen with one ear while scribbling notes for my book and blog. To the casual observer, I might seem like a diligent student deeply engrossed in taking copious notes. In reality, though, I am only marginally grasping the increasingly arcane lessons. My one ear, however, remains alert, keenly picking up any intriguing words or phrases that cut through the mutter, particularly those that awaken my inner skeptic.
And in this, Venerable, with his teachings steeped in traditional Tibetan peculiarities, certainly does not disappoint - he consistently triggers my skepticism with intriguing, often perplexing statements!
As each day passes, the teachings become more complex and mysterious, even bordering on strange and surreal. Many students start to struggle, and things begin to spiral in the most unexpected ways.
And that's when things start to get really crazy!
To be continued …
So friends, get ready for the next scoop! I'll be spilling the beans on some of the more esoteric and downright puzzling teachings that have popped up from the heart of this ancient wisdom tradition.
Plus, I'll share more about the quirks and hurdles of living with a couple of hundred frustrated classmates and the nun's less-than-successful attempts at keeping us in line.
These next two installments will be available exclusively to Premium Subscribers. If you haven’t signed up yet, now's the perfect time! For the price of a coffee, your small donation will keep me caffeinated, ensuring more intriguing stories are on their way. Thank you for your support!
For everyone else, don't worry - the free newsletters will resume after these next two episodes. Stay tuned, and don’t forget to click the ‘like’ button at the bottom of this email to let me know that you appreciate my posts!
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Wishing you all a week filled with curiosity, enlightening conversations, and unexpected insights!
✌️❤️
Grant.
Sound s like back when I was at Uni.
I've never understood why Tibetan teachers insist on introducing Westerners to Buddhism via the most religiously dogmatic and tediously boring aspects of Lamrim, choosing the letter of the law over the spirit of it with international multi-faith scientifically-educated groups. So much for skillful means, right? That said; it seems Gen Z are genuinely oblivious to cultural sensitivities and norms when they travel, but bristlingly aware of their personal sensitivities. I can only imagine how much of a shitshow it must have been for you to feel compelled to leave early