I find myself resonating with Bhante Nyanaramsi during those hours when the allure of quick fixes is strong, yet I know deep down that only sustained effort is genuine. I’m thinking about Bhante Nyanaramsi tonight because I’m tired of pretending I want quick results. I don’t. Or maybe I do sometimes, but those moments feel thin, like sugar highs that crash fast. What genuinely remains, the anchor that returns me to the seat when my body begs for sleep, is that understated sense of duty to the practice that requires no external validation. It is in that specific state of mind that his image surfaces.
The Loop of Physicality and Judgment
The time is roughly 2:10 a.m., and the air is heavy and humid. I can feel my shirt sticking to my skin uncomfortably. I shift slightly, then immediately judge myself for shifting. Then notice the judgment. Same old loop. My mind isn't being theatrical tonight, just resistant. It feels as if it's saying, "I know this routine; is there anything new?" Frankly, this is where superficial motivation disappears. There is no pep talk capable of bridging this gap.
Trusting Consistency over Flashy Insight
Bhante Nyanaramsi feels aligned with this phase of practice where you stop needing excitement. Or at least, you no longer believe in its value. I have encountered fragments of his teaching, specifically his focus on regularity, self-control, and allowing wisdom to mature naturally. 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.
Earlier today, I caught myself scrolling through stuff about meditation, half-looking for inspiration, half-looking for validation that I’m doing it right. Within minutes, I felt a sense of emptiness. I'm noticing this more often as I go deeper. The further I go on this path, the less here I can stand the chatter that usually surrounds it. His teaching resonates with practitioners who have accepted that this is not a temporary interest, but a lifelong endeavor.
Watching the Waves of Discomfort
I can feel the heat in my knees; the pain arrives and departs in rhythmic waves. My breath is stable, though it remains shallow. I don’t force it deeper. Forcing feels counterproductive at this point. Serious practice isn’t about intensity all the time. It’s about showing up without negotiating every detail. In reality, that is much more challenging than being "intense" for a brief period.
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 doesn’t seem like someone who promises transcendence on a schedule. Instead, he seems to know that the work is repetitive, often tedious, and frequently frustrating—yet fundamentally worth the effort.
Finding the Middle Ground
My jaw is clenched again; I soften it, and my internal critic immediately provides a play-by-play. Naturally. I choose neither to follow the thought nor to fight for its silence. There’s a middle ground here that only becomes visible after years of messing this up. That equilibrium seems perfectly consistent with the way I perceive Bhante Nyanaramsi’s guidance. Equanimous. Realistic. Solid.
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 the core of his appeal: not charisma, but the stability of the method. Just a framework that doesn’t collapse under boredom or fatigue.
I remain present—still on the cushion, still prone to distraction, yet still dedicated. The night passes at a slow pace, my body finds its own comfort, and my mind continues its usual activity. Bhante Nyanaramsi isn’t a figure I cling to emotionally. He acts as a steady reference point, confirming that it is acceptable to view the path as a lifelong journey, and to accept that progress happens in its own time, regardless of my personal desires. For the moment, that is sufficient to keep me seated—simply breathing, observing, and seeking nothing more.