Mogok Vipassana... in English!

Bhikkhu Obhasa shares his experience practicing Mogok Vipassana for the first time. The above photo shows the American monk's secluded dwelling for the Rains in 2016 in Kalaw, Shan State. For more information Mogok in English, see here.

"Last year I had the chance to attend an eight-day Mogok Vipassana course on the outskirts of Yangon. It has always been sort of an enigma as it's by far the largest and most widespread Vipassana technique in Myanmar with its famous Paticca Samuppada wheel seen everywhere, yet it has remained almost entirely off the radar to foreign meditators.

After understanding the general Myanmar teaching/learning style, it is clear why the technique has such appeal to the laity as it's laid out in a simple system that easily lends itelf to being delivered and learned in a way locals are familiar with.

That being said, although such a delivery would appeal far less to Westerners, both the practice and theory I think have incredible potential. My background in Vipassana has been mostly in the U Ba Khin tradition as taught by Goenka and the Shwe Oo Min tradition under Sayadaw U Tejaniya. I'd actually place these two traditions at opposite ends of a spectrum, the Goenka technique being prescriptive and focused, the other being more open and natural. In the Goenka method, the object, body sensations, is chosen for you whereas the U Tejaniya method, the object is whichever objects of the 6 senses naturally arises in the mind with more attention given to the mind. In the Goenka method, a clear cut technique is specifically laid out and its connection to theory is systematically explained whereas U Tejaniya lays out some basics and then explains more theory as it naturally arises in Q&A's from yogis individual practice. 

The reason I present these two as a spectrum is because some people may be familiar with one or both and it so happens that the Mogok method fits right in between the two. On the one hand, it shares the more choiceless open awareness via any and all of the 6 sense doors as U Tejaniya teaches. On the other hand, the technique is more systematically laid out like Goenka's and the practice is clearly and extensively connected to theory via the famous Mogok Wheel. All three I think have their appeal to different people at different times. I think the Mogok technique then, fills a gap in this spectrum nicely. It seems it would appeal to those that do well with more open awareness yet also enjoy a more explicit structure and clearly explained grounding in theory.

The issue currently is the Mogok method and facilities have yet to be properly adopted for a foreign an especially Western audience. Even though there are at least two teachers that speak English, the current Myanmar presentation style of the technique seems to me to be quite inadequate for foreigners. Also, the available texts in English are straight translations from Myanmar books which again are in a style unsuitable for foreigners and are full of culture specific examples from Myanmar. If these issues get worked out though, I think the Mogok method could fill in a gap and rise to some prominence in the Vipassana spectrum for Westerners."

"As a Meditator in Burma, Should I Bow before Buddha Statues?"

Q: I appreciate the value of paying respects to a living monk, but I’m challenged when it comes to an inanimate object, such as statues, stupas, etc. How important or relevant is this practice, really?

A: “Lighten up!” laughs Bhikkhu Cintita. “It is true that in bowing to a statue there is no one to receive the bow. But we bow for ourselves, not for another. Bowing to a statue, or offering a statue food, water or flowers, is an enactment, it is theater. Learn to think of it as play, and do it anyway. Like bowing to monks, bowing to the Buddha is a wholesome practice of selflessness.”

As the American monk implies, some yogis may be perfectly comfortable paying respects to real people, but are not when a statue another inanimate object is placed before them. Some mistake this act as a sign of idolatry. J. George Scott noted this false assumption than a century ago:

There are few things which more irritate an educated Burman than to assert, or as most English do, calmly assume, that the Burmese are idolaters. The national idea is that idol-worship is especially the characteristic of the lowest savage tribes, and even fetichism is considered a superior faith. Therefore the accusation of bowing down to stocks and stones is intolerable, and the implication is combated with feverish energy. Where there are no prayers, in the technical sense of the word, there can be no idolatry. No one, not even Shin Gautama himself, can help a man in his strivings to lead a holy life. None but the individual in his own person can work out his special salvation, and he tries to do so by setting a splendid ideal before his mind. The words uttered before the impassive features of the Budh are not a supplication for mercy or aid, but the praises of the great Lord himself, through the contemplation of whose triumphant victory over passions and ignorance the most sinful may be led to a better state.

There is no Supreme Being; the Buddha himself, who even while he was on earth was no more than a perfect, sinless man, no longer exists to make intercession, were there any such power to which one might appeal. The only thing to be done is to praise, and in praising to strive to imitate, and through imitation to attain to the perfect knowledge, and so to the final deliverance, the exemption from the four burdens of heaviness, age, sickness, and death, which is the restful absorption of Ne'ban.

