Warm hearted greetings Brenna,
Perhaps at the particular vantage of less than two weeks from full ordination (if the conditions remain aligned) I might comment.
It was about five years ago I went to my teacher at a wonderful meditation center in Minnesota, USA, after the most recent bhikkhu had visited the center, wistfully saying, “I wish this were possible for women.” It was with a sense of sadness that I said this, seeing a way of life that seemed so aligned with my aspirations, but not seeing it available to me. A female, in her forties, in not-ideal health, didn’t seem to be the conditions conducive to becoming a forest monk.
This emotion wasn’t nibbida or samvega, but it seemed a part of the package in the early days of becoming aware of how life was conditioned. I was seeing that the situations of life and how one lived within the situations were important states contributing to whether or not I felt the situation was supportive for practice. At this time, the draw of worldly goods, interesting experiences, and prestige was losing its shine, but I was still going through the motions, because it was the life and lifestyle I had and knew.
Luckily, my wise teacher, told me to just keep practicing and that a bhikkhuni was scheduled to visit in the Spring. I began giving less and less time to the worldly things and spent more and more time at the meditation center, on retreat, and practicing at home.
In response to the question, “Is it possible?” made to the visiting bhikkhuni, I heard the magic words, “It is difficult, but it is possible.” Upon hearing this magical phrase, aspirations fueled the search to answer the new question, “Where is it possible?”
I began the exploration and lay life priorities became aligned with exiting in a kind and non-offensive way. I had a job contract to finish, an apartment lease, lots of books and other things to give away and two cats who would need a good home. There were also family and friends to transition to the idea of me leaving the ‘good life’ I had built and fully living the ‘holy life’ instead.
With the second monastery visit I made, I felt I had found a good community and conditions for practice. I had about six months to go on my work contract and about the same on my apartment lease. I didn’t feel any longer the lay life joy of having an excellent work project and team members and a reasonably convenient living situation. I felt like I wanted to be done. I didn’t need to make any more money, but I had an obligation to work. I didn’t need all the space and amenities of an apartment, but I had a obligation to keep it up. The weariness came, and with it the, “I don’t wanna do this anymore,” whiny mind. It had more of the depressive, “I’ve gotta just put one foot in front of the other.” but also, “for this limited time - so I can do it,” attitude developing.
I wouldn’t call what I was experiencing nibbidā at that point and I talked with a teacher about it.
He suggested I treat all of this as an act of dana. I could view the work I was completing as, not for the paycheck, but for the well being of my colleagues and clients. I could view the care of the apartment and other worldly obligations as the care of those would benefit from its maintenance and distribution. I could practice with mindfulness and metta.
Practicing in this way transformed my exit at work and relationship with my landlords. I was acting from a generous heart and mind and I was seeing the people with compassion and well wishes.
I was already putting care into the giving away and paring down and having ‘transition’ conversations and visits with family and friends. The first month or so of this was very uplifting as I found where my energy and possessions could go and be of benefit to others.
After a while though, the carloads of books, clothing and hats, kitchen equipment, furniture, office supplies, and on and on, made me really see the massive energy expenditure of acquisition, maintenance and, now, redistribution. Very little of those things were simple necessities when really examined. Most of it was to be accepted and acceptable in the mainstream Western World and it was to give me or others comforts and pleasures and distractions.
With heart aligning more and more toward release from the delusion of happiness in worldly ways, I could appreciate the goodness of sharing and caring for people, but didn’t find even that to be more of a draw than the even more productive process of practice for liberation. More than the happiness of generosity, I began finding the joy in having less and holding less.
Just a couple of days before my planned flight to the monastery, a wonderful new home for the cats was found. The night before the flight, a friend followed me to the last donation place, where, with just the night guard and friend as witness, I dropped the car keys in the donation box and exclaimed, “No house, no job, no car - I’m free!”
I’ve not missed the house, job, car, nor even much, those dear cats. I have occasionally missed the ego identity of being able to have those things. That is where the real work of renunciation has been of such value. Seeing all the ways I built up ME, was best done by relinquishing all those worldly props. It has been of much benefit, this stepping outside of lay life and into the space, central to the monastic life, where seeing the props and the process of ME making is the work most “productive”.
I could write more about the other side of coming to monastic life and where the process continues to unfold and new things to relinquish and come to nibbida develop, but this seems enough for now.
May your process of relinquishment be bolstered by metta and compassion, by generosity, and by freedom. Wherever it leads in garments and haircut (lay or monastic), may it also lead to liberation.
With kind regards,
Sister Niyyānikā
so I think nibbida’s place in the the progression makes it a very good place to hold a discussion.
).
I guess, as you say, it’s important to just keep going.
You’re giving me Shia Labeouf vibes:
’ regarding practice ie not just full on normal social living or ordination.
)
. Within moments, and for the first time in my life, I was ready to commit to a teacher and Buddhist Sangha. Prior to this, though I had attended a number of different Buddhist temples, there was always enough doubt to prevent me making the committment. In some ways I felt some Nibbida towards the specific practices or approach.
