Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

^0 T H I R D M O O N 06out of a derelict house in West Sussex. A former disciple of Alan’s, himselfa bhikkhu just on the point of disrobing, wrote out of courtesy. Alanhad committed suicide in Bangkok. The sequence after disrobing hadinvolved difficulty in finding a means of livelihood, debt, depression,drinking alcohol, more debts, and despair—and finally a glass of bleach.There was no explanatory note, but in an earlier letter he had asked thatif anything happened to him to pass everything he had to his formertemple boys.My teacher and more regret. Another good man strangled in the webthat his mind had spun. Having Buddhism figured out hadn’t helped himin the end. The teaching of his death was his most powerful transmission.Who dies? Who lives? Why are we so obsessed with ourselves? It’swhen Death’s angel comes that you see all the acquisitions, positions,and fancy games are empty. Coming out of one’s own preoccupationsis a matter of life and death.N I C KThe last day at Nalanda I went out for my usual walk, down to thearchaeological site. The walk there took me past the small college nextdoor. This had been set up by the Indian government for the study ofBuddhism, and many of the students were young Theravadan monks,mostly from the hill states on the border with Burma, which havesmall Buddhist populations. The monks were out playing volleyballwith the other students on a dusty piece of ground outside the college.They seemed to be having a much easier time of being a monk thanmy companion. So did the Tibetan monks I had seen enjoying themselvesin the Nalanda ruins. But then they did not seem to be takingmuch heed of the rules of training, which were, after all, laid down bythe Buddha. So who was right? At times I really did wonder on this pilgrimage.Why did it have to be so hard? Ajahn Sucitto seemed even towant it to be difficult.2 1 6