Dhyana Day Dive: The View & The Path

For those of us who call Thailand home, Buddhism is woven so deeply into everyday life that we hardly notice it. Monks collecting alms in the morning, framed images of monks and small Buddhist shrines in noodle shops, Buddha statues resting on taxi dashboards. We gather for merit-making ceremonies and funerals, and observe religious holidays rooted in Buddhist traditions. But how often do we stop to ask what the chants we hear actually mean? Why do we make merit? Beyond the belief that it brings good fortune into our lives, or that making merit after something bad happens might help ease our suffering, how much do we really understand about these practices?

For many, religion can offer something to hold on to when the world feels uncertain. Yet for others, growing up with Buddhism has meant repeatedly being told that it is the national religion, memorizing teachings for exams or listening to stories of miracles that make sermons entertaining but offer little in the way of clear, accessible explanations. Add to that the commercialization of Buddhism and the misconduct of some monks whose actions contradict the very teachings they represent. These experiences can leave people feeling increasingly distant from Buddhism as they have come to know it in Thailand.

But how many of us have had the opportunity to truly understand the teachings at its core? On September 6, 2026, Black Turtle and Wonderfruit came together for Dhyana Day Dive: Leading with View, a day of exploring Buddhist teachings for everyday life, centered on the practice of using Right View as a guiding principle. Led by Jakob Leschly at The Jataka School, the gathering offered us an opportunity to return to something that was once so familiar, to see what aligned with what we had learned growing up and what might resonate with the beliefs we hold today.

Sunday morning sunlight slipped through the gaps between the heavy curtains. I sprang from bed and hurried to the venue, having had barely three hours of sleep after a wild Saturday night. When I arrived at the school, a smiling security guard greeted me warmly and led me through a small garden shaded by banana trees and leafy canopies toward a classroom flanked by two compact, two-story buildings. Everything seemed remarkably small until I realized it was a school for young children. Perhaps there was something fitting about returning to a place like this, allowing myself to soak in the atmosphere and, for a moment, imagine myself as a blank slate once again, open and ready to learn something new.

Incubated by Paccaya Foundation, this contemplative school for children aged 3 to 11 follows a UK curriculum, encouraging children to develop practical life skills, ask questions and pay attention to the world and environment around them. Buddhist understandings are woven into their learning in ways that reflect each child's abilities and development. The students learn in an international environment, with English and Mandarin as the primary languages, while Thai remains part of other activities, allowing them to explore the world through the cultural context of Thai society.

I slipped off my shoes, opened the door and hurried in, settling onto a meditation cushion with a little embarrassment after arriving about five minutes late. Sitting quietly before me was a humble-looking foreign man. Soon, the team from Paccaya Foundation welcomed everyone and shared a brief introduction to our guide. Jakob Leschly is a Danish teacher, translator of Buddhist texts and practitioner who trained under Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, a Bhutanese Buddhist teacher, writer and filmmaker, and founder of Siddhartha's Intent and Khyentse Foundation. Jakob began studying Buddhism in 1974 and has now been practicing for more than 50 years.

Before the workshop began, Jakob invited everyone to pick up the prayer texts and recite them together. The words were unfamiliar to me, and I later learned that they came from the opening verse of In Praise of the Twelve Deeds, attributed to Ārya Nāgārjuna. The mantra that followed was an expression of devotion to Śākyamuni, the Buddha, recited at the beginning of meditation in the Vajrayana tradition.

You I shall praise, who first awakened the mind of enlightenment,
Then completed the accumulations of merit and wisdom,
And now in this age, through the vast sway of your actions,
Have become the lord and protector of living beings.

OM MUNI MUNI MAHA MUNAYÉ SOHA

We then settled into meditation together. Jakob explained that sitting with a straight back allows us to breathe more efficiently. Even with the sounds of construction around us, he encouraged us to see them as a reminder of how easily the mind can wander toward external distractions. Once we notice this happening, we can gently bring our attention back to the rhythm of the breath, following each inhale and exhale.

