I’ve been sitting here tonight thinking about Bhante Gavesi, and his total lack of interest in appearing exceptional. It’s funny, because people usually show up to see someone like him loaded with academic frameworks and specific demands from book study —searching for a definitive roadmap or a complex philosophical framework— yet he offers no such intellectual satisfaction. The role of a theoretical lecturer seems to hold no appeal for him. Instead, people seem to walk away with something much quieter. A sort of trust in their own direct experience, I guess.
There’s this steadiness to him that’s almost uncomfortable if you’re used to the rush of everything else. I've noticed he doesn't try to impress anyone. He unfailingly redirects focus to the core instructions: maintain awareness of phenomena in the immediate present. Within a culture that prioritizes debating the "milestones" of dhyāna or some kind of peak experience to post about, his way of teaching proves to be... startlingly simple. He does not market his path as a promise of theatrical evolution. It is just the idea that clarity can be achieved through sincere and sustained attention over a long duration.
I consider the students who have remained in his circle for many years. They don't really talk about sudden breakthroughs. It is more of a rhythmic, step-by-step evolution. Prolonged durations spent in the simple act of noting.
Noting the phồng, xẹp, and the steps of walking. Refraining from shunning physical discomfort when it arises, and refusing to cling to pleasurable experiences when they emerge. This path demands immense resilience and patience. In time, I believe, the consciousness ceases its search for something additional and resides in the reality of things—the truth of anicca. This is not a form of advancement that seeks attention, nonetheless, it is reflected in the steady presence of the yogis.
He is firmly established within the Mahāsi lineage, with its unwavering focus on the persistence of sati. He consistently points out that realization is not the result of accidental inspiration. It comes from the work. Commitment to years of exacting and sustained awareness. His own life is a testament to this effort. He didn't go out looking for recognition or trying to build some massive institution. He opted for the unadorned way—extended periods of silence and a focus on the work itself. To be truthful, I find that level of dedication somewhat intimidating. It’s not about credentials; it’s just more info that quiet confidence of someone who isn't confused anymore.
I am particularly struck by his advice to avoid clinging to "pleasant" meditative states. Namely, the mental images, the pīti (rapture), or the profound tranquility. His advice is to acknowledge them and continue, seeing their impermanent nature. It seems he wants to stop us from falling into the subtle pitfalls where we turn meditation into just another achievement.
It’s a bit of a challenge, isn’t it? To ponder whether I am genuinely willing to revisit the basic instructions and just stay there long enough for anything to grow. He’s not asking anyone to admire him from a distance. He is merely proposing that we verify the method for ourselves. Sit. Witness. Continue the effort. The entire process is hushed, requiring no grand theories—only the quality of persistence.