What’s in it for me? A spiritual trek across the Eastern world.
In the 1950s and ’60s, author John E. Coleman was a United States intelligence agent stationed in Thailand. For years, the nature of his work forced him to live a double life full of deception and isolation from friends and family.
Coleman’s work experience and particular stresses were undoubtedly unusual. But really, everyone in the world deals with conflict and stress on a daily basis, from the high school student trying to achieve good grades to the CEO managing an international company.
However, despite this universal facet of human experience, most of us spend a huge amount of time trying to avoid conflict through diversions or distractions. We turn to various forms of entertainment, like television, junk food, and illicit drugs, all in the hope of obtaining happiness. But these methods can only provide temporary relief.
The power to quiet the mind lies within all of us, as Coleman finally discovered after traversing many countries throughout the Eastern world. In these blinks, you’ll accompany him on his long search for inner peace.
Along the way, you’ll learn
what hypnotism and meditation have in common;
how the author accidentally met a famous philosopher; and
where you should go to quiet your mind.
In Thailand, Coleman realized that hypnosis and meditation could induce unusual brain states.
Throughout the West, Thailand is known for its dramatic natural beauty. Aside from its landscapes, Thailand is also home to over 16,000 temples and is celebrated for its status as a seat of Buddhist tradition.
In the late 1950s, John E. Coleman was stationed in Bangkok, serving a three-year term as a security advisor to the Thai government. One day, at the invitation of a Thai friend, he attended a meeting of a psychic research group. The experience was a revelation, giving Coleman a taste of the human mind’s potential.
The key message here is: In Thailand, Coleman realized that hypnosis and meditation could induce unusual brain states.
The psychic research meeting took place at a wat, or temple, and the attendees consisted of an obstetrician, an anesthetist, and a psychiatrist, among others. All were interested in the potential similarities between hypnotized brains and brains in meditation.
At the meeting, Coleman witnessed some of the strange effects of hypnotism. In one instance, a young boy was hypnotized and had cotton pads taped over his eyes. He then stood behind a blackboard while someone else wrote random words on it. Incredibly, the boy was then able to redraw exactly the same symbols on his own side of the blackboard.
This experience sparked Coleman’s desire to delve deeper into the subjects of both hypnotism and Buddhism; it seemed to him there was a link between hypnotism and the ancient Buddhist practice of meditation.
One particularly hot and stressful day, Coleman made a social visit to a member of the psychic research group, Dr. Charoon. As many Thais do, Dr. Charoon had completed his professional studies and was now spending a few months as a monk. When Coleman entered the temple where Dr. Charoon was staying, Charoon told him he looked stressed and insisted on hypnotizing him to help him relax.
While Coleman was lying down and in a trance, something strange happened. Unbeknownst to him, his right arm began to rise into the air and then lower itself back down repeatedly.
Dr. Charoon was startled. There was only one other person in the room, a Thai naval officer who was sitting and meditating. Agitated, Dr. Charoon asked the man what was happening. The officer grinned and said that he was mentally suggesting that Coleman raise and lower his arm.
In disbelief, Dr. Charoon asked the officer to perform the trick again. The officer obliged, telepathically commanding Coleman to move various combinations of all of his limbs up and down. Somehow, it worked!
Finally, Dr. Charoon brought Coleman out of his hypnotic state and explained what had happened. Both wondered: What strange power was there in hypnotism and meditation?
The quiet mind is powerful.
Coleman’s experience at the temple in Bangkok left him reeling. But before he could delve into it further, his work brought him back to America. There, he had the opportunity to meet Professor J. B. Rhine. Rhine was a self-identified parapsychologist, a scientist studying supernatural phenomena.
Rhine gave Coleman a peculiar set of ESP, or extra-sensory perception, cards. Instead of faces, the cards were each marked with one of five symbols. They were used for a kind of guessing game in which one person drew a card and his partner then attempted to guess the symbol on it.
According to Rhine, on average, people only guessed five out of 25 cards correctly. Anything higher than that could indicate the involvement of ESP.
What ultimately happened with the cards revealed the surprising power of the quiet mind.
The key message here is: The quiet mind is powerful.
