Reflections from Monastic Immersion Participants

Spring 2025

We just finished a 3-month Monastic Immersion Program (MIP) from December 14, 2024 to March 23, 2025 with four men: Yuen-Lin Tan, Mingchee Tan, Wade Chang, and Art Lozinsky. Below are some reflections from Jin Chuan Shi and Jin Wei Shi as well as excerpts from the participants’ reflections shared during Redwood Vihara Service Day on March 8, 2025:

Jin Chuan Shi and Jin Wei Shi:

We call it MIP—the Monastic Immersion Program. The key word here is immersion, not retreat. We chose this intentionally because, sometimes in the West, retreats can be seen as a “spiritual spa”—something transactional. You pay, you expect peace, and you hope to get some transcendental state. But real transformation doesn’t come from a transactional mindset. In MIP, the foundation is service. First, we let go, serve, and from that openness, we receive. This shift in mindset allows for a deeper immersion—not only with our own hearts but also with the community around us. 

MIP began at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas, with a seven-day Amitabha Session. After that, we had a weeklong Chan immersion led by Marty Verhoeven and Doug Powers. This was an opportunity to connect to the roots of our tradition. After our meditation session, Squire came and taught us Zen Cooking where the Meditation Hall and the Kitchen are non-dual. He said while cutting you can contemplate, “We all know how to cut one into two, but do we know how to cut two into one?” Later we were blessed to have Kittisaro teach for a week. He wove together Theravada and Mahayana traditions into one seamless whole, leading us in the 16 steps of anapanasati—mindfulness of breathing while integrating in Guan Yin Bodhisattva Recitation and deep listening.

In the monastery, the days are long, but the weeks are short. We spent a month in noble silence, walking meditation in the redwoods, and a daily rhythm of service—cleaning, working, caring for our space and each other. And as we cleaned, we started seeing the dust in forgotten corners, both outside and within. For the last month, the focus shifted from inward cultivation to outward service. The last week of MIP is at CTTB for the Guan Yin session. Yet in truth, this journey doesn’t end. What we’ve cultivated here—body awareness, loving-kindness, noble friendship—extends far beyond a program. 

MIP is a chance to ask ourselves: What really matters in my life? What are my vows, my aspirations? It’s not about having people becoming monastics. Some may feel called to monastic life, others may want to support the monastery, and some may take what they’ve learned here and bring it into the world in their own way. The point isn’t where we end up; it’s about developing the inner strength to walk our path with clarity and confidence. Over these months, we’ve lived side by side—waking before dawn, working together, supporting each other through inner and outer storms. Doug Powers advice for us was: “What matters the most is for you all to get along for three months. That’s pretty profound.” There were definitely struggles, but in the end, we came out with a deeper understanding of each other.

Yuen-Lin Tan:

I didn’t have much time to prepare, so this will be spoken from the heart. It’s not easy to summarize the MIP experience because it’s so rich—even in a week, let alone a month, let alone three months.

I took on this exploration because of a deep sense that there is something of great value in this way of life, this level of cultivation, and this approach to the world. I didn’t know if I would take on certain roles, but I had this strong sense of wanting to immerse in it—to explore it as much as I could.

A word the monks sometimes use is "discernment." If someone is at all curious about the monastic form of Buddhism or serious cultivation in general, this MIP program offers a fairly realistic taste of that—through the ups and downs. And through that, one can actually discern: What do I want to do with this life?

What I found is that MIP has been an excellent vehicle for this discernment process. On one hand, it’s a powerful way to experience this way of life. But on the other hand, it also sharpens how one makes decisions. I remember some years ago, I asked Marty if I should take the precepts. He didn’t tell me yes or no. Instead, he said, "More important than whether you take them or not is how you are steering—how you are deciding whether to take them or not."

Spending this almost year in MIP has really improved my ability to listen deeply to my heart. I’ve been reflecting recently on how I used to make decisions. There’s rationality, logic, looking at what others are doing. But there are also so many voices—other people’s expectations, different models of life in the world. It can be quite confusing.

