Episode #97: Beth Upton
From deep meditative absorption with Pa Auk Sayadaw, to sitting in caves in southern Spain in the company of drug addicts and criminals, Beth Upton has led a most amazing spiritual life!
Beth’s parents split when she was young, and her mother remarried. Her step-father had once stayed with Osho, the controversial Indian guru also known as Bhagawan Sri Rajneesh. Osho was a polarizing figure for many, including Beth. “Honestly, [it] did a lot to damage my perceptions of anything that might be called ‘spiritual,’” she recalls about her teen years. Beth’s mother encouraged her to follow her heart, and supported Beth through all the unconventional choices she made in her life.
Beth’s academic focus was on math and finance; she remembers that time in her life as being “on the rationality train.” Initially working in the financial sector in London, she parlayed that into a position in international development, in Sri Lanka. But eventually she decided the field was just not for her, and she began to awaken to a deep spiritual longing. This first led her to Spain, where she volunteered at a small Mahayana center. Though she had been living in Sri Lanka with its Buddhist culture, it was there, at that small monastery, where she first resonated with the power of the Four Noble Truths. She started gravitating towards becoming a Buddhist, but hesitated because she was not ready to observe one of the core precepts, abstaining from all intoxicants. She decided to delay taking that step for a few years until she became “disenchanted, and get life out my system enough.”
In 2008, Beth went to Pa Auk Monastery in Myanmar to take a deeper plunge into the spiritual life, and she remained there for five years. “Really an incredible monk, incredible,” she says, recalling Pa Auk Sayadaw. “He has a mind that delights in detail, and precision. An incredible intellect, and an incredible depth.” She cultivated deep states of jhāna under his tutelage, and enhanced powers of perception. Yet she acknowledges that a powerful commitment as well as stores of patience are needed, and that Pa Auk’s method is not for everyone. She notes that some yogis stay on the grounds just to remain a part of the large and welcoming spiritual community there, but don’t progress much in their practice, and probably should find another method. Beth is especially grateful for the supportive environment that Pa Auk creates for female meditators and nuns, in contrast to what is found elsewhere in Myanmar.
Beth really loved her years in Myanmar and benefited tremendously from the spiritual opportunities it afforded. In the main part of the interview conducted before the coup, she waxes eloquent about the heart of the Burmese people, who despite their overall material impoverishment have open-handedly given the gift of Dhamma to the world, and so generously and selflessly support those practicing in their land, including herself. So it is all the more poignant when, in the introductory portion recorded post-coup, she expresses deep sadness and concern at the situation there currently. She encourages meditators to do whatever they feel they can do in support.
Beth describes the peace and happiness of jhānic states in compelling terms. She contrasts the fleeting happiness born of satisfying sense desire, with the deep blissfulness of jhānic states that develop with a mind of non-clinging. And while one may cling to that profound happiness, attachment to jhānas is less solid than sensory attachment. As the practitioner goes from jhāna to jhāna, mental fabrication becomes increasingly refined and subtle, and one’s attachment similarly becomes more and more ephemeral, moving in the direction of going beyond all attachments. She notes it is challenging to develop this depth of concentration outside of a monastery or meditation-centric environment, especially in a social space that is not supportive of that kind of spiritual commitment, like in the West. However, she does say that some of her Western students have developed profound skill with the jhānas. She also finds that many Western meditators have strong investigative minds, which is helpful for vipassana practice, but works against jhānic attainments.
In the Pa Auk system, one turns the deeply concentrated mind towards seeing beyond concepts, into the moment-by-moment change of materiality and mentality. One of the practices that Pa Auk Sayadaw teaches to those with advanced skill in jhānas is following the thread of mind moments back to, and past, the moment of conception. When asked whether a meditator may not just be fabricating that experience while presuming it is genuine, Beth admits to that possibility, but also notes that the strength of mind a meditator has developed at that level of attainment would be able to discern that. Through this type of practice, one is able to perceive not only past animal and human existences, but also realms of existence “above” the human world, such as the deva realm. The clarity of these direct perceptions causes Beth to question the authority of Western scientific “knowledge.” She calls it arrogant, since rational science would deny the reality of what she claims to experience. She also started off this area of practice with some degree of skepticism, but her own experiences ultimately convinced her of its validity. Beth notes that many Western meditators find comfort when interpretations of Dhamma theory and practice conform to Western scientific views of the world. She feels that while it’s fine if this perspective allows a meditator to get their foot in the door, other, more “fantastic” aspects of Buddhism will naturally be experienced as their practice deepens. She says that the practice reveals one of the characteristics the Buddha uses to describe true Dhamma: ehipassiko, or “Come and see for yourself!”
