Tuesday, February 24, 2009


just some random thoughts.

For those who seek the pleasure of lustful physical sensations attached to the body and it's limited abilities to satify lust by eating, sex, scratching when itching and so on, this body may seem precious, beautiful. but they will come to know one day that it is not so. They will suffer from illness, old age and will be scared because this rotting corpes is dying.

For those who seek the pleasure of peace and serenity unattached to lustful bodily sensations, mindful and aware, aiming for the ultimate, the cessation of all wanting, of all thinking, the end of seeking any pleasure. they come to know that this body, may it be rotten and useless for the pupose of pleasures - but they should keep in mind that this body is the only and precious vehicle that allows a human being to go forth, to go beyond to get out of samsara. it should therefore, rotten and fragile as it is, treated with care and respect.

Monday, February 23, 2009


Since a week and a half i give a dhammatalk every evening to the two listeners who are pacient and friendly enough to not to run away while i'm talking.
I started with 5 minutes and did 30 min. yesterday.
interesting, how words form sentences and sentences sense. I wonder where these word do come from. I try not to think, not to prepare, to just have the first word and then let go. In english ...


It is already quite hot. Temperature changed in just a few days. At night the robe is enough to cover with. No more blankets needed.

This is the second day without water.
We were joking about that the villagers can smell when we come on almsround. In the afternoon one, laa, brought a ton full of water with his pick up and we filled all available buckets.

Laa is bringing his nice or his son lately when he comes to the thai/english language exchange. Good that he does. I was worried that his wife gets jelouse or the others strat to talk, he spent everyday an houre with us.

We are thinking of a way to show our donators in the village our gratefulness without making them think we want to "buy" them or pay for what they give [which would be like anulling the merits they do with their donations.

Laa will never know that i write this here but i have to say that we, the soon-to-be-nun-again nadya and i, are very, very grateful. We know that without him supporting and helping us we would be lost. [well everything would be much more difficult]


Yesterday was village-development-day. All availible villagers gatherd together and worked some hours for the benefit of the village. A group of ten people came to our monastery and started brooming the forest around us while we [lumpoh, 2 yogies and i] broomed the templeground.
Some of the women came to me and we started talking. Very little due to very limited language skills. But it turned out, that the most of them are of the same age as i am.

After brooming leaves on dusty grounds we were ready to take a shower. But - no water ...
Somehow the pump didn't work.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Sarani and yesuddhi

here is a fiction story of the ancient india i started to write last year and finished a while ago.

In the montains in the northeastern part of india in a vally surrounded by tea plants and other trees a little village was nestled. It was neither very poor nor rich. People lived fairly good and were happy with what they had and didn't except more.
At the open end of the vally on a hight, surrounded by trees, was a tower from which the whole vally to all sides could be overseen. Deeper down a river was flowing. In the rainyseason it was a big and mighty streem. The rest of the time it was so small and quiet that even children could cross it.
on the other side of the river was a meadow and the childern of the poorer families went there with the cows almost every day.
Two of them were called sarani, a girl who was about 6 and a half and a boy yesuddhi who had just become 7 years old. They were neighbors and best friends, spent most of theire time together, either herding the cows - each family had one - or on the tower or just strolling aroud.
Sarani was the smarter one of both but she was the girl and so she tried not to show her cleverness. her mother had said, one day she will become yessuddhi's wife and he probabely wouldn't want her more intelligent then he himself is.
They grow up knowing that they will be husband and wife one day.

Yesuddhi loved the cow. It had been there when he was born, it gave them milk and dung and once they had a calf from it. It was the most valuable good his family owned. it had a very good heart and listened to everything that he told her carefully.

The villige had a priest and seer. He was a very goodhearded old man and he understood a lot of religious affairs and sience but nothing at all in predicting the weather. Every year he was ask about the beginning of the rainyseason but he alwas failed.

Yesuddhi wanted to be like him one day and was looking forward to be old enough to study with him.
the priest instead preferred sarani and he already taught her things because she understood and could memorize better than some of the adults. He knew it was an affront to teach a girl but he could not let such a talent undeveloped.

In the beginning not even yesuddhi knew that she did not clean but study when she went to the priests house.

The earth was dry and dusty and everybody waited for the rain higher in the mountains it must have started, the heavy rainclouds would be over the piecs in some days. the priest's forecast for the beginning of the rainyseason was wrong, it should have started already with very heavy rains. His own prediction was that it would statt in 4 days.

