The life of this 20th century extraordinary Buddhist master runs an
eerie parallel to the story of the legendary Kisa Gotami, the frail
mother who had been stricken from the loss of her only son, later
overcame her sorrow and became an enlightened arhant.

Dipa Ma was born in Bangladesh on March 25, 1911 with the given name
Nani Bala Barua.  According to the customs of the time Nani was
married at the age of twelve to Ranjani Ranjan.  One week after she
was married Ranjani went to Rangoon where he worked as an engineer,
leaving Nani alone to live with his family.  At the age of fourteen
she joined her husband in Burma.  Nani was unable to have children,
which naturally is a source of deep sorrow for any married woman, but
for a married woman in the Far East it was a family catastrophe. As a
result Ranjani’s family summoned him home under false pretenses and
tried to convince him to abandon his wife for another who could bear
him a child.  Ranjani refused stating he had not married Dipa for her
ability to have children.  As life is often stranger than fiction, a
child was born to Nani and Ranjani many years later and her status
shifted from person-non-grata to being a mother.  Then, tragically,
the child died.  The combined grief of the death of her child and loss
of status caused Nani to collapse.  She survived and some years later
another child was born who was named Dipa – Dipa Ma literally means
Dipa’s mother.  A third child was born but died as well.  Ranjani was
a kind, attentive and loving man but the increased need to care for
Dipa and Dipa Ma took its toll on his health and he collapsed and died
suddenly in 1957.  Within a ten year period Dipa Ma had experienced
the death of two children, the death of her husband, and a severe
decline in her own health. She was frail, heart-broken and devastated.

One day a doctor said to her, "You know, you're actually going to die
of a broken heart unless you do something about the state of your
mind." Because she was living in Burma, a Buddhist country, he
suggested that she learn how to meditate. It was then she had a dream
in which the Buddha appeared to her as a luminous presence and softly
chanted a verse from the Dhammapada:

"Clinging to what is dear brings sorrow, Clinging to what is dear
brings fear. To one who is entirely free from endearment, There is no
sorrow or fear."

With poor health and a broken spirit she found her way to the
meditation center in Rangoon.  So much loss in her life and now told
by doctors there was nothing more they could do to help her physical
being get well, she literally crawled up the steps on her hands and
knees to the front doors of the meditation center and began her
journey.

Dipa Ma had grown up with an unusual and intense interest in the
rituals and care of the monks.  She had joined her grandmother’s
regular trips to the monastery offering food to the monks and felt a
keen interest in meditation.  When married she would ask for
permission to go to the monastery to learn meditation and was told no,
it was not the right time.

Although she expected to die in a short time, her meditation practice
progressed very rapidly, leading to profound realization – a
realization that knows the end of suffering, where the traces of ill
will and unwholesome desire are uprooted from the mind. At age 53,
after six days of serious practice, Dipa Ma reached the first stage of
enlightenment. In a very short time she emerged from being a sickly,
broken, dependent woman to one who was radiant, peaceful, calm,
independent, deeply loving and available to others.

In Dipa Ma's own words: "You have seen me. I was disheartened and
broken down due to the loss of my children and husband, and due to
disease. I suffered so much. I could not walk properly. But now, how
are you finding me? All my disease is gone. I am refreshed, and there
is nothing in my mind. There is no sorrow, no grief. I am quite happy.
If you come to meditate, you will also be happy. There is no magic to
Vipassana, only follow the instructions.

In 1967, she moved to Calcutta where she taught meditation to a wide
range of students. Her first formal student was her neighbor, Malati
Barua, a widow trying to raise six young children alone. Malati
presented an interesting challenge: she was eager to meditate but
unable to leave her house. Dipa Ma, believing that enlightenment was
possible in any environment, devised practices that her new student, a
breastfeeding mother, could carry out at home. In one such practice,
she taught Malati to steadfastly notice the sensations of the suckling
infant at her breast, with complete presence of mind, for the duration
of each nursing period. This amounted to hours each day and, as Dipa
Ma had hoped, Malati attained the first stage of enlightenment without
ever leaving her house.

When someone asked Dipa Ma if she found her worldly concerns as a
single mother and dutiful grandmother a hindrance, she said, "My
worldly concerns are not a hindrance, because whatever I do, the
meditation is there. It never really leaves me. Even when I'm talking,
I'm meditating. When I'm eating or thinking about my daughter, that
doesn't hinder the meditation."

She passed away in 1989 in India, while meditating before a statue of
the Buddha. She is survived by her daughter Dipa, an employee of the
Indian government, and her grandson, Rishi.

Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dipa_Ma
http://awakeningtruth.org/blog/?p=22

Hi!

I'd like to share with you some of the stories in "Dipa Ma - The Life
and Legacy of the Buddhist Master". Those stories are simple, straight-
forward, humorous and inspiring. Somehow, I am able to connect to
those stories because Dipa Ma is like us, too. She is not like the
Buddha of a distant past; she lived and breathed in the same air as we
do. Dipa Ma had many of our problems - marriage, children, money, and
more - but the ease which she managed them makes me wondering: if a
frail Indian woman who had never been to college could do so much, why
can't I do more? I hope you will enjoy these stories too!

Note: there is an extended biography on Dipa Ma, but I don't have the
space here. You can check out the book at the our library community
next week (hopefully we will manage to settle everything in).

