Friday, February 16, 2007

Wat Ram Poeng

In 2002, when we were in Chaing Mai for the first time, we booked a ride in a mini van to go up to Wat Doi Suthep. This is the temple that is perched half-way up on a forested mountain overlooking all of Chaing Mai. Only a few kilometers from the Royal Summer Palace, it is said to be the official northern temple of the Royal family. If there is only one place that you see in Chaing Mai, we were told more than once, go to Wat Doi Suthep. Beautiful golden temples sit atop more than 300 steps with two giant serpents flanking the stairway all the way up. Numerous breathtaking Buddha statues, hundreds of small brass bells that chime in the wind hanging from the traditional Thai roofs; huge bells and gongs that reverberate when you strike them, and beautiful flowering plants mingle with each other. It is an experience to behold.

We were the only two tourists in the van that day. Our driver told us that as a Buddhist, he loved to show people some of the interesting wats (temple grounds) of Chaing Mai; would we be interested? Of course, we said without hesitation. About a kilometer away from the busy streets of Chaing Mai, just as we started to climb the forested mountain, we drove through the gate of another temple. He parked the van, and told us to feel free to walk around for as long as we wanted.


As soon as we stepped out of the van we were engulfed in a blanket of peacefulness that was beyond description. There was no mistaking a remarkable presence that touched us to the very core of our being. We were surrounded by an essence of quiet reverence. For several moments we stood there, unable to move, unable to make sense of what we were experiencing, but knowing without a doubt that this was what we had been searching for.

We were standing in front the library of the wat. All around was a canopy of ancient trees, flowering bushes, Buddha statues, and an ancient stupa (pagoda). We saw monks in their orange robes, and women that we later learned were nuns, in their white loose pants and blouses, slowing walking and attending to their business. Even the dogs, of which we saw quite a few, seemed to be in a mindful state of bliss.

When I first heard about temples in Thailand, I wrongly assumed that this would be a single building. In fact, almost every wat is a compound surrounded by a stone wall, which creates a womb-like atmosphere within. One always gets the feeling of stepping into a different realm when entering through the outside gate of a wat. Some of the compounds are larger than others, each one having its own personality. Slowly walking around this wat, whose name we didn’t even know yet, we realized that this was a relatively large compound, probably equivalent to the size of a large square city block. There are two main gates opposite to each other, with a road that connects these gates. In the centre of the whole area is a chedi, a circular pyramid shaped stupa or pagoda. This particular one is hundreds of years old made of old red brick. A wide yellow cloth is wrapped around one of the bottom levels. Surrounding the chedi, in a counter-clockwise direction, are various buildings and open spaces, which we later learned were the meditation hall, dining room, the hall where the nuns pray and chant, a cobblestone square with a beautiful golden Buddha statue, the bot (temple) of such age that it clearly had been welcoming worshipers over the ages, a temple only for men and the marble library which looks relatively new. On either end of the road are various offices. On one side of the road beyond the central area are the living quarters for monks, novices and male guests, and on the other is the living area for nuns and female guests. There is a beautiful canopy of trees and assorted bushes planted throughout compound. Tucked away by the nun’s quarters is a bodi tree, the type of tree that Buddha sat under to attain enlightenment some 2,500 years ago. The tree is in the middle of a cobblestone square, with a yellow cloth wrapped around it, and four different statues of Buddha, one facing each direction, depicting the various stages of his life.

As we came back to the library, we saw some foreigners, dressed all in white, sitting in meditation and walking very slowly and mindfully; one purposeful step at a time. They didn't look at us or acknowledge us in any way. They were clearly involved in their own meditative experience. We couldn't help but be curious who these devotees were. I felt envious, wishing that I could share this experience with them.

