Ven. Ajahn Brahmavamso Maha Thera popularly known as Ajahn Brahm is the Abbot of Bodhinyana Monastery, Western Australia , and the Spiritual Director of the Buddhist Society of Western Australia. Recently, Ajahn Brahm visited Sri Lanka on a Dhamma tour from May 17 to 25 at the invitation of the Ajahn Brahm Society of Sri Lanka. During his brief but enlightening visit, the renowned meditation guru and Dhamma teacher delivered a public sermon at the BMICH. He also addressed members of both the business and scientific communities. The centerpiece of his tour was a meditation retreat designed for experienced bhikkhus, bhikkhunis, and selected lay practitioners.
Here is part 2 of the interview the Sunday Observer conducted with Ven. Ajahn Brahm during his Dhamma tour of Sri Lanka on topics ranging from meditation, leadership, and handling uncertainties in life. Part 1 appeared last week.
Excerpts
Q: In psychology, gamma brain waves, one of the fastest brain wave frequencies, are associated with high levels of focus and awareness. Is reaching a jhāna state in meditation similar to entering the gamma brain wave state?
A: No. The reason is that in the jhānas, your brain stops—it ceases. Brain waves become completely still, especially in the fourth jhāna.
That is one of the reasons why I mentioned the story about a lay disciple in Perth who had a deep meditation experience on a Sunday afternoon. He usually meditated for 40 minutes, but this time there was nothing on TV, so he just went into his room, sat down, and meditated. I find this quite regularly—sometimes people push the right button, as I say, and they let go. They go to a space where they’ve never been before – so peaceful, so still in their experience. They stay there for a long time.
It had only been about an hour or so when his wife went to check on him— he had never sat that still before. When she entered the bedroom and saw him, she freaked out because he wasn’t breathing. She immediately called for an ambulance, which arrived very quickly. The paramedics rushed into the room as fast as they could. They tested him with their machines, but found no vital signs and no brain activity. They placed him in the back of the ambulance and rushed him to the hospital in a wail of sirens.
The doctor on duty played a crucial role in this story. This particular doctor’s parents had migrated to Perth from India, and he had heard from them before about how some people can go into such deep meditation (jhānas) – that their brain activity stops and they don’t breathe. That’s what he suggested might be happening, as based on the details from the wife, he was in good physical health. So why had everything stopped so unexpectedly?
When they monitored him—both the EEG testing for brain activity and the ECG for his heart—both readings were completely flat-lined.
The doctor of duty then put defibrillators on his chest and shocked him repeatedly to reactivate his heart. But nothing happened.
The doctor had never seen anything like this before. Normally, such a person would have been sent straight to the morgue. But one thing was different in him: his body remained warm. Just as the Buddha said, a person in deep meditation or jhāna remains warm despite complete physical stillness.
Since the body remained warm, the doctor on duty kept on putting electric shocks on him one after the other.
I’ve never experienced those, but I have seen documentaries about them. The body then lifts above the stretcher from the force of the shock. The electric shocks made his body bounce on the hospital bed, but he couldn’t feel any of it!
I don’t know for how long this went on. Maybe after an hour, or so, he decided to come out of his deep meditation or jhāna! He had no idea of what had happened during that period – he had not heard or felt anything – how he was being rushed to hospital, how defibrillators were put on his chest, or how he was given electric shocks!
However, as he emerged from the jhāna in the emergency room, after a quick check-over, he walked home with his wife as a perfectly healthy person!
As he told me the story, I couldn’t help but ask, “Was there anything unpleasant about that experience?” “No,” he said.
“Could you hear the ambulance and the medics? Could you feel your wife touching you or the defibrillators giving electric shocks?”, I asked. “ No,” he said.
He was just in a state of bliss or in the jhāna.
“Was there anything unpleasant about the experience at all?.” I asked him again. “Yes, it was the scolding I got from my wife on the way home!”, he said!.
Q: Can an arahant make a public declaration of his attainment? I mean, if a lay person asks an arahant to explain his mental development and how he achieved it, is it appropriate for an Arahant to speak about their experience and the point at which he reached Arahantship?
A: No, not directly because an Arahant respects the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. He respects the Vinaya, the Disciplinary Code. The Vinaya makes it very clear that if a Bhikkhu makes a personal declaration about any attainment, (even Sovan), even if what he says is true it is still a Pācittiya offense. It’s the 8th Pacittiya of the 92 Pācittiya rules of the Pātimokkha.