Cheers,
Minh-Tue

Dipa Ma's sister, Herma, was also adept in meditation practice and had
progressed rapidly to the same level as Dipa Ma. Daw Than Myint
recalled the powerful effect meditation had on her mother:

"When I arrived home from college vacation, my mother was not there to
greet me. This was very unusual, because she never stayed away from
home long. My brothers and sisters informed me that she was at the
meditation center. When I went to the center, I saw her sitting next
to Munindra, very cool and calm and no acknowledging me. I was
impressed. I wanted to be aloof like that. I decided if meditation can
change my mother, it must be very powerful, and so I must do this
also.Of course I later found that meditation was not about being cool
and aloof."

Unfortunately, not everyone in the family was so enthusiastic about
Herma's changes:

"My father was upset that she was not doing housework; she was just
sitting, sitting, sitting, so he threatened to tell the Venerable
Mahasi Sayadaw. My mother said, "Fine." WHen he went to talk to
Sayadaw, the Sayadaw convinced him to begin his own mediation. Soon he
gained some insight, and he never bothered my mother again about
sitting too much.

Inspired by Dipa Ma's example, her friends and family came to practice
at the center. The first to arrive were her sister, Hema, and a close
friend, Khuki Ma. Although Hema was the mother of eight children, five
of whom still lived at home, she made time to practice with her sister
for almost a year. Later, Dipa Ma's daughter, Dipa, and several of
Hema's daughters joined them. They were a sight to behold: two middle-
aged mothers an their teenage daughters meditating among the austere,
saffron-clad monks. Meditation centers did not normally accommodate
female retreatants, and their living quarters were rustic, hovel-like
rooms in a remote corner of the property. Hema's daughter, Daw Than
Myint, recalled that they had to climb through the bushes and scramble
up a hill to get to their interviews with Munindra.

During school holidays, Dipa Ma and Hema might have as many as six
children between them. Despite the close family atmosphere, the rules
were strict. "We would eat in silence together as a family,"
remembered Daw Than Myint, "and we would not look up at each other. It
was very different!" During this phenomenal year of practice, all six
children of the Barua clan, four girls and two boys, achieved at least
the first stage of enlightenment. The young Dipa's commitment to
meditation practice was especially gratifying to her mother, who
wanted to give her daughter something of enduring value, the
"priceless gift." Again and again she should tell Dipa that mediation
offered the only way to peace.

Dipa Ma's first formal student was her neighbor Malati Barua, a widow

trying to raise six young children alone. Malati presented an

interesting challenge: she was eager to meditate, but unable to leave

her house. Dipa Ma, believing that enlightenment was possible in any

environment, devised practices that her new student could carry out at

home. In one such practice, she taught Malati to steadfastly notice

the sucking sensation of the infant at her breast, with complete

presence of mind, for the duration of each nursing period. This
amounted to hours each day and, as Dipa Ma had hoped, Malati attained

the first stage of enlightenment without ever leaving her home.

Thus, Dipa Ma began her career of leading householders to wisdom in
the midst of their busy lives.

As in the example of Dipa Ma's life, the spiritual path is a journey
of transformation in which the mind's cherished beliefs and self-
imposed limitations are challenged at every turn. The teacher's job is
to push her students beyond the boundaries of what they think is
possible, to up-end all notations of "I can't." For who is the "I"
that can't, and what is "can't" but a construct of the mind? Dipa Ma
had seen, through the development of her own powers, that there are no
limits to what the mind can do. Sometimes she can be outrageous in her
instructions and suggestions, at other times quietly and relentlessly
persistent. She would walk her students right to the edge, and then
urge them to go beyond. She also taught that "going beyond" could mean
the simple willingness to reveal oneself, to let things unravel and
come crashing down, and from that place, to keep on going.

Dipa Ma perfected a mature form of effort, one that encompasses both
strength and ease, the masculine and the feminine. Practice requires
more than a zealous, samurai-warrior attitude. It also demands that we
find compassion and love within ourselves. We can come to practice,
like Dipa Ma, from a place of childlike wonder that is invincible in
its truth and sincerity.

For many Western students, the greatest challenge can be to balance
effort with ease, gentleness, and compassionate acceptance. Here are
some of the personal stories collected by Dipa Ma's students.

Practice All The Time
   When Dipa Ma asked me about my practice, I told her that I
meditated in the morning and the evening every day, and the rest of
the day I worked at my job. Then she inquired, "Well, what do you do
on weekends?" I don't remember my answer, but her response was, "There
are two days. You should be practicing all day Saturday and Sunday."
Then she gave me a strict lesson on how to optimize my time. I never
forgot this lesson, this idea that I should be practicing all the time
- Bob Ray.

Don't be lazy
   The last time I saw Dipa Ma before she died, she told me that I
should sit for two days. She didn't mean a two-day retreat but one
sitting two days long! I had to laugh; it seemed completely
impossible. But with uncompromising compassion, she simply said to me,
"Don't be lazy."  - Joseph Goldstein

What are our limits?
   When Dipa Ma came to Insight Meditation Society to teach a three-
month silent retreat in 1984, Joseph and Sharon were paired as a
teaching team, and I was paired teaching with Dipa Ma. We would do
interviews all morning, have lunch, and then Dipa Ma would go to her
house across the street, and I would go to my room to rest before
teaching again in the afternoon.

   Just before I took my joyful little nap, I would look out my window
and see Dipa Ma outside doing walking meditation. She was sick that
year, and it was very cold; it would be snowing. She would have her
white cotton sari on, walking back and forth in the snow. This from an
old woman with a heart condition.

