Dhamma Reflections in a Dark Time
This is one of the more painful posts I’ve set out to write.
There are a lot of reasons to take my time with this one, too. Sleep on it and return in the morning. In fact, I’ve made a list of all the reasons I should wait:
1) Feelings are heated in moments of crisis. I’ve cried, I’ve lost my appetite, I’ve alternated between comatose and nausea, I’ve planned for the next five years of my future. And anyway, things can be better understood with a bit of distance.
2) I’m someone who lives for revision anyway. I don’t even like going out to eat on less than 24 hours’ notice.
3) My trusted and adept editor is fast asleep in New England now, so I can’t even get a pair of quick eyes to help me through this.
4) I’m heartbroken, and almost too exhausted to form coherent thoughts.
Yet despite this, I’m determined to somehow get through this post, even though I’m not sure exactly what I want to say.
The country that brought some of the greatest meditation masters of the last century and is largely responsible for spreading the light of insight around the world through contemporary mindfulness and vipassana revolutions is now going back to face a scary darkness itself.
There are more than enough astute political analysts and historical scholars out there who can help us put in context what has taken place. In the past, this platform has only really ventured into those areas where the Dhamma has found its own intersections, or where the spiritual journeys of our podcast guests have touched on these areas. And so the question comes , how can meditation practice—that very practice which in large part originated out of the Golden Land—inform our views and assuage our pain during this difficult time? What role can the Buddha’s teachings play at this moment?
That question would best go to learned monastics and teachers who cannot actually speak now, either out of fear or the mere fact that communication networks are being totally shut down across the country. So who now can answer the quintessential question that every meditator begins to ask some version of: “How can a country so steeped in these powerful teachings face such intensely turbulent worldly events?”
In a strange twist of irony, we were just about to release a podcast episode where this question was treated in a more profound way that I have ever experienced in 15 years. It was the most impactful interview I have been involved in to date, and our team has spent months preparing its release. But it won’t happen now, and I can’t even tell you the guest’s name. Unfortunately, I can’t even give the rough shape of his answer either, because there’s no real way to obscure the details which make his reflection so powerful. All I can give is his summary at the end, which barely satisfies without knowing the greater story this is connected to, but at least it’s better than nothing. To someone who had personally experienced both the heights of the spiritual possibilities as well as the pain of the collective trauma, this is what he said when I asked how he explained the contradiction:
“I don't explain it. That's their karma. That's what ignorance is about. So, you know, we all do actions out of ignorance and there's some part of them that's good. And then they do that sort of… stuff. These other parts.”
In other words, human defilement in all its forms, through all societies over time and region. Let other journals analyze these recent events through understanding political maneuvers, geopolitics, and historical circumstances, and let us learn from them. But for this guest, it was also about causes and conditions. And just as his perspective is usually not the one seen in books, so also, it’s missing from the spate of reports breathlessly coming forth now.
I wish there were easy answers, but there are not. There is not good against evil, or right against wrong. I revere the great meditation traditions that have come out of Burma, but they are not without their serious flaws. I admire the master Dhamma teachers this country has produced, but mixed in their wisdom are bias and blind spots. I am devoted to the Burmese Saṅgha, but some of their actions, even in the period of limited freedom, still broke my heart. On the other hand, I also know that many in the military are generous and devout in their own unexpected way. And there is more than enough delusion, hatred, and greed within me as well.
We have used this platform, the current podcast and the blog that came ten years before it (and the meditator’s guidebook along with that), to delve deeper into the world of Burma Dhamma. And I wonder, what does Burma Dhamma have to tell us at this time and place? I think “a lot”, if it can be allowed to speak.
We’ve already talked a little in our small team about what role we can play at this time, however I think we’re all a bit too shell shocked to think clearly. So maybe you can help.
How can our blog and podcast platform respond to this moment? Who should we talk to, and what should we ask them? What is needed at this time? What messaging is missing from the mainstream reporting that, given our background and range, we can try to tell? How can we be honest, courageous, humble, and open at this difficult time?
These aren’t rhetorical questions. Our podcast is named Insight Myanmar. And so if there is any conversation we can engage in that will bring any measure of insight about Myanmar, let us do our best. Not to push any agenda or even have any answer—I wish there was one—but to understand at least in some small part how a teaching of liberation can help us in this time of darkness.
Let us know what you want to hear from us, and what we can do at this time. If you think there are conversations or reflections we can offer, we will do what we can to redirect our efforts to respond to this moment. And if you are able to contribute to our effort, as we are only maintained through donations, consider joining in our mission to bring out this content.
Thank you for your concern about the Golden Land, and your time to read these reflections.