On January 4, 2016, I will arrive at Gampo Abbey, a Buddhist monastery in the Shambhala tradition.
There are so many awesome things about this. (E.g., this is where Pema Chödrön resides as the spiritual director; it will be wicked cold and snowy; I will finally be residing at a monastery, which has been my path since I dropped out of college in 2001).
There are also a lot of crazy, scary things about this. I will be outside of the United States, which is the only place I'm familiar with living. I will be so far away from all the friends and family I know. I am trading in living in rural solitude for living with a small number of strangers who I will have to see every single day for months and months. Instead of watching The Walking Dead, I will be meditating. Instead of watching Doctor Who, I will be meditating. Instead of listening to... mmmm, you get the idea.
So, uh...
why am I doing this?
To say it feels right would be ridiculously simple. Because it does feel right, but it also feels wrong, and while it seems exciting, it also seems dreadful, and while it is so very exciting, it is already breaking my heart.
I could provide a handful of reasons, and they would all be mostly true. But the one thing that rings true and silences all the other thoughts is Trust.
The cycle of "work to live / live to work" doesn't appeal to me. The chief benefit, as far as I can tell, is a false sense of security. Trusting the world and the people around me affords me more freedom than architectural, mental, and emotional walls ever could. Knowing that things might not work out well for me allows me to trust fearlessly. I am captive to nothing but myself.
That's enough.
I wasn't taught or shown this. I have seen this for myself through hours, decades of observing and becoming familiar with what I see and feel without expectation or judgment.
This freedom is available to anyone, and it's not about quitting the job or leaving the home. It's about trusting my lungs to breathe when my wallet is empty, and putting my feet on the floor despite the monster under the bed. And the more that I practice it, the more I am capable of sharing it with other people. It is said that fearlessness is a form of generosity and, even though I hesitate to give myself credit for anything, I can see it.
I see it even with the small amount of practice I do now.
For many years now, I have wondered what life would be like if I devoted much more time to my practice of being me. It's the source of my happiness, even when being me is not very enjoyable, and it's the only thing I've ever done that's benefited me or anyone else. It is precious and worth cultivating.
So that is why I am doing this, going to Gampo Abbey to study as a monk: To see what happens as I expand and deepen my effort into the only art I know. And it's worth it to me, to face all the excitement, dread, joy, loss, absence, snow, and awkward social situations.
