An open letter to the foreign meditator
Myanmar has long opened its monasteries and meditation centers to all, welcoming foreigners to come and develop spiritually.
Without questions asked, yogis can seek shelter, food, and spiritual teachings.
More amazing still, as visiting pilgrims and monastics can attest, these doors were opened unconditionally. In addition to the precious teachings themselves, the food and lodging were provided free of charge, with the understanding that the precious teachings of liberation that the Buddha taught cannot possibly have any price tag attached to it.
No fee of any kind is ever asked, regardless of how long the meditator wishes to stay, be it 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 months, or even 3 years.
The monasteries themselves were built from the generous donations of generations of Burmese Buddhists. That foreigners may come to stay, eat, and learn in a monastery which they have donated is a source of great joy and contentment.
And when a foreign meditator shows up, they are always given the nicest accommodation and the most frequent access with the teacher. And even the best food available.
One anecdote, of many, can attest to this. I can recall a time meditating on a ten-day course at Dhamma Joti. I was the only non-Burmese male in attendance. In the middle of lunch, a singular bowl of ice cream, without words, was hand delivered to me.
I looked up in confusion, embarrassment, and uncertainty to confirm. And yes, no other yogi was given any dessert. Just me.
I debated what to do. The server had long left so I couldn't return it. It seemed more rude to throw it away than to consume it, and I didn't want to break noble silence by offering to someone else.
Finally, I sneaked a look at my table mates. They flashed me beams of joy, radiating happiness that I got to enjoy a special snack that day.
I don't remember the taste of the ice cream, but I remember as clear as day how joyous these complete strangers were that I was getting a treat, with no thought in the world as to the servers neglecting them.
This may seem like a silly example, spending so much time talking about ice cream in a post meant to be about Dhamma. Yet I think it's also illustrative of the fact that you can't get the big things right, without getting small things right.
Where foreigners were unable to physically visit the country for one reason or another, those teachings were bought to their doorstep. In other words, a yogi who never sets foot in Myanmar may still have found their life transformed by a Myanmar-based lineage teaching.
Even in poor communities, the monasteries and pagodas were always the nicest, cleanest, safest, most well-maintained places.
These same monasteries are now on fire. Pagodas have been bombed and stricken with bullets. Buddha images now lay in ruins. Monastic compounds have been requisitioned by soldiers and used as staging grounds for nearby assaults. Monks have been stripped naked, beaten, arrested, and even killed.
Those living through these dark days will likely never reach out to tell you how afraid they are. They will not burden you with how scared they are every day, how difficult it now is to survive, the trauma that is still ongoing with no end in sight.
They will not ask for your support. They would sooner think to ask after your well-being.
But this does not mean they are not afraid, that they are not in trauma, that they are not suffering.
This does not mean that they do not need your help, your support, your metta, your engagement.
If gratitude has arisen in your heart at any moment from your spiritual practice, consider at this time what you can do to be an ally of the Myanmar people.