TLDR: Enjoying beautiful things is possible when we remember their fate. That understanding brings ease, not guilt.
Perhaps it’s due to past conditioning—I’ve noticed that I’ve always had a keen eye for luxury & branded goods—gazing at the fashionable OLs carrying them when I was a kid on the MRT, catching a glimpse of my neighbour carrying a Burberry Blue Label after a Japan trip, witnessing well-to-do classmates in my secondary school carrying Prada wallets and LV bags handed down from their mothers, seeing my colleagues buying and carrying them when I was a cabin crew. Thus, it seemed quite fitting when I started working as an appraiser for a company involved in the luxury resale market.
As an appraiser, keeping up with market trends for luxury items is part of my job. Another part of my job is encountering lots of people with different reasons for wanting to get an evaluation to sell their pre-owned luxury items; sometimes it’s simply a case of no longer liking an item, and sometimes it’s due to lifestyle changes. I’ve even encountered cases of people selling their loved ones’ items after they passed away. Recently, I met a family selling branded items belonging to their deceased family member, who was in their early 30s, just like me. Very poignant.
It is also important to note that we need to approach the issue of purchasing such luxury goods in a balanced manner.
Also, forcefully using willpower to not act on desires to acquire them only works to a certain extent. When we see the drawbacks of owning these items, we become naturally inclined to not want them. As someone who is constantly exposed to these branded items, I would like to share a few of my strategies and approaches when it comes to dealing with cravings to acquire more of them, and using the items with minimal attachment (if we do end up purchasing them!)
Seeing Items as Impermanent or Borrowed
In my work, I often see how impermanence shows up in changing trends, evolving lifestyles, and shifting needs. Many people come to let go of their branded items for reasons such as:
Changes in lifestyle: becoming a mother (needing more practical bags to fit children’s items), retiring (letting go of office/work bags), or simply shifting priorities.
Health changes: foot conditions or size changes after pregnancy that make shoes unwearable, or choosing lightweight nylon backpacks instead of leather shoulder bags due to shoulder pains
Evolving tastes or trends: what once felt fashionable now feels outdated or “Obiang”
Condition of the item: item feels worn, old or damaged and no longer serves the intended purpose
One reflection I often use, both for myself and when friends ask for advice before buying a bag, is this: Would I still want this if it were already worn? If the hardware were scratched, the corners scuffed, or if the design had gone out of trend, would I still find it beautiful, or even want to carry it? That’s what eventually happens to every item after 5, 10, or 15 years. If I can accept that and still feel the purchase is worth the usage and joy it brings, then perhaps it’s a reasonable decision to purchase it.
But often, this reflection helps me realise that something more affordable yet equally functional can fulfil my needs just as well (without the added attachment to brand or image!)
There’s a beautiful analogy in the Majjhima Nikāya (MN 54), in which the Buddha spoke about the drawbacks of sensual pleasures, and in one of the analogies spoke about a man who had borrowed fine goods:
“Suppose a man had borrowed some goods—a gentleman’s carriage and fine jewelled earrings—and preceded and surrounded by these he proceeded through the middle of Āpaṇa. When people saw him they’d say: ‘This must be a wealthy man! For that’s how the wealthy enjoy their wealth.’ But when the owners saw him, they’d take back what was theirs. What do you think? Would that be enough for that man to get upset?”
“Yes, sir. Why is that? Because the owners took back what was theirs.” …”
This analogy is especially poignant because I’ve encountered some people selling items belonging to their deceased family members. All sense pleasures that we enjoy, including everything we “own”, are really only borrowed for a time.
Sometimes, I even ask myself: if I were to treat this purchase like a rental, would I still be willing to pay the same amount? And if not, perhaps there might be a wiser way to use that money. The point of this reflection isn’t to completely refrain from buying things we need or genuinely enjoy, but to consider:
Would I still pay this amount if it were only for temporary use?
Is there a wiser or more meaningful way to spend this sum of money?
After all, as householders, we can still choose to purchase and use such items. When we buy within our means and use things without attachment, we do so with the understanding that, in time, every item will wear out, break, or simply no longer suit our lifestyle and tastes.
Not to Associate with the Fools, but to Associate with the Wise
In our day and age, “fools” not only refer to friends in our social circles (who may encourage us to spend more!), but also refer to the type of content we follow on our social media. Following influencers who are constantly reviewing and unboxing each season’s new collections may lead us to normalise such spending behaviours. (“I don’t know why I bought this—it looked so good when XYZ was carrying it!”, “I would never go shopping with my girlfriends again, at that moment it just looked so good when I tried it on at the boutique and they encouraged me to buy it!”, seemed to be quite a common thing I hear.)
