Episode #468: The Fragile Light of Vipassanā
RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 15, 2026
Friedgard Lottermoser was born in Berlin in 1942. She first arrived in Burma in 1959 at the age of seventeen, after her stepfather, an engineer working for the German firm Fritz Werner, was sent there on contract with the Burmese government. She became one of the very few non-Burmese to study closely under Sayagyi U Ba Khin at the International Meditation Center (IMC) in Rangoon, where she immersed herself in Burmese language, culture, and meditation practice, eventually taking ordination as a Buddhist nun later in life. She stayed in the country until 1971, being one of the few foreigners to remain after the 1962 coup, and interacted closely with other monastic figures such as Mahagandayon Sayadaw and Webu Sayadaw, while attainedundergraduate and graduate degrees at universities in Rangoon and Mandalay.
Friedgard agreed to share her story only under strict conditions: the interviews—forty-five hours recorded between 2023 and 2024—could not be released until after her passing. This was because she feared that openly recounting her memories of U Ba Khin, particularly where they diverged from the Goenka tradition’s narrative, might jeopardize her ability to attend long courses at Goenka vipassana centers in her final years.
This is the fourth episode in our series. In the first interview, “Twelve Years in Burma,” she recounted her early life in wartime Germany, her arrival in Burma, first encounters with SayagyiU Ba Khin, and how meditation practice transformed her from a typical expatriate student into someone deeply immersed in Burmese society. Then, in “Breathless in Burma,” she described her early longing for spiritual direction, the advanced meditation instructions she received from U Ba Khin, and the profound influence of teachers like Mother Sayama. Finally, in “Protected by the Dhamma,” Friedgard tells how she narrowly avoided the July 7 student massacre at Rangoon University, along with her stepfather’s ties to the G3 rifle project, adding that vipassanāprovided her both a refuge and compass for navigating the upheavals of life. In this discussion, she goes into her early journeys through Burma’s borderlands, her immersion in hostel and student life, and her close observations of U Ba Khin’s teaching, healing, and limitations as a meditation master in a fragile new nation.
Friedgard begins the discussion by describing her early exploration across Myanmar, when she would tag along with her stepfather’s work assignments. Travel was certainly not easy at that time—between poor roads, waging conflict, and not a single hotel outside Rangoon, it was certainly an adventure! She recalls visiting factories that Fritz Werner ran for the Burmese Army in Pyay, staying with a schoolmate in Ye, the unbearable heat in Thazi, the mining expeditions around Taunggyi, the beauty of Mawlamyine and its surrounding islands, the hill pagodas around Loikaw, among other memories of the countryside. Due to the local battles waging at the time, they had to travel under the escort of an army convoy when they went to Karenni villages; Friedgard notes wryly that so many years later, the junta is losing ground every day to Karenni fighters. “They told us about their independence and prowess in the fighting field, even though the guns were made of bamboo,” she says, adding, “And they did work!”
Friedgard also remembers her first trip to Mandalay. Her Pāḷi teacher at the Buddha Sasana Council, who was also a student of U Ba Khin, arranged for her to stay at a university hostel there for female students. It was very cramped, holding 300 girls (“we stayed three people in a room that had only place for two beds,” she recalls), but Friedgard will never forget what happened the following morning, when for the first time in her life she saw the alms rounds progression. “It was wonderful!” she recalls, still remembering the eggplant curry she dished into the monks’ bowls.
Pausing to reflect on one of her roommates in the hostel, she notes how her father was a soldier who was also a student of U Ba Khin, which was quite rare at the time, as very few from the military attended IMC. “U Ba Khin's view of life was quite different,” she says. “He has written in his book on what Buddhism is. There are three kinds of universes: the physical universe, the universe of beings, and the universe of Saṅkhāras. And they are the one and same universe, it is only how you look at it. U Ba Khin said to me very often, that all he wanted to do is to understand the universe of mental forces, or Saṅkhāras. The Saṅkhāra doesn't distinguish between a layperson and the military, or a monk and a layperson. The Saṅkhāras look straight at the mental attitude of the person— that was U Ba Khin's approach. He didn't say ‘he is a bad person because of the uniform,’ this kind of thing.” This tangent launches Friedgard into yet another reflection on her teacher, as she recalls her stepfather having hosted U Ba Khin during his visit to Europe. He told her that when he would visit his hotel room at the Hilton, he found him quietly seated cross-legged on the bed while the Burmese officers gathered on the floor around him, as though his silent presence offered them a spiritual anchor amid the bustle of official duties.
