November 3, 2017
The Green Lion
I’m off to central Thailand and TGL manager Phil dares me to shave my hair off, like a good Buddhist nun would. Guess I’d rather be a terrible nun. For one week, Iβm diving further into Buddhist teaching, going hardcore and sleep at a temple. About 93% of the Thai population is Buddhist, so Iβll find out more on what makes this country tick.
Before the big event, we stay in a resort overlooking a lush green valley. The temperature is sweet and the mountains are epic. We watch a movie about the life of Buddha to learn a bit more on it’s history. He was born a prince on the border of present-day India and Nepal. Buddhism is a godless religion: the Buddha is seen as a teacher and a mere mortal man, yet one with some miracles up his sleeve. Some see it more as philosophy than just a religion; to strive for a life with harmony and without suffering. Perhaps this is why there is a growing interest from the West.
On Tuesday, we head to a local temple to hand out food donations in the early morning. We stand in a row on our bare feet between the locals, waiting for a bundle of monks to pass. They present us their food bowl, we bow in respect and toss a strawberry cake in. Later, the monks share their breakfast with us and we take back a cake or two. The abbot, a.k.a. the temple’s ‘head monk’, joins us for a Q&A. We’re surprised to find he’s a former Biologist from Australia. Heβs an example that itβs possible to choose an alternative life, no matter what society says. Only dead fish go with the flow, Andy Hunt once wrote.
Next day we’re off to a different temple in shiny new white clothing, bought for β¬2 at a local market. It’s the one we’ll stay in for two nights, sleeping on a thin mattress in true Buddhist fashion. Our biggest fear is starvation, since we’ll only have one meal a day. Later we find out there is no need for panic; our breakfast buffet is the biggest feast you’ll ever see. Noodles in odd colours, omelets, twenty kinds of veggies, buckets of exotic fruits, donuts, Yakult, banana chips and… ice cream. The row of tables never end. People grab as much as they can carry and you can fill a plastic bag with leftover to munch on later. I haven’t eaten this good in ages and I’m not really hungry for the rest of the day. A pack of soy milk might’ve helped there too.
Before the feast, we meditate. At 3.30 AM, we chant and meditate. In the afternoon, if you wish, thereβs some more meditating. Itβs all done in a large hall filled with monks and locals. Women sit in the back and our two male participants automatically walk to the front without protest, separating themselves from us girls. Never mind, I choose my battles. Iβm too busy getting the blood flow back in my legs after sitting on them for a few hours a day. Now I know why Buddhism goes great with yoga; I could benefit from more stretching.
Meditating is the easiest and hardest thing you can do; you sit there with your eyes closed and breathe. Within about ten seconds my mind runs off in all directions. My hair falls in my face, I have an itch on my back, I peek to my neighbor, I stare at a monk, I move my legs around a dozen times. Damn, I thought I was going to be great at doing nothing. Later, a monk explains itβs normal at first. Let your mind wander, donβt feel guilty. He gives us some exercises to help focus. Meditation takes tons of practice, of which youβll have loads. Heβs true: I later have some βgood sessionsβ in which I chill to perfection, with the chanting of the monks as soothing background noise.
In the afternoon we’re meeting a monk for a chat. It’s a German man named Tiro, who’s left his Western habits behind for a life of modesty. He’s the happiest man I’ve ever seen and glows with every fibre in his being. We sit in a circle and Tiro explains the importance of meditation and breathing to us. He’s filled with analogies. For instance, he picks up a water bottle and holds it with a stretched out arm. Tiro explains that the bottle is the same as your sorrows: it’s easy to hold at first, but gets heavier over time. He puts the bottle on the table. The water level is rocky at first from the movement, but becomes more calm until it stands still completely. “It’s the same with your sorrows. Don’t hold them too long and just let them go.“
A car pulls up and it’s the abbot of the temple: Ajahn Gunhah Sukakamo. We’re lucky, because the abbot is one busy man: he spends most of his day receiving guests for hours on end. He has many admirers that travel far for his teachings. And here we are, a bunch of atheists, being allowed to talk to him for three hours on two separate evenings. Tiro smiles his face off saying “you guys must have such good karma!“. We kneel down as the abbot walks to his chair and our two male participants are asked to wash his feet for him as sign of respect. The girls in the back giggle.
Ajahn Gunhah Sukakamo isn’t any regular monk. They say he is enlightened. Now I personally don’t know much about that and it’s a statement that is up for debate, but the very least this is a rare moment. Enlightened people don’t just grow on trees. Buddhists say an enlightened person has perfected the insight on the four Noble Truths and has become free from suffering. There is no judgement, only awareness. Tiro claims the abbot knows exactly what you think and need, just by looking at you with his super friendly round face.
Let’s put that to the test. The abbot kindly gifts us a locket containing a piece of his robe and some hairs. It’s said to give good luck for a lifetime. Well, don’t mind if I do! When it’s my turn, I shuffle to the front on my knees and wonder if he’ll say something wise and meaningful. You know, a quote that makes you realize he sees into my soul and now my life will never be the same. I fold my hands open to accept the locket, bow my head and the abbot starts talking. “He worries that you’re becoming too fat.” How profound.
The rest of the evening we spend sitting on the carpet, listening to his quotes about religion and life in general. He occasionally uses a quiet moment to throw packages of milk at us, or tosses a handful of candy against our faces. Tiro encourages us to eat and drink everything that is given, as it provides good fortune for times to come. Any gift provided by such a respected monk is a blessing. Still, I can’t help but associate the gesture with Santa handing out gifts. The abbot definitely makes me feel merry.
The abbot gladly answers any questions we have. When us shy participants run out of questions, he speaks about what matters in life and how people ought to treat each other. He shows nothing but kindness and his faces oozes calmness and happiness. Every time we look up, you feel a little happier yourself. He explains that everyone in the room is family and that women lose their beauty if they eat too much. In the meantime, Tiro gives the abbot a shoulder massage, leaning forward without one complaint. Tiro’s back must be killing him. He does it for a solid 1,5 hours with a constant smile on his face, filled of bliss. Apparently giving up all comfort can make one happy man. What an unusual week.