This explanation of the Burmese perspective still resonates today. A serene face, an inspiring posture, and a place to make offerings are seen as wonderful opportunities to develop one’s respect, humility, and devotion towards those aspects of Buddha’s qualities that one wishes to develop oneself.

U Sarana further advises that “giving up” and “non-clinging” are practiced in different ways, and that even when one brings such an attitude to an inanimate object, such as a Buddha statue, it can beneficially affect one’s spiritual practice. Thus, he notes, if one gives food to the Buddha statue, while the food will of course not be eaten, one has still relinquished one’s own possession and given it to a symbol of the Buddha. However, U Sarana adds there is a belief that while celestial beings do not ingest food, they do smell it (as they do incense, candles, flowers, etc.) This is why when food is offered to statues, it is often fragrant, such as ripe fruit. And even if one offers nothing materially, but simply prostrates oneself, this is also seen as a kind of “offering” or “renouncing,” for the yogi is letting go of some part of the ego in honoring the Enlightened One.

As Dr. Asabha reminds us, “When we pay respects to a statue, actually we are not paying respects to the statue, but our mind aims for the Buddha’s glory. This statue helps us to understand [the Buddha and his achievements]. When we see this statue, our mind aims to the Buddha’s glory, and we pay respects to the glory of the Buddha. Not this actual statue, this is only form. And when we pay respects to the pagoda, it is the same thing.” Venerable Rekkhita offers some specific advice for the Western yogi challenged with this act when he writes, “Perhaps one way is to practice chanting chants that involve visualising the Buddha and some of his foremost disciples. Such as the Buddha Mangala Gātha, where the Buddha is visualized seated in the centre and eight disciples are visualised at all the eight points of the compass. As these type of chants are a kind of mental imagery they can help understand the intention of the statue designers and builders or craftsmen.”

U Sunanda advises that when bowing to a statue of the Buddha, one should keep four qualities in mind: sīla, samadhi, vipassana, and vimutti. He also says it can be helpful to bring to mind that many paramis that the Buddha had to achieved in order to reach the end of suffering, and then the compassion he had in teaching this way to the greater community. Masoyein Sayadaw recommended to his many disciples that it was best pay respects to a statue of Buddha at least once daily. 

Prekhemma Sayadaw also speaks to this. He notes that there are four types of cetiya, or Relics, related to the Buddha. The third of these is odehta zedi, which includes stupas and representations of the Buddha. He advises that “[W]hen one pays respect to a statue or stupa, don’t think about it being a pile of bricks, but rather as the remains or as a representation of the Buddha. And who is the Buddha? He is the teacher of anyone who seeks to meditate. So in any structure, don’t think about the architecture or style, but its essence. Don’t think about the statue, but what it represents.” In fact, he feels this advice is as pertinent to Burmese Buddhists and monks as it is to foreign yogis; he laments that today, he sees many Burmese mechanically bowing down out of custom or tradition. The revered Shwe Oo Min Sayadaw used to counsel his students, pone daw go gone daw hlan deh, or, “When you see the statue, ‘cover’ [that is, give importance to] the qualities.”

Shwe Oo Min Sayadaw’s student, U Tejaniya, advises his Western students, “If you have resistance, then don’t bow. But if wholeheartedly the mind is calm, then do it. This is also a form of gratitude, gratitude for these teachings that are so valuable. I don’t want to push anyone to have to bow.” In this vein, U Tejaniya recalled an incident where a Muslim questioner came to meet with Shwe Oo Min Sayadaw, and did not bow to him. Although others were upset, his teacher was not disturbed in the slightest, saying that he did not become a monk simply so that others would bow to him. Recalls U Tejaniya, “This is [each person’s] own business.”

Like his teacher, U Tejaniya has noticed that some Burmese monks may have too much of an attachment on the outer forms, and Maha Gandayone Sayadwa U Janaka spoke similarly half a century earlier when he suggested that an overly-fastidious attention towards the shrine area has distracted lay supporters from the more important part of the teachings. He wrote in Autobiography, “[T]he images of various styles and types so confused our visage that we lost the true Buddha.” It is important to add, however, that he was quick to note that benefit can indeed come to one who properly honors a Buddha statue, elsewhere saying that he did “not mean to say that prayer and offer of food, flower, and light at the pagodas are of no merit.” What bothered him was when he saw people praying at the Buddha images and pagodas for personal gratification.

