As I reflect tonight on the example of Bhante Gavesi, and his total lack of interest in appearing exceptional. One finds it curious that people generally visit such a master armed with numerous theories and rigid expectations from their reading —desiring a structured plan or an elaborate intellectual methodology— but he simply refrains from fulfilling those desires. He’s never seemed interested in being a teacher of theories. On the contrary, practitioners typically leave with a far more understated gift. It is a sense of confidence in their personal, immediate perception.
He possesses a quality of stability that can feel nearly unsettling for those accustomed to the frantic pace of modern life. I have observed that he makes no effort to gain anyone's admiration. He consistently returns to the most fundamental guidance: be aware of the present moment, exactly as it unfolds. In a world where everyone wants to talk about "stages" of meditation or pursuing mystical experiences for the sake of recognition, his perspective is quite... liberating in its directness. It’s not a promise of a dramatic transformation. It is just the idea that clarity can be achieved through the act of genuine and prolonged mindfulness.
I think about the people who have practiced with him for years. There is little talk among them of dramatic or rapid shifts. It is characterized by a slow and steady transformation. Long days of just noting things.
Noting the phồng, xẹp, and the steps of walking. Not rejecting difficult sensations when they manifest, while also not pursuing pleasant states when they occur. It requires a significant amount of khanti (patience). Gradually, the internal more info dialogue stops seeking extraordinary outcomes and anchors itself in the raw nature of existence—impermanence. This is not a form of advancement that seeks attention, but you can see it in the way people carry themselves afterward.
He is firmly established within the Mahāsi lineage, that relentless emphasis on continuity. He is ever-mindful to say that wisdom does not arise from mere intellectual sparks. It is the fruit of dedicated labor. Dedicating vast amounts of time to technical and accurate sati. His own life is a testament to this effort. He showed no interest in seeking fame or constructing a vast hierarchy. He just chose the simple path—long retreats, staying close to the reality of the practice itself. In all honesty, such a commitment feels quite demanding to me. It is about the understated confidence of a mind that is no longer lost.
A key point that resonates with me is his warning regarding attachment to "positive" phenomena. You know, the visions, the rapture, the deep calm. His advice is to acknowledge them and continue, seeing their impermanent nature. It appears he is attempting to protect us from those delicate obstacles where we turn meditation into just another achievement.
This is quite a demanding proposition, wouldn't you say? To wonder if I’m actually willing to go back to the basics and abide in that simplicity until anything of value develops. He does not demand that we respect him from a remote perspective. He simply invites us to put the technique to the test. Sit. Witness. Continue the effort. It is a silent path, where elaborate explanations are unnecessary compared to steady effort.