Recently, I came across the phrase “Independent in Dhamma” from a book called Practice After Stream Entry by Kim Allen.
When I was searching for teachings about the path beyond stream-entry, that phrase appeared almost unexpectedly. It struck me because I had just begun to see myself as someone who follows the Dhamma directly, without relying on the collective beliefs of my environment. The timing felt meaningful. (*Note: Although I like her choice of words, I found that she has a serious misunderstanding of 'sīlabbata-parāmāsa,' and her explanations are incorrect.*)
I grew up in a Buddhist community, but many people there didn’t have a clear understanding of what the Buddha actually taught.
There is a Myanmar saying:
the wooden paddle that stirs the curry never knows its taste.
I feel this describes the situation well.
For many, Buddhism became a pattern of rituals—donations, offering food to monks, visiting monasteries, listening to talks, or observing the precepts on specific days, especially the rule of not eating after noon. Those actions were often treated as the essence of the path.
It’s common to see people take pride in skipping a meal while overlooking the deeper importance of keeping the Five Precepts.
References to “hell” were often used as a form of social control, sometimes based on unclear or exaggerated claims. This created confusion about what actually leads to negative outcomes according to the Buddha’s teachings. As a result, breaking the Five Precepts is very common in the community.
There is also a blend of beliefs: some worship spirits (nat) alongside Buddhist practices. Others approach the Buddha almost as a deity who grants blessings. Many place strong faith in certain venerable monks, believing that being close to them brings good karma or spiritual advantage.
Meditation existed, but only within a small part of the community. Many misconceptions circulated—stories of retreats leading to lottery wins, better grades, promotions, or other worldly benefits.
Even though I learned meditation when I was young and had access to books and Dhamma talks, I still absorbed most of the beliefs around me well into adulthood. Only around the age of thirty did my understanding begin to shift.
Little by little, my relationship with the Dhamma changed. My commitment to the Five Precepts deepened in a way I didn’t fully notice until I looked back this year. At the same time, I felt increasingly out of sync with my surroundings. I wasn’t very self-aware then, so I sometimes shared my views too openly, without the restraint or gentleness I wish I had practiced.
Still, I met many good people, and there were monks whose teachings supported me in important ways. Online courses by one monk guided me deeply. Before that, writings by Mahasi Sayadaw helped me understand meditation and insight development. I later found great value in the teachings of Mogok Sayadaw as well.
I’m aware that echoes of past conditioning and difficult experiences still follow me, even as I attempt to relate to the Dhamma more independently today. Like anyone with many fetters still left to weaken, I sometimes feel the urge to argue when something seems incorrect. I recognized that habit and began working on releasing it.
Originally, I planned this site only to share information about my books—maybe three posts at most. Then I wished to make certain information accessible, began writing more, and suddenly there were over twenty posts. My daily reminder which said "I can die today" pushed me to express what felt meaningful, without postponing.
After finishing and publishing The Second Arrow, where I shared how intense anger had left me, something unexpected happened: I encountered a troubling issue with a website I had admired. I reacted strongly at first. After some back-and-forth, I decided to step away and create my own site instead. That moment was the true beginning of this space.
Even though the old anger didn’t return, I still found myself arguing for a few days—trying to assert my voice and defend my stance. It showed me clearly that this is still an area where I have work to do.
I stopped writing for a while. Then I came across the story of the empty boat. It brought a deep stillness, and I wanted to share that experience.
Later, another challenge arose: discussions around vegetarianism and Theravada teachings. I realized certain truths I hadn’t seen before and felt moved to write about them, even though I was aware that dwelling too much on disputes can disturb inner quiet.
Despite that, the calm didn’t fade. Spaciousness, rapture (pīti), and a serene clarity remained. I’m feeling a level of peace stronger than anything I’ve ever known before.
Nevertheless, I still need to write less and practice more. There is a great deal of inner work ahead of me. Yet this is a moment where I can feel the fruits of past effort ripening, even though my outer circumstances have hardly changed. On one side, I want to share my experience to benefit or inspire others, but on the other, I don’t want it to come across as boasting or taking spiritual pride.
For me, inner changes come in waves. Some experiences only make sense years later. I probably won’t fully understand what I am experiencing now until much further down the road.
Today, what I can say with confidence is this:
Even though the path isn’t always smooth, it is unquestionably worth walking.
© Dr. Tune. All rights reserved.
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