But through this experience, one comes to a more authentic, deeper place of finding direction—one that is actually built into our human nature. A place where decisions are made with clarity and connection to the most wholesome qualities of our humanity.

So that has been one very valuable thing—clarifying what really matters. Life is short. What do I want to do? Through this process, a few things have emerged. There isn’t time to go in depth, but I can say that continuing along this path of cultivation—whether as a monastic or a layperson, but with a certain seriousness—is crystal clear as something deeply important.

The sutras and experienced practitioners say that we can be free from suffering. And not only that—our original state is not one of suffering. We can actually relate to our loved ones and others from a place of deep loving-kindness, from a place that is not so self-centered. We can go through our days with a high degree of well-being, in natural service and generosity to others and the world.

And through gradual cultivation, one starts to glimpse that these teachings are not just words—they are pointing to something real. Bit by bit, one can actually realize this in oneself.

Another thing that emerged is the deep value of what is happening here. I’ve gone through a long journey of questioning and trying to figure things out. And lately, I’ve come to see that what is happening in this monastery, in this field, and in the broader tradition is of immense value. It’s really worth supporting—to whatever extent one is able, according to one’s conditions.

There’s a growing faith and confidence that these teachings—the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha—this way of life grounded in virtue, non-harming, training the mind, cultivating clarity, stability, and peace—this actually works. A certain confidence develops.

It’s challenging, no doubt. There were many moments when I thought, "Wow, this is probably one of the most difficult things I’ve done in my life.” But the interesting thing with the Dharma is that if one can find the patience to just keep going and work with whatever tools one has, it usually bears fruit.

The six of us have been living together for about three months—17 hours a day. There were moments where I thought, "Even married couples don’t spend this much time together!" Of course, there were challenges. And there was nowhere to run—no "let’s go grab a coffee" escape.

But through that, what emerged was an increasing appreciation for my comrades—real respect, goodwill. I found myself thinking, "Wow, these are solid people. I have a lot to learn from them. I really appreciate their presence." That kind of heart unfolded more and more.

Mingchee Tan:

I want to echo what Jin Wei Shi said—it was challenging. This wasn't a retreat where you just relax, even though we said that the whole time.

My mom would call me and say, "Mingchee, when you're done with your vacation, you should go back to work." I’d tell her, "This is not a vacation, mom!"

During this immersion, I had my ups and downs, but I also had many insights. I won’t go into all of them, but one was particularly profound.

Are you all familiar with Ajahn Chah? He was a great teacher from the Thai tradition. He would tell his disciples, “Don’t be so quick to get rid of your defilements. Don’t be so quick to try to get enlightened. You must first understand suffering.”

That insight hit me hard. I realized that even when I felt uncomfortable here, it was actually helping me understand the nature of this world. If I can truly understand it, then I can know where I need to go to put an end to suffering. That realization was really powerful for me.

Someone asked me about the physical aspects of monastic life. One comment I get a lot is: "You've lost a lot of weight!" As a scientist, I actually measured it—I lost about 20 pounds in two months. In the first half of the retreat, I simply cut out dinner. In the second half, I switched to one meal a day.

Someone joked that this could be a selling point for the retreat—"evaporative weight loss." But honestly, my body has been feeling good. More than that, my meditation practice has improved significantly. Before, I could sit in full lotus for about 30 minutes, but it was uncomfortable. Now, I can sit for at least an hour, with no real pain—just some discomfort, but nothing overwhelming.

Being here in the monastery for the past three months made a huge difference. A major help was when Kittisaro visited and taught us breathing meditation. That practice really helped circulate energy through my body, making it naturally more flexible. It had a big impact on my ability to sit in full lotus.

For anyone trying to sit in full lotus, I highly recommend breathing meditation—and, if possible, staying in a monastery for an extended period.

The immersion is almost over. After this, I’ll figure out what to do with my life.

Wade Chang:

Back at the end of May, I came to America for the first time. I didn't actually know much about DRBA. The only temples I had been to were the Gold Coast Dharma Realm and one in Taiwan, which I visited briefly when seeing my family.