One of these days yesuddhi went alone with his cow to the other side of the river. He was playing with stones and thinking of his job as weatherforcaster when he heard a known sound. The sound of a flud rushing down the mountains into the vallyriverbed.
As quick as he could he run to the cow which didn't want to move. But she had to because once the water was there they could not get home together anymore. He yelled, screemed, cried, beggedand beated her even. It started to rain and the sky went black. Then she moved, finally. The waterlevel was already going up but it was notyet a food. So yesuddhi pulled the cow on it's string which was tight on a nosering. He didn't like to do that because he was afraid to hurt the nose. He could hardly get out of the water on the edge, it was slippery already. The cow was trying now to get out but couldn't get any hold on the groundthe streem of the river became stronger with every second now and the sound of the flood came closer. The cow must get out now! I must climb higher to a save place!
The cow was terryfied and her eyes were rolling in panic. He stared at her, she could not get ground. He pulled, screamed, screamed. Climbed higher, string in his hand, the cow knew the way and tried to follow but was more lifted by the rising waterlevel and held by the string then by own power. Climbing higher yesuddhi turned aroundto look for the cow and then there was a second of silence between them. they looked in each other's eyes. And then she was gone.
Yesuddhi reached the place, where the water could not get him. He was stunned and speechless. A wild sad scream was sticking in his throut and took his breath. He had lost everything his family had. All wealth, the calf to pay his studies, the calf to his own family when he would marry sarani, his friend, his listener, his strength and pride, his future as weatherforecaster, hisrespect and his future.
Not really believeing what had happend he went home. his mother saw him first. She had heard his screaming from far. when she realized that he came back without cow, she just closed her eyes for a second and got pale, no word was spoken when they were about to enter the house together.
Yesuddhis father came running before they could get in and calm down. He yelled: where is the cow? where is the cow? All neighbors came out of their houses to see what had happend.
Yesuddhi could not yet speak and suddenly, for the first time in his life the father raised his hand against his son. His thin scinny arm was not used to beat it flew around uncontrolled. the father didn't want to hurt the son, he more wanted to make undone what he, of what he saw and heard came to understand.

Yesuddhi saw his fathers dispair and saw sarani watching the scene - and run away.
He had been running for long, since before lunch, now it was already dark.
He sat down, not knowing where he was. He had been running trough a forest and a village, fields, forest.
Here it was very quiet, somehow peaceful and he slept before he could catch a clear thought.

When he next opend his eyes he looked into a face , painted white with red stripes surrounded by many long hair. He was not very shoked seeing a sadhu, more then by the fact, that he had woken up on a cemetery inhabited by a sadhu who was washing his face softly with water instead of being one of the dead. In his village he saw once one or two.

The sadhu never asked what happend and yesuddhi never told.

Yesuddhi must have spent a lot of years with him. First they shared the grave until the boy became to tall and found one for himself. People either came to bring food or they went to get some. The rememberance of sarani, his parents, the cow was very faint, as in a dream. He was a sadhu, living a holy life, telling fortune, practicing yoga, copying his master in everything, good or bad. He learnd reading and writing, calculating and drawing with his master, learned how to do cerimonys and prayers, how to overcome lustful thoughts. It was actually easy, he saw them as something different, disgusting, foul, smelling, stupid, uncontrollable and unworthy. Good that he had escaped that trap to marry sarani.

She, in the meantime, studied more and more with the priest and grew up always a little sad, always missing something.
One day a man in a beige orange robe, without hair came to their village. She was fascinated. He was a young buddhist monk, some years older than sarani, with perfect manners, humbleness and wisdome. Even the priest did like him and the villagers had him to stay and teach for a while before he let him go.
Sarani wanted to go with him because she wanted to live like him study what he studied. but she could not. She was a young woman. Her parents wanted to marry her soon. She didn't agree in that and said she will only marry if yesuddhi comes back and still wants her as a wife. Her parents still waited if she changes her mind, presenting her carefully and patiently young men. She had to marry anyway, that was shure.
yesuddhis parents had left the village in search oh their son, first coming back regularly. Then the father found a job and another woman, he had 3 more sons and forgot about yesuddhi. The mother could not bear the pain to see her husband with new sons and left. She almost died. Then she met some teaching buddhist monks. once they gave her of their meal. She wished to live like them but that was not possilbleand she decided to stay around them anyway. One of their donaters gave her a cleaning job and so she survived, could donate to the bhikkhus and sometimes catch some teaching they gave to the men.
Once, before she died she met sarani again and they stayed together for a while. That was after her parents gave up to want to marry her and she had left the village to look in the world if she could find any women to join like these buddhist monks. She dressed like a man, worked mens works and went to listen to the dhamma.
but somehow other's found out that she was a women and had to go home, where she took over her father's place in the fields.