Back at home, Coleman tested the cards out on a reluctant and distracted neighbor. Incredibly, the neighbor guessed 23 out of 25 cards correctly! Both men were shocked and tried the experiment several more times, but they were unable to reproduce that initial success.
Coleman was astonished by this up-close experience of what seemed to be clairvoyance. He concluded that his neighbor’s mind, free from intention or desire, had been able to perform some kind of telepathy. Could that state of the quiet mind – not mentally striving toward a particular goal – be the one Buddhists also sought?
In the Buddhist tradition, it’s said that a prince named Gotama was born near the borders of Nepal 25 centuries ago. Gotama was constantly immersed in his thoughts, consumed by his theories about the nature of suffering.
In his youth, Gotama decided to leave court to become an ascetic. For six years, he studied the teachings of the Brahmans – Hindu priests – and adopted strict conditions of self-denial, like fasting. But none of this brought him true understanding.
One night, Gotama sat under a bodhi tree and entered a state of deep meditation. After several weeks, he emerged in a profound state of enlightenment, or nirvana. He had come to understand the origin of suffering, and his mind was clear.
All branches of Buddhism believe that in nirvana, all desires and all suffering cease to exist. The mind is truly quiet. Where the different branches of Buddhism generally disagree, however, is on the best method for actually achieving nirvana. Which actions and practices, exactly, are necessary? John Coleman wanted to find out for himself.
Coleman’s first few experiences with meditation were unsuccessful.
To Coleman, it seemed that his first step should be to try out meditation for himself upon returning to Thailand. To that end, he set off for Wat Mahatai, a temple in Bangkok.
At the temple, he first learned to meditate in the lotus position, in which the legs are crossed so that each foot rests on the opposite thigh. Next, he was instructed to focus on his breathing by looking down at his belly and observing its constant rise and fall. This, the instructor said, would give the mind something automatic and constant to latch onto.
Unfortunately, the practice did anything but quiet Coleman’s mind. All he could focus on was the pain in his legs and the time displayed on his watch.
The key message here is: Coleman’s first few experiences with meditation were unsuccessful.
Eventually, Coleman did become a bit better at focusing on his breath. At that point, the instructor told him to turn his focus inward, making a mental note of any desire or thought that passed through his mind.
Coleman did his best to observe his thoughts. But he couldn’t ignore the extreme physical discomfort that came from sitting in the lotus position for hours on end – not to mention the boredom.
Ultimately, he decided to end the course ahead of schedule. But he still hungered to learn more about meditation. En route to Europe for a vacation, he stopped in Burma to seek out a spiritual leader named U Ba Khin.
U Ba Khin was a senior Burmese government official as well as a meditation teacher. He was constantly busy, but any time he found himself getting overwhelmed, he paused, adopted the lotus position, and meditated for a few minutes to unburden himself of stress. For Coleman, this proved that meditation was applicable to daily life.
Coleman committed himself to a ten-day course with U Ba Khin. The course was focused on a particular type of meditation called vipassana, meaning insight. In vipassana, the person meditating concentrates on phenomena within the body and the mind. This allows him to comprehend his own inner workings, which leads to clear insight and freedom from suffering.
Coleman committed himself fully to the course. In fact, he was actually too zealous about it, spending lots of time taking notes and analyzing every aspect of the practice. Clearly, he wasn’t yet any closer to quieting his mind.
Krishnamurti helped Coleman see spirituality in a new light.
Disappointed that he hadn’t been able to achieve his desired results with U Ba Khin’s training, Coleman flew to India in search of other gurus. During a layover on the way, he happened to share a table with an Indian man in a white suit. The man introduced himself as Krishnamurti. He was, he said, “a sort of philosopher.”
The conversation that ensued between the two men would have a profound effect on Coleman’s views on spirituality.
The key message here is: Krishnamurti helped Coleman see spirituality in a new light.
Krishnamurti, it turned out, had a lot of interesting ideas to share. For one, he believed that all philosophies – and all religions, for that matter – are inspired by fear, which at its root is an urge to feel certain about something. But no organization, system of thought, or theory can actually lead someone to truth. Knowledge, Krishnamurti said, can come from books and teachings, but understanding can only come from direct experience.