   I would look outside my window, and I'd look at Dipa Ma, and I'd
look at my bed, and I'd look at Dipa Ma.... I felt I had to accept my
limits. I know I couldn't go outside and do walking meditation at that
point, but I could appreciate and see the difference. Her unfailing
dedication to really finish, to be fully liberated, made her so
powerful, yet that power was utterly sweet. She never stopped. That,
together with noticing that her actions didn't seem to reflect being
motivated by aversion or attachment, was mind-boggling. I would see
all this, and then I would go take a nap! - Michele McDonald

Only thoughts hold you back
   In 1974, I stopped by Calcutta to say goodbye to Dipa Ma. I told
her, "I'm going back to America for a short time to get my health
together, to get some more money, and then I'll be back." She shook
her head and asserted, "No, when you go back to America, you'll be
teaching meditation with Joseph."

   I said, "No, I won't," and she said, "Yes, you will," and I said,
"No, I won't."

   Finally, she  just looked at me in the eye and declared, "You can
do anything you want to do. It's only your that that you can't do it
that's holding you back." She added, "You should teach because you
really understand suffering."

   This was a great blessing with which she sent me off, back to
America. That was over thirty years ago. And she was right. - Sharon
Salzberg

You have enough time
   "If you are a householder, you have enough time," Dipa Ma told me.
"Very early in the morning, you can take two hours for meditation.
Late in the evening you can take another two hours for meditation.
Learn to sleep only four hours. There is no need for sleeping more
than four hours."

   From that day on, I cut my sleeping time. I would meditate up until
midnight sometimes, or get up early in the morning at two or three and
meditate. Ma told us we had to stay healthy so we could continue
practicing. She said observing the five precepts every day would keep
me healthy. - Pritimoyee Barua

P. S: I would be really interested in sleeping for only four hours per
day without coffee...

Do whatever you can
   I asked Nani [Dipa Ma], "I heard you teach vipassana. What is
that?"

   She gave me an explanation of vipassana, then said, "I was once
like you, suffering very much. I believe you can proceed in a way to
become free."

   I told her, "I have so many concerns with my mother and my son, and
I also must run a family and a large bakery business. It is not
possible for me to do this vipassana."

   "Who says? When you are thinking about your son or mother, then
think about them mindfully. When you are doing your household work,
know that you are doing this. As a human being, it is never possible
to solve all your problems. The things you are facing and suffering,
bring mindfulness to this."

   "But between my baker and my family, it is impossible to find even
five minutes for meditation."

   "If you can just manage five minutes a day, then do that. It is
important to do whatever you can, no matter how little."

   "I know I cannot spare five minutes. It is impossible."

   Nani asked me if I would meditate with her, right then and there,
for five minutes. So I sat with her for five minutes. She gave me
instructions in meditation, even though I said I had no time.

   Somehow I found five minutes a day, and I followed her
instructions. And from this five minutes, I became so inspired. I did
five minutes a day, and then more and more. Meditation became my first
priority. I wanted to meditate whenever I could. I was able to find
longer and longer times to meditate, and soon I was meditating many
hours a day, into the night, sometimes all night after my work as
done. I found energy and time I didn't know I had. - Sudipti Barua

Pushed to the next level
   Almost every time I left Dipa Ma for more than a few hours, she
would give me an exhortation to practice diligently. She was
continually trying to push me to the next level: "I hope you will
remember to sit X hours," or "I hope you will remember to sit X
hours," or "I hope you will try to do X." Once or twice she used the
words, "I expect you to..." She always talked in a very soft voice, so
it was never too intense, but underneath there was a real
determination to it. - Steven Schwartz

Continuous Ease
   During my two-month retreat with Dipa Ma, her focus in our regular
interviews was always on areas of my practice that needed work. For
instance, what particular emotions were still strong? During what
sitting or part of a sitting was concentration weak? How was I dealing
with drowsiness at the end of the day? She didn't discourage
enthusiasm about what was going well, but she always wanted to discuss
what was inhibiting continuity in the practice.

   What was fascinating about Dipa Ma was that she lived with that
steadiness or continuity. It didn't matter if she was having lunch,
going for a walk, or dealing with her young grandson, she did it with
strong attention marked with a sense of ease.

   I was reminded of Dipa Ma's approach to practice when we recently
had a desert turtle living in our yard as a pet. The tightly woven
fence never seemed to create an obstacle for this slow and steady
creature. To keep track of him, we put a Band-Aid on his shell with
our phone number on it. Days after each disappearance, the phone would
ring and we would be awe-struck at how far and wide we would have to
drive to retrieve him. When we placed him back in the yard, the moment
his feet hit the ground he was beginning his next journey.

   It was like that with Dipa Ma - one could see a profound continuity
and effortlessness. She taught me that grace is really economy: not
too much and not too little - Katrina Schneider.