This brings to mind her teacher’s role as Account General. Friedgard remarks that he had worked in this office soon after he graduated high school, as he was unable to accept his admission to the University of Calcutta, for he had to look after his ailing father instead. This proved to be fortuitous, as it led him to discovering Saya Thet Gyi’s center in 1937. Although he was denied permission from the AG office to attend the course, he did so anyway, and rather than being fired for his insubordination, he was promoted! This is because while in the process of sitting, Burma itself was also undergoing a historic transition: that same year, the British formally separated Burma from India, creating its own colonial administration. With this shift, new opportunities opened for Burmese officials to rise in the administration. U Ba Khin’s diligence and perseverance — qualities that were later deepened through meditation — helped him stand out, and over time he advanced to become one of the first Burmese to hold senior posts in the Accountant General’s office.
Later, in the years after independence, U Ba Khin was entrusted with responsibilities far beyond the Accountant General’s office. Friedgard tells how at one point, he was asked to take charge of the State Agricultural Marketing Board (SAMB), the body that oversaw Burma’s rice exports, which were the backbone of the national economy. By the time he arrived, the office was notorious for inefficiency and corruption, hemorrhaging money at every step. U Ba Khin agreed to take the assignment only if Prime Minister U Nu granted him ministerial-level authority, knowing that without it his reforms would be ignored. Once in place, he approached the task in his own unique way—combining rigorous financial oversight with meditation and mettā, bringing both discipline and moral force to an institution that had been floundering. Friedgard tells how his presence not only stabilized the Board but also inspired many employees, some of whom went on to become devoted meditators themselves.
Recalling SAMB brings to mind an employee who worked there who had such a violent case of tuberculosis that she was coughing up blood. However, once she came to take courses at IMC, she was fully healed! This was far from the only case, and Friedgard references several stories of healing that took place under her teacher’s care. “There was once a boy was bitten by a snake, and U Ba Khin healed him,” she says. “He was bitten by a poisonous snake, and U Ba Khin took his hand and meditated and the poison became harmless.” Her friend, Daw Su Su, told Friedgard that in the years before she came to the center, no meditator took any medicine at all, as they were protected from illness. Curiously, the only exception were bottles of sesame oil, turmeric, and saffron, all of which were kept at the center. “These they kept in the shrine room, and they distributed to meditators who had medical problems,” she says. “But only a small amount. They said put it on the place that hurts when you meditate.” She herself once fell ill at the center with fever and diarrhea, and responded by stubbornly locking her cell door and refusing to see a doctor, a choice she later realized had been misguided— yet one that revealed how deeply she had absorbed the ethos of relying on meditation alone.
Once U Ba Khin himself suffered from a severe eye infection. The eye was swollen, painful, and at risk of becoming serious, but instead of relying on doctors, he sat in meditation and directed his awareness into the pain. He told his students that he deliberately bore down on the sensations in the eye, watching them with calm concentration until, layer by layer, the pain dissolved. By the following day, the swelling had gone down and the eye was healed.
(To add context to Friedgard’s description: U Ba Khin’s condition was so severe that he could not even be present at his teacher Saya Thet Gyi’s side during the latter’s final days, as his eyes had become acutely sensitive to light. After trying various treatments for over a year without success, U Ba Khin decided to approach his illness in the same way he approached all of life’s challenges—through the framework of Dhamma practice. He undertook a strict adhiṭṭhāna (resolution of strong determination), limiting himself for ten days to a diet of only rice with salt and sesame oil, eaten before noon, while maintaining intensive meditation. Instead of resisting the pain and sensitivity, he directed his attention to the anicca(impermanence) he could feel in the sensations on his face. This disciplined practice reportedly coincided with a rapid recovery, allowing him to return to his duties within days.)