Instead, we can choose to follow accounts that promote contentment and minimalism, and this brings me to my next point:
Finding Inspiration from Disciples of the Buddha
Theri Khema, foremost nun in wisdom:
In the stories, she was said to be beautiful and also inclined towards beautiful appearances. Her husband (King Bimbisara) lured her to see the Buddha by describing the beauty of the place Buddha was residing. Buddha conjured an image of a beautiful maiden by his side (surpassing her own beauty) and aged the image, showing it to age and pass away until eventually leaving behind a heap of bones. Upon seeing this, she realised the impermanence of conditioned phenomena and decided to ordain as a nun.
One can’t help but imagine the changes in lifestyle: from being the chief queen consort of King Bimbisara, enjoying the luxuries of life, to one as an alms mendicant.
Subha, the goldsmith’s daughter:
I chanced upon her verses in the Therigatha and found the verse “Gold and silver, does not buy awakening, does not buy peace”, so beautiful! According to some sources, she was the daughter of a goldsmith and frequently wore beautiful clothes and jewellery before she was ordained as a nun and eventually became an arahant.
Lady Visākhā, foremost female lay disciple:
If renouncing all the fineries and comforts of life for spiritual happiness seems unattainable, we can look towards Lady Visakha, who is the foremost female lay disciple of the Buddha, as an inspiration for her use of wealth while not being attached to it.
She was said to visit temples in fine clothes and jewellery, and in one well-known story, her maid misplaced her valuable piece of jewellery in the monastery while listening to the Buddha. The monks found the ornaments and gave them to Ven. Ānanda for safekeeping. She took this lapse as an invitation to do good and decided not to wear it anymore. She put it up for sale and intended to donate the proceeds to the Order, but as nobody in the city could afford this, she bought it herself out of her other property and established a large monastery with the money.
I found her inspiring because she showed us that one can be a householder and have attainments on the path, while also possessing finer things in life and using them without attachment.
Interestingly, as a source of inspiration in our modern times, I’ve also chanced upon this podcast interview of Ayya Soma, a former fashion journalist, talking about the joys of relinquishment. In the episode “The non-returner” (starting from 31:50), she talked about giving away her possessions before ordination, which included 2 Chanel bags! She mentioned that the bags never made her happy until she let them go.
Summary
While these stories of great disciples are inspiring, it’s also important to acknowledge that most of us live very different (householder) lives. We may still have jobs, social events, and personal preferences that make completely giving up such possessions less practical, and that’s okay!
What’s more realistic (and sustainable) for many of us is to take a more gradual approach. One term that I’ve recently come across is called “luxury minimalism”, and I think it captures this balance well. It’s about:
being intentional with our spending,
curating what we bring into our lives,
and finding joy in using what we already have well
We can recall Lady Visākhā’s example: she used her wealth generously and possessions wisely as a householder, without attachment.
We can use our possessions in a similar fashion: purchased mindfully, using wealth rightfully acquired, and remembering that all possessions are temporary.
Trends change quickly; the condition of our items change even with careful use and storage; our lifestyles change as we move through life, becoming parents, changing jobs, retiring, or experiencing health shifts like shoulder aches from carrying heavy bags.
Eventually, we too, must leave all things behind.
Reflecting on this, we can learn to see each item as something “borrowed”, and to end this post, I’d like to share one of my favourite anecdotes of Ajahn Chah:
“‘One day Ajahn Chah held up a beautiful Chinese tea cup, “To me this cup is already broken. Because I know its fate, I can enjoy it fully here and now. And when it’s gone, it’s gone.” “When we understand the truth of uncertainty and relax, we become free.”
~ version by Jack Kornfield
Wise Steps
Before buying, pause and imagine the item already scratched, dated, or worn, because seeing its future clearly often softens blind desire.
Ask yourself whether you would still pay the same price if the item were rented for a few years, as this reframes ownership as temporary use.
Audit who and what you follow online, since constant exposure to unboxings and hauls quietly normalises unnecessary spending.
Regularly remind yourself that every possession will one day be left behind, which naturally loosens attachment without force.
TLDR: Your job title is a persona, not who you are. Venerable Thubten Chodron’s talk shows how status, praise, and social validation pull us into fragile identities, while what truly shapes our life is our motivation and how we treat people.
I went to Venerable Thubten Chodron’s talk expecting to hear something about career.
What I walked out with was a clearer look at the stories I use to hold myself together.
Most of us live inside a simple loop. Someone asks, So what do you do? We answer with a job title. And somehow that single word carries our sense of worth.