Returning to the van, we asked the driver where we were. He explained that this was Wat Ram Poeng (pronounced Lam Perng, with an inflection that I am still trying to get right) which is one of the oldest wats in Chaing Mai, having been founded in 1492, (the same year that my Jewish ancestors were exiled from Spain and Lucy's Aboriginal ancestors first came in contact with their future European colonizers in North America). This wat, he explained is famous for teaching Vipassana (insight) meditation, and was one of the few temples anywhere in Thailand that offered this experience in English to foreigners. He said if we were interested, we could speak to someone in the office.

We found a monk in the office who was quite fluent in English. He explained that the English name for this temple was the Northern Insight Meditation Center, and that foreigners like us were more than welcome to come for a 10 day or a 26 day meditation retreat. He gave us an English brochure that explained the program in detail. He explained that they now had email and a web site, and that we could contact them at any time.

We went on to see Wat Doi Suthep, which was as beautiful and wonderful as we had been told, but the truly amazing experience of that day had been our visit to Wat Ram Poeng. Over dinner that night, we discussed the possibility of participating in a retreat there. As we talked, we knew that this was something that we simply had to do sometime, although, for various reasons, we did not feel up to the challenge at that time.

One Saturday afternoon, about 1½ years later, on our next trip to Thailand, we drove out to Wat Ram Poeng. We had previously talked about how one doesn't usually have the same experience twice. Now that we had been in Thailand for so long, and had visited so many different temples, we reasoned, we probably wouldn't be as impressionable as the year before. No so! After parking our motorbike, we walked through the gate, and were instantly engulfed once again into the womb of serenity. We had a wonderful conversation with an English-speaking nun at the foreigners' office, who exuded a sense of spirituality. It’s interesting coming upon such a person; one doesn't have to listen so much to their words as simply feel their presence. She was simply there and welcomed us to join her. This time we accepted the invitation. A few weeks hence, for better or for worse, we too would be donning our white costumes and walking and sitting in silence.

I have been back to Wat Ram Poeng for 3 different retreats now, and know that I will be soon going back to spend more time there. For Lucy and I, it has now become our spiritual home. Although we are very familiar with the grounds now, every time we enter the gate, we have the same experience of entering a womb of mystical stillness. It is a busy living working monastery, with monks and nuns, various people coming and going all the time, with celebrations marking all the Buddhist occasions, visiting monks who study there, school children coming for educational purposes, rotating retreats for Thai people, monks and nuns chanting during certain times of the day, bells ring, announcements going over the loudspeaker, monks lining up to receive their morning alms, and even loud construction projects that never seem to end. More dogs have discovered this sanctuary, and some of them are not all so peaceful anymore. Somewhere outside the gates there is a discothèque that blares music on some weekend nights, and the sound of commercial jets taking off and landing at the nearby international airport can be heard throughout the day. Even helicopters and low-flying military jets seem to have discovered this wat as part of their flight plans.

Real life goes on in and around this wat. And yet, the sense of spiritual stillness, born from centuries of tradition and reverence pervades all, providing an absolutely awe-inspiring environment for meditation and the peaceful exploration of one’s own mind.

A Day at the Wat

Living behind the secure walls of a Buddhist temple, one is immersed in the rigidity of a daily monastic schedule that only has slight variances for special holidays. At 4 a.m. precisely, the first bell of the day is sounded. It is a large brass bell, hung from a branch of a tree in the men’s quarters. It is awaiting its new home, a very glamorous bell tower that is presently being constructed. You feel its tone reverberating in your very bones. There is no sleeping through the first gong. By the time the second gong sounds mere seconds later, you are as fully awake as awake can be. And so are the dogs. A unified mournful canine howl, as melodic as any Gregorian chant, although possibly lacking in certain religious refinements, reverberates off the stone walls from every direction. As each proceeding gong enters your body over the next minute, you feel infused with intense energy, and are ready to begin the day.

Turning on the light, I see the 12 by 7 foot room that has become my home. The wooden frame bed with its half inch thin felt mattress (luckily I brought my own foamy along), with a small bedside table are its own furniture. There are two wooden dowels suspended from the wall at the far end to hand my assortment of white clothing. Walking into the bathroom, I debate whether or not I have the nerve this morning for a cold shower.

