The time at Wat Pah Nanachat ended abruptly in the face of the coronavirus. Having tonsillitis a few days before didn’t help either and as soon as my parents found out, things were in motion for me to leave a few days earlier than intended. The changes in the mind were quick and apparent. As I got into the rhythm of life as a monk, time passed by very quickly. However, as soon as I was aware that the end was near, time grounded to a halt as the focus was no longer on the moment itself but the impending last day.

The last few days were heavy with contemplation. I had gotten used to the way of life and the offer was there to stay longer. I had never been more at peace but if I stayed, how long would I stay for? If the coronavirus situation took a turn for the worse and the province closed down, how long more would I have to stay? The weather was nice and pleasant now but come summer, would I be able to survive the heat and the humidity?

My experience taught me that the physical challenge was almost always simpler. After all we did not pop out of our mother’s womb with padded shoes, soft bedding and air conditioning. It was always the worry in the mind that would be the real obstacle. After all the practice was about training the mind to see things as they are in the here and now, and not dwell in the past or be concerned with what has yet to come. It was this that would be the final straw.

Every day was a blessing to practice with the Sangha at WPN. However, I also knew that I was very lucky. To become a fully ordained monk there was no trivial task and took almost two years for most. This followed Ajahn Chah’s simple thinking, “Hard to ordain, hard to disrobe. Easy to ordain, easy to disrobe.” It was a case of impostor syndrome, when in reality everyone had been more than welcoming. I would also be lying if I said that I didn’t miss the comfort of lay life, especially as my parents had offered to pick me up in only a few days. The feeling that I didn’t deserve to be there, along with the mind that had become unstable would finally lead me to disrobe a few days earlier.

The act of disrobing itself was simple as it was intended. The practice allowed anyone to do so at any time should they wish. I asked a novice (who by the time of writing had become a fully ordained monk, sathu) to help me find some flowers in the forest to make a bouquet to offer to Tan Ajahn (novices were still permitted to cut branches from trees whereas monks could not) for the ceremony of offering of apology. The bouquet itself left a lot to be desired but I did it myself out of sincerity rather than someone else only for the aesthetics.

Then it was a case of chanting the Pali words to offer thanks and apology to the abbot, and in return he would offer to take up the relatively simpler five precepts compared to the many rules that monks had to live by. I would then change into white clothes and that was it. I spent a few more days in Ubon and visited Ajahn Chah’s memorial to pay respects to the founder of this beautiful tradition.

Not a day goes by when I don’t think of my time in Wat Pah Nanachat and Ubon. The painful alms rounds, the warmth of the laypeople, the draw of nature, the amiable and gentle Sangha. It’s been somewhat difficult to adapt back to lay life again with its hustle and bustle. It’s impossible to relate to certain things the same way again when you’ve spent a period behind those walls. It’s sobering to think of all the various hardships people inflict upon themselves when the greatest gift is one that is within reach of us all. It only takes effort on our part, but it is effort nonetheless.

Conveying my experiences to others after the fact has not been easy, which was not surprising. There’s such a gulf between the way of life and values held within the sanctuary of WPN than those of the outside world. I never thought that contemplating death every day would bring as much contentment as it did. Or that peace could be found with the simplicity of eating one meal a day and living with your breath in meditation. Even the shared concept of time had a very different meaning. Two months as a monk seemed to others as a rather lengthy amount of time. Within the monastery it seemed like no time at all as one was living in the moment. Each day felt quick and passed in exactly the same way.

To say that the entire time was peaceful and filled with contentment would also be inaccurate. Much of my earlier period was filled with hardship. The 60 or so entries of this blog should have been enough to relate that. Just like in lay life, full-time monks have their own set of challenges in the monastery. I don’t really feel qualified to delve into those though as I was there only a short time. I heard that times could get especially tough around the Vassa or the rains retreat which is a three-month period of even more intense training. I never faced any of those challenges however in my time. Most of the tension I felt were in my knees and when the tukkae got into my dwelling.

I have since returned to WPN a couple of times, recently for the Kathina festival, which marked the end of the Vassa. It was great to see the same faces again and feel the calm of the forest. Despite the chaos in the outside world, behind the walls in Ubon lay a sanctuary where men with shaved heads would meditate and go about their lives in a peaceful way. I think this is an aspiration for many who seek the same serenity and simplicity in their lives, yet still struggling with the demands and expectations of modernity.

It is with the same tranquillity that I contemplate how life was then but also grappling with, like everyone else, life in the era of Covid-19. For now in Thailand we may be handling the Covid situation better relative to other countries but instead we have new political problems unique to us. Another day, another set of challenges presents itself. I’m sure this is the same everywhere in the world. So time moves on, like it always has.

I bring this series to a close but the practice continues. The cultivation of mindfulness is not something that’s one and done in two months, but a lifelong process. The foundation is there and stable for now, but who knows what the future may bring. I have nothing but gratitude to the monks and laypeople that I came across in that period. Firstly to Tan Ajahn Jayasaro for the lifelong teachings, the opportunity itself and guidance during the initial period in Chiang Mai. Without his blessing I would never have had this chance. His Dhamma talks can be found everywhere so his teachings are never far away.

Then at WPN it was Tan Ajahn Kevali who would be my guide as the abbot. I learnt the importance of having a daily guide in the Dhamma for reflection and also all the responsibilities that come with being the abbot. There’s so much that went on behind the scenes to maintain the continuity within the walls despite the need to be coupled to the worldly discord. Despite the administrative challenges of being a leader, he was still a monk and the amount of suffering that he had to take on must have been immense. Last time I saw him he had suffered an injury to his knee (a common problem with monks in their practice) and I can only hope that he gets better soon.

Finally it was the whole Sangha of WPN that would show me the way in the day to day, which was in essence the practice itself. This was a key aspect that one wouldn’t necessarily deem important until one started practising as a monk. WPN was uniquely positioned in that there were people from all corners of the world, each with their own perspectives and how they were introduced to the Dhamma. The manner in which they went about their lives was exemplar to myself and many in Ubon, so it was not surprising to see so many guests at and offerings to the monastery. I hope that they continue their life in harmony wherever they end up and be an inspiration for many in the years to come.