Marketing. Engineer. Founder. Unemployed. Between jobs.
We know these are just labels, yet they decide how confident we feel in a room. How easy it is to speak up. How much we shrink or relax when we meet someone new.
Venerable Chodron compared this to the way people build profiles on dating apps or social media. We choose what looks good. We hide what feels inadequate. The result attracts attention, but it is not really who we are.
A job title works the same way. It is a persona. Useful in society, but thin as a description of a human being.
That is why leaving a job you dislike can feel so frightening. It is not only about losing income. It is about losing the version of yourself that the world recognises.
When Opinions Cancel Each Other Out
She told a story that cut through a lot of this.
Two nuns were asked to evaluate the same person, thirty minutes apart. One said she was a wonderful example. The other said she was negligent and lazy.
Same person. Same day. Two opposite judgements.
Venerable Chodron called these opinions mental energy. They appear, they disappear, and they change depending on who is looking. Yet we let them decide how we feel about ourselves.
When praise comes, we feel taller. When criticism comes, we shrink.
Nothing solid actually happened. A thought passed through someone else’s mind and landed in ours.
What matters more is why we do what we do.
In Buddhist terms, motivation is what creates kamma. The intention behind a decision shapes what it becomes later. You can hold power and look impressive while planting a lot of harm. You can hold an ordinary job and still be building something wholesome if your actions come from care rather than fear.
Your Job As a Training Ground
One of the most practical parts of the talk was how she framed daily life.
Every morning, set an intention. Try not to harm anyone. Try to be helpful when possible.
At night, look back. What did I do today? Why did I do it?
Notice where you reacted, where you became defensive. Where you avoided something uncomfortable. Acknowledge it without turning it into a story about being a bad person. If something needs fixing, fix it. Then let it go.
Your workplace becomes the training ground. The deadlines, the awkward meetings, the difficult colleagues, the emails that make your chest tighten. They show you exactly where you still cling and where you still push away.
If one comment from a boss can ruin your whole day, something inside you is asking to be understood.
What Failure is Really For
She also spoke about failure in a way that felt quietly steady.
Do your best with a good intention. That is enough.
Most of the pressure we feel does not come from our bosses. It comes from the expectations we quietly pile on ourselves. I should already be further along. I should not be struggling like this.
An admissions officer once said the most important question was not about achievements, but what someone does when things go wrong.
Even monasteries fail. Venerable Chodron spoke about several attempts to start projects that did not work out. Each one taught her something. None of them meant the effort was wasted.
I thought about my own work, the things I have started and closed. Maybe those were not signs of being lost. Maybe they were part of learning how to walk this path.
What Stays When Everything Else Falls Away
Toward the end, she spoke about death.
When you die, your job title does not come with you. Neither does your reputation. What remains are your habits of mind. The ways you learned to respond. The kamma you built through your intentions.
We spend a lot of time polishing a version of ourselves that will not last. The work that actually matters is quieter. How we speak to people. How do we treat those with less power? How we handle our own mistakes.
That night, I worried less about what I am becoming on paper.
I paid more attention to who I am becoming at work, in conversations, and in the small moments no one else sees.
Wise Steps
Notice the label you cling to: The next time someone asks what you do, watch what happens inside you. Pride. Shame. Tension. Relief. That reaction shows you how much weight you are putting on a few words.
Start your day with one clean intention: Before opening your inbox, set this quietly. Try not to harm anyone. Try to be helpful when you can. Let that be more important than looking impressive.
Use work as your mirror: When something at work upsets you, do not rush to fix the situation first. Ask what it reveals about your expectations, fears, or need for approval.
TLDR: It’s easy to move through life in a daze, even without touching a drop of alcohol. The Buddha called this the intoxication of life. Practising mindfulness of death helps lift that mental fog and bring purpose to our lives.
Important note:To keep things safe and clear, mindfulness of death isnotabout wanting death or harming yourself. It is a Buddhist practice of seeing life’s fragility so that we can live more skilfully. Please read this article only when you feel steady and grounded.
How I Became Aware of this “Intoxication”
I used to think that intoxication meant drunkenness. As long as I abstained from alcohol and drugs, I wasn’t intoxicated… right? After all, I feel pretty clear-headed on most days. But over time, I understood that the Buddha was actually referring to something more subtle.
The Buddha spoke about how we become intoxicated by our youth, our health, and our life itself (Delicate Sutta). When our days feel predictable, our body seems reliable, and our future looks long, it’s natural to think that life will continue in the same steady line. These feelings stem from deep-rooted views we hold about ourselves:
“I’m so young. Still got plenty of time lah.”
