Orthodoxy
February 2021, Bangkok
With most things in life, I’m a purist. I don’t like chocolate bananas, but I like chocolate and bananas separately. With regard to Buddhism, I’ve approached the study and practice of it with this point of view for the past five years or so. When I first got interested in it, long before that, I’d try to vary my reading from Mahayana, Zen, Tibetan, Theravada styles to see which one stuck, or to see if I could personalize some sort of mixture of all of them. Eventually, though, I came to see the value of honing in on one form and trying to adapt myself to the requirements of that chosen strain of Buddhism. Theravada was the one I wound up going with, mostly out of convenience, or karma, however you want to look at it.
The value of sticking to one school, I think, is simply a disciplinary issue. Putting limits on yourself, and following a program to the best of your abilities is an artistic exercise in restraint and expression. You can think of each school of Buddhism as a different form, almost like there are different forms of a poem that one can write. There are sonnets, haikus, limericks, blank verse, Dream Songs, and many more, all with their own restraints, and all result in a different type of expression. The parameters within which an artist can work for their expression gets shaped by the form, and that form also plays a part in the creation process. In the same way, a school of Buddhism that one responds to will aid in a certain type of meditation, point of view, and lifestyle. Some people might not see it this way, but I view meditation as (at least in part) an artistic enterprise; I see it as a form of expression. It just so happens that this expression results in no external movement (aside from some minor breathing movements), no speaking, or really any output whatsoever, which carries with it its own implications of not wanting to contribute to the samsaric enterprise during the allotted meditation time.
There are some who take this orthodoxy as far as they can, sticking to it all throughout life. Part of me thinks that is the most commendable and respectable thing that one can do. Especially if one is still in a developmental phase (say, before their 30s), I think it’s very important to place priority on the Dhamma, Vinaya, Abhidhamma, or whatever scriptures or rules your specific sect values the most, over your own personal inclinations. The thoughts and impulses that come across the undisciplined mind, impelling decisions and resultant actions can come from nefarious origins, especially in the constant decay of honorable culture. It’s for that reason that I would value a time-tested program that has produced results for other practitioners much more than following your own personal whims, no matter how much you may have considered them. The mind is willing to go to great lengths to deceive itself in order to stay in the pleasure seeking and comfortable state it has grown to crave.
More recently though, and I realize this completely contradicts what I’ve just said in the previous paragraph, I’ve come to consider some value in a branching out of sorts. This may be a result of some of the extracurricular reading I’ve been doing more recently that really struck a chord with me (possibly more on this later when I sort my thoughts out on it). Even though I’ve identified as a Theravada practitioner for a long time, I’ve still read Buddhist books from other sects this whole time, but always with the frame of mind that I would stick to the Theravada view on a specific rule or outlook if another school of Buddhism had ideas that clashed with it. Even when I’d read Hindu texts, I’d always prioritize what I’d learned in Buddhism over it, and if anything, would use Hindu cosmology as maybe a more abstract background that would fill in the mythological gaps that I’d find in Buddhism. For instance, in the Pali scriptures, the Buddha always hearkens back to the Noble Elders. There’s no description for who these Noble Elders are, so I’d read the Rig Veda or other mythologies of a similar lineage from which Buddhism may have sprung out of.
What I really think is happening, though, with this desire to branch out, is a mix of my own personal experience, practice, and circumstances. First of all, regarding circumstances, some of you may know that I tried becoming a monk recently (twice in the past year, actually). I had been building up to this for a couple of years, with a grand plan for how to go into it. These plans got compromised by a combination of Thai visa restrictions and the increased protocols for the COVID lockdown. Basically it became impossible for me to either financially and realistically get a visa to live as a monk in Thailand long term. It basically wiped me out in more ways than one trying to continue with my plan despite the obstacles in my way. In the end, I got some good quality time at the temple, living the monk lifestyle, but it’s pretty clear that at this time, it isn’t meant to be. So, although I don’t feel completely defeated, my mindset of going into that enterprise with the intention to hone in on strictly Theravada orthodoxy has relaxed a bit.
While I was at the temple, my teacher recommended that while focusing on my breath, I move the focus of where I feel the sensation to my heart area. Doing this consistently every day completely changed the nature of my meditation. I learned a lot about what I consider to be my self, the stories that I tell myself, and all the quirks that go into being ‘me.’ It was an extremely emotional experience, which was a shock to me as I typically haven’t paid much attention to this side of things. I learned about my own faults as a friend, family member, and person in general, and I resolved to make these things right in the best way I can. Without going into specifics, doing this means that I cannot be an ascetic living in the forest right now, which I guess works well with the circumstances I’ve been presented with.
Given all of these factors, and that I view meditation as an artistic expression, it seems worth entertaining to at least attempt integrating some unorthodox meditation practices into my older, more set routine, or even expanding the Buddhist mythology that lies in the background as motivation for practice. To keep something like a meditation routine vital, which can too easily become boring or even dangerous, it does require some experimentation. The more traditional and orthodox practitioners would suggest to experiment within the parameters of the school. At the same time, the history of Buddhism, as it’s traveled and stuck in different cultures across the earth has been an adaptation from both Buddhism and the culture in order maintain it. Perhaps this also works on a personal level, as there’s bound to be some personal input on some level. In the end I find tremendous value in the experience of even just a little bit of orthodox discipline as a solid base for my practice, but I’m noticing a tendency to modify this practice a bit with elements outside a strictly Theravada form. It may be risky, but given that I know to some degree what works will help me judge the results of an integration of outside elements.