I took a six-hour bus from Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son, close to the border with Myanmar, to spend a week at Wat Tam Wua, known as the Forest Monastery. It was a long journey up in the mountains, with zigzagging roads and one speedy van driver.
The overwhelming start was worthwhile. The moment I registered at the retreat I knew I had something to learn. The monastery offered me food, clothes and a private room, asking nothing in return but the willingness to receive Buddhist teachings. It didn't matter who I was, where I came from, why I wanted to join or anything of the kind. The simplicity of this approach was truly humbling. How many of us would welcome strangers to our Home with the open, trusting arms I was graced with upon arrival?
I got to witness the daily life of monks and the monastery, and was part of it with morning food offerings, afternoon cleaning and evening chanting.
The days started early, at 6AM. We ate twice a day, at 7AM and 11AM, fasting until the following dawn. Occasionally there would be fruit and biscuits to help the hungriest of us make it through the night (and, to our happiness, once there was durian sticky rice, a Thailand’s delicacy often made with mango, which disappeared in a matter of minutes, of course!).
It surprised me how the body is so quick to endure and adjust. After one week, the strict schedule converted me into an early bird and put an end to the southern European habit of eating late; in fact, a change I take with me beyond the duration of my travels is intermittent fasting.
Regarding meditation, we did nearly two hours of walking meditation around the garden, and another three hours of formal, seated meditation throughout the day. Many fell asleep during the latter, myself included. Truthfully, I found it challenging to meditate for such long periods of time, even though I had established a daily practice for over a year.
I've also realized that a lot of what brings me joy lies outside the walls of a monastery or the solitude of a silent retreat. Ultimately, I recognise the importance of experiencing more states of present moment awareness, inner balance, and overall contentment; nonetheless, I believe the beauty of life resides in its ebbs & flows, the changing nature of everything (at least, in retrospective), and meditation is a tool that helps us navigate these phases; but a life spent in retreat may be rather limiting because there are little external stimuli to challenge us.
Perhaps human nature is the supreme challenge of all, which never leaves us. Regardless, using an analogy often employed in meditation, our minds are like lakes, and our thoughts and emotions are the ripples in the water that eventually subside; but if we put that lake in a vacuum, there can’t be wind to disturb its delicate surface. Ultimately, we must cultivate sturdy roots to then test them, trusting that the tree we’ve carefully nurtured can sway even in the strongest of winds.
Most importantly, this week allowed for a much-needed wind down from the backpacking rhythm, helping me recharge, on a physical and mental level, creating the conducive setting to reflect on the way forward.
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