So, I had heard bits and pieces here and there, but I came with an open mind. Rev. Heng Sure was in Australia and introduced me to Jin Chuan Shi and Jin Wei Shi earlier last year—just over Zoom. He spoke about the idea of coming to America, taking the Bodhisattva Precepts, and offering support.

I kept an open mind. I didn't know what to expect, but I wanted to see more of Master Hua's vision in America. A couple of days after I arrived, I heard that Jin Wei Shi wouldn't be coming because he had broken his ankle.

The whole three months, I supported Jin Chuan Shi as much as I could, and it was pretty full-on. Every week, we were doing something different—from the Sudhana Retreat to Master Hua's Nirvana Days, Buddha Root Farm, Bodhisattva Precepts Transmission, and Precepts for the Deceased. We were constantly on the go.

My background is in event management, so I actually enjoyed the work and was used to it. I got to see so many different aspects of Master Hua’s vision, and I really liked my first visit to America.

We started discussing what the next stage might be, and that’s when I found out about the Monastic Immersion Program happening in December for three months. I thought, “Yeah, I really like cultivating with them. I’ve learned a lot, and I think I can continue to learn.” They said this one would be a little different from the first.

I had visited Redwood Vihara a couple of times in the summer and really liked the place. They told me we’d be spending most of our time here, and I thought, “Wow, a beautiful forest, learning from two inspiring Dharma Masters, and cultivating with good people—this is going to be a great immersion.”

What I wasn’t expecting was just how quiet Redwood Vihara is. We couldn’t hear anything—no road noise, nothing. Even when it was really windy, the forest blocked most of the sound. For the first time, I really heard the sound of silence. And as the silence outside deepened, I started noticing the noise inside.

We removed technology, only using it on Sunday afternoons. With so many external distractions gone, all we did was practice—going through the rituals, doing things together in silence. And yet, something inside me started getting really loud. All these thoughts and emotions surfaced—things I had never really looked at before. Maybe they had always been there, but I never paid attention because the Saha world is full of distractions.

With all those external layers stripped away, my inner voice became loud and clear. I started noticing unskillful, unwholesome qualities in myself. In the past, when these things came up, I could just talk to a friend. But since we were in noble silence, I had to sit with it. The emotions built up like a volcano, ready to erupt.

When Kittisaro was here, he guided us to be more mindful of our bodies and focus on our breathing. As I paid more attention, deeper layers of conditioning surfaced—things I had accumulated over my whole life. Some patterns were so ingrained I had thought they were just normal.

And then I realized: a lot of my physical pain wasn’t just from meditation or posture. It was coming from my mind, from those unskillful habits. I had always blamed my back pain on working too much or training too hard, but here, I saw how much of it was caused by internal struggles. The tension kept building, and I felt like I was in a storm that lasted for days. Some storms pass quickly, but this one didn’t. It just kept going.

Eventually, when Kittisaro skillfully guided our evening circles, I started opening up a little. The moment I released that tension, it was like a volcano letting out steam. And when that internal storm finally passed, my body relaxed, and the pain disappeared. It was profound.

I had never realized how much of my suffering was caused by my own inner voices. By choosing to be vulnerable, by facing what was inside instead of running away, I found a deeper level of understanding and healing.

Art Lozinsky:

We’ve been here for about three months. Prior to that, I spent a year at Abhayagiri. And it’s funny—people here say it’s really quiet, but for me, it’s actually really loud because I’m used to spending over six hours a day just alone in my hut, or my kuti. Sometimes, evening ceremonies would be canceled, and you’d just go all the way to the morning. But I learned it’s never canceled here. It’s a running joke in the monastery, “Evening Ceremony is not canceled.” 

For the first month or so, we were reading Abundant, Exalted, Immeasurable based on Ajahn Pasano’s talks. Ajahn Pasano speaks on many levels. It seems very simple at first. You listen to it again a year later, and you think, “I already know all this.” But then, a year after that, you realize, “Wow, this is actually very profound.”

