I am not what I do. I am not the articles I write, the assignments I turn in, the sports that I play or the parties I attend. And yet, all of those things are, and I am. Since reading a variety of books on Buddhist lifestyles, most notably “Saltwater Buddha” by Jaimal Yogis and “The Buddhist on Death Row” by David Sheff, I’ve begun to daydream about running away and living as a Buddhist monk. Though I would not religiously identify as Buddhist, the philosophies of Buddhism help me get through hard days, enjoy good days and discover that there may be no difference at all.
I could picture a caricature of a white American man who had an identity crisis and turned to a commercialized version of Buddhism, tied his hair into a manbun, and walked outside barefoot, preaching internal peace via an online crash course. Although I believe my recent connection with Buddhist ideals aligns me closer to a Shaolin monk, I realize that to others, I probably look a whole lot more like manbun Kyle.
There’s a reason for the worldwide fascination with Buddhism. It focuses on the concept of “conquering the mind” to discipline the thoughts and achieve inner peace, not by suppressing negative emotions, but by becoming aware of them. Buddhist ideals resonate with many types of people. The emphasis on mindfulness, peace and ethical living is desirable to the modern person seeking an alternative to, or a way to cope with, high-stress consumerist Western life.
Known for their bald heads, orange robes and superhuman pain tolerance, the lives of Shaolin monks, called “warrior monks,” captivate me. Residing in the Shaolin Monastery in China, they practice ancient kung fu and meditation, aiming to achieve enlightenment through powerful mental and physical strength, an ideal of Chan Buddhism. They also tend to the temple and do community service. As they believe that desire is the root of all suffering, monks abstain from romance, having children, alcohol, smoking, meat-eating and often modern technology. Monkhood is a lifelong commitment.
When I look at my life beyond high school, I find it intolerable to continue my education in the form of sitting at a desk and looking at a laptop, and saddening to picture myself in a career like that. As our quick, consumerist society pushes me toward that route, I dream of shaving my head bald and giving up my physical desires to pursue meditation and martial arts deep in the mountains of China. I find no reason that such a dream should be deemed “unrealistic” or “impractical.” I come to school with the intention to learn and develop my thinking, not as a step on my to-do list leading me to a career that affords me a particular lifestyle. Desire is the root of suffering. I find no reason to live my life for money and status when I could live for peace. And maybe, when that feels so intangible here in American suburbia, that’s why the life of a Buddhist monk calls me.