One day yesuddhi was sent off from his master to get some experience outside of the cemetery. You're strong enough now, go and come back in one year.
After walking throug villages and a fost he came to his homevillage. With the smell of the trees and fields came back the memory of his childhood.

He went to see his home and found it empty. He decidet to find the priest and sarani to show them what he is now, a holy man. Maybe he could convince them and make them his followers. His body was asketic but well trained and he knew a lot.
Next morning he went for alms. Nobody so far knew who he was.
Sarani had already worked in the kitchen before she saw this ascet and waited to offer him some food.
They knew eachother rightaway when he approached her. Her heart jumed higher. He looked awful and smelled as if he never washed his body [what was fact].
He saw this proper young woman and his heart as well jumped, but then rememberd the master's teaching and it worked, yes, even beloved sarani was disgusting, foul, - a woman.

Later that day they met at the priest's. They were discussing religious aspects. Sarani listend for a while and then joined in she had learnd and understood a lot of the buddhas dhamma. The 3 had a long discussion until the priest said that she had to go before she with her female chareme could convince them of "her" buddhism.
That was the first day yesuddhi heard of it. He was interested to know more.

Next day they met, she told him, she was waiting for him all this years. She would give him house, fields and all knowledge if he'd marry her. He refused. "we were promised to eachother, can't we stay together here?", she asked. "not in this life, maybe if you come back as a man", he said.

She was upset, but strong in practice and was not carried away by here first sadness. And studied and practiced until she became a streamenterer.

He left the village, found a group of bhikkhus, shaved his head and ordained.
but he never could get over it, how beautiful, proper and knowledgable sarani had been. He thought of her everyday, trying to push away his thoughts by repeating his old masters mantra about women. Once he went to visit sarani, ready to desrobe if she still wanted him. When he saw her from far, she was more beautiful than ever.
he asked her to marry him. She refused.

He remained in robes and became a badmooded monk who hated women and treated them as he was thought from his first master, bad, ignorant, not willing to teach or somehow respect them.
He did practice a lot and understood some, but was too caught in his views, although at the end of his life he, as well, became a sotapana.

One of his next birth's probabely was that of a woman ... :o)

Monday, February 16, 2009

diffrent stories

That's really interesting: ask 3 people about what's going on and you'll receive 3 completely different answers.
and probabely ever story you hear tells more about the state of mind of the person that answers than of what's really going on.

Tell your own story then? What will it say about your mindstate?

So, what's going on?

Noble silence?

No, just silence.

And a strange bitter taste left in mind.

While truth playes hide and seek.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


Yesterday i had to close a book full of the buddhas word's without having finished reading.


What did he say before he died? Be yourself an island.

Friday, February 13, 2009


The was-once-my-teacher writes a blog as well. Not frequently, so i do not check everyday.
He is staying with his teacher.
I was jelouse to read that he calls his teacher "beloved" - something i do not dare to say to my teacher. I was jelouse that he can just go to see his teacher, talk to him, something that i can't with mine.
Today i found a new post on his blog. his teacher wants him to study pali.
I wonder what effect this will have on our [the rusian girl's, who probabely wants to ordain and mine] future.

oh, and ... i somehow erased 2 or 3 posts instead of publishing them. was nothing importnt. nuns stuff.


this is the second day i stay in bed with fever. Yesterday i slept all day. Today it's more a drowsy resting between meditations. The female yogie broght it here. it must be some virus.
I almost did not realise that a villager had put a light on my terrace and the female yogie enterd my room for this purpose. It's not a neonlight and it makes a really nice ambience.
the male yogie arrived as well an now we are booked out. We have three more huts, but the have no toilet and no doors and windows.


I am too proud. There are two mayor problems here, 1. the i still thinks it is. and 2. the pride.
If i could manage to get rid of the thought that there is something like an i, the pride would dissapear in the same moment.
But for now it seems easier to work on not being proud anymore.
This kilesa is not always present, i'm able to be humble as well, but it comes up to often.

Day before yesterday a monk, abbot of a bigger monastery of the district came to visit. Not to see me but the old monk,of course. But it turned out, that he could speek a very good english and he was very interested in what i'm doing in this small shabby monastey with no important monks around. I told him that the old monk might not be important but he has a good heart, at least.
He asked a lot of questions and told that he wants to build a meditationhall and teach meditation. When he came i was doing walking meditation iin the buddhahall, he saw me doing it and asked me how many steps i'm doing. 6, i said. He only remembered 5 and had me show him how i'm doing it.
Maybe it was a prove.?
At the end he asked me to give him my telephon number, he wanted to invite me.

