I’ve been sitting here tonight thinking about Bhante Gavesi, and how he avoids any attempt to seem unique or prominent. It’s funny, because people usually show up to see someone like him with all these theories and expectations they’ve gathered from books —desiring a structured plan or an elaborate intellectual methodology— but he just doesn't give it to them. He’s never seemed interested in being a teacher of theories. On the contrary, practitioners typically leave with a far more understated gift. 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 you’re used to the rush of everything else. I perceive that he is entirely devoid of the need to seek approval. He consistently returns to the most fundamental guidance: perceive the current reality, just as it manifests. In an environment where people crave conversations about meditative "phases" or seeking extraordinary states to share with others, his methodology is profoundly... humbling. It is not presented as a vow of radical, instant metamorphosis. It is just the idea that clarity can be achieved through sincere and sustained attention over a long duration.
I think about the people who have practiced with him for years. They do not typically describe their progress in terms of sudden flashes of insight. It is more of a rhythmic, step-by-step evolution. Long days of just noting things.
Rising, falling. Walking. Not rejecting difficult sensations when they manifest, and not grasping at agreeable feelings when they are present. This path demands immense resilience and patience. Gradually, the internal dialogue stops seeking extraordinary outcomes and settles into the way things actually are—the impermanence of it all. It is not the type of progress that generates public interest, but you can see it in the way people carry themselves afterward.
He embodies the core principles of the Mahāsi tradition, that relentless emphasis on continuity. He’s always reminding us that insight doesn't come from a random flash of inspiration. It comes from the work. Dedicating vast amounts of time to technical and accurate sati. He’s lived that, too. 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. I find that kind of commitment a bit daunting, to be honest. This is not based on academic degrees, but on the silent poise of someone who has achieved lucidity.
I am particularly struck by his advice to avoid clinging to "pleasant" meditative states. For instance, the visions, the ecstatic feelings, or the deep state of calm. He says to just know them and move on. See them pass. It seems he wants to stop us from falling into the subtle pitfalls where mindfulness is reduced to a mere personal trophy.
This is quite a demanding proposition, wouldn't you say? To ask myself if I am truly prepared to return to the fundamentals and abide in that simplicity until anything of value develops. He’s more info not asking anyone to admire him from a distance. He’s just inviting us to test it out. Sit. Witness. Continue the effort. The entire process is hushed, requiring no grand theories—only the quality of persistence.