Living that Monastic life
From the age of ten till I was about sixteen years old I wanted to be a Buddhist nun. I discovered Buddhism while perusing through my encyclopedia book on religions of the world. I had grown up in a New Age household so I didn’t have a traditional organized religious background. I was curious about other religions and what they taught and being that I was reading about them from an encyclopedia, there wasn’t a great deal of information. There was just enough to get the reader to have some general knowledge and I guess if you were intrigued enough you would explore and find out more on your own.
Out of all of the religions I read about, Buddhism stood out to me the most. Looking back I’m not sure what it was about the words that was so compelling, but knowing what I was feeling at the time I’m sure reading words about liberation and enlightenment was enticing. There weren’t a lot of pictures in the book, only a couple of paintings of Padmasambhava, a revered and honored Tibetan Buddhist guru from the 8th century. I was drawn to devoting my life to spiritual work, spending my days and nights chanting and getting closer to my whole self. I even liked the idea of moving to Tibet and getting away form everything I knew to become a full-time Buddhist.
Again, at the time I didn’t know why I wanted to drop everything and move to a country that was secluded from the rest of the world. But now it’s obvious. I wanted to escape my life. I wanted to be away from everything that I knew and “start over” and this seemed like a good way to do just that. Even though I dropped my monastic vision at the end of my teens I still held onto devoting my life to spiritual work. I was introduced to a spiritual teacher who shared a great deal of knowledge with me. For years we worked together and I worked with other young women who all wanted to grow and expand ourselves spiritually, emotionally, mentally.
Although the monastic vision was no longer at the forefront of my mind, there was still a desire to get away. I would get so frustrated when I would come out of a meditation or a weekend healing retreat only to be confronted with pain, frustration and anger as soon as I returned to my daily life. So I meditated more, went on more retreats, sought out more teachers. I began living two separate lives, one that was heavily spiritual and the other that was not. I lived my life like that for many years walking between two worlds that I did not see any possibility of merging.
About five years ago I was deep in my spiritual practice. I was meditating multiple times a day, doing rituals on a regular basis, but still not integrating my spiritual work in my daily life. I’m not sure if I was in conversation with someone or I read this in a book but I do remember receiving wisdom that in order to get the real benefits of my spiritual work, I needed to make my spiritual work my everyday work.
When I come out of my meditation practice I try and take that centeredness with me all throughout my day. I pay attention to my breathing as I cook, I release my muscles whenever I’m in a tense conversation with someone, I say words of gratitude as I wake up and notice the subtle sensations in my body when I fall asleep. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good retreat. Taking time away from the intense energy of work, family, society is a must every so often. It recharges your energy and reminds you of who you are. Taking solo trips for retreat (and not work) was a practice that I stopped doing years ago and when I came back to it just last year I was reminded of how important it is to make time for slowing down and resting.
I’ve already planned my ten day Vipassana silent retreat for when Covid is no more and I look forward to the insight and healing that the trip will provide me. In the mean time working with where I’m at has been an illuminating practice for me. Seeing myself reflected in my relationships, inviting others to be a part of my spiritual work and joining other people in theirs, noticing all the ways that being grounded and aware enhances even the simplest of tasks.
Being a monk sitting on a mountain in a remote corner or the world will help me get to a place of enlightenment but if I am using my spiritual practice as a way to run away form my problems then I will not reap the rewards of what my spiritual practice can give me. I am only using a monastic life as an escape and not facing into what will truly liberate me. It’s a scary thing to feel and face what I have been running away from for years but the moment that the pain is addressed it dissipates much quicker than it would if I kept avoiding it.