communion
People often ask me what I do as a monk.
Monk life is pretty simple, there’s not a lot to it really. I’ll tell you what I do each day, but also the way in which I try do to it, which is more important.
Each day I attempt to wake up at 4am at the latest. This is a hit an miss affair, but I am getting better at it. I’m not exactly a morning person, so waking up in general can be a fairly monumental affair. If I do this part well, the rest of the day tends to flow well, so I try and get the waking up thing right.
When I wake up, I have been told that I am meant to flood my eyes with light, as this will help the circadian rhythms kick in and let my body know that sleepy time is over and it’s time to start the day. So I do this.
I struggle to wake up right away so I usually lie in bed for a few minutes and direct the flow of mind towards something wholesome. I’ve found that gratitude is a good way to start, as often when I wake up, the mind can kick into problem solving mode and want to start listing all the things I have to do, or have to remember to do, or the things I want to avoid also, if I’m having a hard time with something.
Gratitude practice helps me remember that to even be in the environment I am in, is an extremely privileged thing for any human, and that it calls for celebration. So I list all thing things that I am grateful for - whatever comes to mind… “I’m grateful for birdsong… I’m grateful for this little kuti I am staying in…” and so on. I make sure to include not just external things, but my own qualities as well, as I have many beautiful qualities. It’s a lovely way to start the day, and even when I’m tired, it brightens my mood.
Usually the mind is a little slimy from sleep when I wake up. Not always, but most of the time I feel foggy, and so I usually do some walking meditation (yes, even when it’s winter!) and a little memorisation, and/or chanting, as these things energise my mind. If I feel like it and have the time, I sit meditation.
Four days a week at our monastery we have a work period from 7:15-9:45am. The other three days we have the morning to ourselves. Work usually involves being scheduled with some kind of activity. It can be anything that needs doing really, from cleaning the Dhamma hall or ablution block, to doing some editing work for the senior monks. I’ve tried to make it a practice to not have preferences for my work, so that I remain adaptable to whatever needs doing, and learn to work with a wide variety of people, doing a wide variety of things.
This keeps the mind fresh, and I actually like having little idea of what I will be doing one day to the next. Without this kind of forward planning, I can keep present and just accept whatever comes. This isn’t always easy of course, as the mind always wants to massage things to be the way we want, but working against this tendency has been invaluable, and I’m a big believer that this is a large part of the training. You have to train this in yourself though. It’s up to you.
After work is the main meal, and my only meal of the day as I don’t eat breakfast usually. I’ve learnt to eat moderately and listen to my body in terms of the food that is suitable depending on the seasons and the amount of fuel I may need. I try not to be too picky with food also, as a monk is meant to accept whatever is given, so although I generally like to eat vegetarian, I don’t stick to this religiously, and choose to value the generosity of the donors above all else, especially my own ethical considerations with food. This to me feels like the proper conduct of a renunciant.
Once the meal is over, we basically have the rest of the day to ourselves.
After the meal I usually do a bit of walking meditation and some more recitation, as I can’t really do sitting meditation right after the meal, as the body is still in the initial stages of digesting the food. I try and marshal my energies towards productive activities during this time, maybe doing a little light study and reading in the afternoon.
Once the body is lighter, I start meditation again, doing alternate walking and sitting meditation. I usually do this until about 6pm, and then break for optional teatime, either having a small break with some hot water at my kuti where I often find myself just absorbing the evening air and the changing light in the forest, listening to the sound of the forest animals and insects as the forest loses it’s colour and gradually dims to nightfall; either this, or I meet up with the monks in the dānasala for light tea.
Night time is my best time, and so I usually try and capitalise on this time for meditation. I find the early to late evening the best time for sitting, and so I’ll usually sit more than walk.
I’m usually in bed late evening, and then up again early for the next day.
This is not all set in stone of course. Something that I have learnt to value since coming here is letting the state of the mind determine what I need to do. If the mind is restless, I do activities that calm and settle the mind, and if it’s lazy, I wake it up with activities that I know energise me.
This is the only barometer I use really, and it proves very useful, as you get to learn what works for you, and develop your own flexible way of practising with the mind. Sure, I have a rough pattern that I tend to follow each day, but that’s because the circadian rhythms of the body and mind usually follow that kind of shape. If they don’t, I don’t hold onto a rigid way of doing things, as that just prohibits listening to oneself.
It’s listening to oneself - like, really listening - which I’m finding key. It sounds easy, but it requires honesty with oneself. If you are restless, you have to be honest about that, and work with it, rather than spinning around in it and saying, “I’ll just finish this off first…” So it requires a certain degree of diligence, but it’s how I’m choosing to train, and the good thing about this way of practice is that when you are doing it, you know it, and when you aren’t, you know that too. When I find myself bouncing off myself and wanting to waste time or mess around, I watch the mind, trying to see what it is that I’m resisting, what story I’m telling myself that pulls me away from the task I know is more to the point.
There is a natural intelligence that opens up if you listen to your mind and use that as your compass. There is no bypass in this. You are simply being with and working through the mind states as they come up, and feeling into them to give the mind what it needs. There is a deep empathy in this, and it’s teaching me how to nourish myself with what I really need to grow.
This is a gradual circling in on oneself, a greeting of oneself, and kind of moment to moment communion with the mind, and it requires a radical and deep honesty, and a commitment to truth and to walking through the world in authenticity. It also gives one a sense of spontaneity and fluidity, in that you are always close to the mind, always listening. This is the well-spring of creativity and joy, and the more I get out of the way, the more I let these things naturally emerge in my mind as they want to express themselves. I give them voice, I let them speak, and they surprise me.
It’s a beautiful life.
- Peace.