Essentially, the decision of bowing before a statue is the yogi’s to make, and so long as one does not show overt disrespect (such as touching the image’s head, sitting higher than the statue, pointing one’s feet towards it, etc.) it is generally acceptable. For those that see it as another layer of the practice, it is fine to do, while for those that see it as veering into the category of “organized religion,” it can be avoided. Of course, one should also check with the Sayadaw of the monastery where one is staying, as some may feel that bowing is a central part of the Buddhist practice they are teaching. This is the stance that Sayagyi U Ba Khin took when a Muslim merchant friend of his student U Goenka wished to take a course to relieve his insomnia. Despite the fact that the “calmness of the place and the kindly presence of the Teacher made a strong impact on him,” he suddenly decided to decline attending the course based on a Buddha shrine he saw at IMC, for his religion prohibited the glorification of images. U Ba Khin heard about the man’s hesitation, and promised him that not only would he not be required to bow before it, but he could even curtain the image off during this course if he felt threatened by it. The man later felt comfortable paying formal respects to Sayagyi as he had great gratitude for his teachings, but did not ultimately bow to the statue.

“A great deal of nonsense has been written from time to time on the subject of the Burmese custom of Shiko. A Burman coming into the presence of a superior, a monk, a member of the royal house, an official, an elder of his family, adopts an attitude akin to kneeling, and places the palms of his hands together. Placing the palms of the hands together and slightly raising them is the essence of the attitude of respect. It is a charming and graceful salutation. ..[W]hat objection there can be to the hands slightly lifted in reverence, a natural and beautiful action, why it should be thought more dignified to pretend to cast dust on the head in salaaming, I cannot understand.” Sir Herbert White, A Civil Servant in Burma, 1913

 Sayadaw U Janaka Speaks

Maha Gandayone Sayadaw U Janaka was famous for getting to the heart of the Buddha’s teachings, even when it exposed traditional Burmese beliefs and practices that had veered away from this core message. He often spoke of this relationship between the Buddha and the Dhamma on the one hand, and a statue that represents them on the other. Following are some of his more memorable quotes:
· Images and idols of the Buddha are just imitations of the physique of the Buddha.
· Myanmar sculptures make the Buddha’s image in Myanmar style, so do the Chinese and Indian sculptures in their own styles. The real intention is to make people think of the Buddha and adore Him all the more.
· Images and idols lay a cover over the real Buddha; preachers’ preachings cover up the real Dhamma; bogus monks cover up the real Saṅgha.

Shwe Wa Win Mogok Monastery in South Dagon, Yangon

This center is overseen by the venerable Dr. Asabha, one of the few Mogok senior teachers who is fluent in English This allows the yogi an unparalleled-experience of learning the Mogok tradition directly from a very experienced practitioner. Yogis learn samathā and vipassana, and study the Law of Dependent Origination. There are two Dhamma talks given daily towards this end, with ample time available for Question and Answer to ensure understanding. The typical schedule with Dr. Asabha includes six hours of sitting meditation, four hours of walking meditation, and one hour of lying meditation. However, this is adjusted based on his teaching schedule, with daily hours scheduled to discuss the theory in depth.

Prior to the construction of this site, Dr. Asabha provided translation for his teacher U Sobhana, who oversaw Shwe Myint Mo Kyaung (5 Quarter, No. 1 Kyaung Taik, Tel 01-571258). Built in the 1990s, this is a modern meditation center with several multi-storied buildings, and comfortable single-room accommodation. Four hundred yogis usually reside here for courses, with as many as 700 coming for Thingyan. Dr Asabha still divides his time between the two sites, and so is able to continue to help out with translation for those foreign yogis who go there. However, to have more access to the good doctor’s time, one is encouraged to come to his new monastery.

The center itself was donated in 2000, with new construction taking place in subsequent years. The compound itself is relatively small, at just under one acre. There are large dormitory style rooms, and they are building modern single-accommodation rooms with private bathrooms as they hope to welcome more foreign yogis in the future. There are several Dhamma Halls as well, including a smaller one that they hope to make available to foreign yogis. A newer one is now being built that has a wonderful replica of a Bodhi tree at the front. All Dhamma Halls are built on the upper floors of their respective buildings, allowing splendid views of the surrounding countryside. The roof on one five-story building even has a large—although fake—tree in its center, giving the meditator a simulation of sitting beneath the Bodhi tree. Another unique feature about the Shwe Wa Win monastery regards its integrated location with the surrounding community of South Dagon. Neighborhood life teems throughout the monastery grounds, and this being far removed from the downtown areas, the foreign yogi is able to venture into a traditional setting of Burmese life where few have done so before.