Jumping into the cold shower for a few moments in my simple bathroom, I am refreshed and eager to begin my morning meditation. By the time that I walk over to the library in the dark, I can already hear the beautiful chanting of the nuns from their special building on one side of the plaza. Taking a moment, I try to allow their melody to massage my spirit. Minutes later, the monks begin their chanting from the main temple kitty-corner to it. From the meditation hall on the third side of the open plaza, a monk and his Thai students are chanting their morning prayers. Though different sounds and different chants, the male and female voices blend together and harmonize the soul. I could live many lifetimes and never tire of this beatific morning ritual, long before the sun makes its first appearance.

I love entering the library first thing in the morning. Only a few white clad figures come there before breakfast. Many, like Lucy, prefer to have their first meditation of the day in the privacy of their room. Not I. Walking up the marble steps, opening and closing the squeaky metal gate to keep the dogs out, entering the building, my excitement builds. I love the feel of the cool marble underneath my bare feet. Old wooden cabinets filled with books in the Thai language, line the long hallway. The dark wooden posts and beams give the hall a sense of strength, and the various inscriptions on the ceiling are intriguing.

But most of all, I love the alter with the large dark Buddha. There are as many Buddha statues in Thailand as there are ancient pillars in Italy, each one special and unique in its own right. I can rarely pass a Buddha statue without feeling a sense of awe. Some statues touch one more than others. The white teak Buddha at Wat Buparam on Taipai Road right outside the old city in Chaingmai leaves me breathless. The small vibrant green Buddha at Wat Doi Suthep is stunning. But none has touched me as much as this Buddha. His hands and fingers connected in a unique posture with the thumb of each hand pointing towards the index and middle finger, he speaks of the union of heart and mind. Each time I look into his self-reflective face, his presence encourages me to look within myself with compassion and forgiveness. He is my David who I look to for self-guidance each day.

I begin my practice, as we are taught, by making three slow kneeling prostrations in front of the Buddha. Upon rising, I walk to the middle of the long hall, and start my slow meditative walk towards him. I walk back and forth for about 45 minutes, continually bringing my focus back to my slow deliberate footsteps every time it wanders. Then I place a mat in front of the Buddha and sit for an equal length of time, and attempt to focus on my breath This is my favourite meditation of the day. My mind is clear, affording me better concentration, and my body is fresh and comfortable.

Around 6:15am, another bell vibrates announcing breakfast. I walk slowly towards the cafeteria. Placing my sandals by the steps, I enter the cafeteria barefoot, as we do in all the buildings. There are a number of small round tables about 12" off the ground. To the right of the door is the area for the men. The women sit towards the back, and further to the right of the men's area is where some of the monks sit when they come to eat in the cafeteria. Most of the monks fill up their alms bowls with food from daily contributions from the community, and as far as I know, eat in their own quarters. I suspect that the few monks who eat here are those who work outside the monastery and have to leave early. Between these areas is an altar with a golden Buddha. I pick up a mat to sit on, and a laminated sheet of the morning prayers. Peeking through the open door to the kitchen, I see some of the nuns sitting cross-legged on a platform cutting vegetables for lunch. Others are sitting on their haunches washing pots and utensils in a large basin of water on the floor. Some are cooking food over the gas burners. There is a sense of peacefulness and joy as they go about their work.

I pick up a partitioned metal plate that reminds me a bit of the plates that I used to eat TV dinners on when I was a child. I fill up a glass with water and grab a metal spoon, the only implement that we eat with. Returning to the little table alone, I prostrate myself three times in the direction of the Buddha, and sit on the mat on the floor and wait for the prayers.