It’s quite amazing that the Dharma Masters here, with humility, are using this teacher—from our shared brothers and neighbors at Abhayagiri. Their focus was on awareness, mindfulness of the body, and loving-kindness, and I found that to be incredibly useful. I heard about it a lot at Abhayagiri, but the first part of this immersion was really about getting good at that—putting aside anything else I thought was useful.

Then they started the daily reflections—15 minutes after breakfast, a little reading, a reflection, or a commentary. I don’t know if you’ve heard them, but they’re quite amazing. The morning reflections set the energy for the whole day.

I appreciate that. And then Kittisaro came and weeklong Anapanasati retreat for us, which was incredible.

It’s amazing to reflect on how we have these people who have been practicing for 50 years—Ajahn Pasano, Kittisaro, Rev. Heng Sure, Marty, Doug along with the two monks here. In any other discipline, someone with 50 years of experience is basically unheard of. In martial arts, 10 years is a black belt, 20 years is rare, 30 years is a grandmaster. We have people here with 40 or 50 years of experience, and they come through this place. That’s really special.

I did the Abhayagiri Anagarika training program for a year. My journey began with meeting Ven. Heng Shou in Seattle. 

There was a nice park by the Puget Sound, about ten minutes from my home. I’d go out there, and half the time he wasn’t there, but half the time, he was. And one day, I thought, “I have to talk to him. It’s a monk, sitting in full lotus, elderly—this is like something out of a comic book, a manga, or a movie.” We then had a conversation.

At that point, I had no idea about Master Hua, but as I started piecing things together, the more I realized how much bigger the picture was. At Abhayagiri, they have so many of Master Hua’s commentaries, and I thought, “Okay, I’ve spent a good amount of time on the Pali suttas, but I’m really curious about the Mahayana side. What’s the full scope of what we’re doing?”

And the more you look into it, the bigger it gets.

After about nine or ten months in the Anagarika training program, I realized—if I took novice ordination at Abhayagiri, I would always have this unresolved question about Mahayana teachings, about Master Hua.

So I came here. And then, we’re just reading Ajahn Passano. But without the six hours of solitary time.

I have this habit of putting myself in uncomfortable situations and enduring them for whatever the commitment is. A year there, three months here. And I just let it work on me.

Right now, it’s nice and warm and sunny outside, but imagine it’s cold, dark, and raining every day. Sometimes you get a patch of sun, and you’re like, “Oh!” People would visit and we would joke and ask, “Is it true that there’s sun out there?”

Morning and evening ceremonies was a challenge for me, especially the morning ceremony. You've all done it—the Shurangama Mantra and the other mantras. I don’t know… I don’t know if the Dharma in the West will go for this. It’s a tough sell. But I’m like, okay, if I can do it, probably other people can do it.

I’ve gone through a good amount of this at Abhayagiri where I realized that the main source of suffering for me is just setting up an expectation and then being upset when the situation doesn’t meet that expectation.

One thing we learn at Abhayagiri is to have joy in your practice. One big message from Ajahn Pasanno has always been: “You should enjoy living as a monk before you try to go all out. Just enjoy the everyday.”

And I’ve found that, on a lot of days—even the ceremonies—there’s a lot of joy. And I get curious—why isn’t it always like that? What’s interfering? And I realize, it’s always just something I’m setting up—my own doing.

At this point, it feels very difficult to escape the DRBA vortex.

I just want to say—living with two Dharma Masters here, I find something really useful in what they share. And they’re very good at according with conditions. They’re obviously patient with me—and with the other guys.

And I can see that they really care. They’re going out of their way to teach us all this stuff they don’t have to. Like, we’re going over Marshall Rosenberg’s NVC, and we’re learning from senior teachers. In a way, it’s kind of extra. They could just say, Okay, do whatever you want.

But they’re not. They’re really transforming and helping the people around them. And I find that pretty inspirational.

I feel like I’ll be hanging out with them more in the future.