Are you really doing it?
   She would always ask, "How much are you sitting. How is your
mindfulness? How awake are you in your life?" Basically, the question
was, "Are you really doing it, or are you just thinking about it?"
It's a great idea to live with mindfulness, but are you actually
living your life that way? - Jack Kornfield

The dharma is everywhere
   At the end of one retreat, I told Dipa Ma how hard it was to go
back to my life because I was living in a remote part of the country
where there wasn't a formalized sangha [community of practitioners]. I
asked her about how to manage without a sangha and she said, "The
dharma is everywhere. It doesn't matter where you are." - Michele
McDonald

Impeccable effort
   Dipa Ma's greatest gift to me was showing me what was possible -
and living it. She was impeccable about effort. People with this
ability to make effort are not disheartened by how long it takes, how
difficult it is. It takes months, it takes years, it doesn't matter,
because the courage of the heart is there. She gave the sense that
with right effort, anything is possible - Joseph Goldstein

No excuses
   Dipa Ma was about no nonsense and no excuses. To say, "Oh, I'm too
tired," or "The conditions aren't right," or "I have a backache, I
don't want to practice today," there was no room for that. She made it
clear that if you want to do it, you can do it if the commitment is
there. For her, there was never a reason not to sit. She just didn't
understand why we wouldn't always be practicing. Socializing was out
of the question. Gossip and junk novels, no way! - Carol Wilson

Mindful dreams
   Somebody asked her what her dreams were like, and she said, "There
is always mindfulness present in my dreams." - Michael Liebenson Grady

Each moment is an adventure
   Steven Smith observes that "in Dipa Ma... there was a wondrous
quality about making effort. Everything was an adventure; practicing
through the middle of the night was an adventure. She embodied that
realization that motivation for practice can come from the wonder of
each moment."

   "She taught me that mindfulness isn't something to strive for,"
echoes Sharon Kreider. "It's always there, it's going on all the time.
Rather than something I have to seize, mindfulness is just being with
what is, as it arises, all the time."

"Let go of thinking, and your faith will come from within."
   Dipa Ma taught that the mind is all stories, one after another,
like nesting dolls. You open one, and another is inside. Open that
one, and there is another story emerging. When you get to the last
nesting doll, the smallest one, and open it, inside of it is - what?
It's empty, nothing there, and all around you are the empty shells of
the stories of your life.

   Because Dipa Ma was able literally to see through the stories of
the mind, she did not acknowledge personal dramas of any kind. She
wanted her students to live from a deeper truth than their
interpretations of, and identification with, the external events of
their lives. Dipa Ma knew all about life's dramas. She had personally
suffered chronic illness; grief at the deaths of her parents, husband,
and two children; and crushing despair. Only when she had gone beyond
identification with the stories and dramas in her life did she begin
to live as a free person.

No problem
   Sometimes, when someone would come to her with their troubles, she
would laugh and laugh. She couldn't stop laughing. Finally she would
say, "This problem you are facing is no problem at all. It is because
you think, 'This is mine.' It is because you think, 'There is
something for me to solve.' Don't think in this way, and then there
will be no trouble. - Dipak Chowdhury

Don't think they are bowing to you
   When I was eight years old, I ordained as a monk in Bodh Gaya at
her suggestion. I was a monk for three days. Immediately after I
ordained, people ban to bow to me. I thought, "Oh, wow!" I felt very
special. But my grandmother cautioned me, "Don't think they are bowing
to you. They are bowing to your garments only." - Rishi Barua (Dipa
Ma's grandson)

Not special
   We were in the back seat of a car in Calcutta one afternoon, going
to visit Munindra. Dipa Ma was sitting next to me and holding my hand.
Through her hand I could feel this incredible tingly warmth of love in
my body. I was basking in it. It was for maybe a minute or two, and as
I was delighting in it, my mind jumped in with, "Oh, you're special."
The moment I had this thought, she immediately but very gently let go
of my hand and didn't touch it again for the rest of the trip. -
Matthew Daniel

What is your intention?
   One night a student showed up who began asking Dipa Ma a lot of
questions. He was quite challenging and confrontational and coming
from an abstract intellectual place and trying to get her to argue. At
one point she stopped and said in a very calm voice "Why have you come
here? What is your intention?" The sincerity of her question
immediately silenced him. - Ajahn Thanasati

Unraveling
   [Having just arrived in India] I wanted to see Ma right away. Jack,
Joseph, and Sharon had said, "Just go!" So I went that evening at the
first opportunity. I had her address, but I don't know how I found my
way there. I was already getting dark by the time I arrived. I
remember getting out of the taxi in this poor section of the city, and
looking down this dark, dank alley with rubbish in it, and thinking,
"I can't believe this is the right place." It was.

   I pushed down the alley and came to flight of open stairs on the
right. I'd been told the fourth floor, but it was so hard to see, and
I was getting more and more anxious, and I think I missed her floor
the first time. I finally came out on the fourth-floor balcony and
said her name to the first person I met. They pointed around the
balcony to the other side of the open courtyard. By this time it must
have been six or seven o'clock. Her students had gone for the day, and
this was undoubtedly family and personal time. I have to admit, with
some embarrassment, that I didn't think of this then. I had just
finished four months of intensive practice. I had come all this way to
study the dharma, and I think I was more than a little self-
preoccupied.

   I saw a diminutive woman standing outside the door and said
something, and she motioned for me to wait. She got her daughter,
Dipa, to translate. I introduced myself and explained that I was a
dharma student and friend of Joseph Goldstein and Sharon Salzberg. She
invited me into their small room.

   I remember sitting on Ma's wooden bed and starting to explain why I
was there, and telling her about all the intensive practice I had just
done and what I'd experienced. She couldn't have been kinder or more
welcoming. She listened patiently and attentively as Dipa translated,
as though she had nothing better to do at that moment than listen to
this young man who had just intruded into her home and was full of his
experience. As I continued to talk, something in me started to
unravel.

