Reverb#10 - Day 5

Prompt: Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

I let of a few things this year. A few fair weather friends and some close friends.

I let go of a lot of stuff. The physical stuff I donated or attempted to sell. The metaphysical stuff, well, that's still rattling around somewhere but one day I'll figure that out.

I let go of so much expectation. Expectation in "life long" friends who felt less strongly about that then I did. Expectations in the health care system. Expectations that someone's profession says much about how they are as a person. That the world is ultimately a good/bad place. The notion that humanity and human kind encompasses all like minded traits. In short, I let go of expectation as a deciding factor. It is far too random a term to define anything of value.

When I was younger, I traveled for a spell through the Indian continent and South-East Asia. I spent some time ordained as a novice Buddhist nun in Thailand, at a national park that housed a monastery. There I met two of the most interesting women I'd ever met. Maria was a German lady who had journeyed to Thailand ten years earlier, had fallen in love with Buddhism, traveled back to Germany to sell all her worldly possessions and explain her new life course to a disbelieving family. She had soon returned to Thailand, where she entered the monastery and stayed, her heart and life bound to life by the words of the Buddha. I had never met a Westerner who had so fully renounced and let go of the Western way of life so entirely, in the name of religion. For Maria, religion was such a disposable word to describe what she had found in the monastic way of life. She was very serious most of time, making sure I didn't eat anything except at the one meal time of the day, made sure I counted each mouthful and each bite of the food I did consume. She made me stick to my Buddhist principles, and ensured that I meant them. She was filled with stories related to the Buddha and took great delight in sharing them. I could have listened to her for hours.
Christina was a lady from the USA, whose last city of residence had been Houston. Christina was a nomad: she had lived in many places and studied many things. She told me that she had many degrees and certificates and schools of thought behind her name. She was as warm and open as Maria was serious and reserved. She too had come to Thailand to live as a Buddhist, but for very different reasons. She and I would go on great excursions across the Park to this auspicious cave or that holy field near that holy rock near the river. We once put up our mosquito nets from a low bower of a banyan tree and sat in meditation for the better part of an afternoon. Christina was funny. She loved to make Maria break a smile. They were like Yin and Yang. She fussed over me like a light-hearted big sister, explaining this and that and encouraging me to do better in my studies and meditations, whereas Maria minded me as her desiple or young student, and often chose to say nothing so that I might work out the answer on my own. Both women were awesome to spend time with and they both had my interests at heart.
We were sitting around the house one night, listening to a sermon in Thai by a well revered monk. Maria of course could follow - she spoke German, French, Thai, and Pali. Pali is known as the language from the earliest of Buddhist scriptures, similar to Sanskrit more in a dialectic sense then from an origin of time. Most of the readings and recordings were in Pali, and the prayer books had translations into Thai and English. Pali to the naked, unknowable ear sounded old, I always imagined the Buddha himself speaking it so many centuries ago, particularly in inner monologue form as he sat under the banyan tree, before he gained enlightenment.
Anyhow, Maria would translate the parts she felt were important. Christina was still learning Thai. She stated she would learn Pali when she felt she could get a proper hold of it. During this listening session, Christina grew very quiet, and it wasn't until after the tape had been switched off that she made her thoughts known.
Essentially, Christina felt lost. Her trip to Thailand was another attempt at finding out what she wanted to do with her life. Her greatest anguish was that she excelled at most of what she did, but could never seem to stay rooted to one thing for any long period of time. She had had many failed relationships, too much schooling, and so many experiences that she didn't know what to do with all the knowledge she had gained. In short, she felt she was wasting her life. This had become more apparent each time in the last few years that she had moved. In Houston, she had come close to feeling some sort of satisfaction in her expectations. But that had fallen through and while flailing about, she had found Buddhism. She clung to this find, like it was a life preserver, and had dove headfirst into this new venture, finding solace and peace for the first time in ages. However, because of the trail of broken expectations and disappointments, she decided to put herself to the test. So she sold everything she owned, save a small storage unit in Houston, shaved her head, and had flown to Thailand to lose herself in Buddhism so that she may ultimately find herself. But she feel it not working. And she felt like fleeing. Back to her storage locker? Maybe.
I listened to all this in stunned silence. Everything Christina had just said had floored me. To me, she was the most optimistic, most outgoing and self-assured person ever. Her feelings of flight seemed so familiar, so much like mine. My expectations in her were so different than who she had revealed just now. I looked at Maria, who sat looking at Christina, her lips pursed.
"You need to stay here and stop running away from yourself," said Maria finally. "Where else is a better place to do this than in a monastery, a place of meditation and worship. You need to truly give yourself to Buddha's teachings, and what you seek will reveal itself."
"But I have," said Christina. "It isn't working."
"Of course not. You haven't given yourself to the teachings yet. You go into mediation and wait for something to happen. It isn't a sideshow. It is going within, and watching things as they are meant to occur. So that the outside does not bother you."
"But the inside is bothering me. This is why I want to go."
"No. It is the outside. It is your expectations, your entitlement of what you feel the world owes you, that causes you to flee when they aren't met. Stay here and see them for what they truly may be. Take a vow of silence for ten days. Talk to no one, let nothing distract you from you. Truly give this a chance to take seed."
"I've been studying for months. Months. But nothing! I keep hoping and praying."
"These are expectations. Leave them outside. Truly commit to following the teachings. That is the only way this can work for you."
I almost wanted to smack myself to see if Maria had transformed into a tiny green creature with big green ears and cream coloured robes. There was such conviction, such calm behind her words. Even now, I can still here her speaking to Christina, kindly, but firmly. No sugar coating to be found.
"Westerners, they do this. They throw expectations on everything. They feel hope and try to put meaning on to many things. Why? It seems cruel. The expectation, it becomes so heavy. You don't seem able to measure up to what you expect. Or to what they expect. Who's they?" Maria, I felt, was now addressing both of us.
"Because we are a new continent?" I asked.
Maria smiled. "Maybe. In the European sense. Funny, yes?" She poured some water into a glass, gave it to Christina. "Sleep on it. Jenny and I will go to temple tomorrow. Early morning. If you need to, meditate here. We won't judge." Another ghost of a smile.
Christina took a sip of water, nodded to us both. Then excused herself to her room. I wanted to give her a hug, but was not allowed to. Another precept.
The next morning, it was just Maria and I at temple. I had my most successful meditation session yet. After the meditation, it was made known that a bus was going to take some monks back to Bangkok. Maria was going too. I had a feeling I would be too.
At the house, Christina stated quietly that she would stay behind. "I think I might go silent for a few weeks," she said. Maria smiled, and bowed her head.
Before the bus left later that day, Christina and I walked around the grounds one last time. "You will not stay with me?" she said. "Stay, and we can go inwards together for a few weeks. Even be silent. It will be hot in Bangkok now. Here it will be cooler. More quiet."
"No, I should go back. There are things I need to do." Part of me wanted to stay with her, in the quiet park. But more of me did not want to be a distraction.
As the bus pulled away we waved at each other. I watched her go up the walkway to the house.
On the bus I was quiet. Maria turned around in the seat in front of me. She started telling me a story. I listened only too gladly.
Sometimes when I look at my own expectations in things, I can hear Maria. I don't wonder about her, as I am sure she is sitting somewhere, focused inwards, and on the teachings. Christina, I wonder where she is. If she ever found a place to stay. And if so, does it meet her expectations? Or had she become unburdened?