I find myself thinking of Bhante Pesala whenever I realize I've been intellectually lazy, yet worry that seeking total precision might turn into rigidity. I’m thinking about Bhante Pesala tonight because I caught myself being vague. Again. I caught myself using phrases like "I sort of see it," or "it's roughly like this," while failing to check if I truly grasped the subject. Initially, it seemed trivial, but that feeling quickly changed. In the deep silence of the room, where every thought is amplified, that tendency toward being "vague" suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
Careful Mapping: Bhante Pesala's Approach to Truth
It’s past midnight. The air’s warm and still. My neck’s a little stiff, probably from hunching over earlier. I realize I am mouth-breathing; I consciously switch to the nose, only to drift back a moment later. It is the standard loop of the mind: setting an intent, drifting away, noticing the drift, and starting over. In the midst of that repetition, I think of Bhante Pesala and his dedication to being exact. This isn't a performative sharpness, but a deep, genuine sense of care.
I have encountered his writings before; they are lucid—almost to an uncomfortable degree. He leaves no room for the reader to take refuge in "spiritual" ambiguity or poetic metaphors. One either grasps the point or they don't; there is no fog or artificial mystery involved. To be fair, that level of transparency can be quite unsettling at times. It forces me to confront how often I use "fuzziness" as a psychological safety net.
Respecting the Listener through Clarity
Insight meditation emphasizes personal experience, yet how we explain that experience is still crucial. A precise term can stabilize the consciousness, whereas an incorrect one can cause long-term confusion. I have witnessed this, and I have certainly been guilty of it myself. Slightly off definitions, half-remembered concepts, teachings mashed together because they sounded similar enough. Bhante Pesala feels like the opposite of that. He is the kind of teacher who would pause to correct a minor error and then provide a lucid explanation.
During a conversation earlier, I attempted to explain a point of Dhamma only to realize I was making it up as I went. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but I was filling in the blanks—polishing an understanding that wasn't actually there. That bothered me more than I expected. Sitting now, that memory keeps replaying. My body is quiet, but my mind is busy with the work of internal correction.
Trusting the Solid over the Flashy
Exactness isn’t sexy. It doesn’t feel deep right away. It feels slow. Careful. It can feel almost administrative, yet there is something deeply stabilizing about it. In my mind, Bhante Pesala’s style shows a high level of respect for the audience through its commitment to accuracy. He doesn't water down the teachings or exaggerate; he presents the Dhamma clearly and leaves it to you.
One foot feels cold while the rest of me is warm. With the fan off, the sound of my own swallowing is strangely amplified. I find my thoughts circling back to the fragility of language and how easily we lose the true meaning of words. Direct seeing is the goal, but we need an accurate map of the path to get there. Without it, the mind is prone to filling in the gaps with whatever is most comforting.
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I don’t feel inspired by this. I feel corrected. Slightly embarrassed. Also relieved. There’s relief in knowing that clarity is possible, that someone took the time to map things carefully refusing to be vague just for the sake of sounding wise. Bhante Pesala feels like that kind of here presence. Not flashy. Not comforting in a warm way. Comforting in a solid way.
Fatigue and distraction remain, and I'm still doubtful about my ability to be precise in the morning. Yet, sitting here and seeing how words construct our reality, I have a new appreciation for the importance of being exact. Not perfection. Just honesty in meaning. Saying what you mean. Meaning what you say. And stopping when you don’t actually know.
The night keeps moving. Thoughts slow down a bit. Not silent. Just less frantic. My body settles into the posture as if it has finally accepted the reality of the moment. The image of Bhante Pesala recedes, but the impact of his example remains. Be careful with words. They point the mind somewhere, whether you notice or not.