   It's never happened to me before or since like it did that evening.
I've certainly been anxious meeting people before; I've met many other
people of note in various walks of life over the years. But nothing
like this. The more I talked, the more a tide of panic and confusion
rose up and overwhelmed me. My mind started spinning wildly out of
control. I think I must have started making no sense whatsoever. I
felt completely and utterly abashed. All my grandiosity, all my self-
importance, all my experiences, all my sense of specialness and being
on this extraordinary spiritual pilgrimage just came crashing down
around my ears in a matter of minutes. And Ma hadn't done anything
other than sit there and hold me gently in her gaze and her attention.
- Jack Engler

Everything is impermanent
   When my son died in 1984, Dipa Ma shocked me with her words. It was
a hard teaching I have not forgotten: "Today your son has gone from
this world. Why are you shocked? Everything is impermanent. Your life
is impermanent. Your husband is impermanent. Your son is impermanent.
Your daughter is impermanent. Your money is impermanent. Your building
is impermanent. Everything is impermanent. There is nothing that is
permanent. When you are alive, you might think, 'This is my daughter,
this is my husband, this is my property, this is my building, this car
belongs to me.' But when you are dead, nothing is yours. Sudipti, you
think you are a serious meditator, but you must really learn that
everything is impermanent." - Sudipti Barua

Without the worry
   Everything that I feared the most - losing my husband, losing my
children - had happened to Dipa Ma, and yet here she was, tranquil and
equanimous and cheerful. To see her with the same causes for concern
as I had, but without the worry, was inspirational. - Sylvia Boorstein

Letting go
A number of Americans, concerned about the poor conditions in Dipa
Ma's neighborhood, collected donations to help her move away from the
inner city. One student recalled what happened when he delivered the
money to build the new house.

   Altogether I had about twenty-five hundred dollars for this house
fund, which I figured in Indian money was enough to build half a
house. It was more than Dipa Ma's family had to live on for a year.
Because I loved her so much and probably also because I was feeling
some self-importance - I took the responsibility for delivering this
money quite seriously, but also with a lot of delight.

   "Wait until she sees what I'm bringing her," I thought. "One half
of a house!"

   When I got there, I told her I had brought some money in American
dollars. She said, "We can't change American dollars. We are not even
allowed to have dollars. You should convert them into rupees." The
exchange rate being what it was at the time, twenty five hundred
dollars was worth around forty five thousand rupees. I went to the
American Express Bank, and the largest denomination they had was a
hundred-rupee note. I walked out of the place with my backpack stuffed
full of rupees.

   I had been ripped off twice in India - once for a thousand dollars
- so I was nervous carrying this sum of money in cash through the
streets of Calcutta. I felt like I was carrying Dipa Ma's future on my
back: her house, her entirely worldly fortune, and her chance of a
life of comfort. I went straight from the bank to her apartment. It
took about an hour to travel there, and every step of the way I was in
a state of high anxiety. But I couldn't wait to see her face. We
thought it would take five years to raise the money, and here, within
the first three months, I was to deliver half the house to her. "She
will be so happy," I thought.

   By the time I got to the apartment, I was literally sweating. As I
walked in the door, Dipa Ma put her hands on my head and gave me her
usual blessing. "You look quite distraught," she said. I didn't want
to say, "Well, I'm basically afraid of the people in your country. I
thought I'd be ripped off." Instead, I just said, "Well, I had to go
change the money. It was really a lot of money, and I was concerned
about having so much cash on me."

   I took off my pack, opened it, and emptied it out onto the floor.
The place suddenly looked like a scene in a movie, with piles and
piles of rupees all over the apartment. Dipa Ma didn't blink an eye.
She didn't even move or offer any expression of enthusiasm or
excitement. She just took the money, slid it under her bed, and
covered it up with a peice of cloth.

   I thought, "Under the bed? Forty-five thousand rupees - you don't
want to stash that sum of money under your bed. Let's put the money
someplace where it won't get stolen. And what about your new house?
Let's talk about your house."

   She said nothing about the money or the house. Instead, she was
only concerned about me. She said, "You should quiet down. Don't be
nervous." Then she turned to Dipa and said, "We need to feed him."

   On my way out I thought I'd better mention the money to Dipa. "Your
mother put all this money under the bed." I said. "I'm concerned it
might not be safe, You should take it to the bank."

   Dipa laughed, "Oh, it would not be safe in the bank. But it will be
safe here."

   I started to protest, but then I realized that the problem from the
very beginning was me. I was not simply being a vehicle for other
people's generosity. I had taken this on as "mine". I had turned it
into a big deal by infusing my sense of self-importance into the
situation. Even after I had turned the money over to them, I hadn't
been too willing to let it go. But when Dipa said, "Don't worry, it
will be safe," I was finally able to say, "Okay, it's yours."

   I never asked another question or had a second thought about the
money or the house. When I walked out of their apartment, I felt free
of that burden. In fact, I never even learned whether they actually
built the house. And this is the first time I've thought about it in
almost twenty years. - Steven Schwartz

Why so upset?
   When she stood up against something she felt was wrong, sometimes
others would blame and criticize her. But she was not bothered by
this. She told me, "Why be upset? Even the Buddha had to bear slanders
and criticism throughout his life, and I am just an ordinary and
insignificant woman!" - Dipa Barua

The dharma is very special
   His Holiness the 16th Karmapa, the head of one of the great
lineages of Tibetan Buddhism, visited IMS one year when Dipa Ma was
teaching there. All the yogis and teachers were going up to him for
blessings, and he would tap them on the head with a ritual object.
When Dipa Ma went up to him, he took her head between his hands and
spoke softly with her. It was clear that there was some recognition
going on between them, even though they had never met before.
   In the tradition of Tibetan Buddhism, there was elaborate
preparation for the Karmapa's visit. A teaching throne was built and
covered with beautiful brocade. Some people were wondering about all
these preparations, which were in stark contrast to Dipa Ma's utter
simplicity. When they asked her about it, she said, "Oh, he does that
so people will see the dharma as being very special."