Coleman was fascinated by Krishnamurti, and their conversation continued on the next flight, which they shared. There, Krishnamurti explained that he owned no possessions – just the clothes he was wearing. He traveled from city to city, speaking to anyone who sought him out.
He had lived an incredible life. He was born in India at the end of the nineteenth century. In his youth, a theosophist named Annie Besant became convinced that he had the makings of a great spiritual leader. She brought him to Europe, announced that he possessed latent greatness, and proclaimed him the new Messiah; she also built an organization around him, the Order of the Star in the East.
One day, Krishnamurti’s brother, Nityananda, died. Despite his extreme grief, Krishnamurti understood that there was still joy in the experience. He realized then that death is simply another part of life, and that no part of life should result in grief.
From that point on, Krishnamurti realized that his true mission was to help others reach this same realization and its attendant happiness – not through organized religion but through direct experience. In 1929, he renounced his role in the Order of the Star in the East and dissolved the organization.
Sadly, as Krishnamurti told Coleman, he felt that few people truly understood his message. He preached that the truth lies within ourselves, but unfortunately, most people are simply looking for rules to follow. Coleman, who had been looking to established religions for answers, felt a major pang of recognition.
Tibetan Buddhism and Tantrism didn’t resonate with Coleman.
During one particularly hot winter in Bangkok, Coleman sought a break from the scorching heat in a short trip to Darjeeling, a town nestled in the Himalayan region of Northern India. There, he met Sherpa Tenzing, the famous mountaineer who accompanied Sir Edmund Hillary in scaling Mount Everest for the first time.
Though ethnically Nepalese, Sherpa Tenzing subscribed to Tibetan Buddhism. His faith, he told Coleman, had helped him push forward during the difficult climb up Everest.
Coleman was fascinated. To learn more, he traveled to an annual Buddhist festival in Gantok, India, near the Tibetan border. What he found there, however, left him cold.
The key message here is: Tibetan Buddhism and Tantrism didn’t resonate with Coleman.
At the festival in Gantok, Coleman noticed that Tibetan Buddhism placed a great deal of significance on mantras. These are words or phrases – like the well-known om – that a person meditating should repeat aloud to focus her attention and expel other thoughts from her mind.
While Coleman understood the purpose of mantra meditation, he wasn’t quite sure it fit with the Buddha’s original teachings. The same went for the prayer wheel, a device that could be spun repeatedly to gain thousands of holiness “points.” Coleman’s studies had taught him that the original goal of Buddhism was to transcend the ego and discover the truth through direct action. These trappings of Tibetan Buddhism, however, seemed overly theatrical and symbolic.
Thankfully, at the festival, a few monks clued him in to another spiritual practice that sounded intriguing: Tantrism. This led him to Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal and a major seat of Tantrism.
In Kathmandu, Coleman learned that Tantric monks believe that God is an entity consisting of male and female energies mixed together. Everything in the world is an expression of God’s dual nature. Thus, sexual union – the clearest comingling of male and female energies – is the path by which one can reach enlightenment.
However, Coleman didn’t feel as if he could achieve mental quiet from Tantric practices. To him, it seemed like the goal-oriented process of trying to achieve spiritual enlightenment through sex excluded love from the equation.
Ultimately, Coleman didn’t achieve much success with Tibetan Buddhism or Tantrism. But fortunately, his next teacher gave him a push in the right direction.
Buddhadasa Bikku introduced Coleman to orthodox Buddhism and Zen.
During his time in India, Tibet, and Nepal, Coleman was put off by the theatrical forms of worship that seemed to deviate from the Buddha’s original teachings. But was it just his Western mind preventing him from understanding Eastern practices?
It would seem not. Krishnamurti, for one, also felt that focusing on mantras was a distraction, and that any “schoolboy” could train his brain to become better at concentration. One of Thailand’s leading contemporary Buddhist monks, Buddhadasa Bikku, shared this belief.
Bikku was somewhat of a purist when it came to Buddhist philosophy. He believed in a practice as close to the original teachings of Prince Gotama as possible, with none of the modern trappings that had pervaded the religion. It was this form of orthodox Buddhism, along with Zen Buddhism, that he imparted to Coleman.
The key message here is: Buddhadasa Bikku introduced Coleman to orthodox Buddhism and Zen.