Dr. Asabha travels frequently to give Dhamma talks, and also oversees a community clinic opened on Sundays that one may give dana towards. He is open to welcoming foreign yogis and guiding their progress, and extended stays are possible for those with correct visas (as is temporary ordination). One may also join a structured retreat, which vary from 7 days to one month in length. Capacity is 300 yogis, although usual numbers are just over 100, with about 20 monks and novices living there full-time.

Address: Maha Bandoola Road 104 Ward South Dagon.

Burmese Buddhism: Vast, Brutal, Gentle, and Sticky

 By Miles Bukiet 

"Much of the Buddhist world has been crushed over the last century. The wake of devastation stretches across the Asian continent, a result of the Communists in Mongolia, Vietnam and Laos, the Cultural Revolution in China, and the ongoing ruthless occupation in Tibet. Even the countries spared violent political suppression have been assaulted by modernization and development. In Thailand, for example, economic growth has led to the wholesale destruction of the forests that once served as the ground of the Forest Tradition. Is there anywhere dharma is still at the root of things, where the people have been steeped in it for millennia, where the built environment reflects the devotion of a nation, where the spirit of the society is infused with the wisdom of the Triple Gem? 

Welcome to Myanmar. 

Many know of Myanmar as an incubator for the modern Vipassana movement, the home of Mahasi Sayadaw and the birthplace of S.N Goenka. Others know it as the base of the fabled Pa Auk monastery. These strands of teaching and practice lured me to Myanmar with their promise of fourteen hours of meditation a day, the strictness of their demands, and the fullness of their support. Wake up before dawn, keep your mouth shut, and sit through pain in exchange for a bed and a free lunch. This was the brutal no nonsense approach I sought. If this is what you seek, Myanmar won’t let you down. 

My own journey began last winter at Panditarama, a sprawling 100-acre campus still presided over by the indomitable Sayadaw U Pandita, a man who has been in robes for more then 80 years. Here the task is an unremitting focus on the moment-to-moment arising of phenomena. From 4:30am until at least 9:00pm you alternate sitting and walking meditation in one-hour blocks. There’s a ferocity to the approach here. It’s not about feeling good; it’s about relentless application of the technique, and hopefully over time a breakthrough to liberating insight.

Pa Auk has a similarly driven attitude although the focus is, at least in the early stages, narrowed to the breath and sitting meditation is prioritized. Its 500-acre campus inhabits a forested hillside with kutis spreading up steep pathways and extending deep into the jungle, making the scale almost impossible to grasp. These kutis house the monks, whose numbers sometimes swell to over 1000. Go to either Pa Auk or Panditarama and you will be assured a clean and comfortable lodging, abundant food twice daily and the expectation of rigorous practice.

I most likely would have stuck to this limited itinerary if it weren’t for a chance encounter with a man named Joah that would radically alter my trajectory. Neat, trim, fit, he carries a quiet calm matched by a fierce intensity of purpose. Two years ago a small group of foreign yogis at the Shwe Oo Min center north of Yangon met to exchange tips about where to study. Seeing that most of these yogis were new to the country and understood very little about the ins and outs of Burmese Buddhism and culture, Joah began gathering and collating information in order to deepen and enrich the experience of foreigners living and practicing in Myanmar. The project has since snowballed into an exhaustive and long overdue guide to Burmese Buddhism. This guide will become an immediate classic of indispensable value to anyone looking to experience the dharma first hand in Myanmar as well as for those with a more armchair style curiosity. But the book is about more then just satiating idle curiosity and facilitating the experience of foreign yogis. It’s a treasure trove of history and a chronicling of one of the richest extant cultural realms on this planet. It arrives at a time of radical change and will help to redefine what development and progress can mean, not only in Myanmar, but in Southeast Asia and the world at large.

The book is called Shwe Lan Ga Lay (Shwe Lan for short), which translates as The Golden Path. It contains a thumbnail sketch of hundreds of monasteries, practice centers, monuments, pagodas, shrines, and stupas across the country. It profiles dozens of Sayadaws, both contemporary and historical, and it contains information from interviews with Sayadaws, scholars, lay devotes, and seasoned foreign yogis. Much of this content has never before appeared in English, and some of it has never before been written down in any language whatsoever. The book has a section on Burmese culture and the ways to be respectful, focusing on common guffaws and cultural differences. It notes the practicalities of travel with information on transportation, health, food, and visas. It will even teach you how to ordain as a monk.