"Gradually, I became acquainted with suffering, the cause of
suffering, the arising of suffering, and the end of suffering."

Dipa Ma believed, unconditionally, that enlightenment - total
liberation of the mind and heart - is the purpose of human life and
the primary reason for meditation practice. She never tired of
reminding her students: "You must practice to know at least one stage
of enlightenment. Otherwise you have not made use of your human life."

In the Theravada tradition, little is written about the actual
experience of enlightenment. The reticence of many teachers on this
subject is largely to avoid setting up an attitude of striving. This
chapter brings enlightenment experiences out into the open, with the
aim of showing that there is nothing secret or supernatural about
them. Although it might be inferred from these stories that
enlightenment can happen rather easily, there are also stories of
awakening taking many years or even decades.

While there is no "right way" on this path, and consequently nothing
to judge, compare, or anticipate, Joseph Goldstein offers this
important caveat: "The experience of enlightenment is about letting go
of 'self'. Over the years, I've seen people who have experienced
enlightenment use it to create more self. They attach to the
experience and identify with it. This is missing the point, and it can
create a lot of suffering."

Kamikaze yogi
   My first two three-month retreats was blasting through, "bliss-
bomb" type retreats, where I described myself as a kamikaze yogi. But
my third three-month retreat was weeping from the first day until the
end. At times, I would have such incredible internal aching and
tearing apart that I thought I couldn't sit more than five minutes. At
first, when I reported this to Dipa Ma, she suggested that I just
"note it."

   But finally there was a certain point where I really thought I was
going to explode if I sat any longer. Dipa Ma sat down next to me,
took my hand, held it and caressed it with love and gentleness, like
caressing a baby. While she was doing this, she assured me, "If you
make it through this, you will earn great merit."

   Doing this, she gave me an absolute transmission of her confidence
and love. My doubt disappeared; I totally believed her words. I went
back to the hall and sat on my cushion, and ... something just opened
up. I started to have experiences like you see in the classical texts
on enlightenment. She was guiding me with special resolutions during
this time.

   I am grateful that she kept me practicing. Even though for two and
a half months I was racked with restlessness and achiness and wanted
to "roll up the mat" and go home, she kept me going. - Anonymous

Did you get enlightened?
   Dipa Ma came to teach a class at my school for three weeks. At the
end of the class, we were to do a weekend intensive retreat with her.
The day before the intensive retreat she said to me, "You are going to
have a 'realization experience'." I wondered, "What is this supposed
to mean?"

   That night, I meditated for a while, and then I got up because I
was getting very sleepy. I went back to my room, and something
shifted. I realized I needed to go back and meditate some more, so I
went back to meditate, and I got extremely concentrated. There was
simply the watching of my breath. I was noticing every microcosm of
the rising and failing, every little bit, and I had the ability to
watch the intentions of thoughts coming. It was like a bubble that
would break, then the thought would be there, then it would pass, and
there would be stillness, then another intention of the thought would
arise, then break like a bubble on the surface of water, and so on.

   It was not me doing this, because I absolutely had no capacity for
that level of concentration. I think it was simply by Dipa Ma's grace.
There was incredible stillness, and a huge amount of space in between
thoughts where nothing was going on.

   Then there was a huge shift in awareness, as if I went "out"
somewhere where attention reversed. There was no body anymore, just
the arising and passing away of things. It completely blew me away.

   The next day Dipa Ma asked me, "Well, did you get enlightened?"
Later, because I was so new at meditation - I didn't have a background
or context for this experience - a lot of fear came up. First there
was this incredible insight, then fear arose when I saw that
everything was being annihilated moment after moment. My mind became
so confused; I didn't have the ability to watch confusion, and it was
a long time before the experience matured in me. It was three years
before I had the desire to meditate again. - Anonymous

Enlightenment was rather matter-of-fact to Dipa Ma's Indian students.
Jack Engler recalled that they practiced within the context of
families and daily life. "When Dipa Ma recognized a certain kind of
ripeness in them, she would say, 'Arrange your affairs, see if you can
get two weeks off from the family, and come and stay in this room next
to me and just devote yourself for ten or fourteen days to this
practice.' That's when enlightenment happened to them. That is all the
intensive practice they did, and even then, some of them had to return
home during that time to take care of family matters."

Just two or three days
   I took my mother [Dipa Ma's sister Hema] every evening to the
monastery, and once I met a Burmese lady there who told me about her
practice at home with her small children. She worked in the day, and
she did meditation at night when her children were asleep. Within two
months, she said, she finished the first stage [of enlightenment].

   So I took that example while I was teaching full time and studying
in my master's program. I got up at 4 AM and meditated until 5:30 AM.
I went to school until 3:30 PM, then I took my mother to the
monastery. After that I would do my homework until 9 PM. Then I would
do walking meditation for an hour with my dog. Then I would sit for
another hour until 11 PM. At 11, I went to sleep.

  All the time, on the bus to school, during my classes, everywhere, I
practiced noting [mentally noting each sensory experience]. After two
or three weeks, Munindra told me to take my vacation and come and
meditate. I told him it was impossible to take time off school, and he
said, "Well, just two or three days will do." So I went for Thursday
through Sunday. Since there was so little time, I decided to stay up
all night Thursday, and I kept meditating into Friday.