When Coleman arrived at Buddhadasa’s monastery, Suan Mok, Buddhadasa greeted him and then left him alone to settle in. Coleman had come to the monastery bursting with questions, but he understood that Buddhadasa wanted him to experience solitude in order to quiet his mind before receiving any teachings.
When he finally returned, Buddhadasa brought a stack of books with him. He didn’t say much other than to suggest that Coleman might like to spend some time reading. The books all dealt with the particular branch of Buddhism known as Zen, from which Buddhadasa often drew in teaching his students.
A few days passed. At that point, Buddhadasa began inviting Coleman to his private quarters for discussion. There, Buddhadasa imparted his philosophy to Coleman. He compared humans to fish “who do not see the water surrounding them.” Because life is constantly going on all around us, he said, we’ve gotten used to it. As a result, we aren’t actively aware of each moment.
Like Krishnamurti, Buddhadasa believed that understanding comes through direct life experiences. He also strongly objected to dualism in all its forms – like right versus wrong, for example. In Zen, dualities like this are illusory human inventions; right and wrong and good and evil are simply aspects of one overarching whole.
Coleman’s discussions with Buddhadasa brought him closer to a state of quiet mind. They also left him eager to learn more about Zen. Luckily, his work soon brought him to Japan, where he would get a closer look.
Modern Zen requires strict discipline.
A few months after studying with Buddhadasa, Coleman traveled to Tokyo for a business trip. There, he was able to schedule a meeting with renowned Zen master Dr. D. T. Suzuki. At the time, Suzuki was in his nineties and hard of hearing, but his wit and wisdom were as sharp as ever.
Dr. Suzuki explained to Coleman that Zen is not a philosophy or an intellectual pursuit – it’s something that must be practiced. Through that practice, it’s possible to experience satori – a sudden realization of your true self and your relationship to the universe. Normally, this self lies hidden, buried beneath all of our preoccupations with wealth and success. Emptying our minds of these false values, however, allows us to unlock our inner benevolence and creative power.
At the end of their discussion, Dr. Suzuki recommended Coleman visit the Shokoku Temple in Northern Kyoto so he could learn more about the Zen lifestyle.
The key message here is: Modern Zen requires strict discipline.
When Coleman arrived at the Zen temple in Kyoto, he was told that a course in Zen would take a year or more. Since he was only in Japan on business, he couldn’t participate in a course himself. But fortunately, he was allowed to observe the students as they conducted their daily routine.
Life at a modern Zen temple, he saw, is highly disciplined. At 3:00 a.m., students were woken by the sound of a bell. After a period of meditation, they headed to the central hall. There, they chanted prayers and incantations for an hour and then returned to their meditation. The day then continued in cycles of meditation, meals, and rest.
One monk offered Coleman additional insight into the objectives of Zen. He explained, as Dr. Suzuki had, that the goal of Zen is to reach satori. To do this, students practice zazen, a type of sitting meditation. Through this technique, their minds become quiet.
Coleman appreciated the simplicity of the temple and the integrity of the Zen tradition. But discipline was rigid, and to Coleman, the students seemed to be living under a reign of terror. Prospective monks were often beaten for seemingly minor misdemeanors, and instructors walked around the meditation halls carrying sticks for hitting sleepy students.
After his trip to Japan, Coleman made a visit to London, England. There, he met and married his wife. He also began to investigate Westerners’ growing interest in Eastern philosophy.
Coleman didn’t find any Western meditation practices fruitful.
Coleman began his investigation of Western meditation at the training center for the Spiritual Regeneration Movement in Kensington, England. The center’s protocol was based on the teachings of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who had risen to fame in the West thanks to the support of his most famous students, the Beatles.
At the center, Coleman was given a mantra meant to focus his mind. While repeating it was relaxing, however, it didn’t really quiet him mentally. What’s more, a single session at the center cost an entire week’s worth of Coleman’s wages. He chose not to continue attending, but since he was now staying in England with his wife, he decided to investigate something entirely new to him: Western meditation practices. The results were less than spectacular.
The key message here is: Coleman didn’t find any Western meditation practices fruitful.
