Have you ever had the sense that you are just... browsing through various meditative styles? I have certainly experienced that—switching constantly between different meditation platforms, pursuing a sudden moment of profound realization, only to find yourself back at the start with a mind that remains overactive. 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. Our preoccupation with achieving a breakthrough often causes us to neglect the present moment.
That’s why the story of Sayadaw U Kundala hits a little differently. He was never the type of guide who desired a high public profile or having a million followers. He embodied true practice—a silent and stable influence who avoided the use of elaborate or pretentious terminology. For those seeking a brief path to peace, his guidance would not suffice. Rooted securely in the classic Mahāsi Vipassanā system, his entire approach centered on a concept we often avoid: remaining present.
I love how simple his approach was, even if it sounds a bit daunting at first. He discouraged any attempt to "refine" or "glamorize" one's practice or to simulate tranquility while their physical sensations were quite difficult. It was just: rising, falling, walking, aching. There were no distractions and no diversions. He instructed practitioners on how to endure unease by facing it directly. Such a practice requires remarkable bravery, does it not? His lack of words, arguably, had more impact than the most eloquent speech.
The reality is that we are conditioned toward constant activity —introducing novel methods and experimenting with ceremonies— that we overlook the profound effectiveness of simplification. Sayadaw U Kundala’s whole philosophy was basically: end the pursuit of self-perfection and prioritize actual presence. He would explain that wisdom grows at its own pace, similar to the ripening of fruit. It is impossible to accelerate the ripening of a peach through sheer will, isn't it? It follows its own organic timeline, just as meditation does. It calls for an unusual, striking mixture of persistent effort and profound humility.
Ultimately, it becomes clear that genuine spiritual commitment isn't about some dramatic life overhaul. It is something far more subtle and, click here consequently, far more difficult. It’s choosing to be sincere even when you’re bored. It’s choosing to look at your own messy thoughts instead of using a mobile phone as a means of avoidance.
Though Sayadaw U Kundala did not create a "brand" or a high-profile legacy, but he left something much better: a testament that the silent road is usually the one that reaches the destination. Each inhalation, every footstep, and every minor irritation serves as a potential doorway to insight. The journey is not always attractive, and it is clearly not a fast-paced one, yet there is true spiritual freedom in the choice to finally... end the constant striving.
I would like to ask, does the image of "slow-ripening" wisdom speak to your current practice, or are you feeling the pressure of the modern demand for an immediate result?