With dozens of artists donating original pieces, both professional and amateur photographers contributing photographs, and professional designers working to create a dynamic layout, it promises to pack a strong visual punch to match the hefty written portion. When Shwe Lan is completed Pariyatti, a non-profit devoted to disseminating the teachings of the Buddha, will publish it in a way that insures as broad a distribution as possible including freely available e-versions.

More impressive still, the entire document has been created exclusively by volunteers and a scanty few thousand dollars of dana (donations) to cover various costs. I was floored and struck with a powerful urge to lend a hand. Joah emailed me and another young American, Sam Hanft, a list of 25 places to scout in Yangon. For each place we were instructed to report back on the conditions, the food, the sleeping arrangements, the style of teaching, and the vibe. We were asked to iron out directions, cull anecdotes, interview Sayadaws, record relevant history, and take pictures.

The scale of the task begins to crush me as even finding the monasteries proves to be a maddening undertaking and a herculean test of patience. Hurled into Yangon, the pulsing hub of the emerging nation, I spend a sweaty confused week lost and stuck in traffic. Busted sidewalks, with potholes big enough to fall into, heave with swarms of people hawking cheap Chinese merchandise and local fruits. Several stories above the mayhem, trees grow through the cracks of the function over style concrete flats that dominate the downtown. A rooster sits on the top of a glass counter full of the latest model knock off smart-phones. This is the angsty epicenter of the nation set to set to become the newest democracy in Southeast Asia, set to increase its GDP ten fold in the next decade.

But despite all the hustle, and bustle, despite the promise of modernity, despite the smog, and despite the traffic, there is the palpable sense of a collective, expectant pause. On a balmy evening, wandering the streets of Yangon, a Burmese friend and a poet, quips to me “it’s like Godot around here, everyone’s waiting, but they don’t know what they’re waiting for.” Myanmar is poised to transform, but in the interim you’re still hard pressed to find internet or an ATM and you can still see an older, gentler way of life and practice of dharma. This poisedness lends a poignancy to all that I see, a sense that the world that’s unfolding in front of me, the world that Joah is eager to share, is open, but only for a moment. 

Even within the crowded downtown, each monastery is a universe unto itself. Aletawya Monastery is lost in time with decaying colonial relics interspersed with lush green foliage and hidden pagodas. Orange robes hang on lines as elderly monks move quietly about their business and cats bask in the sun. Dhamma Theidhi Kya Ung center is full of the charged youthful energy of hundreds of novices showering and running about. Smart new concrete school buildings stand proudly above the well-marked sports fields. The Mogok Headquarters occupies the sprawling former tax building. In the 1950’s this was a crucial center for the massive post war meditation boom, when tens of thousands took up the practice for the first time. Drenched in history it’s a Blade Runneresque maze of corridors and rooms, some filled with huge dusty machinery. Everywhere wires and pipes run this way and that. Dhamidaow Daya Dhukhidarma is an orderly and serene nunnery housing hundreds of well fed young women dressed in the classical hot pink robes. Some monasteries ooze a turgid energy with pudgy monks lazily lounging, chewing betel nut, the fast acting narcotic of choice in Myanmar, as packs of mangy dogs roam the grounds.

The continual refrain from the monasteries is: come stay, come practice, come learn. Everyone is ready to roll out another mat to sleep on, ready to set up another mosquito net to meditate under, ready to make room on the floor around one of the round tables laden with food. Whatever your style, whether it’s learning Burmese and studying Pali; practicing one of the many different types of meditation; or helping the young novices there’s somewhere to suit you. Shwe Lan will highlight this diversity of options opening dharma doors both within and beyond the formal practice of meditation. 

Something of both the relative and absolute scale of it all can be grasped by noting that Myanmar is a country with 53 million people and a whopping monastic population of over 500,000. Those 500,000 live off donations alone. Myanmar is one of the poorest nations in the world, and yet the society somehow manages, through extraordinary generosity, to unfailingly support its bulging monastic population. Much of this generosity comes in the form of a single spoonful of rice given daily. Indeed this generosity, and the faith and understanding that inspires it, is legendary. This spirit of giving has created a softening effect on the country, such that despite the poverty, and despite the political oppression there is an air of friendliness and safety. The people possess an unusual uprightness both physically and psychologically, and they have a remarkable brightness and warmth. Some of the money that flows into the monastic world is squandered on flat screens for the Sayadaws, vain building projects, and sluggish monks, but much of it is funneled towards education and authentic practice whose fruits radiate through the entire society.