“I’m so healthy. Aiya, nothing bad will happen to me one lah.”
“I won’t die anytime soon. Definitely not this year, not this week, and confirm not today!”
These views feel reassuring, but in fact cloud our judgment. Like being absorbed into an immersive video game, we get so engrossed in the play that we temporarily forget the wider reality behind the screen. Likewise, in life, we forget the bigger picture, the backdrop upon which this life rests.
Living in Singapore reinforces this forgetfulness. We are sheltered from war, natural disasters, and visible suffering. Cemeteries and crematoriums lie out of sight. Because external reminders of our mortality are rare, it becomes easy to forget that death is just around the corner.
Our safety is a great blessing, but also the very thing that lulls us into a false sense of security and fuels our intoxication with life.
Drawbacks of Intoxication
The suttas mention that intoxication with youth, health, and life leads to misconduct by body, speech, and mind (Themes Sutta). I was puzzled because most people I know are not harming others deliberately and generally choose to do good. But as I observed my days, I noticed that intoxication shows up in small ways:
A careless tone
Impatience with others
Holding onto grudges
Searching endlessly for pleasure
Putting off meaningful actions because “there’s always time”
My youthful confidence made me conceited, in other words, yaya papaya. Deep down, I didn’t really believe that serious consequences could happen to me too. Feeling insulated from change, I was careless with my actions. I whiled away time on fruitless pursuits, and lost sight of the bigger picture of life.
The drawback of intoxication is not necessarily dramatic evil, but drifting along and wasting a life through complacency.
The Buddha’s Antidote: Remembering Death
The antidote the Buddha offered was simple: reflect on death often. It is not to frighten ourselves or to sink into dark thoughts, but to help us confront the impermanence of life. When I practise it properly, I find myself becoming more willing to keep the 5 precepts, keep the mind wholesome, meditate, and forgive readily. Because the heart finally understands that time is limited. Soon, I will move on to the next life, with nothing but this mind.
In the Mindfulness of Death Sutta, the Buddha advised monks to cultivate mindfulness of death (maraṇassati), explaining that this practice is very beneficial and culminates in freedom from death. (Isn’t that interesting? Thinking about death leads to the deathless!) He then outlined a three-step approach to the practice:
Reflect on the fatal dangers that surround us
Check for unwholesome qualities that would hinder our progress if we were to die tonight
Practice abandoning these unwholesome qualities with the urgency of someone whose clothes or head are on fire
Essentially, he wants us to realise that death can happen to us anytime, and to use that to spur us to practice. Therefore, its purpose is not fear or morbid fascination, but to inspire wise urgency (saṃvega) in our spiritual practice.
Seen against the backdrop of saṃsāra(wandering on from life to life), when we realise how little might be left of our lives, it can motivate us to abandon our unwholesome qualities diligently. Death contemplation is not about ruminating on the end. With right understanding, it’s a skillful means to refocus our energies on the path.
How I Practise Death Contemplation Today
Keeping it simple
I sit quietly and bring to mind, “Life is uncertain, death is certain. Death is near, death is coming.” A few minutes is enough.
Staying grounded
I reflect on the everyday ways death could arrive — sickness, accidents, sudden turn of events. To remind myself that I may die anytime.
Checking my habits
I ask myself, what am I still carrying that does not serve the path? Resentment? Clinging? Conceit? This part requires the most honesty. In return, it offers the clearest view of the work of the heart ahead of me.
Using familiar language
In the Mindfulness of Death Sutta, the Buddha describes how a forest monk can undertake this contemplation using the three steps above. Here is a modern take, based on daily life in Singapore.
As the “uwu-uwu” calls of birds break the dawn in Singapore, one reflects:
“Actually I can die in so many ways hor? I might get into a car accident on the PIE, suffer from a heart attack, or fall into a longkang. I might choke on my nasi lemak, get deadly dengue fever, or get randomly attacked by dogs along the PCN. If I died from any of these, my opportunity for spiritual growth in this life habis sia…”
“Are there any unskillful qualities that I haven’t given up, which might be an obstacle to my progress if I die tonight? Like, am I still holding onto resentment towards that person who keeps criticising me? Or am I clinging too much to my family?”
“Wah, still burning with greed, hatred, and delusion. I think I better meditate tonight…”
When to Pause the Practice
If contemplating death brings up excessive anxiety, perhaps it’s better to set it aside for now. Instead, turn towards practices such as dāna (giving), sīla (virtue), mettā (goodwill), and faith that uplift and stabilise the mind. I found that when the mind is at ease, insight-related practices like death contemplation will feel much more manageable. It took me a long time to build up enough faith and understanding before feeling ready to recollect death. Through that process, I learnt that the right practice for us will lead to greater peace and not distress.
