How it came to pass
My mother, who is as interested in Buddhism as I am, told me of venerated figure who would be visiting our city and invited me to attend. Normally I would decline, but this time I felt inclined to go. I did not know who Ajahn Jayasaro was, but I felt this is a rare opportunity to meet with a mind which is close to Dhamma. By that time I was already quite interested in Buddhism and the Dhamma, but it was in a solitary manner. I have found solitude and self-reflection to greatly benefit my development, but there is always a lingering doubt. "What if I'm totally off-track?" "What if I'm wrong?"
Meeting with a master, seeing how he talks, and having the opportunity to ask him questions, felt like the perfect antidote to those doubts.
By that time I studied about anapanasati and started to try it out for myself. Even though I was not able to get very far, I have found the experience to be almost as described by the Buddha. My level of doubt was very low to begin with, but I had to open myself to the opportunity to strengthen my faith.
In this post I will outline parts of the session that left an impression.
The dispelling of doubt
One of the first things he talked about after a meditation session was belief.
A [Christian] man once asked me, you're a Buddhist right? So what do you believe in?
Ajahn Jayasaro went on to describe the widespread western understanding that a religion is a belief system. You start with the belief, and the rest of the conduct and rules stem from there.
He said Buddhism is different. Buddhism is an education system, but there is still yet role for a belief, and a faith. And that is the faith that we can free ourselves from dukkha. We have faith because someone has done it before. This faith plays a gentle role in guiding us when we're lost, but the rest of the path we must pave ourselves.
In context of this, he said
My imagination has let me down many times, but the Buddha has not let me down even once.
That, to me, perfectly describes faith in Buddhism. The faith is a gentle guide, not a decree. You build the faith the same way you build trust in a friend. The more you walk this path, you realize: there is a friend who never lied. Every time I listen to that friend, my life becomes better. Even when I was so sure I knew everything, the friend was able to gently guide me to see my delusions. That friend is the Buddha.
That's when I realized. I understood exactly what he was talking about. The Buddha has never let me down. I had no reason to doubt.
Already within the first 15-30 minutes of the Dhamma talk, I already got what I came for. The more he explained the more sure I was that I was walking the right path.
Ajahn Jayasaro's had his answer to the Christian's question, but allow me to also present my own, possibly less wise answer:
I believe in the one who believed in me.
Of grief and fear of loss
A couple of questions in the audience including my own centered around grief and loss, which is of interest to me. I have struggled with the fear of loss almost all my life. I have recently understood that that fear is connected to love. Those that I fear losing, I love wholeheartedly. I want the best for them, because I am thankful for what they've done for me.
I have come to understand that this surrendering of self, which is right and good, is so very close to dukkha, as if separated by a thin sheet. I asked a question about the conflict between love and impermanence. If selflessness is good, why does it hurt? Is it possible that love is bad and I've been chasing a defilement?
He reassured me that my understanding of love is correct. True, compassionate love chases away kilesas:
We have so little time, so there's no room for anger, fear, desires to get in the way.
But he also acknowledged my dukkha, the fear of loss. I think he said:
You have to see that [the one you love] will be gone one day. You may even be gone before them. This is how things are. You have to massage that fact into yourself every day, until one day you get it.
He said it with such compassion and without ever breaking eye contact with me. I knew he was genuine. By the end of this question, I had no more doubt about love. I will do my best because life is truly too short and too uncertain to waste it bickering or being angry. At the same time, I should accept the reality that all things must be gone. To let them return to nature and not claiming them as my own is also love.
Again, he helped me realize I was walking the right path, I just needed a little nudge to make sure I don't take too many detours.
The Horse is already complete
In explaining voidness, nibbana, emptiness, or the pristine mind, he brought up an analogy that made a lot of sense to me: that famous quote by Michaelangelo. Something like: the horse sculpture was already complete, I just chipped away the part that was not horse. Such is the nature of nibbana. You chip away the baggage one by one, and what is left is the joy of nibbana. I have had a glimpse of that experience by practicing anapanasati, and so this topic, too, helped dispel any doubt I had.
Sometimes the baggage is so alluring. They taste good, look good, feel good. Or sometimes they are so adversarial that you are bent on destroying them. But whenever the temptation gets too strong, this segment will help me remember: these alluring objects do not bring true joy, they obscure it.
To close
I am a new student of Buddhism. Being a high-performing student in the bookish sense, I attach myself strongly to my thoughts and ideas, thinking they can solve everything. This attachment brought me nothing but ruin, and it was when I started listening to the Buddha's advice that my life started to turn around.
Yet, I spend so many years attaching to my thoughts that I couldn't help but have doubts. Thoughts like these will occur from time to time: no way right? There's no way this Indian man from 2500+ years ago already figured it out.
But the longer I walk this path, the more I realize he did.
He was the friend of all humanity, the friend who never lied, never forceful, and loved and accepted you for who you are.
I can only hope I can conduct myself in a way worthy of his friendship.
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