Bhante Nyanaramsi’s example becomes clear to me on nights when I am tempted by spiritual shortcuts but realize that only long-term commitment carries any real integrity. The reason Bhante Nyanaramsi is on my mind this evening is that I have lost the energy to pretend I am looking for immediate breakthroughs. I don’t. Or maybe I do sometimes, but those moments feel thin, like sugar highs that crash fast. What actually sticks, what keeps pulling me back to the cushion even when everything in me wants to lie down instead, is that understated sense of duty to the practice that requires no external validation. That’s where he shows up in my mind.
The Failure of Short-Term Motivation
It’s around 2:10 a.m. The air’s a little sticky. My shirt clings to my back in that annoying way. I adjust my posture, immediately feel a surge of self-criticism, and then note that criticism. It’s the familiar mental loop. The mind’s not dramatic tonight, just stubborn. Like it’s saying, "yeah yeah, we’ve done this before, what else you got?" Frankly, this is where superficial motivation disappears. There is no pep talk capable of bridging this gap.
The Phase Beyond Excitement
Bhante Nyanaramsi feels aligned with this phase of practice where you stop needing excitement. Or, at the very least, you cease to rely on it. I am familiar with parts of his methodology—the stress on persistence, monastic restraint, and the refusal to force a breakthrough. There is nothing spectacular about it; it feels enduring—a journey measured in decades. It’s the type of practice you don't boast about because there are no trophies—only the act of continuing.
A few hours ago, I found myself browsing meditation content, searching for a spark of inspiration or proof that my technique is correct. Ten minutes in, I felt emptier than when I started. That’s been happening more lately. The more serious the practice gets, the less noise I can tolerate around it. Bhante Nyanaramsi speaks to those who have moved past the "experimentation" stage and realize that this is a permanent commitment.
The Uncomfortable Honesty of the Long Term
My knees feel warm, and a dull ache ebbs and flows like the tide. My breathing is constant but not deep. I don’t force it deeper. Forcing feels counterproductive at this point. Authentic practice is not always about high intensity; it’s about the willingness to be present without bargaining for comfort. That’s hard. Way harder than doing something extreme for a short burst.
Long-term practice also brings with it a level of transparency that can be quite difficult to face. You witness the persistence of old habits and impurities; they don't go away, they are just seen more clearly. Bhante Nyanaramsi does not appear to be a teacher who guarantees enlightenment according to a fixed timeline. Instead, he seems to know that the work is repetitive, often tedious, and frequently frustrating—yet fundamentally worth the effort.
Balanced, Unromantic, and Stable
I realize my jaw’s clenched again. I let it loosen. The mind immediately jumps in with commentary. Of course it does. I don’t chase it. I don’t shut it up either. There’s a middle ground here that only becomes visible after years of messing this up. That middle ground feels very much get more info in line with how I imagine Bhante Nyanaramsi teaches. Balanced. Unromantic. Stable.
Serious practitioners don’t need hype. They need something reliable. A practice that survives when the desire to continue vanishes and doubt takes its place. That is what is truly valuable—not a charismatic leader or a big personality. A system that does not break down when faced with boredom or physical tiredness.
I’m still here. Still sitting. Still distracted. Still committed. The night moves slowly. The body adjusts. The mind keeps doing its thing. My connection to Bhante Nyanaramsi isn't based on sentiment. He serves as a benchmark—a reminder that a long-term perspective is necessary, and to accept that progress happens in its own time, regardless of my personal desires. Tonight, that is enough to keep me here, just breathing and watching, without demanding a result.