Closing Reflection
These days, when I allow mindfulness of death into my day, even briefly, I find that my heart softens a little. I become a little more accepting, more forgiving, more able to say “it’s ok lah, never mind,” and more willing to practise while the conditions are still good.
The Buddha did not ask us to fear death. He taught us not to waste the time we have before it arrives.
In doing so, we move closer to the ultimate goal: liberation from the entire cycle of re-deaths and realisation of the deathless, Nibbāna.
TLDR: A lay meditation practitioner brings a Jataka tale to life through the creation of a comic, guided by the Buddha’s teachings. In doing so, the process reframes the author’s understanding of suffering and its place in the modern world.
“Better than a thousand verses comprising useless words, is one beneficial single line, by hearing which one is pacified.”
– The Dhammapada, Translated by Venerable Narada Thera
A Time of Awakening
Sitting with eyes closed in a dark meditation hall, I listened to my teacher’s voice chanting and explaining the Anapanasati Sutta, the authoritative teaching on using the breath as an initial focus for meditation.
I felt transported to the time of the Buddha. Gradually, as I began my meditation practice, I gained a vivid understanding of the Buddhist period within Indian history, a significance I had not experienced before. So this was the Buddha’s teaching! These were its effects on the land and the people!
The practice of Anapanasati, followed by Vipassana (insight meditation), was eye-opening. Over the years, as I continued my meditation practice, the Lord Buddha’s life and the constellation of beings around him became familiar companions. They guided me; they inspired me, and they became a wholesome presence in my mind. Episodes from the Buddha’s life inspire practitioners as much as his parables. Against this backdrop, the colour and energy of the Jataka tales sprang forth.
What were once amusing cartoons in my childhood became teachings that came alive with pulsating incidents. In that light, I recalled the Lord Buddha’s previous lives when he triumphed over the most harrowing circumstances. Meditation practice truly makes the teachings of the Buddha more vivid.
A New Journey
One day, I brought the sensibilities of my filmmaking career into the creation of a comic book, as a whimsical departure from my well-trodden path. Thus, I began a new journey.
I selected the Jataka tale (ancient Buddhist stories that recount Gautama Buddha’s past lives) Mahasilava. It is about the time Lord Buddha was born as King Mahasilava, who pledged never to take a life. However, the King lost his kingdom after being betrayed by one of his ministers. Nevertheless, heheld fast to his noble intention and faced the most dangerous circumstances.
My initial reading of the story, some years earlier, had left an impression of tremendous tension and stress. This was nothing short of King Mahasilava’s painful story of endurance.
When I set out to create the comic, author and comic book artist Anupam Arunachalam introduced me to Harsho Mohan Chattoraj, one of India’s most prolific illustrators in the field. Having this fortunate encounter with Harsho, I decided to involve him in my project.
Harsho specialised in what would be considered in Buddhist parlance as the realms of hungry ghosts. Initially, we interacted through a scribbled draft of the entire comic.
Scribbled thumbnails by the writer
The Process
Months of virtual conversations unfolded between Harsho and me. Throughout the whole process, we met in person only twice. The pages trickled into life intentionally and gradually.
Mahasilava comic panel. The King contemplates his vow.
We collaborated panel by panel, line by line. Harsho illustrated far more than he had intended to. Mahasilava’s world started taking form. I suggested imagery from archaeological sites like Ajanta and artefacts from Gandhara and Pala. “As long as it was Buddhist,” I thought. The eclectic references somehow harmonised.
Mahasilava Comic panels
Throughout the creation process, I took up sketching for the main purpose of communicating with Harsho. Along with my daily dose of meditation, I added another hour to practice drawing. I drew with a meditative approach: focusing solely on the act of moving my pencil across the paper.
In another way, sketching trained me to observe. As the comic progressed painstakingly, my scribbles formed drawings over time, and I even had a go at experimenting with colours.
My watercolour suggestion and Harsho’s final panel below
Harsho considered my inputs with utmost seriousness. Preserving his individuality, he arrived at unexpected results that rendered King Mahasilava’s story with striking vividness. Finally, we completed the comic!
The Cover
During our collaboration, Harsho had visited Abu Dhabi, where he saw a Gandhara statue of the Bodhisattva. Since then, Harsho had the idea of designing a cover image based on the statue. When he finally created a cover, it was an image of Mahasilava presented as a sculpture, preserved for timeless posterity.