Watching a long line of monks marching through the streets at dawn, large metal bowls held out expectantly, people bowing and filling them with all types of food, I wonder how long such generosity can last as Myanmar hurtles into the 21st century. Shwe Lan reminds us that change is not new to Myanmar, recounting the mighty kingdoms that have come and gone, the rise and fall of colonial rule, the passing of the World Wars, and the five decade long grip of a corrupt military regime. Somehow through it all the dharma has remained strong and relevant, often reinventing itself to do so. But the juggernaut of consumerist culture that is already descending on the land is something unprecedented. How the society galvanizes to protect what’s worthwhile in the culture, while also working towards valid development goals concerning health, sanitation, infrastructure, access to education, ending hunger, the alleviation of poverty, and protection of minority rights, will have effects far beyond the boundaries of the nation.

Although originally tasked with investigating particular monasteries, it seems Myanmar is so saturated with Buddhism that I can’t help but trip and fall over it everywhere I go. Riding on one of the busy highways I see a massive Buddha, perhaps dozens of stories high, rearing up from the flat lands visible through the haze like a mirage. “What’s that?” I ask the cab driver excitedly. He dishes back a deadpan shrug as though such things are so commonplace as to be forgettable. Trundling through the streets on one of the 1950’s wood floor buses, I look up and notice that above the driver the bus has its own shrine, with flowers, pictures, and a small statue. I soon discover this is nearly universally the case.

Stumbling upon the former residence of Aung San, the much-loved father of modern Myanmar, I learn that despite being both a general and a communist, he was also a devoted Buddhist. In a turret of his house I pause for a moment of meditation in front of the gold, oddly squat Buddha statue where the general sat quietly each morning in the last few years of his life. My spine tingles and, chills course up and down my body. There’s a palpable charge to this turret. It’s not only here. Almost daily I find places that provoke this peculiar energetic reaction. 

At night Shwedagon Pagoda, beaming over Yangon, beckons me to retreat north of the downtown. As the heat recedes and the crowds dissipate, I walk barefoot on the still warm marble, head craning up to see the 344ft golden spire stretching towards the heavens. The profound allure of gold, its austere and relentless beauty against a dark sky, captivates the eye. Listen carefully and you’ll hear the singing of the small brass wind chimes placed high on the monument. Lovers walk hand in hand and families picnic idly.

In Myanmar the romantic rarely comes without a reminder of the real as the nation grows up. A youth anxiously spins his smart phone in his hand as he talks in a jittery manner with his girlfriend. LEDs have been affixed behind many of the bronze Buddhas nestled at the foot of the pagoda and cheesy looking plaster statues have been added around the base. The true devotees don’t seem to mind, kneeling silently by the Buddhas in the various reliefs, the altars full of offerings, fruits, flowers, dried goods, incense. A time for prayer. A time to tune into something beyond time.

I’ve become lost in this strange timeless momentum and have taken a young Sayadaw named U Asabha, at his word to come and stay. On the outskirts of Yangon is a vast sprawling neighborhood known as South Dagon. Flat, dry, hot, poor, and dusty, its massive blocks stretch for miles, lined with rickety wooden houses packed close to one another. Small makeshift footbridges cross the open sewers that run alongside the bumpy dirt streets. Sayadaw U Asabha speaks impeccable English, and teaches in the Mogok style, a style that is barely known in the West, but with more then 700 major centers, represents the most practiced tradition in Myanmar today. He presides over Shwe War Win monastery on a small plot at the corner of one of the blocks.

He takes me with him everywhere. Day after day we wind through the neighborhoods in his Toyota 4Runner, his infatigueable driver spitting betel nut out the window, honking his way through pedestrian-choked streets. We’re off to lunches and breakfasts, Sayadaw U Asabha blesses the homes, the babies, the marriages, and gives dharma talks everywhere he goes. Each home, no matter how modest the family, provides an immaculate spread, of fruits, rice, tealeaf salad, fish, curries, tea, sweets, on and on. Rolling out low wooden tables to sit around, they take great joy in offering food to the monks and me.

