In the way of spiritual life, creation tends to happen through response to circumstances rather than from any self-propelled initiative.

In the summer of 1993, whilst I was doing some teaching in Detroit for a few days, I was asked if I had ever written a book. I replied, “Yes, but it’s long out of print.” “Could it be reprinted?” came the inquiry. “Theoretically yes, of course….”

Before I knew it donations for such a reprint started to be offered in quantity. The book in question, by the way, was Tudong – The Long Road North, which I had written in 1984 following a long walk that I had made through England. We had only printed a thousand copies at the time and they were long gone by now.

When I mentioned to some other supporters in San Francisco a few days later that reprinting Tudong was in the air, they suggested: “Why not put together a collection of more recent stuff instead?” “Good idea,” I thought. “That makes sense ….” On returning to England I talked the possibility over with Ajahn Sucitto – the monk who looks after all our publications – who responded by saying, “Great. You could include some of those travelogues, and maybe some poems of yours ….” It thus gathered momentum and its own life began to unfold.

As the text selected itself and grew I began to think of illustrations that might he used to round out the book. There were a number that had already been produced for various Sangha publications, and ones that I had drawn over the years for members of my family. I gathered these together and found a few that seemed to match the different moods and themes of the book.

“What you are now holding in your hands therefore is the confluence of all these elements. More than anything else it is a scrapbook – a simple cross-section through the world of someone who, in this late 20th Century time, has chosen to live as a Buddhist monk. In putting this book together, every effort has been made to render it as accessible as possible. If, however, at some point its meaning or reason escapes you, hopefully the music will tide you over.

Amaro Bhikkhu Troy November 1994”

A difficulty with the word ‘nibbāna’ is that its meaning is beyond the power of words to describe. It is, essentially, undefinable.

Another difficulty is that many Buddhists see Nibbāna as something unobtainable – as so high and so remote that we’re not worthy enough to try for it. Or we see Nibbāna as a goal, as an unknown, undefined something that we should somehow try to attain.

Most of us are conditioned in this way. We want to achieve or attain something that we don’t have now. So Nibbāna is looked at as something that, if you work hard, keep the sīla, meditate diligently, become a monastic, devote your life to practice, then your reward might be that eventually you attain Nibbāna – even though we’re not sure what it is.

The meeting of spiritual traditions, including that of Theravāda wisdom teachings and Dzogchen, two great expressions of the Buddha-Dharma, is one of the major beneficial aspects of life in these times. The technological revolution makes the ability to travel, to communicate, and to study across traditions very simple. Most of the world’s great spiritual texts are online, and a steady stream of conferences and retreats brings meditators, scholars, and spiritual masters together to practice and to openly discuss their lineages, insights, and knowledge. The breakdown of separate spiritual encampments that is occurring nowadays is both remarkable and unprecedented. For the first time, we can enjoy a broad view of all traditions and see where they merge as well as where they collide.

I was reminded of this marvellous confluence of traditions the other evening, just as this retreat began. Shortly before 7:00 p.m., I was sitting in my room. In the midst of the quiet and calm, I heard a loud thumping noise coming from outside. We were doing a lot of earth moving at the monastery at the time, so the noise made me think that maybe some heavy equipment was […]”

This book arose out of an interest that I had to celebrate my fiftieth birthday by expressing my gratitude to the many people who have made it possible for me to live the Holy Life, and in some way honour the many gifts of Dhamma that the Buddha and my own teachers have bestowed upon me. For me, the significance of the fiftieth year is that during this year (1999) I will have spent twenty-five Rains Retreats as a bhikkhu; approximately half my life will than have been spent in the training. As I was ruminating in this, it coincidentally happened that Richard Allen, a supporter and close associate of the monastery, was also entering his fiftieth year and due to celebrate his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. So out of such a coincidence, and as a very fitting way to acknowledge both the mutuality of our interest in Dhamma and the symbiosis of lay and monastic commitment that upholds the Holy Life, this collection arose. As is often the way with work involv- ing Dhamma, once the project got started, other people came forward to offer further donations and also the acts of service that would put the talks into the form of a printed work. This catalytic spontaneous process is something that still after many years has the flavour of a miracle, or more accurately, the ‘lovely’ (kalyana) taste of the Dhamma that this book commemorates.

The practice of Buddhism is most frequently associated with the quiet, reflective and introspective aspects of formal meditation, with little recognition or realisation of the many means by which we can cultivate such qualities as joy, gladness and the uplift of the heart.

The devotional aspects of our practice as seen through solitary meditation can seem pointless, or even foolish, but experience teaches us that meditation alone is not a guaranteed entry into the sublime – it can be a wearisome struggle with a wayward mind!

This booklet therefore is about the recognition and cultivation of those means whereby we bring emotive forces into our daily lives.

We need to make the Buddha-Dhamma-Sangha a vital, integral part of our world-view, to inculcate a clear sense of reverence and pride in being disciples of the Blessed One and a sense of fellowship with all those who have trodden and are currently treading the Path to Peace and Truth.

We are often asked, “What does a Buddhist monastic know about real life?” This is a very good question because many people may think that we don’t have to deal with real life in the monastery: “Things are easy for you, but outside the monastery wall we have to deal with real life; we have a much more difficult job.” Their impression is that once you have given yourself to the holy life, then you float around on little purple clouds, existing in exquisite mutual harmony at all times, exuding undifferentiated love and compassion for each other, and, finally, at the end of a life of ever-increasing blissfulness and profound insights into the nature of ultimate reality, deliquescing softly into nirvana leaving behind a soft chime of ringing bells and a rainbow. Not so. I’ll get on to that in a minute. I’m joking a bit, but this is the kind of image that people may have of monasteries. It’s another world, something that other people do.

This book contains a collection of teachings of Ajahn Sumedho given to people who are familiar with the conventions of Theravada Buddhism and have some experience of meditation. Most of the chapters are edited from talks given during retreats for lay people for Ajahn Sumedho’s monastic (ordained) disciples, so they require some careful attention and are best read in sequence.

In the monastic retreats Ajahn Sumedho develops a theme from the Buddha’s teaching over a couple of months, linking it to other aspects of the Dhamma, embellishing it with accounts of his personal experiences, demonstrating its relevance to the society in general, or using it as an exhortation to the Sangha to live up to their aspiration of enlightenment. Although it is not possible to render the tonal depth and variety of these talks in a printed work, the mixture of short exhortations and pointers, longer contemplative reflections mingled with the chants that the monks and nuns will be reciting daily (and have been doing so for years) may suggest the atmosphere and scope within which the teachings are offered.