Bhante Pesala enters my thoughts when language feels both vital and irrelevant, particularly when I am weary of imprecise thought but fearful of mental stiffness. I’m thinking about Bhante Pesala tonight because I caught myself being vague. Again. I caught myself using phrases like "I sort of see it," or "it's roughly like this," while failing to check if I truly grasped the subject. It felt harmless at first. Then it didn’t. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet where every thought sounds louder than it should, and suddenly that habit of imprecision felt heavy.
Beyond the Fog: The Challenge of Clarity
It’s past midnight. The air’s warm and still. My neck’s a little stiff, probably from hunching over earlier. I notice I’m breathing through my mouth. Switch to the nose. Switch back without realizing it. That’s how most things go. Intention, drift, noticing, repeat. Somewhere in that loop, Bhante Pesala’s name pops up, tied to this idea of exactness. It is not about being "correct" to impress others, but about an authentic care for the Dhamma.
I have encountered his writings before; they are lucid—almost to an uncomfortable degree. The kind that doesn’t let you hide behind poetic language or spiritual vibes. One either grasps the point or they don't; there is no fog or artificial mystery involved. And honestly, that kind of clarity makes me uncomfortable sometimes. It forces me to confront how often I use "fuzziness" as a psychological safety net.
Respecting the Listener through Clarity
Vipassanā talks a lot about direct experience, but explanation still matters. The correct terminology anchors the mind, while a slightly off-center definition can lead one astray for a long time. I have witnessed this, and I have certainly been guilty of it myself. Slightly off definitions, half-remembered concepts, teachings mashed together because they sounded similar enough. Bhante Pesala represents the antithesis of that "close enough" approach. He is the kind of teacher who would pause to correct a minor error and then provide a lucid explanation.
During a conversation earlier, I attempted to explain a point of Dhamma only to realize I was making it up as I went. I wasn't intentionally being deceptive, but I was "smoothing out" a concept I didn't fully grasp. The realization was more unsettling than I anticipated, and now the memory is stuck on a loop. While my physical form is motionless, my mind is active with a steady hum of self-scrutiny.
The Relief of a Mapped Framework
Exactness isn’t sexy. It doesn’t feel deep right away. It feels slow. Careful. To the unobservant, it might seem almost clinical, yet it provides a powerful sense of being grounded. Bhante Pesala’s approach, at least how I imagine it, respects the listener enough to be precise. He doesn't water down the teachings or exaggerate; he presents the Dhamma clearly and leaves it to you.
One foot feels cold while the rest of me is warm. With the fan off, the sound of my own swallowing is strangely amplified. My mind returns repeatedly to the subject of language—how quickly words can lose their anchor and meaning can be lost. While practice is about direct observation, having a clear conceptual framework is equally important. In the absence of a clear framework, the ego simply invents its own "truth" based on preference.
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I don’t feel inspired by this. I feel corrected. Slightly embarrassed. Also relieved. There’s relief in knowing that clarity is possible, that someone took the time to map things carefully without resorting to ambiguity just to appear more profound. Bhante Pesala feels like that kind of presence. Not flashy. Not comforting in a warm way. Comforting in a solid way.
Fatigue and distraction remain, and I'm still doubtful about my ability to be precise in the morning. Yet, sitting here and seeing how words construct our reality, I have a new appreciation for the importance of being exact. This isn't a search for perfection, but for linguistic honesty: ensuring our words match our true understanding. And stopping when you don’t actually know.
As the night moves on, the internal noise subsides into here a less frantic state, if not total silence. My body settles into the posture as if it has finally accepted the reality of the moment. The image of Bhante Pesala recedes, but the impact of his example remains. Watch your words carefully; they are the arrows that point your mind toward its eventual realization.