An old nun who must be stricken with arthritis, has already walked slowly to one of the tables, with the aid of her cane, and slowly and painfully has lowered herself onto the floor. It doesn't take long to realize, however, that this old nun is anything but frail. It is she who rings the bell for breakfast and lunch, and watching her yank on the bell chord one day when I arrive early, I could easily mistake her for a spry young woman in her twenties. Listening to the power and spiritual passion that is in her voice as she chants the morning prayer more than makes up for the unappealing food which, shall I say, resides well below the level of gourmet. For several moments as her voice rings out in both Pali and Thai, we are all catapulted onto another level of being. I read the English translation of the prayer one morning. There is verse after verse about giving gratitude to food that has no physical beauty, that does not stimulate our desires, that we can remain unattached to, that only feeds our bodies, not the cravings of our minds and emotions. Well, the food certainly fulfills that prayer. There is no emotional eating here. Strangely enough, I do not mind, for it is her voice that satiates my appetite.

I have learned to eat slowly and with some modicum of mindfulness as I sit in silence. After finishing, I slowly rise and prostrate myself in front of the Buddha three more times. At first this exercise of prostration that one does about 8 times a day felt very odd. It feels so unlike anything I have ever done before. Not being a Buddhist, at first it seems forced to adopt someone else's traditions. After awhile, however, I come to see this as simply an expression of gratitude for all that I am being offered, and look forward to this simple act of appreciation. Going out the back, I silently join the others in washing our few eating implements. Even this mundane act is done slowly and mindfully, and I actually have come to enjoy it.

At first we sit there each morning for a decent spell, simply relaxing and trying to be silent. Thai people are not known for their abilities in silence; they love to talk and do so all the time. We try not to get drawn in by the Thais who are on their group retreat. People often ask me how I can be silent for days at a time. For me, that is the easiest part. After hours and days of self focus, mindless chatter seems like such a distraction. The only person I have trouble not speaking to is Lucy, as we are both so used to sharing everything that goes on in our lives.

As the days go by and we become more and more focused on getting our ever-increasing number of hours of meditation in (up to and exceeding 12 hours a day), our leisure time decreases. So back to the library it is for several hours of walking and sitting before the second and last meal of the day is served at 10:30 a.m. The routine of lunch is identical to breakfast.

According to Buddhist practice for those living within the wats, there is to be no eating of solid foods after twelve noon. Liquids are acceptable. The thought of having almost twenty hours between meals at first sounds daunting. How am I going to overcome the hunger, I wondered before I came here? How will I ever focus on meditating when all I will be able to think about is food? Strangely enough, this doesn't happen that often. Sure, there are a few moments of being hungry, but I usually come to enjoy the feeling of emptiness that is such a rare experience for an over-eater like myself. Walking back from a meal one day, I realize that I actually enjoy the emptiness before a meal more than the fullness afterwards. Interesting. It soon becomes apparent that we are engaged in another realm of consciousness by living within the monastery walls meditating all day long, and hunger just doesn't seem to get that much airtime.

Outside the upper gate, a Thai lady arrives every afternoon at 5 pm time with a lit barbecue underneath a huge pot of soy milk that she serves in small plastic bags for 4 baht (about Cdn$.13) ) each. She has a separate pot of hot sweet syrup that she adds to each plastic bag. Now, hot soymilk is not normally on anyone's gourmet hit parade, but it is amazing how good it suddenly tastes. So every afternoon Lucy and I have a soymilk date at what we affectionately begin to call 'The Bar'. This is the one time of the day where we allow ourselves about half an hour to talk and share what we have been going through. And (here comes the confession) a few times we snuck behind a tree to give each other a quick kiss, feeling like guilty school kids afraid that they are going to get caught.

After our brief date, I head back to the library or my room for several more hours of meditation before heading off to a good night's sleep by 10p.m.

