As I reflect tonight on the example of Bhante Gavesi, and his total lack of interest in appearing exceptional. It is ironic that meditators often approach a teacher of his stature carrying various concepts and preconceived notions derived from literature —searching for a definitive roadmap or a complex philosophical framework— but he just doesn't give it to them. The role of a theoretical lecturer seems to hold no appeal for him. Instead, those who meet him often carry away a more silent understanding. It is a sense of confidence in their personal, immediate perception.
His sense of unshakeable poise is almost challenging to witness if one is habituated to the constant acceleration of the world. I perceive that he is entirely devoid of the need to seek approval. He just keeps coming back to the most basic instructions: know what is happening, as it is happening. Within a culture that prioritizes debating the "milestones" of dhyāna or seeking extraordinary states to share with others, his perspective is quite... liberating in its directness. It’s not a promise of a dramatic transformation. It is merely the proposal that mental focus might arise through sincere and sustained attention over a long duration.
I consider the students who have remained in his circle for many years. There is little talk among them of dramatic or rapid shifts. It’s more of a gradual shift. Prolonged durations spent in the simple act of noting.
Rising, falling. Walking. Not avoiding the pain when it shows up, and refusing to cling to pleasurable experiences when they emerge. It requires a significant amount of khanti (patience). Gradually, the internal dialogue stops seeking extraordinary outcomes and anchors itself in the raw nature of existence—impermanence. It’s not the kind of progress that makes a lot of noise, but it manifests in the serene conduct of the practitioners.
He is firmly established within the Mahāsi lineage, that relentless emphasis on continuity. He persistently teaches that paññā is not a product of spontaneous flashes. It results from the actual effort of practice. Many hours, days, and years spent in meticulous mindfulness. His own life is a click here testament to this effort. He never sought public honor or attempted to establish a large organization. He opted for the unadorned way—extended periods of silence and a focus on the work itself. To be truthful, I find that level of dedication somewhat intimidating. It is not a matter of titles, but the serene assurance of an individual who has found clarity.
A key point that resonates with me is his warning regarding attachment to "positive" phenomena. For instance, the visions, the ecstatic feelings, or the deep state of calm. He tells us to merely recognize them and move forward, observing their passing. He is clearly working to prevent us from becoming ensnared in those fine traps where we turn meditation into just another achievement.
This is quite a demanding proposition, wouldn't you say? To ask myself if I am truly prepared to return to the fundamentals and persevere there until wisdom is allowed to blossom. He’s not asking anyone to admire him from a distance. He is just calling us to investigate the truth personally. Take a seat. Observe. Persevere. The way is quiet, forgoing grand rhetoric in favor of simple, honest persistence.