At night we’re often driven to this or that neighborhood of Yangon for large public talks where many hundreds of people cram into a temple or onto the streets that have been closed off for the occasion. The Sayadaw’s normally cool temperament is here augmented by a ferocity that sweeps the crowds on a roller coaster from excitement to hushed silence and on into the rollicking laughter so typical of the Burmese people. When he leaves the organizers present him with piles of cash gathered from the attendees, shoeboxes or plus sized envelopes stuffed with kyat. As per monastic code he doesn’t touch any of it. Instead one of his lay supporters carries it faithfully back to the car. This will go towards the construction of his monastery and towards feeding and educating the monks and young novices under his care. Somehow in his spare time he manages to instruct me on the Theory of Dependent Origination, the central teaching of the Mogok tradition. He’s adamant that the link between vedana (feelings) and tanha (craving) is the crucial link that must be severed in the karmic cycle.

He takes me south with him to the bottom of Mon state for a retreat. We clunk along in the 4Runner for twelve hours on poor roads with four people to a three-person seat. The retreat is an assault on my senses as Burmese continuously blares through loud speakers across the monastery. But the dharma is between the cracks out here. A young man noting the awkward position I’ve ended up in takes me on his motor-bike on an impromptu tour around the state to see massive religious monuments and enormous forested monasteries supported miraculously by local farming communities. I get a glimpse of the vastness of the monastic network and gain a new respect for the power of a spoonful of rice. In the small “kitchen” a handful of middle-aged women with large smiles, a few immense woks, and a small pile of wood, crank out enough food to feed hundreds. They consistently come by and ask me “alright?”, “happy?”, “enough?”. I assure them “kaun deh,” Burmese for “it’s / I’m great.” 

Golden Rock Pagoda in Mon State

When it’s time to part ways with Sayadaw U Asabha a young man offers to take me to the bus stop and once there he buys me a ticket before I know what he’s doing. It’s only 5000 kyat, a few dollars, but for him it’s likely a week’s pay. To refuse would be obscene so I accept as graciously as I can. “Call me when you get to Pa Auk, it’s good place, it’s good thing you do, good luck.” He leaves me with these words and I leave with a heart bursting with the absurdity and the profundity of such a gesture. There’s a saying that when it comes to Theravada Buddhism: if you want the universities go to Sri Lanka, if you want to learn the Viniya go to Thailand, but if you want to practice, go to Myanmar. Everyone is relentlessly ready to help and is determined to support you in any way they can.

Before I leave Myanmar I head north to the Sagaing Hills, a place I had never heard of, but for a few words from Joah and the battered pages of printed notes from an advance copy of Shwe Lan. “It’s difficult to overstate the majesty and wonder of the Sagaing Hills. And for the yogi intent on Burmese Buddhist practice, there are few—if any—places that compare... with an estimated 1,000 monasteries and 200 nunneries—many of them consisting of just little more than a scant collection of buildings on a quiet hillside— and well over 15,000 in robes, it is a living, breathing Buddhist community almost unparalleled in the modern world.”

Further along in the Shwe Lan section is a quote from V. C. Scott O’Conner in Mandalay and Other Cities of the Past in Burma that seems as true today as it was one hundred plus years ago when he wrote it. “By far the most interesting part of Sagaing lies in the hilly country above it, where austere monks live; and every peak bears testimony to the piety of bygone kings and people…. The effect of the spectacle is enhanced, and lifted up to something strangely majestic, by the atmosphere, dry, prismatic, mystical— glorious with all the effulgence of Sagaing… One does not come upon sights like this out of Burma. There is some unconscious undercurrent of great qualities in the Burman personality that alone makes them possible.”

At a quiet monastery, tucked into a valley in the Hills, I stumble upon an old friend and a small gaggle of foreigners. I tell them a bit about the project and they nod. “Ohhh, just don’t tell them about these Hills” they giggle to themselves, wanting to keep Sagaing a secret. For a moment I falter. Perhaps they’re right. Maybe sharing these places will just spoil them, leave them overrun the same way the Lonely Planet often destroys the very places it highlights. Joah has already considered this, opting to craft the Sagaing section not as a traditional guide, but as a monument to the unknown and untold history of Sagaing and an open invitation to make your own path there… still I wonder.

