The idea of going on tudong conjures rather romantic and inspirational images and feelings, for me at least... "Ah, the real wandering life!" But reality is never contained or represented fully in ideas and perceptions, and remains always unexpected and unknown.

In the spring of 1997 four of us set off on a five-week walking tour from Amaravati Monastery in Hertfordshire to the Southwest of England. Ajahn Siripanna, Sister Uttama, Anagarika Joanne and myself were going to take up residence in Hartridge Monastery in Devon and had thought this would be a wonderful way to go, and in keeping with the practice of the Forest Tradition and alms mendicancy.  

However, the joumey wasn't all inspirational by any means. In concept and theory and in philosophical retrospect... yes, perhaps ... but the nitty-gritty of it at times was quite challenging - physically, mentally and emotionally- but then that is what this kind of walk (tudong) is all about. It's a kind of stripping away of the usual 'comfort zones' that one can retreat into so as to contemplate the sense of insecurity that is thus laid bare in the face of the unknown.

This is much of what the monastic training is about too, to train the mind to be more fully present with life as you experience it in the raw, creating the possibility for direct insight into the true nature of things. In doing so one notices how habituated the mind is to controlling and manipulating circumstances, in both gross and subtle ways, in an attempt to not have to feel the natural pain and insecurity of life. But by doing this we effectively cut ourselves off from true wisdom and understanding and the way to freedom, and can eventually wind ourselves into a tight ball of alienation and despair. So these walks are a monastic practice, intended to help deepen mindfulness, to cultivate a heart of faith, and to develop qualities such as patient endurance, equanimity and gratitude. Having said that, it's true to say that they are also undertaken with great enthusiasm as an opportunity to get out of the monastery for a while, and enjoy life in the open countryside!

All in all, one could say that the walk was a great success in that we survived, and we arrived in Devon to many people's enthusiasm for our presence there. We also arrived still friends and in reasonably good humour! During five weeks together (literally 24 hours of every day, side by side), there were naturally and expectedly some moments of difficulty, as we each went through our different moods and cycles. In fact, I find relationship and communication in community life one of the most challenging areas in which to continue to be honest, open, and yet responsible. So I find there's always much to be learnt... primarily about myself and my own ways and tactics in communication, and also about others. Learning about how to express oneself more clearly and unconditionally, and learning to be more and more open to others' minds and moods of all kinds in an honest and unconditional way too.

Walking is a good pace for such kind of contemplation and interaction. There's time to feel and to be with suffering as it arises, to find its cause and source, to try to understand it and let go of it. Always moving on is helpful; not going backwards or hanging on to what's gone before. Also not knowing what's to come, but knowing only each step as it is, and constantly seeing all imagined futures to be pure projection, things rarely or never unfolding exactly as expected.

When the four of us set off on the 1st of May, the weather was warm, sunny and beautiful. All of April had been like that. We heard an ominous report of rain to come, but we remained hopeful. However after only two or three days the weather turned and most of the first three weeks were cold, wet and not great walking weather. We had planned to camp out in bivvy-bags but found we often had to ask for shelter in barns. All but once we were met with warmth, kindness and sometimes remarkable hospitality.

Despite the adverse weather conditions, our hearts were being nourished by the kindness we met along the way. There were some nights that seemed very bleak to us at the time, very cold or very wet, not being able to find shelter or anywhere semi-decent to stop and sleep, and having to walk on till almost dark or after dark (after 10pm in that season). But we always survived, and in the wake of the new morning it never seemed quite as bad as it had the night before.

The first few days were inevitably rather painful as we got used to the weight on our backs and extra stress on our feet. Ajahn Siripanna and myself hadn't really had time to prepare ourselves physically beforehand so we knew the first part of the walk would be painful. I was also breaking in some new sandals. Although we gradually felt a bit fitter as the days passed, we never really felt on top of things physically. Even on the last day of our walk we battled with low energy and fatigue. Perhaps it was an accumulation of tiredness as there were many nights with little sleep because of cold, discomfort, throbbing feet, exhaustion, or all of it!

It might sound rather horrible as you read this but actually, it was alright. It was just how it was and there was no alternative to be had so although not particularly pleasant, it was all good stuff to practise with. We were never in any danger. Much of the time, despite the difficulties, a certain kind of ease or quiet joy could be detected in the heart - in just the simplicity of it all - not having to think too much, being 'unburdened' (bar the weight of the pack) and wandering as we were. It was good not to have any planned rendezvous which meant we didn't have to stress ourselves out in covering miles or making deadlines that inevitably become difficult to meet. We could rest when we needed to, and move on when we were ready.  

The first few days weren't so great. It wasn't easy to find water or anywhere to camp, and the countryside was not so striking. But before long, once we entered into Oxfordshire, then Berkshire and Wiltshire, things were very different. Beautiful countryside and kind, interested and hospitable folk.  

We stayed in all sorts of situations - barns, sheds, a caravan one night, in someone's spare attic room another night; in dense woods, in open fields, on the moors, in a strip of land between barbed wire and electric fencing (it was at least flat ground, often hard to find!). On loungeroom floors, a redundant church, someone's back lawn, another's garden, a porch in a cricket ground, some guest bedrooms, a night at a Christian Abbey, and finally, a B&B! Also a night with a Buddhist Community in Devon. Oh, and one night on the beach! But more about that later.  

Apart from one arranged meal invitation the day after we left Amaravati, we didn't arrange any other meetings beforehand, just wanting to take each day as it came and to go on faith. Anagarika Joanne had been given a bit of money by various people to help support us along the way and so was able to offer us food at times, so it wasn't the complete 'faith tudong', but we did go on almsround as often as we could in various towns on route and were always met with an astounding response from people, nearly always getting much more food than the four of us could eat that day.

It was remarkable that people in these places were so keen to help us. They weren't particularly Buddhist or even knew that we were, much of the time. They were just kind, thoughtful folk all too happy to give. Most tried to offer us money at first but we would gently explain that our monastic rule did not allow us to accept or use money. This always amazed people - some could not fathom it, others apologised and some even tried to convince us that it was alright to take their money. Almost always people would come back with food once they had understood what our almsbowls were for.

When we go for alms in villages, we find a suitable place to stand so we won't be in the way of people, but where they would naturally pass us and see us, and we stand there silently with our bowls. We are not allowed to ask for food, begging is against the training. The attitude is more one of making ourselves available to receive alms, as in Buddhist practice the virtue of generosity is held in high esteem and it's cultivation of prime importance in developing the spiritual path.

~ To be continued