After his session with the Spiritual Regeneration Movement, Coleman decided to attend a meeting of the Religious Society of Friends, otherwise known as the Quakers, a sect of Christianity. Unusually, the Quakers conducted group meditation sessions rather than individual ones.
At the Quaker meeting hall, attendees sat quietly in a circle. Suddenly, a woman stood up and began to speak. She shared a personal problem she’d recently experienced, and discussed the insight she’d gained from confronting it. The other attendees listened without comment, and when she finished speaking, the room returned to silence.
The rest of the meeting followed a similar pattern, with one person occasionally rising up to share thoughts aloud. After the session, a member of the church explained to Coleman that the group meditation was meant to bring about oneness and collective unity with God. By sharing your individual thoughts, you could enrich everyone else’s lives.
The practice was unique, but it failed to quiet Coleman’s mind. So did another Western meditative tradition in which he dabbled – that of the Benedictine monks. The monks lived lives of quiet austerity at a monastery, Nashdom Abbey, in Buckinghamshire, with the aim of reaching sainthood.
Every evening, the monks spent half an hour in silent meditation. The abbot explained to Coleman that most monks used that time to contemplate a passage from Scripture or another religious work.
Despite these interesting findings, Coleman felt that something was missing from Western meditative tradition. He realized that the closest he’d come to achieving a quiet mind had been with U Ba Khin in Thailand, and he knew that was where he needed to return.
Coleman finally experienced his awakening at U Ba Khin’s meditation center.
At this point in his journey, Coleman felt as if he’d tried every style of meditation in the book. Yet he was no closer to achieving a lasting inner peace. Frustrated, his thoughts returned to U Ba Khin and his meditation center in Yangon, the capital of Burma.
The author decided he needed to return to U Ba Khin and try the course again. The last time, he had spent too much time intellectualizing the practice of meditation. This time, he was determined to free his mind.
The key message here is: Coleman finally experienced his awakening at U Ba Khin’s meditation center.
For his first few days at the temple, Coleman spent his time meditating alone in a small pagoda, clearing his mind of stress and worry. Soon, he was ready to proceed to vipassana.
Coleman’s meditation teacher instructed him to become aware of his body and gradually to apply deep concentration to each part individually. Soon, focusing on one body part began to cause tingling sensations to arise in just that area. Being able to call up sensations at will led Coleman to realize the impermanence of all bodily sensations.
After a few days of this, Coleman began to experience great physical discomfort. His body became extremely hot, even though the temperature at the temple hadn’t changed. The pain lasted for days – as did his desire to be free from it.
Finally, he realized that his desire to get rid of the pain was actually perpetuating the pain. It existed, primarily, in his mind.
With this realization, Coleman suddenly felt something snap. Lightning seemed to rush through his body, and then an extraordinary calm washed over him. This was the moment of his enlightenment.
Afterward, Coleman traveled to the US and then to England, where he intended to settle down. But before long, prospective meditation students began to show up at his house, asking for lessons. They had been sent to him by S. N. Goenka, a particularly famous student of U Ba Khin’s.
After reluctantly agreeing to instruct the first group of students, Coleman became a highly sought-after meditation teacher in the West. But his own journey had taught him that you don’t have to travel the world in search of a quiet mind. The power of calm already lies within all of us, waiting to be free.
Final summary
The key message in these blinks:
In Thailand, John E. Coleman was struck by the strange supernatural abilities afforded by meditation. He began to travel the Eastern world in search of a quiet mind – a state of freedom from desire and suffering. Tibetan Buddhism, Tantrism, Zen Buddhism, and Christian meditation didn’t give Coleman the enlightenment he sought. But finally, after participating in a vipassana meditation course with U Ba Khin and realizing that the ego is the source of all suffering, he experienced his awakening.
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What to read next: The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, by Robin S. Sharma
Author John E. Coleman traveled to India in search of a quiet mind – and he definitely wasn’t the only person to do so. In The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, fictional character Julian Mantle seeks out enlightenment and happiness in India, just as Coleman did.
From the outside, Mantle seems to have it all – a high-paying job, a nice car, and a mansion – yet emotionally, he’s struggling. He clearly needs a change, a way to feel fulfilled and become more creative. Can he find what he’s looking for with the sages of India? Find out in our blinks to The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari by Robin S. Sharma.