I’ve been sitting here tonight thinking about Bhante Gavesi, and his total lack of interest in appearing exceptional. It is ironic that meditators often approach a teacher of his stature armed with numerous theories and rigid expectations from their reading —searching for a definitive roadmap or a complex philosophical framework— yet he consistently declines to provide such things. He appears entirely unconcerned with becoming a mere instructor of doctrines. Rather, his students often depart with a much more subtle realization. It is a sense of confidence in their personal, immediate perception.
There is a level of steadiness in his presence that borders on being confrontational if your mind is tuned to the perpetual hurry of the era. I have observed that he makes no effort to gain anyone's admiration. He persistently emphasizes the primary meditative tasks: know what is happening, as it is happening. In a world where everyone wants to talk about "stages" of meditation or some kind of peak experience to post about, his approach feels... disarming. He does not market his path as a promise of theatrical evolution. He simply suggests that lucidity is the result by means of truthful and persistent observation over many years.
I contemplate the journey of those who have trained under him for a decade. There is little talk among them of dramatic or rapid shifts. It is characterized by a slow and steady transformation. Prolonged durations spent in the simple act of noting.
Noting the phồng, xẹp, and the steps of walking. Accepting somatic pain without attempting to escape it, while also not pursuing pleasant states when they occur. This path demands immense resilience and patience. Gradually, the internal dialogue stops seeking extraordinary outcomes and resides in the reality of things—the truth of anicca. Such growth does not announce itself with fanfare, but it manifests in the serene conduct of the practitioners.
He’s so rooted in that Mahāsi tradition, with its unwavering focus on the persistence of sati. He’s always reminding us that insight doesn't come from a random flash of inspiration. It results from the actual effort of practice. Many hours, days, and years spent in meticulous mindfulness. His own life is a testament to this effort. He never sought public honor or attempted to establish a large organization. He just chose the simple path—long retreats, staying close to the reality of the practice itself. To be truthful, I find that level of dedication somewhat intimidating. It’s not about credentials; it’s just that quiet confidence of someone who isn't confused anymore.
Something I keep in mind is his caution against identifying with "good" internal experiences. For instance, the visions, the ecstatic feelings, or the deep state of calm. He instructs to simply note them and proceed, witnessing their cessation. He is clearly working to prevent us from becoming ensnared in those fine traps where mindfulness is reduced to a mere here personal trophy.
It’s a bit of a challenge, isn’t it? To question my own readiness to re-engage with the core principles and abide in that simplicity until anything of value develops. He’s not asking anyone to admire him from a distance. He is merely proposing that we verify the method for ourselves. Sit down. Watch. Maintain the practice. The entire process is hushed, requiring no grand theories—only the quality of persistence.