Heading out . . .

One encounters the dhamma, discerns something in it, begins to practice, and then practice seriously, with discipline . . . and the revolution gathers momentum.

Soon enough everything is called into question.  One's mode of life.  One's companions.  One's aspirations.  One's very personhood.  And if one presists, one's perspective shifts continually towards more and more accurate apprehensions of Right View, and simultaneously one becomes less and less enticed and  motiviated by the objects, activities, and goals that remain such a draw to one's peers.  In some respects one becomes  more alone.  One begins to seek out solitude, to rest in it.

For those who will ultimately transition to monastic life, all sorts of support mechanisms kick in: the material support of a lay community, the support and companionship of other monastics, hopefully diligent ones, the benefit of a practice path substantially mapped out and delimited by the vinaya and the given monastery's korwat.  For those who remain in lay-life, however, one is more on one's own to sift through all the information, to determine which voices are wise, which not so, and to discern a way forward that works, that does justice to the revolution within--even while hanging out the laundry.

There are a lot of frustrated dhamma practitioners in lay-life.  I've been there.  And as lay practitioners we tend to look up to and defer to monastics for guidance about lay practice life.  Ajahn such and such says this . . . but Ajahn so and so says not that.  It's a thicket of views.  This much is certain: it is precisely monastics who have abandoned this arena that we lay people must navigate, and while it may be that a given monastic can give us that useful guidance, it doesn't necessarily follow that just because one is a monastic, that one knows best how to practice as a layperson. 

I'm not suggesting that monastic life isn't the superlative response to Right View; I am, however, suggesting that someone who practices well as a lay person can be more helpful to me than someone who practices well as a monastic.  By the way, most monks don't even meditate--this according to a very senior monk in Thailand.

Lay practioners today have a much greater choice of lifestyle options than formerly.  We're probably not tied to the land.  We probably don't have to follow our father's trade.  And with some sacrifice and planning, and especially with some education, we can fashion a lifestyle that is actually conducive to dhamma practice--a lifestyle that is quasi-monastic in the way that it supports practice.  Lifestyle aside, the prevalence of the teachings is unprecedented today.  So we've the teachings, the possibility of a conducive lifestyle, and, yes, access to monastics when needed.  What an opportunity!

So for those who struggle with lay life, for those who perhaps see it  as something to be patiently endured--like measels--until one can ordain, for those who aspire to practice well at length in the world, I'd like to offer in this blog my thoughts on lay-life, resources I've come across, tips and encouragment.

Till next time, with metta