On rare occasions, U Ba Khin made housecalls—Friedgard references him visiting her own home in addition to the families of Goenka and Mother Sayama. She also recalls a time when Daw Su Su’s father was quite ill, and he went to visit in an attempt to heal her, but was rebuffed by her brother, who did not meditate— Friedgard adds that they did not speak for many years after as a result!
But it was Mother Sayama who required special, “delicate,” handling: “There were periods when she used to swoon. She would feel sick just because she left the compound and stood on the road. And then of course, he didn't know what happened to her.” This was because she reached such intensive states of absorption that it would exhaust her as a result, particularly when she left the protective sphere of the center, and was beyond U Ba Khin’s own spiritual support. “When she first developed very high delicate states, then she needed much more protection,” Friedgard adds. Amazingly, U Ba Khin’s healing prowess was not limited by distance. Friedgard references a time when Ruth Dennison was ill, and U Ba Khin instructed her to meditate at an appointed time while he sent her mettā.
These anecdotes came to carry on greater implications when Goenka began his mission, however. “In the early days when Goenka started to teach, some European students who had also been to Burma and they heard these stories, they used to think that all the female teachers have to be protected, but that is not actually so,” Friedgard says. And as her ownfamily lived in a military compound, she was often scolded for bringing in negative “foreign forces, army forces” to IMC, and describes that after adjusting back to home life after a course, her “meditation was being sucked out by the environment.”
The center was indeed a very intensive environment to be around, and as a result, Friedgard points out that even close Burmese disciples were not permitted to take more than one ten-day course per year. “If the development of the meditator was very positive, then [U Ba Khin] would invite him to spend this time on the weekends,” she notes. In other words, access was given based on ability and spiritual potential. Foreigners were the exception to this rule, given their limited access to the teachings. Friedgard proudly shares that she stayed at the center off and on for five, during which time she took 13 courses, some much longer than ten days.
Acknowledging that the current vipassana organization in Goenka’s tradition permits (and in fact encourages) far more activity, Friedgard is unsure how U Ba Khin would look on it today, but adds that this is partly due to management issues. “If your service is little and you only sit courses, they will suggest that you do more service, because the whole system can't function if they don't have enough servers.” IMC, by contrast, had very little maintenance needs, and so yogis were never asked to step outside of their role as students.
Friedgard notes that this also reflects a difference in pāramīs: U Ba Khin had made a vow that only students with strong pāramīs would be drawn to him, and indeed in every course he conducted there was always at least one or two who could touch the unconditioned state. His teaching was thus more selective, centered on depth rather than breadth. Goenka, however, was told that his pāramī was different—that he would attract “many foolish people,” meaning that his role was to make the practice accessible to anyone who was willing, regardless of their spiritual maturity. She adds that Goenka was also instructed not to provide instructions that led students to the unconditioned state.
Providing further context surrounding Goenka’s mission, Friedgard recalls how U Ba Khin had greatly wished to spread these teachings himself, and had even received a welcome from the Maha Bodhi Society in India. However, as he was unable to secure a passport under Ne Win’s military regime, and as his health began to falter, he realized he needed to look instead to foreign students to carry on in his place. She references learning this from U Ba Khin’s own diary, as it was referenced in a book published by his son, U Thein Zan. Friedgardadds that this diary, written in English and recording all the developments at IMC from the earliest days, among many other pertinent details, remains in the possession of U Ba Khin’sfamily, and no one outside has ever seen it in full.
“I share the merits of our talk with all beings,” she says in closing. “I want all beings to know that and I want all beings to know the Dhamma. But still, the talk about mediation is not meant for everybody. Because understanding is left to the wisdom of the listener.”