   On Friday night at about 1 AM, i thought something "went wrong". In
the morning, I told my mother and Dipa Ma that something strange had
happened. They started laughing and laughing. They told me it was the
first stage, and they were very glad for me. - Daw Than Myint

[ P.S: ah I'd love to try her schedule during the summer - sleeping
for only five hours a day! And walking meditation with your pets seems
to be a fantastic idea! ]

Okay, a tiger is coming
   On the very first day I met her, Nani [Dipa Ma] gave me
instructions and told me, "You can practice at home." I went home that
afternoon and immediately started practicing for twenty days.

   During the twenty days of meditation, I felt I had a high fever, I
felt like a hot iron was penetrating my body. Then I saw snakes
everywhere, and tigers were jumping at me. I reported this to Nani,
and she told me, "Don't worry. Don't take any medicine. You have a
fever, but it is not a disease: it will spontaneously leave. Just be
mindful of it. Just feel it and note it. When snakes and tigers come,
don't worry. Just notice, 'Okay, a tiger is coming.' That is all."

   Then I began having vivid pictures of dead bodies. I saw many, many
dead bodies in an arid place, and I had to walk on the dead bodies. I
was terrified. Nani said, "Don't fear. Just make a mental note of
'seeing.' These visions are from our many births. What we have done in
previous births often comes to mind in meditation." From her
instruction, I noted, "seeing a dead body," and "walking on dead
bodies." I also kept noting, "I'm seeing in my mind."

   Soon there was just awareness, everything stopped, my mind became
clear and peaceful, and I came to awaken. All my pains were
eradicated. I came to understand what was my body, what was my mind,
and what was the way of meditation.

   There was no turning back. After twenty days, I left my seat and
went out into the world - Jyotishmoyee Barua

The most precious thing
   When I was doing my research in Calcutta, Dipa Ma brought her
neighbor to me, a sixty-five year-old woman whose name was Madhuri
Lata. She had raised her family, her children were gone, and, unlike
most Indian families, she was alone with her husband, with no extended
family living in the same household. Her husband had said to her, "You
have nothing to do now. Thus 'aunt' of yours, Dipa Ma, teaches this
meditation practice. Why don't you talk with her? It'll give you
something to do."

   Madhuri, who had mild developmental delays, went to Dipa Ma, and
Dipa Ma gave her the basic instructions [to place her attention on the
rise and fall of the abdomen with each inhalation and exhalation and]
to note to oneself "rising, failing, rising, falling." Madhuri said,
"Okay," and started to go home, down four flights of stairs and across
the alley to her apartment. She didn't get halfway down the stairs
before she forgot the instructions. So, back she came.

   "What was I supposed to do?" she asked.

   "Rising, falling, rising, falling," said Dipa Ma.

   "Oh, yes, that's right."

   Four times, Madhuri forgot the instructions and had to come back.
Dipa Ma was very patient with her. It took Madhuri almost a year to
understand the basic instructions, but once she got them, she was like
a tiger. Before she practiced, Madhuri was bent over at a ninety-
degree angle with arthritis, rheumatism, and intestinal problems. When
I met her, after her enlightenment experience, she walked with a
straight back. No more intestinal problems. She was the simplest,
sweetest, gentlest woman.

   After she told me her enlightenment story, she said, "All the time,
I've wanted to tell someone about this wonderful thing that happened
to me, and I've never been able to share this before, this most
precious thing in my life." - Jack Engler

All emotion is from thinking
Despite severe emotional difficulties, a Vietnamese monk, Venerable
Khippa-Panno, was able to attain insight with Dipa Ma's encouragement.
In 1969, he had gone on a retreat during which, for five days, he was
unable to stop laughing and crying. His teacher, deciding Khippa-Panno
had gone mad, told him to stop the retreat and return home. When Dipa
Ma heard this, she invited Khippa-Panno to practice with her.

   For a while month, I practiced at her house. She advised me, "You
will overcome this difficulty. If everything is noted, all your
emotional difficulties will disappear. When you feel happy, don't get
involved with the happiness. And when you feel sad, don't get involved
with it. Whatever comes, don't worry. Just be aware of it."

   On a later retreat, when I felt the craziness come, I remembered
her words. I had so much difficulty with the emotions that I wanted to
leave the retreat, but I remembered her faith in me, and her saying,
"Your practice is good. Just note everything, and you will overcome
the difficulty." With this knowledge of her confidence in me, my
concentration got deeper.

   Soon I came to see that all emotion was from thinking, nothing
more. I found that once I knew how to observe the thoughts that led to
the emotions, I could overcome them. And then I came to see that all
thoughts were from the past or the future, so I started to live only
in the present, and I developed more and more mindfulness... I had no
thoughts for a period of time, just mindfulness, and then all my
emotional difficulties passed away. Just like that! And then I had an
experience. I wasn't sure what it was. It was only a moment, and there
wasn't anyone to confirm it at the time. My emotional problems have
never returned.

   Later, in 1984, when I saw Dipa Ma in America, she took me aside
and asked about my meditation. When I told her, she told me that I had
completed the first stage [of enlightenment]. She told me like a
mother would tell a child - Venerable Khippa-Panno

"The whole path of mindfulness is this: Whatever you are doing, be
aware of it."