But as I wander for days up and over and around the hills I begin to see just how embattled this ancient bastion is. Only a generation ago wild tigers roamed these Hills, today the towns on the edges steadily encroach on the habitat once reserved for these magnificent animals and the seekers brave enough to live alongside them. In the Hills once quiet forest paths have been paved and tractors blare as workers illegally mine rocks that will be crushed and made into cement. The historic Dat Ma Ku Kan Pond has been reduced to a puddle by a strangely dry year. On the peaks you can hear the speakers of the nearby towns blasting pop tunes. Myanmar is surrounded by nations eager to plunder it. It’s filled with people enthralled by the promises of material wealth and its climate, like that of the rest of the world, is becoming strangely unpredictable. It’s these forces that will radically reshape the monasteries and transform the character of the nation and not a few earnest seekers. It’s these changes that also lend an urgency to the completion of Shwe Lan and to the explorations it will engender.

I leave on a direct Air Asia flight from Mandalay to Bangkok, one of many such new connections that are facilitating Myanmar’s rapid transformation into just another cog in an increasingly monolithic global capitalist culture. The plush red and black pleather seats contrast sharply with the brown earthy hews of the Myanmar landscape fading beneath me. The tight-fitting uniforms, fake smiles, and menus where everything is for sale likewise contrast sharply with the modesty, authenticity, and generosity fading beneath me. As I sink back into the seat I begin to reflect that perhaps Myanmar doesn’t fade from you quite so quick as that. Maybe its got more of a sticky hard to rinse off quality.

I went to Myanmar hungry for a certain almost violent approach to practice, but in experiencing such practice delivered in impeccable form I began to navigate towards something else. Of course there can be enormous value in hardcore practice environments, but the dharma is not one size fits all and even an individual will need different things as he or she evolves over time. Myanmar seemed to effortlessly accommodate, perhaps even instigate, my own shifting orientation and turned out to be more diverse, gentle, and nuanced then I’d ever imagined. It swept me along in its current, delivering teachings on its own time and its own terms.

Like a pebble emerging from a river I feel a little smoother and softer around the edges. I fear that upon returning home I’ll effortlessly regain all my old prickly hardness, but this is far from fated. Despite what the dominant culture may encourage, culture is not a one-way street. Individuals create culture just as culture shapes individuals. At one point the dharma was new to Myanmar, carried slowly by pilgrims, seekers, and wise men from the Indian subcontinent. I’ll be taking home a burgeoning understanding of how these initial seeds of dharma can root and flower and grow into something of tremendous scale and multifaceted value. Tempering this awesome possibility, I’ve also seen how even mighty trees can be threatened by storms and disease. And alongside these grandiose conceptions of how radical large-scale social transformation emerges and declines, I’ll carry something on a much more intimate, and visceral level, a quiet twang in my chest reminding me of the deep worth and infectious quality of human kindness.

Hopefully the majesty, the grandeur, the mystery, the improbable scale of it all can be a reminder that the world still holds pockets of wonder and goodness. As we consider the people who make all this wonder possible, as we reflect on the relentless drive of Joah McGee, the welcoming embrace of Sayadaw U Asabha, the patient persistent contributions of peasants offering their daily spoonful of rice, and the monks and yogis battling to transform their minds we can settle back in these reminders of uprightness and benevolence, finding solace and warmth in their glow. We can also use these reminders as an edge to inspire us to dig deeper in summoning our own relentless drive, in conjuring our own warm embrace, in finding an arena for our own consistent contribution, and in waging our own inner battle."

To read Shwe Lan Ga Lay Part 1, go here.

About the author: Miles Bukiet has followed a consuming passion for yoga, bodywork, and meditation to India, Malaysia, China, Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand.

Miles Bukiet

"Can I take photos when giving dana?"

One yogi recently sent us a question asking about whether one may take photos during dana ceremonies in Burma. Following is our answer. For more questions about Dhamma in Burma to be answered on this blog, shoot us an email at burmadhamma(at)gmail.

What is the protocol about taking photographs or videos of the dana, either of the actual event or posed shots?

As with all cases of photography, it is best to ask first, but by and large this will be accepted and even encouraged. It is very common for Burmese Buddhists as well to take photographs or video, as a means of remembering their good deed. Some may record the entire ceremony from start to finish, or if Sangha Dana is given at a monastery or meditation center, to record the entire line of monks and yogis in getting and eating their food. Dr. Asabha explains this Burmese tendency by noting that “they want to take these pictures to remember the event. Whenever they see them again, they remember what they donated, and they are happy all over again. It is a way to develop their meritorious mind. For this reason, many also receive a certificate after making a donation, for this also reminds them of the act and brings them more happiness back.”