Cover of the MAHASILAVA Comic
Final Thoughts
The comic turned out differently than I expected. The story emerged with a raw edge, in which a reader commented that some parts were too violent and gruesome. But hey, I chose to stay true to the Theravada text. (Spoiler alert!) When the story progresses to a charnel ground with hungry jackals and corpse-feeding Yakkhas (powerful nature spirits in the Buddhist Cosmology), there is no way of softening the blow of reality.
Turning to today’s entertainment industry, a question arises. How literal and unflinching has entertainment media become? How much do audiences, including younger ones, stomach these days? The eventual question is, to what end are we consuming? Such images and stories shape the mind towards desire and aversion, strengthening the ignorance that clouds our understanding of suffering and impermanence. Few people pause to see this influence clearly.
By contrast, the Jataka tales resolve very differently. They do so peacefully, leading most viewers from suffering to a place beyond suffering. Stories from the Buddha’s past lives imbue the reader with peace and wisdom.
Once exposed to these stories, readers and audiences may be inspired to navigate emotions, reach a state of equanimity and understand impermanence. This was the Dhamma direction from which I developed the comic Mahasilava. I hope this interpretation of the Buddha’s past life as King Mahasilava brings peace and happiness for all beings.
Wise Steps
Read translations of the Jataka Tales in their original form from the Theravada Canon. Each story contains particular teachings of the Lord Buddha, which are relevant to the everyday practise of the Dhamma.
Be mindful of consuming entertainment, which may perpetuate one’s greed, aversion and delusion.
MAHASILAVA is a 24-page comic written by Rajat Ghose and illustrated by Harsho Mohan Chattoraj. It is currently available on Amazon Kindle in the US, UK, France, Italy, Germany, Netherlands, Japan, Brazil, Mexico, Canada, Australia and India.
All text and images of MAHASILAVA Comic by Rajat Ghose illustrated by Harsho Mohan Chattoraj are Copyright Rajat Ghose 2025
TLDR: To meditate consistently, the practice of overcoming distractions and hindrances is aided by patient endurance, being intent and purposeful about practice, the creation of supportive conditions, ethical conduct and an experiential taste of the stillness and fruits that meditation brings.
“This is not a meditation story, this is a story about meditation.”
I began my meditation journey in earnest, one-and-a-half years ago in January 2024. Going through many consecutive days of meditation has brought a shift in the perspectives I take towards life and practice. These perspectives have brought clarity and a subtle joy and faith that inspires more practice.
How it Started: Boringly
My first experiences with sitting meditation was when I was a secondary school student ten-plus years ago, when I learnt meditation from a Buddhist Zen center. Back then, I found sitting meditation to be a boring and restless experience, filled with many thoughts and ideas about what to do when the session was (finally) over.
I often emerged from those sessions having many more thoughts than when I started, and often emerged feeling more refreshed for a different reason when I ended up napping mid-meditation.
All this is not to say that my early experiences with meditation were bad—I was taught the significance of meditation, but with the way it was going, I never thought that it was going to be more than an occasional priority, revisiting the same experiences of tedium over and over again.
Why I Chose to Continue
The unexpected trigger for me to meditate more was due to a very mundane reason: I wanted to woo someone who was a Buddhist, and thought that I could better qualify by being a “better” Buddhist myself through regularly meditating. The pursuit fell through, but the meditation habit remained, and my experience of meditation began to change as well.
What is Meditation?
Meditation is practiced for religious and secular reasons, utilising ancient and contemporary methods: the approaches and goals of meditation are myriad and varied.
For example, in the Buddhist context, Mindfulness of Breathing (Ānāpānassati) meditation is practiced with liberation as the goal, where the cultivation of mindfulness develops the factors of awakening, and the cultivation of the factors of awakening brings about knowledge and liberation.
To give a description of the mindfulness of breathing practice, I present excerpts from the Ānāpānassatisutta – MN118:
It’s when a mendicant—gone to a wilderness, or to the root of a tree, or to an empty hut—sits down cross-legged, sets their body straight, and establishes mindfulness in their presence. Just mindful, they breathe in. Mindful, they breathe out. Breathing in heavily they know: ‘I’m breathing in heavily.’ Breathing out heavily they know: ‘I’m breathing out heavily.’ When breathing in lightly they know: ‘I’m breathing in lightly.
…
They practice like this: ‘I’ll breathe in observing letting go.’ They practice like this: ‘I’ll breathe out observing letting go.’
We can practice meditation just as the Buddha taught.
The style of meditation I practice also involves the awareness of the breathing process. With the breath as an anchor (and not the subject), I practice observing the arising and fading away of feelings, thoughts and mental phenomena without endeavoring to stop them or to indulge in them, and in so doing, still the mind. It is the process of letting go of our attachments to phenomena, and staying vigilant in the moment, not creating mental and conceptual constructions in our mind.