[The 8th of 92 Pācittiya Rules of the Pātimokkha is if a bhikkhu announces to a layman or a sāmanera, a realisation, partaking with a jhāna nature or with a stage of ariyā, and this realisation has genuinely been achieved, he commits a Pācittiya.]
On the other hand, if it’s false or if he lies about his attainment, it means that the Bhikkhu has to disrobe. [A bhikkhu who makes such a declaration, while knowing it to be false, commits the pārājika 4.]
That’s one of the reasons why an arahant will never make such a claim, even if it’s true. It is a very strong argument. And if one person makes a claim like that, even when it happens to be true, it encourages so many other monastics – Bhikkhus and Bhikkhunis to make similar claims. This encourages them down a path that gets them into big trouble.
Q: How can an ideal Buddhist spend his day? Any advice?
A: Just don’t make things so complicated. I share this from my experience because even a Bhikkhu’s life can sometimes become really complicated. If you are too complicated and too tired, then your mindfulness gets weak. When your mindfulness gets weak, you can’t consider very good ways to solve important issues. There are so many solutions people miss at times if the mind is too narrow and too tired.
A good example is what happened during our Katina ceremony held in Jhana Grove Meditation Retreat Centre (Jhana Grove,) Western Australia—not the most recent one, but the one before that.
When I was in Thailand a Royal Katina/Kathina Ceremony was held annually and the King of Thailand gifted a robe which was presented to us formally at the Katina ceremony. [Bodhinyana Monastery in Perth still receives a symbolic Bhikkhu’s robe every year from the King of Thailand, a sign of royal patronage of the monastery.]
In that particular year it was a late Katina, towards the end of the season. It was quite warm in Perth, and a bushfire occurred deeper in the forest, about six kilometres away from the Jhana Grove, the hall where the Kathina ceremony was to be held. Without informing or consulting us, we discovered that the bushfire brigade had closed Kingsbury Drive—the road on which Jhana Grove is located. I knew that they had the authority to do so. What could I do now? Early in the morning, I knew that the bushfire was still a long distance away. Understanding this, having been in Australia for such a long time, I thought about the ways how we could solve this.
When you are in a difficult situation, you have to create your own solutions and get them implemented.
The solution was that we decided to contact the person who was coordinating all this for us at a certain time in the morning. At 7.30 am, I was waiting by the phone. I called the person and said, “Look, this is not just an ordinary ceremony—this is a Royal Katina ceremony, and so we have to report this to the Palace in Thailand,” which is true.
So I said, “Let’s reach a compromise. You can close the road—Kingsbury Drive—just past the entrance to the event site.” They said it seemed okay. I told them I would borrow a mobile phone because I don’t have one, and if there’s any problem and they want us to evacuate, we’ll do so at a moment’s notice, since fire is something unexpected. And they were fine with the solution. We held the Katina ceremony without any problem. I didn’t have to report anything to the Royal Palace of Thailand as everything went well!!!
That’s how it is—if you’re a leader, you have to expect the unexpected. Be quick enough to find a decent solution. You can’t wait for others to find a solution. You have to propose it and make it happen.
Q: Everything is impermanent. Can the principle of anicca help professionals get used to a rapidly changing business landscape?
A: Yes. For any person in business, it’s essential. There is an expression in American English that says you have to be able to “turn on a dime.” No matter how you predict the market is going to run, there is always uncertainty.
Also there are always environmental uncertainties. So, you should be able to improvise quickly. To do that effectively, you need systems and structures that permit you to do things quickly.
A good example of that is how our Monastery in Australia prepares for bushfire season. We have to be ready to act immediately. For instance, in such times you can cut down trees or trim bushes as a precautionary action.
Even the Buddha had said that there are rules that we don’t have to follow in cases like bushfires or any natural disaster because saving lives and protecting buildings are important. That was the nature of bushfires or any uncertainty, even in India during the time of the Buddha.
That’s just an example of how we must conduct ourselves when unforeseen circumstances happen. It’s important to expect change and be ready to adjust our routine to save lives.
– Part 3 of this interview will be published in the Sunday Observer’s Esala Poya issue on July 6, 2025.
