The path of mindfulness is the path of no preferences. When we prefer one thing to another, then we concentrate on it: 'I prefer peace to chaos.' So, then, in order to have peace, what do we do? We have to go to some place where there is no confusion, become a hermit, go up to the Orkneys, find a cave. I found a super cave once off the coast of Thailand. It was on a beautiful little island in the Gulf of Siam. And it was my sixth year as a monk. All these Westerners were coming to Wat Pah Pong-Western monks. And they were causing me a lot of sorrow and despair. I thought: 'I don't want to teach these people; they're too much of a problem; they're too demanding; I want to get as far away from Western monks as possible.' The previous year I had spent a Rains Retreat with five others. Oh, what a miserable Rains Retreat that was! I thought: 'I'm not going to put up with that! I didn't come here to do that; I came here to have peace.' So I made some excuse to go to Bangkok and from there I found this island. I thought it was perfect. They had caves on the island and little huts on the beaches. It was the perfect set-up for a monk. One could go and get one of those huts and live in it. And then go on alms-round in the village. The village people were all very friendly, especially to Western monks because to be a Western monk was very unusual. We could depend on having all the food we could possibly eat, and more. It was not a place that was easy to get to, being out in the Gulf of Thailand, and I thought: 'Oh, they'll never find me out here, those Western monks; they'll not find me here.' And then I found a cave, one with a Jongram, and it was beautiful. It had an inner chamber that was completely dark and no sounds could penetrate. I crawled in through a hole and inside there was nothing. I could neither see nor hear anything. So it was ideal for sensory deprivation: 'Oh, this is exactly what I've been looking for; I can practise all these high jhanic states. I can go in this cave and just practise for hours on end with no kind of sense stimulation.' I really wanted to see what would happen. But there was this old monk living in this cave who was not sure whether he was going to stay. Anyway, he said I could have the grass hut on the top of the hill. I went up there and looked, and down below was the sea. I thought, 'Oh, this is also nice because now I can concentrate on the sea, which is tranquillising.'

      There was a Thai monk on the island who was a very good friend of mine and he said: 'Well, if they find you here, there's an island about fifteen miles further out-they'll never find you there. There's a little hut there, and a little village; the people in the village would love to take care of a monk.' So I was thinking: 'You know, possibly after the Rains Retreat, I will go out to that further island.'

      I really was determined to escape. I wanted peace and I found the Western monks very confusing. They would always ask lots of questions and were so demanding. So I was all set to spend the Rains Retreat in this idyllic situation. And then-this foot! My right foot became severely infected and they had to take me off the island into the local hospital on the mainland. I was very ill. They would not let me go back to the island and I had to spend the Rains Retreat in a monastery near the town. Sorrow, despair and resentment arose towards this foot-all because I was attached to tranquillity. I wanted to escape the confusion of the world; I really longed to lock myself in a tomb where my senses would not be stimulated, where no demands would be made on me, where I would be left alone, incognito, invisible. But after that I contemplated my attitude; I contemplated my greed for peace. And I did not seek tranquillity any more.