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. 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 truly endures, the force that draws me back to meditation despite my desire to simply rest, is a subtle, persistent dedication that seeks no recognition. That’s where he shows up in my mind.
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 move just a bit, only to instantly criticize myself for the movement, then realize I am judging. It’s the same repetitive cycle. 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 the very least, you cease to rely on it. I’ve read bits of his approach, the emphasis on consistency, restraint, not rushing insight. It doesn’t feel flashy. It feels long. Decades-long. 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. After ten minutes, I felt more hollow than before I began. This has become a frequent occurrence. The more serious the practice gets, the less noise I can tolerate around website it. Bhante Nyanaramsi speaks to those who have moved past the "experimentation" stage and realize that this is a permanent commitment.
Watching the Waves of Discomfort
My knees are warm now. The ache comes and goes like waves. The breath is steady but shallow. I make no effort to deepen it, as force seems entirely useless at this stage. Authentic practice is not always about high intensity; it’s about the willingness to be present without bargaining for comfort. 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 does not appear to be a teacher who guarantees enlightenment according to a fixed timeline. He appears to understand that the path is often boring and difficult, yet he treats it as a task to be completed without grumbling.
Balanced, Unromantic, and Stable
I realize my jaw’s clenched again. I let it loosen. The mind immediately jumps in with commentary. As expected. I neither pursue the thought nor attempt to suppress it. 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. Steady. Unadorned. Constant.
Authentic yogis don't look for "hype"; they look for something that holds weight. 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 haven't moved. I am still sitting, still dealing with a busy mind, and still choosing to stay. The night moves slowly. The body adjusts. The mind keeps doing its thing. I don't have an emotional attachment to the figure of Bhante Nyanaramsi. He acts as a steady reference point, confirming that it is acceptable to view the path as a lifelong journey, and to trust that the Dhamma reveals itself at its own speed, beyond my control. And for now, that’s enough to stay put, breathing, watching, not asking for anything extra.