As the sound of the Tibetan singing bowl faded, everyone slowly closed their eyes. That was when my body began its quiet protest. Sitting upright on too little sleep, my legs gradually grew numb while my mind wandered from one thought to another. And yet, every now and then, I managed to gently bring myself back, returning my attention to the present moment.

The Tibetan singing bowl sounded again, signaling the end of the meditation. Jakob began unpacking the verse we had just recited, offering a brief introduction to the Buddha and his story. While Buddhism is often categorized as a religion, its foundations differ in important ways from many others. From the beginning, Buddhism grew through observation, analysis and reason, rather than revelation or belief. Even in his teachings, the Buddha encouraged us not to simply believe, but to try the practice and investigate for ourselves, to see whether the Dhamma can truly be experienced and verified. This quality of the Dhamma is known as Ehipassiko, an invitation to come and see for oneself. The word Dhamma refers to the nature of reality, to study the Dhamma, then, is to explore the reality of the world around us.

After this brief introduction, Jakob invited us to return to the prayer texts we had been given that morning.

The first was an excerpt from Bodhicaryāvatāra (The Way of the Bodhisattva) by Śāntideva, an Indian Buddhist teacher of the Mahayana tradition who lived during the eighth century.

May Bodhicitta, precious and sublime,
Arise where it has not yet come to be;
And where it has arisen may it never fail,
But grow and flourish even more

This is also a passage from the same text that the 14th Dalai Lama is particularly fond of, recited here in a melodic cadence unlike anything I had heard before. 

ākāśasya sthitir yāvad yāvac ca jagataḥ sthitiḥ
tāvan mama sthitiḥ bhūyād jagat duḥkhāni nighnataḥ

As long as space remains,
As long as the world remains,
May I too remain
To alleviate the sufferings of the world

From there, we sat in meditation once again. When the Tibetan singing bowl sounded, everyone opened their eyes and slowly rose to follow one another around the classroom before returning to our seats. We then opened the circle for a discussion: Do we need theory to guide our meditation practice? The groups arrived at similar reflections. At the very least, we should understand why we are practicing in the first place. The form or method does not necessarily need to be fixed, but can adapt to each practitioner. The evening continued with a Dhamma discussion and another period of meditation, bringing the day to a close.

What Jakob shared with us felt like a gentle nudge. We had, after all, heard these ideas before, back in school. Yet having them bundled together and presented as something to memorize somehow meant that none of it ever really stayed with us.

Take the Four Noble Truths, the fundamental teaching the Buddha realized and first shared with others: Dukkha (suffering), Samudaya (the cause of suffering), Nirodha (the cessation of suffering) and Magga (the path leading to the cessation of suffering). Or the Three Characteristics, the three qualities inherent in the nature of existence: Anicca (impermanence), Dukkha (suffering) and Anattā (non-self).

He also touched on the Middle Way, or Majjhimā Paṭipadā, through the story of Sona Kolivisa, a disciple renowned for his great effort. Despite practicing with great intensity, Sona had yet to attain realization. The Buddha offered him an analogy: How should the strings of a lute be tuned for its music to sound beautiful? If the strings are too tight, they may snap. If they are too loose, they will not produce the right sound. The same principle applies to practice. Neither excessive effort nor too little effort will bring us closer to understanding.

Even Jakob's reflections on awareness and meditation touched on ideas that are also explored in cognitive neuroscience today, a field that studies how the brain gives rise to mental processes, behavior, thought and perception. It was perhaps this connection between observation, inquiry and experience that led Albert Einstein to remark, as he is often quoted, that if he were to choose a religion, Buddhism would be his first choice.

Jakob made these teachings feel close to home and relevant to the present, offering explanations that connected with scientific ways of understanding the world. It made us wonder whether making the Dhamma more accessible, through translations of familiar chants, placing less emphasis on merit and sin, and moving away from exaggerated stories of miracles and sacred powers, might encourage more people to reconnect with Buddhism and find ways to bring its teachings into everyday life.