Unexpected Freedom

Unexpected FreedomMore recently I had a conversation with a Christian monkwho came to visit us. He lives the life of a hermit just northof here, in the Scottish Borders. We talked about the joys andsorrows of the monastic life, and about the people who cameto visit him at his humble abode. I asked, “Do you ever teachthem how to pray?” He gave a brilliant reply. “Oh no,” hesaid, “prayer is not taught – it is caught. It’s like a disease.You catch it off someone else who has it.”I immediately knew what he was talking about, havinglived around traditional Theravada Buddhists for five or sixyears in Thailand. There was something that one might calla prayerful attitude towards practice, which I do feel that I‘picked up’ there.I wasn’t altogether conscious of this dimension when Ilived there, but a few years later, when I was on solitaryretreat in this country and having a very difficult time, Idiscovered that there was a voice within me which wanted tospeak out. During this period I had put myself on a solitaryretreat for two months. Other than the fortnightly recitationof the rule, which I was obliged to attend, I wasn’t going tosee anybody for two months. I locked myself in a small roomat the top of Chithurst House and covered the windows withtracing paper so that I received daylight but no view of theoutside world. All this served the purpose of bringing aboutgreat intensity, which I thought of course I could handle. Ihad a few things to learn. One of those things was the valueof prayer. The only things comparable to prayers that I hadas a part of my Buddhist practice were the reflections that wedo in the morning and evening chanting. When I started togive voice to the verses that I had been reciting daily for years,I found I was speaking them with feeling. Something withinwas quickened and uplifted, so that I was able to say thesethings and mean them. ‘May I abide in well-being, in freedom130