"Do not try to bend Simon. There is no Simon"
0 Comments Published by totallygone.com on Friday, June 13, 2003.

"This is my ship, the Nebuchadnezzar. It's a hovercraft..."
Suan Mokkh comprises two complexes; a forest wat, or temple, and a teaching center where the meditation courses are held. I noticed, upon arrival, a sign leading to the "Dharma Boats", and set off to investigate. It was of course, a boiling hot, steamy day, the forest was wet and creepy, huge lizards appearing as if by magic, climbing vast trees, llianas dangling. I reached a clearing, a sunlit glade, in which the bows of a what appeared to be a large white concrete ferry soared forth from the forest floor. Housing the wat's library, the building's architecture is inspired by the metaphor of Buddha's dharma as a boat whose purpose is to ferry humans across the ocean of suffering; the root of suffering being the mind's imprisonment in an illusory world, ignorant of the true nature of reality.
Reality Bites. But in small portions
It wasn't until I reached the other part of the complex, however, that I realized that I was entering a very different world from the one to which I have become accustomed! Ascetism is, at Suan Mokkh, the plat du jour; the idea being that sensory pleasures are a major, major distraction, and that spoiling oneself means just that. This we know already - by the time I left Bangkok last I could barely remember my own name. Accommodation at the meditation center consists, therefore, of small cells, no fan, no A/C (with humidity at 80% and temperature peaking at around 90F/35C), sleep on a concrete bed (no mattress, just a thin straw mat), wooden pillows, lights out at 10, out of bed at 4am (no, that wasn't a typo. 4am), inspirational reading at 4.30 followed by breathing meditation. Yoga at 5.15 for 90 minutes, more meditation, then breakfast at 8am. Remember that stuff they served up on the Nebuchadnezzar? A colourless barley gruel? The very same!!! Lunch was good - rice 'n a kind of rough green curry, coconut, spices, tofu, soya etc. But on day 9 there was only one meal. Lots of mutinous expressions. The only luxuries were the hot springs - a choice of two large pools drawn from subterranean wells. The water was hot, slightly salty, and very hard - leaving a coating of limescale on the skin and especially the hair. Only when I returned to Bangkok and had washed it a couple of times did I realise that I'd been wearing a Brillo pad on my head for a week. So, as you can see, I wasn't distracted by luxuries - the distractions all came, unsurprisingly, from my own side.
Lust in Space
Silence is golden. Not like an ingot, I discoverd - more like a desert. So, during my 9 1/2 days of silence, I found out why both the Buddhist and Christian canons feature stories in which their heroes undergo major temptation during their tests of solitude. Because you do! What happens when you try to still your mind for a few minutes is that it leaps for a pleasurable distraction, whether imaginary or real. It continues to do so, even when obstacles such as disturbing thoughts get in the way. So when you're having a disturbing compulsive thought, your mind is actually attempting to break through it to a pleasant thought, and getting stuck. That's all. Most of the time, distractions is easily available. In the American, European and major Asian metropolises, you can realize your desires immediately, they're never more than a phonecall or mouseclick away - sex/drugs/rock 'n roll/pizza/pasta/foie gras/deep fried crickets - you name it. But things are different out there in the inner desert. You just CAN'T GET NO SATISFACTION! Christ, according to the gospels, was tempted (and taunted) by Satan with food, invincibility, and limitless worldly kingdoms. Buddha, beneath the bodhi tree, was visited by both the armies (representing the force of anger) of Mara, Lord of Evil, and his delectable, voluptuous daughters, Tanhi (Lust) Raga (Desire) and Arahti (Aversion) - representing the three poisons, according to the buddhist system of ethics, that affict the mind. From my own experience, the Buddhist canon is undoubtably more credible. As if Christ wouldn't have thought about sex. In that heat? Maybe in the wastes of Antarctica, but not in Asia. Try it yourself. Still your mind for a few hours, and you won't need a phone or a computer - your imagination will deliver your every desire at the speed of thought. In vivid colour, with superb special effects. All sorts of wonderful things and beings morphing into each other. Read that last preposition again, it's important. So, my 9 1/2 days were, for a major part, like 9 1/2 Weeks - the movie. This wasn't helped by the fact that some of the young men on the course had obviously stepped straight out of an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial. It's very interesting indeed - when you want, and you can't have, the object of your desire, you're in hell. The Dis of Disatisfaction. Buddha's solution, which I recommend HIGHLY as a cure for intrusive thoughts of a lover/lovers - real or imaginary - is to meditate on the most enduring aspect of the human form - its frailty. Visualize the beauty of the love object, hold that thought, then, in your mind, watch it decay with the (inevitable) onset of sickness, old age, and death. Or acne, if you're feeling squeamish. This all sounds a bit harsh, but it's a sure-fire method if you're feeling lovesick. Or if you're too horny to get your jeans on. So, after a few days of wrestling with my libido, I moved on to the next demon. Myself.
"There is no spoon"
Suan Mokkh was the brainchild of Buddhadasa Bhikkhu (the name means "Monk who is Slave of Buddha). His ultimate goal was to relieve human suffering, the basis of which is ignorance of the true nature of reality - the most important aspects of which are that all phenomena are a) impermanent and b) void of inherent existence. Item a) is simple enough - you don't need to be Heraclitus to work out that there is nothing (i.e. no thing. Not one) that doesn't change. But b) is a bit more complicated. Unless you've seen The Matrix and Matrix Reloaded, whose fundamental cosmologies and metaphysics derive from postmodern theories which, in turn, were imported largely from buddhist philosophy and applied to late 20th and early 21st century culture (Did you notice all those buddhas? All that stuff about cause and effect? More from Keanu on Buddhism, with Richard Gere, is available on the FPMT's new "Discovering Buddhism" series?) Postmodern theories of reality also recognize that cognitive experience of external phenomena is mediated by the senses, interpreted by consciousness, and that the existence of such phenomena is also contingent upon causes and parts - those of both object and subject. The essence of Buddhist philosophy is identical - nothing has inherent existence, including and especially the self. At Suan Mokkh, these philosophies are used as the basis for a meditation practice that liberates the mind from conceptual thought and, in particular, the concept of such a thing as "I" or "mine."
In the I of the beholder
So, the idea is this. When we come into contact with an object - any object, whether it a potential beau, a bottle of wine, a pair of Manolo Blahniks, or that irresistible deep-fried Mars Bar, our mind creates not only a mental image of said object, but also an identity with which to consume the object. Which is why you can see/drink/eat/wear/date the same thing twice (or so you think), but on one occasion you'll hurl and the next you'll salivate. Not just because nothing's ever really the same thing twice, but also because you're never really the same person twice. We take for granted the fact that we have different personas for work, family, date, life-partner, bit-on-the-side, etc. The buddhist philosophy of self pushes that envelope into a different dimension, stating that not only does the persona fail to exist, not being the true "core" of the self, but that, being entirely dependent upon external causes, conditions, upon its constructions of memory and experience, no such self exists at all, but is created from moment to moment. This happens with such speed that we perceive these selves a narrative, much as we see separate shots played at 24-frames-per-second as a movie. So, ultimately, nothing is what it seems, at all. That's life. And then you die. And then you do it all again.
It's all enough to make you wonder what the hell is going on and, more importantly, who in the hell you are, anyway. Never mind. Take a cookie...
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