Next day i heard how the old monk talked with one of the villagers he told that the abbot was very pleased and impressed of my meditationskills.

Yes, i was proud for a moment.

Saturday, February 7, 2009


Vis-a-vis the buddhahall my old companion the lumpoh resides in a wonderful big woodhut.
We used to broom the templeground together every morning. Everybody had an own section to broom.
Then, one day, after having been rather drunken lumpoh was sick for two weeks.
I decided to broom parts of his part and parts of mine, to have the most seen parts proper.
Now he's back to normal.
Brooming, laughing, occasionally chanting out loud "buddho", and talking to me, no matter that i don't understand. [but i'm getting better, sometimes i can catch words out of the mass of sentences and in good moments i'm able to give a short wrong but adequate answer.]
He is a good fellow, with a good heart. He knows and recites the rules. A pity that he has the tendency to break one of the mayor rules regularly.
After he regained his health, my territory to broom grow somehow. but i don't worry about it, today a helping hand arrives and will stay for long. The ex-and-maybe again-mae chii nadya.

Not smart enough

Yesterday i took pictures with my mobil [which is my pc as well] and tryed to upload them.
Maybe on my little device or on the mobile version of the blogger this is not an possible option. But i rather guess that i'm just not smart enough.

Friday, February 6, 2009


the determination to finish and conclude the coarse started with a long and deep nap.

my mind is not pointed and clear enough while taking antibiotics. back to normal practice.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

mara's good taste for bad jokes

let me first explain, that here in thailand generally no toiletpaper is used on toilet. Every toilet has a watersupply or an intimshower right besides the toilet for cleaning and rinsing.
mine has both, but no sink or shower, so i take shower with the little intimshower
Last night i wanted to clean myself before going to bed using the little shower. Somehow a small hairy black cattarpiller had thought the showerhead may be a good place to rest for the night. [Which i had not yet realized by then.]
By pushing the butten i jettet the poor worm against my body, [Which i had not yet realized by then.] and started cleaning. After cleaning a small but delicate part of my body i came to know: iching, iching, ICHING.
Looking around trying to find the reason for the iching, i found the little thing winding on the ground, suffering same as me, i guess. Our physical contact left it with less of it's hair and me with a iching scinallergie.
It survived a well.
I was used since long to shaking well all towels, cloth and blakets and so on before use. In futur i will check wateroutlets ...

And i will wear shoes. Outside, yes, but mainly in the bathroom, met another scorpion there.
Today's them on course: equanimity.


to go entirely, with all heart the way the buddha went, towards enlightenment, one really have to give up everything.
old story, i know.
But giving up everything means giving up everything. absolutely.
As if one prepares for dying, nothing can be taken. EVERYTHING has to be left behind, all beloved, all goods, all wanting ...
Then walk ahead.
No backdoors no sideways, no secret exits.

heartbeat fast, pain, don't know if it's mental or physical.
NO, NO a voice is screaming inside. Wet of sweat all over, no clear thought anymore. No more noting of sensations. ego short before collapse.
That's not funny anymore.
Oh, I better go and broom some leaves.
0: 15683 for ego

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

The only way

Going. keep going phalanyani.
I'm sleepy and drowsy but i do my best to continue the course with my brain sedatet by antibiotics.
I'm still clinging on to life. intense experience of the last days. only one short moment of really letting go.
But there is a good reason: only as humans we can attain arahantship and enlightenment.
This life is a rare and very preciouse chance and not to be wasted for some games like who is stronger bacteries or my willpower.
there is this one goal and only one way to get there.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Nun under drugs

Today i decided to get some oniment to get this inflamation under control. My body seems, after nine days fighting with it, not strong enough to get rid of it.
I feel sick and weak.
A friend who is doctor wrote me in an e-mail what treatment is recmendable.
A villager was happy that i finally decided to get some treatment and drove me to the pharmacy.
It's an antibiotic.
Since i took it once i'm sleepy. Not shure if i can finish the course now.


today i feel heavy and tired as if i had to carry the weight of the worlds misery.
It's quite normal that i feel like this. It's today's theme.
I do not even have to make a determination to see it, to understand it, i woke up and felt miserable. Was ok throughout the day, got terrible in the early evening and dissapered
Later in the evening.