Atammayatā: Return to Lineage

The Mind Decolonized IV

After leaving the caves, I experienced a new circle of doubt for about six months. I could not write. The body and mind could no longer thrive in the environment that I’d fallen deeply in love with. I had prolonged the move-out until the very last moment, which also prolonged a subtle, sometimes overt, madness that manifested itself as symptoms of disturbing sensations, declining motor skills, and post-traumatic stress.

Like all compounded things, my skillful means fell apart. When I expressed this shame, my guide said with precision, “You had to go crazy to genuinely understand how important it is to maintain Sati (“memory, being”** translated from A Pali-English Glossary published by Sri Satguru Publications. Analayo Bhikkhu further elaborates Sati as a function of “present moment awareness” in page 47 in his book Satipatthana: The Direct Path to Realization)”.

Now, I let the grief be. It is monotonous. That is its nature in a dreamworld sustained by conditioned phenomena and actions or inactions as a result of ignorance. Instead of side-eyeing sadness as it reaches out to me, I let it hold me. I wait for it to let go when it’s time.

I surrender to the sadness that impacts me, changing me. Aging-and-death, disease, sorrow, lamentation, pain, despair, and grief, I let them express themselves while I accept that it’s only because of ignorance that I rise and fall with them. I still don’t know that letting go, or being let go, isn’t painful. It wasn’t the caves or leaving the caves that caused the doubt.

When surrounded by those on a different path, madness ensues. If someone recognizes this process and names it out loud, that person becomes marginalized. Madness is projected onto this person. Since we are mirroring each other’s skillfulness and unskillfulness, madness reflects on those in the center who can’t see it within themselves. The seemingly infinite reflections act like the sun’s glare, preventing those on the margins from seeing a way out. Ignorance, or misunderstanding, can’t cease with such conditions set in place.

The rage that I let out when unlocking the gate was another barrier against the grace of feeling grief. I remember a friend’s encouraging words: “You’ve been observing the grief, but you haven’t allowed yourself to grieve”.

I have gratitude for the refuge that I’ve cultivated within the study and practice of Dhamma. I feel safe enough to allow myself to grieve because I’ve returned home. Mahapajapati Monastery takes care of me exactly like a mother who’s been waiting for her child’s return. The table was set every night, the bed always prepared, and the gate unlocked, just in case.

Each morning, I take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. I re-commit to the Five Precepts. I let the tears pour, and my voice quavers as I chant the refuge and precepts. I meditate, practicing observation and feeling of the sensations of aging-and-death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair. When it’s time, I dedicate the endeavor to all beings, wishing all beings to be free from suffering, so that they may know the grace of well-being.