This is not a recommendation to do the same: the sort of meditation that you prefer and works for you would likely be different. If we need guidance, we should practice meditation just as the Buddha taught. 🙂
Reflections on the (Ongoing) Journey
These reflections are written with the aim of preserving the practice of making time and space to sit in meditation daily. To aim to sit for 500, even 600+ days in a row is a very daunting and challenging prospect, with much uncertainty on the outcome: but in truth all we are doing is waking up daily and saying: “I will sit today.”
1. Start small. Starting small helped a lot—the daily 15-minute chunks of meditation felt a lot more manageable compared to thinking of devoting 30 minutes straightaway for practice. With time, I slowly increased the duration of the time allocated to sitting.
2. The beginning is hard (tedious) but the habits take over. I use the Insight Timer app to track my meditation sessions. To preserve my streak of consecutive meditation days in the app, I now vaguely recall instances where I frantically tried to sit and establish some silence and quiet for 5 minutes before midnight passed. On other days, the topic of meditation hung over my mind the entire day before I finally got it done at night.
The daily sittings reaffirmed* that there was a good time to sit (anytime), and an even better time to sit (!): Sit early in the morning right after you wake up, when your body is refreshed, your mind is awake and clear, and not yet cluttered with the day’s events.
By centering the practice around waking earlier and sitting right afterwards (big plus if you don’t scroll on your phone first), you make the process a part of your natural rhythm of the day.
3. The process is noisy and non-linear. There were many closely-spaced milestones being achieved in the early days (7 days in a row, 10 days in a row, 20 days, 30 days, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, … 100! days in a row) that served as a source of motivation (for a numbers-driven person like myself, though it may not be as appealing for everyone).
But the early sits were also full of distractions—a wandering mind, a constantly-thinking mind, a bothered and confused mind, endless thoughts, a heavy dose of restlessness and boredom, inwardly counting the minutes to the end of the session & much sleepiness.
There were many ‘bad’ days, where I hardly felt that I was sitting, and fewer days that I would emerge thinking that I had done a good job. How should we address this? With ‘patient forbearance’ (khanti). Looking back, I would characterize the process as being noisy and non-linear.
Why ‘noisy’? Because the good sits were interspersed with the ‘bad’ sits, and the bad sits followed by more ‘bad” sits (perhaps due to life stressors and other factors), but I would find out much later from looking back that daily sitting became more mellow and less of a struggle for me. In time, they became more neutral and pleasant as well.
The noise and restlessness that we encounter in our meditation is a natural part of the process; it’s not a reason to criticise ourselves, or treat ourselves harshly. This is something that I am working on. We learn about our minds and their tendencies during such periods as well.
This is my subjective reflection about how the process went for me. Your own experience would definitely be different, and my reflection can never serve as a substitute for your own experience. To know how your own story with meditation unfolds, you have to patiently sit, day-by-day. With some distance, looking back on your own journey will tell you what it has been like for you.
Sometimes the process may be uncomfortable and distressing. It is important to then calm our distress.
“When the forest is quiet, the animals come out to play”: When you are occupied with your daily activities, unmindful, it is like a hunter that tramples noisily and unmindful in the forest. All the animals go into hiding. When the hunter is gone, and the forest is quiet, the animals come out to play.
The animals are like our thoughts, tendencies and impulses that surface when the mind is quiet(er). They often lurk in the forest, but unmindful that we are in our daily lives, we fail to notice their presence.
A version of this story above was once shared by a Zen Master. Reminding myself of the metaphor of the mind as the ‘forest’ and the phenomena within as the ‘animals’ helped to calm my distress and anxiety at being confronted with distressing and agitating thoughts that seemed to emerge during and after meditation.
4. It is a blessing to have supportive conditions for practice. Looking back, although full of ups and downs (many of it self-created) this period of life has been marked with normalcy and a lack of significant, life-changing events, and I realise now that I have been blessed to be in the midst of conditions supportive for practice.
As with all things, this situation is impermanent and subject to change, but while it lasts, it is a good time to build up my familiarity with the practice of meditation. There is never a perfect time to practice (on some days when the rhythm is broken, I have to drag myself to sit very unwillingly). Even through bouts of brief illnesses, the circumstances have been benign enough that one can still practice amidst some physical pain, and this has allowed me to keep the streak unbroken and going.
Faced with the uncertain and the unknown, when we wake up and decide that we will devote time to practice today, we create conditions supportive for practice.