In the Abbot's Office

On the first afternoon we all walk over to the head abbot's office for our initiation. Off the main road within the temple, we walk down a short path that is beautifully landscaped into the waiting room of his office. Pra Ajaan (teaching monk) Supan sits on a raised platform. To his left, on a low desk on the floor sits Meechi ('Nun') Pon Pit. He wears the bright orange robe that all monks wear, while she is garbed in loose white pants, shirt and sash. Both of their heads are shaven bald. Between the door and where they are sitting, is an altar with a Buddha as well as other religious relics. Getting down on our knees at the door, we first prostrate 3 times to the Buddha, then 3 times to the monk, and then wei (placing our hands together in the traditional Thai greeting) to the nun. Staying on our knees we waddle over to where we will sit on the floor.

We are beginning a ceremony which signifies the completion for those who have spent the last 10 days in meditation, and the initiation for those of us who have just arrived. Pra Ajaan Supan is sitting cross-legged watching us. He is one of those rare human beings who radiates love and joyfulness from deep within his core. There is a sense of presence about him that is inspirational. It is an honour to be around such a holy man. One can feel the depth of his spirituality by simply being in his presence. Later, as I get to spend more time with him, I realize that he sees and communicates on a level I cannot yet begin to comprehend, but that I can feel to the very depth of my being.


Meechi Pon Pit radiates a beautific smile filled with unconditional love and joy. I have heard it said that a good singer pulls the notes from deep within her belly, not from her throat or mouth. I wouldn't know because I can hardly pull notes from my mouth. Meechi Pon Pit’s joyful love comes from deep within her soul. While it may be instinctive now, I suspect that this joyfulness comes from a lifetime of deep spiritual commitment and practice. There is no doubt in my mind that we are going to be blessed to have spiritual teachers that one usually only hears about in books.

The ceremony is all in Pali, the original language of Buddhism that originally came from India. It is quite an interesting ceremony although I have to admit that I feel distracted. Everything from the special décor of this room, which includes a picture of the Dali Lama and another monk who I later find out to be the predecessor of this abbot, watching the graceful beauty of Phra Ajaan Supan and Meechi Pon Pit, the loud noise of construction that is taking place outside the office this day, and the pain in my body from having to attempt to sit upright on the floor for a length of time, pulls my thoughts in many different directions. Never the less, the ceremony is moving, and I feel proud to be embarking on a very special experience.

Each day afterwards, we report to this office at 2 p.m. for about 10 minutes of individual teachings and instruction about our practice. Arriving a bit early on the second day, I sit in the waiting room to await my turn. At 2 p.m. precisely, Meechi Pon Pit enters through the waiting room and opens the locked office. One of the corner stones of Buddhism is mindfulness, the ability to observe one's thoughts, emotions and actions as they exist in each moment. This ability allows one to live in the here and now (rather than the nether region of the there and the then, where most of us reside), detaching oneself from insecure needs and liberating oneself from the illusions of life. This is the path towards the elimination of life's problematic issues, i.e. suffering, and eventually towards the realm of enlightenment.

The physical movements Of Meechi Pon Pit seem beautifully mindful. Each movement is done slowly and deliberately. With her right hand, she slowly opens the screen door, walks into the waiting room, and slowly closes the door. There is no doubt that her mind is paying attention to each movement she makes. She proceeds to do this as she unlocks the office door, opens it, turns on the light, then the fan and walks inside. Slow, deliberate, mindful actions portraying a woman living within the experience of her mind, emotions and body.

Pra Ajaan Supan is usually our teacher. As his English is not as good as Meechi Pon Pit, she often acts as his translator. Standing out for me more than his actual instructions, some of which are extremely useful and insightful, is his presence that embodies the teachings. His level of comfort within himself is palpable and puts me at each.

Each day, in a very quiet voice, he asks me how I have been doing with my practice and patiently waits while I give whatever answer I am able to come up with. He listens with full attention and doesn't say a word until he is sure that I am finished. The general theme is always the same. Rather than judging myself as to whether what I am doing is good or bad, right or wrong, I am to simply notice what is going on. I am to notice my thoughts, to be aware of my emotions, to recognize the way I drift off and how I come back, to simply sit with physical pain. I am not to try to change anything, push through any issues, or decrease what I don't like. Without ever saying so, he is inviting me to have the same unconditional acceptance of myself that he has for me.