The partner of a spiritual teacher once said, "I know he's learning
something because he's less difficult to live with." Insights that are
genuine change our whole way of being; they make us gentler with each
other and with the planet. Perhaps your practice has rewarded you with
deep insights. Perhaps your practice has rewarded you with deep
insights. But wonderful as they are, such experiences are fleeting.
Enlightened or not, the question remains: How are you living your
life? It's a simple test, but an important one: How do you wash the
dishes? How do you react when someone cuts you off on the freeway?

Dipa Ma was a living example of how to live in this world, of how to
practice and the mundane activities of our day-to-day existence can be
made one. She insisted that the practice be done all the time, and
that we do the things we do throughout the day without making them
into problems. Dipa Ma wanted to know, "How awake are you in your
life? Are you just thinking about being mindful, or are you really
doing it?"

Dipa Ma said that even while she was talking, she was meditating.
Talking, eating, working, thinking about her daughter, playing with
her grandson - none of those activities hampered her practice because
she did them all with mindfulness. "When I'm moving, shopping,
everything, I've always doing it with mindfulness. I know these are
things I have to do, but they aren't problems. On the other hand, I
don't spend time gossiping or visiting or doing anything which I don't
consider necessary in my life."

How do you tie your shoes?
   She encouraged me to live what I was teaching. The quality of her
presence was like that in the Hasidic tales, when somebody asked, "Why
did you go to see this rabbi? Did you go to hear him give a great
lecture on the Torah, or see how he worked with his students?" And the
person said, "No, I went to see how he tied his shoes." Dipa Ma didn't
want people to come and live in India forever or be monks or join an
ashram. She said, "Live your life. Do the dishes. Do the laundry. Take
your kids to kindergarten. Raise you children or your grand children.
Take care of the community in which you live. Make all of that your
path, and follow your path with heart." - Jack Kornfield

Enlightened Ironing
   She believed you could become enlightened ironing your clothes...
She felt that every activity should be given that much mindfulness.
And the care should be there, too - care for whoever you were ironing
the clothes for - Michele Levey

My favorite scene in all the [8-mm home movie] footage I shot of Dipa
Ma is of her hanging out the laundry. Remember that Zen saying, "After
the ecstasy, the laundry?" Well, there is this long shot, maybe two or
three minutes of Dipa Ma smiling and enjoying hanging out the laundry.
It's wonderful to see her in the sunshine, in the yard. I would like
to take a frame of this and call it. "Laundry with Saint." - Jack
Kornfield

The sacred within the mundane
   When I knocked on the door, Ma's daughter Dipa answered. I was
quite excited about meeting Dipa Ma and had a bundle of questions I
wanted to ask her about meditation. After a few minutes an elderly
woman [Dipa Ma] appeared. She seemed totally uninterested in my
presence. She didn't looked at me; she didn't acknowledge me. She was
so incredibly silent and quiet, so grounded and present, that I knew I
would have to wait until she was ready to relate to me. It wasn't
aloofness, exactly. Rather it was a sense of real stillness.

   When she came into the room, she picked up a little plastic toy
duck that must have belonged to her grandchild and took it over to a
plastic basin on the windowsill. In the soft afternoon light coming
through the window, she began bathing the duck. It was like baptizing
this little plastic toy. What impressed me most was that she did it so
wholeheartedly. Here were these objects that were so mundane, in some
sense the opposite of spiritual, just a dirty old plastic toy, yet she
did the whole process so wholeheartedly. It immediately centered me
just watching her - Andrew Getz

Impeccable morality
   When fall began to turn into winter at IMS, my role was to round up
the appropriate winter clothes for Dipa Ma's family. Someone made Dipa
Ma a shawl, and others began contributing clothing. One of the items I
gave her was a very comfortable pair of warm socks, which we wore
regularly around the house. I was pleased that my small gift was
proving so useful to her. But I made the careless mistake, in all the
busyness of those days, of having brought them to her without formally
offering them as a gift.

   After seven weeks of sharing day-to-day life, the time came for me
to take Dipa Ma and her family to the airport and to say good-bye.
When I came back to the house, I was filled with sadness. A period of
great intensity was over. The house felt so empty.

   When I went into her bedroom, I found a few items neatly placed on
the foot of her bed. One of them was the pair of socks. My heart sank.
I couldn't understand why she had consciously left them behind.

   After some reflection, I realized that the socks were given in an
unclear way, that she would not assume that they were hers to keep. As
small as the incident seems, it held a powerful teaching in what
impeccable silla [morality] looks like - a lesson which was painful at
the time, but one that I would remember - Michael Liebenson Grady

Restlessly present
   I asked Dipa Ma, "Would you like to move into the other room to
sit? There is a group coming over this evening."

   "I am sitting now. Why go to the other room to sit?"

   "Well, we're going to do a little sitting in there."

   "We are sitting."

   "But other people want to come, and they'll be sitting in other
room."

   Finally I got her to go into the other room and sit. She could just
"be there", relentlessly. Her eyes could be open, her eyes could be
closed, it really didn't make any difference. That was the most
remarkable aspect of her presence in our house, the sense of "Why
move? What is there really to do?"

   At these sittings, sometimes fifty people might arrive to receive
her blessings, but no matter how many came she would take each person
one by one and be completely present. In watching the singularity of
her focus and connectedness, I could see she was relating to each
person as God - Steven Schwartz

Dear friends,

Due to my unmindfulness, I lost my copy of Dipa Ma book at the
Heathrow Airport when I was transiting from Boston to Singapore. Thus,
I have not been able to post any story for a while. I am remorseful at
this negligence and wish to continue posting in the future when I have
acquired another copy of the book.

Thank you for all of your feedbacks and replies,

Minh-Tue