

About the Teaching Itself
My first Dhamma teacher was not always entirely pleased with me. In fact, he eventually asked me not to teach or lead meditation retreats at all, because he feared I might lead thousands of people into further suffering. I didn’t particularly mind. It gave me more time for my own practice.
Since my understanding of the Buddha’s teaching did not correspond with his own, I was, by definition, wrong.
He was also very careful to underline that the Buddha himself advised us not to believe blindly in what he taught, but to investigate and find out for ourselves. Apparently, though, blind belief was perfectly acceptable when it came to what my teacher taught us that the Buddha had taught. I found this a somewhat curious interpretation of the Buddha’s advice.
Luckily, I had already tasted some of the fruit of the Buddha’s teaching before anyone tried to explain to me how it ought to taste. So when I was later told what a mango should taste like, I had already eaten one.
At times, I felt a little like an old crocodile being taught how to swim — occasionally by someone standing on the shore, explaining that water is H₂O.
Which is perfectly true, of course. But it is not quite the same as swimming.
I cannot honestly claim that I have become dramatically wiser since then.
So I continue my dangerous career of leading people astray — not by teaching them very much, but by encouraging them not to collect too much unnecessary knowledge in the first place.
Much of what we accumulate in the mind is simply more furniture in an already overcrowded room.
So, I will teach you nothing.
And hopefully, you will learn nothing.
And if we are fortunate, we might discover that there was nothing missing in the first place.
