Every day he gives some new instructions about the technique of meditating. These techniques are always very simple. In walking meditation, one simply tries to focus one's mind on the actual movement of one's foot. We walk in slow motion. Lifting the foot off the floor, moving it forward, placing it back down on the floor. There are six stages to this meditation; each one adding one additional slow movement. All we are encouraged to do is pay attention to our body movements. Nothing could be simpler, and, I have learned, nothing could be more difficult. The mind is like a monkey in the jungle, the Buddhists sometimes like saying, jumping wildly from one branch to another. I am amazed at how challenging it is to keep one's mind focused for even one second. In one little step, my mind is capable of creating whole stories.
In sitting meditation, we focus on the rising and falling of our breath. After a few days we add additional observations, such as noticing how we are sitting, and a series of energy points in the body. Again, the techniques are so simple, but so difficult to do. When we become aware of thoughts, we are to silently say: thinking……thinking……thinking…… and then return to focusing on the breath; rising…… falling……
During meditation anything and everything can and will come up. There are so many branches for the mind to jump to, and from morning to night it does just that. During these retreats, I move through so many different experiences. I feel ever so calm, a beautiful sense of being at peace…… I walk through a path noticing details of trees, bushes, the building…… I am so restless, I can't stand another minute of having to sit here…… Exhaustion overwhelms me, I want to escape into deep, deep sleep……I feel an overwhelming surge of love for Lucy and wonder where she is right now…… I want to argue with Pra Ajaan Supan, get him to realize how difficult this is…… I feel such appreciation for the teachings I am receiving…… I feel competitive with the other meditators…… I am worn down by pain, I can only take it for so many hours in a day…… I overcome pain, it seems so easy this moment…… My mind is racing, I am a million miles away…… I release a breath and for a short moment I am fully present…… I never want to do this again, never, never!!!…… I want to devote myself to a lifetime of meditation!!! After awhile it becomes obvious that none of these thoughts are reality, or a definition of who I am, but rather just an expression of the moment. As he likes to remind us, all moments, all experiences are impermanent. There is no reason to hold onto them, just become aware of what is passing through at the moment.


Pra Ajaan Supan sometimes has teachings, usually in very simple parables or stories. Sometimes they make sense, at other times something gets lost in translation, but I always leave inspired. When he speaks, it is as if he is in another zone, and the lessons are received below the words. He often speaks in Thai for Meechi Pon Pit to translate in English, but on a body energetic level, the knowing is received before I hear the words in English. In these moments, I know that I am in the presence of a true Master.
Occasionally Pra Ajaan Supan is called away, and Meechi Pon Pit becomes our teacher. I soon discover that she is a gifted teacher in her own right. No matter what statement I bring to her, she looks at me with a smile that comes from a deep sense of being at peace, and encourages me to simply notice what I am going through. Regardless of how I feel before I enter my brief session with her, I always leave knowing that she is nothing more or less than a mirror onto the truth. Her centered stillness invites me to look at myself with unconditional love. As I notice where I am at this moment, I move through this experience and allow myself to arrive with the next experience hand in hand. Like a young child I move through this emotion, and that thought, and always find an open door waiting for me. And in those moments of being stuck, and there are so many of those, I eventually notice that the portal is always there, waiting for me when I am ready to let go of outcome and simply be with who I am.

The closing ceremony is a repeat of the ceremony on the first day, although this time, we are celebrating our conclusion, while a new group of people is being initiated. There is a wonderful sense of completion. For more years than I can count, I have talked about learning to meditate from teachers who are connected to the old ways. I have no doubt that this has been as authentic a teaching as I could ever hope to experience. Lucy and I give gratitude for the deeply spiritual people of this temple, and to ourselves for having the tenacity to stick through this process. In the short time that we spend in each retreat, it always seems as if we have moved through many lifetimes