Of course, as Beth explains, “view” can be taken too far on both sides of this equation—completely denying the possibility of these kinds of experiences on one hand, or believing any claim at all about them on the other. To whatever extent one adheres to any kind of view, it merely signifies the degree of attachment one holds. Beth compares it to being in a boat in a stormy sea. In speaking to strong adherents of either kind of view, her goal as a teacher is not to try and knock the yogi off their boat into the giant waves, but rather to help them find a bit of firm ground to stand on. That means initially allowing them to ground their practice in whatever belief they hold, after which their unfolding meditative insights will help guide them. Through this process, their direct understanding, and thus their views, will naturally begin to shift towards what their practice has revealed to them.
Beth agrees the teacher-student relationship and the question of submission requires a careful balancing act. On the one hand, a certain degree of submission is essential if one is beginning to step into uncomfortable territory—the right kind of submission entails genuine but discriminating faith. On the other hand, submission can easily become blind faith, which might lead one into dangerous territory.
Beth also addressed the question of how deep the “true” jhānas are. Some Western teachers consider “lighter” states of samadhi more true to the early suttas. This is in contrast to the descriptions of deep absorptions as found in the Commentaries, and which Pa Auk teaches. For Beth, though, it is clear: she feels that as the Dhamma weakens over time, conceptions of jhāna become “watered down.”
Now that she is teaching in the West, Beth feels that “integration” is an important issue. For her method of meditation, she insists a lot of time and effort is necessary, which necessitates retreats. However, she observes that too often, the practice becomes divorced from life outside the retreat center, especially when the society-at-large is not set up to nurture and support those with a Dhamma practice, as it is in Myanmar. So in addition to her retreat schedule, she is also looking to build community, to help facilitate this integration.
After leaving Myanmar and the Pa Auk center, Beth—still in robes—ended up living in a series of caves in southern Spain. These caves “were inhabited by addicts and criminals. It's like the Gypsy suburb!” But no one gave her any problems, and eventually some even approached her asking to be taught meditation. She adds, “And so we turned it into a little rebellious meditation community! Beautiful times, really good times. I learned a lot there.” She has also practiced under a couple of other teachers since leaving Myanmar, such as Ajahn Brahm, not so much to change her practice as to enlarge her teacher toolkit.
After she disrobed in 2018, the transition to lay life was not completely smooth. After so many years in robes, she had to relearn some “life skills,” in particular regarding money, which she was prohibited from handling—and never even had to think about—as a Buddhist nun. She realized staying in robes so long was in fact becoming a kind of avoidance of entanglement with this aspect of the mundane world. And around this time, she became involved in a non-sexual, but abusive relationship, which Beth opens up about in a vulnerable and honest way. It was the most suffering she ever experienced, and at the time did not see how any of the skills she had learned on the cushion could help her. She had spent so long practicing to dissolve concepts of self, that her “self” did not know how to respond when the abuser crossed the line. At first she thought, “Maybe this is my fault.” Then she thought, “I’ll just send mettā [loving kindness], and it will be all right.”
Eventually, she worked her way out of that challenging relationship, and in retrospect learned a lot. “If you are able to meditate deeply, there's a choice to pick up a degree of self and enter the world. And when we do that, we need a certain set of tools that we're not taught as monastics.” So now, both as a meditator and as a teacher, she is trying to integrate meditative skills with life skills, balancing a “soft inner, trusting core” with a “harder, protective, outer layer.”
Today, Beth no longer thinks in terms of “should I ordain, or not ordain.” Rather, her goal is understanding the Four Noble Truths at deeper levels, which she can do as a nun or lay person. In fact, she realizes now that while her time in robes was extremely valuable, her monastic experiences limited her to some degree.
The conversation moves to a discussion of the Abhidhamma. The Thai Forest tradition tends to discredit it as an authentic teaching, but it is central to many Dhamma teachings and practices in Myanmar. In Beth’s opinion, the Abhidhamma is a “scientific” description of the meditative experience, each piece of which is observable and can be experienced, in particular when applying Pa Auk’s method. She thinks that someday, if she “gets a minute,” she might even write a book about it.
Initially somewhat fearful of taking up a teacher role, it developed naturally starting in those caves in southern Spain. She spoke with Pa Auk Sayadaw about her inclination to teach in the West, and he has been encouraging. He noted that other of his Western students, such as Shaila Catherine, teach his method in the West, though not 100% like him. So he encouraged Beth to go with the flow and teach from her heart, which provides more flexibility. In that spirit, she bases her teaching on the Pa Auk method, but tailors her instruction to individual meditators. She also works strictly on a dana (donation) basis. Beth says, “I made the determination if anybody asks me to teach, I will say ‘yes.’ And so I've just gone with that, since then. I started leading retreats and seeing people benefit. Only recently I started to get a growing confidence with it more, and enjoy it. I really delight in seeing people's understanding of the Dharma grow.”
To learn more about Beth’s teachings, visit her website.