5. Sīla (conduct) is an essential foundation for meditation.
Extending on the point of creating conditions supportive for practice, it is said in AN11.2 Cetanākaraṇīyasutta**:
“Mendicants, an ethical person, who has fulfilled ethical conduct, need not make a wish: ‘May I have no regrets!’ It’s only natural that an ethical person has no regrets.
When you have no regrets you need not make a wish: ‘May I feel joy!’ It’s only natural that joy springs up when you have no regrets.
When you feel joy you need not make a wish: ‘May I experience rapture!’ It’s only natural that rapture arises when you’re joyful.
When your mind is full of rapture you need not make a wish: ‘May my body become tranquil!’ It’s only natural that your body becomes tranquil when your mind is full of rapture.
When your body is tranquil you need not make a wish: ‘May I feel bliss!’ It’s only natural to feel bliss when your body is tranquil.
When you feel bliss you need not make a wish: ‘May my mind be immersed in samādhi!’ It’s only natural for the mind to become immersed in samādhi when you feel bliss.”
Here we can see that the establishment of ethical conduct leads to the natural occurrence of non-regret, joy, rapture, tranquility, bliss and samadhi—a state of stability, stillness and an unperturbed mind.
The creation of supportive conditions for practice means also the establishment of good conduct. If we seek peaceful meditation, we should uphold virtuous and ethical conduct, and peaceful meditation would naturally follow.
Dhammapada, Verse 183 states: Not to do any evil; to embrace the good; to purify one’s mind: this is the instruction of the Buddhas.
To make space for the naturally-occurring fruits of non-regret, joy, tranquility, bliss and samadhi: which of the unhelpful tendencies that hinder our daily life and meditative practice are we willing to relinquish and let go?
** My gratitude to a good friend who helpfully pointed to this sutta.
6. A Taste of Stillness It is hard to motivate a case for meditating daily if there were absolutely no realized benefits of doing so. Thankfully, I found that the practice of daily meditation was correlated with experiences of calmness and peace for me—a profound taste of stillness, mostly experienced in daily life when the mind goes quiet(er).
I interpret this as the experience involving the absence of wanting and clinging as a blissful state—a third route that we could take beyond the dissatisfaction, pain and suffering of striving for pleasant and good situations, and the aversion towards unpleasant and bad situations (all modes and aspects encompassed in the Noble Truth of Suffering).
There are other associated benefits with meditative practice and stillness. It enables one to stop and see clearly. When we see clearly, less affected by the bias of seeking the pleasant and being averse to the unpleasant, we are given the capacity to choose more helpful attitudes and courses of action.
When we can stop and see clearly, we are more receptive to the truth. The experience of stillness soothes our agitations and anxieties and helps us to let go: the (temporary) respite gives us a chance to let go of views, tendencies and actions that lead to further turmoil and agitation and to dwell instead in peace.
The fruits of the correct and proper practice of mindfulness are multitudinous and varied, ultimately leading to awakening, knowledge & liberation (Ānāpānassatisutta – MN118).
7. Ask yourself: “Why do I meditate?” Are the intentions you set for your meditation aligned with (1) the proper aims and practice of meditation? (2) a life well-lived (in both its spiritual and non-spiritual aspects)? For example, to me meditation is about letting go. Then, mistaken ideas and attitudes about spiritual progress and attainment achieved through meditation that I often find myself caught up in would not be aligned with its proper aims and practice. It is very hard to give a proper and thorough treatment of this point.
Our intentions and views about meditative practice shapes our approaches towards meditation, and being obstinate and stubborn to practice can be more harmful than not practicing (when we reinforce wrong views).
The effects of being mistaken about meditation can be serious, so it isvery important to be reflective, open-minded and to seek correct instruction and counsel from authoritative sources and wise people to develop one’s meditative practice. Practicing meditation just as the Buddha taught also means practice grounded in and in accord with the Dhamma.
8. Handful of Leaves: Meditation Is Not Only On The Cushion Lastly, it is written in another Handful of Leaves articlethat meditation does not have to happen only one way, at a specific time and in a dedicated space.
Just as we enjoy and benefit from the fruits of our practice in our daily life, beyond formal practice, our meditation and mindfulness extends to and is not separate from everyday life.
May we all continue to be diligent and practice correctly!
FYI: The streak has been broken. The mind’s reaction to that can also be useful for reflection.
Wise Steps
Meditate daily (consistently); be patient and unperturbed.
Cultivate supportive conditions for practice—through ethical conduct, the right mindset, and consistency.
The fruits of meditation can be transformative, seek correct instruction and practice correctly in accordance with the Dhamma.
