Bringing the Teachings Alive

　　by Ajahn Viradhammo

　　For me, monastic life is a model that the Buddha has offered of how we can all practise. Sometimes lay people ask: "But how do I do it as a lay person

　　" Lay life is so varied; life situations vary so much, some people have families, some don”t. There are all kinds of lifestyles, so it”s hard to set up any specific model. Certain general suggestions are given for lay practice: to keep the precepts, to live a moral life, to practise generosity; Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood are offered, but lay practice has to be creative in using life itself as a vehicle for freedom - and that”s very inpidual. Monastic life has a more uniform quality because we live together according to rules; as lay practitioners you can contemplate how this model works for reflection and contemplation.

　　Now the basic and fundamental prerequisite of monastic life is surrender, a giving up to a certain form and discipline. We take the precepts and accept this lifestyle: that”s the choice we make. But then it becomes a situation where we no longer have that many choices. We live in a hierarchy, we have a prescribed way of relating between men and women. We have rules about taking care of our robes and the equipment of the monastery; we have rules that govern the sharing of things. We have various ways of admonishment and of ordination, legal processes. As a monastic order we give up to this training and form.

　　Some people think that rules are an infringement on freedom, but actually what this surrender or commitment does is to give us the opportunity to watch - rather than a freedom to always do what we want. Before I became a bhikkhu I lived in India for some time, and had tremendous physical freedom. I managed to live on about ten dollars a month; I didn”t have the constraints of my old culture, so there was tremendous freedom. But I became very confused. I got confused because at that time I still believed that if I did what I wanted, I”d reach some kind of fulfilment; but instead I found that doing what I wanted to do just made me more and more frustrated, because it did not put an end to wanting. It did not put an end to that fundamental restlessness which I kept trying to overcome by obtaining an experience: travel, a relationship or whatever. That kind of freedom actually was fun for a while, but it led to despair - the more I went out into the world of situations and events, the more I realised that this was not working. Then, through some stroke of good fortune I managed to become a bhikkhu.

　　I didn”t find it easy, but of course that”s not the point. The first year of monastic life was terribly frustrating, the second year was terribly frustrating, the third year was terribly frustrating! I couldn”t shuffle the pieces of the chessboard around. I couldn”t go to the monastery I wanted to go to. I”d go to Ajahn Chah, and I”d say: "Luang Por, I”d like to go to such and such a monastery." He”d say: "What”s wrong with this one

　　 Don”t you like me

　　" Ajahn Chah”s way was very much one of frustrating desire - and he was fearless in that. He didn”t mind if his disciples hated his guts! That”s the kind of compassion he could exhibit: the compassion to frustrate. That takes a lot of courage, doesn”t it

　　 But I had decided that if I was going to get anywhere near the Truth that the Buddha was trying to point out, I just had to stop and look. I couldn”t just keep rearranging things; I had already given that a good go and I knew it didn”t work. The reason I took up this model, this vehicle, was not just to have fun; nor was it because I wanted to get something out of it - it was because I wanted to be able to observe. So this fundamental commitment to a structure allows for the freedom to watch. Can y…

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