Does it ever feel like you’re just... skimming the surface of spiritual traditions? I have certainly experienced that—switching constantly between different meditation platforms, pursuing a sudden moment of profound realization, yet inevitably returning to the beginning with an incessant internal monologue. In a society that perpetually pressures us to accelerate and subscribe to the most recent "five-minute shortcut" to serenity, it can be profoundly fatiguing. We’re all so busy looking for a breakthrough that we forget to actually be here.
For this reason, the legacy of Sayadaw U Kundala feels particularly significant. He did not prioritize becoming a well-known spiritual figure or accumulating a vast number of admirers. He was an authentic practitioner—a calm and unwavering figure who felt no urge to utilize ornate or impressive speech. He was not the right choice for anyone in search of an easy spiritual bypass. With a profound foundation in the Mahāsi Vipassanā school, his core teaching focused on the very thing we tend to escape: staying in place.
I love how simple his approach was, even if it sounds a bit daunting at first. He did not want practitioners to try and "aestheticize" their internal state or pretend you were floating on a cloud when your legs were actually screaming in pain. The focus remained purely on: phồng, xẹp, walking, and physical pain. It was a practice free from embellishment or psychological exit strategies. He showed students the way to stay with difficulty and observe it without blinking. Such a practice requires remarkable bravery, does it not? In a way, his silence spoke way louder than any motivational speech ever could.
The difficulty is that we are deeply accustomed to being active —introducing novel methods and experimenting with ceremonies— that we ignore the potency of reducing everything to the basics. The central tenet of Sayadaw U Kundala’s view was: stop trying to be "better" and start being more present. He compared the maturation of wisdom to the slow ripening process of fruit on a tree. You can’t exactly yell at a peach to ripen faster, right? It demands its own necessary time, and the path of insight is no different. The path demands a unique and elegant combination of resilience and absolute modesty.
In truth, this leads to the realization that authentic dedication is not synonymous with a grand or drastic life change. It is much more understated and, in many respects, more challenging. It involves the choice to remain authentic during periods of monotony. It involves choosing to witness your own unorganized thoughts rather than seeking a distraction through a saddhammaramsi sayadaw digital device.
While Sayadaw U Kundala may not have established a "brand" or a prominent public image, he left behind a much more significant gift: a reminder that the quiet path is often the one that actually leads somewhere. Each inhalation, every footstep, and every minor irritation serves as a potential doorway to insight. The path is not always aesthetic, and it is undoubtedly not a quick one, but there is genuine freedom in the resolution to finally... stop the internal flight.
I'm curious, does the idea of "slow-ripening" wisdom resonate with where you're at right now, or are you feeling the pressure of the modern demand for an immediate result?