- Björn Natthiko Lindeblad shares his 17 years as a Buddhist monk in a new book
- He ended up in a Thai forest monastery after leaving a multinational company
- Then in 2018 he was diagnosed with ALS, or motor-neurone disease
Bjorn Lindeblad was on the path to success with a a stellar career and enviable lifestyle. Then he gave it all up… to become a forest monk.
Lindeblad was a fairly typical product of the Swedish system: brighter than average, more ambitious than average and, armed with a sharp suit, a briefcase and a good economics degree, clearly going places.
At the age of 26 he was working for a multinational company, had been transferred to their Spanish office, had a company car, a secretary and regularly flew business class. But he was pretending, pretending to be interested in economics, pretending to give a monkeys about his job. ‘I think almost everyone who has ever appeared outwardly successful has also eventually realised that’s no guarantee of happiness.’
But Lindeblad was already an enviably clear-thinker about life. ‘A job . . . has to nourish and stimulate some deeper part of our being. That type of nourishment is rarely derived from success. Rather, it comes from feeling connected to the people you work with, feeling that your work has meaning, that your talents are somehow making a difference.’
Then one day he started meditating. He had heard it helped, although he found it perilously difficult to silence the endless foolish and negative thoughts in his head. But as he did so, one thought came to the forefront.
‘Something inside me, that seemed to come out of nowhere, that wasn’t the final link in a chain of thoughts, that wasn’t the result of reasoning, but that, rather, just suddenly appeared.’
The thought was this: ‘It’s time to move on.’
So he did. He chucked in his job, went travelling to the Far East and, to cut a long story short, ended up as a novice monk in a Thai forest monastery, where he shaved his head and got used to rising at 3.30 in the morning for the first bout of morning meditation. They used no money there, and for food had to rely on the generosity of nearby villagers, who fortunately all held the monks in very high esteem.
There was no modern technology — no internet, no smartphones — and monks had to refrain from sex (even with themselves) and alcohol, although they did get the occasional cup of tea.
It was a simple but happy life, focusing on meditation, simplicity and ethics. Given the new name ‘Natthiko’, which means ‘One who grows in wisdom’, Lindeblad seems to have adjusted easily to his new life, even though, for several years, he found meditation very challenging, and had a particular problem staying awake during any session of any length.
Others had the same problem. One monk tended to walk around while meditating, but found he could fall asleep standing up. Now, there’s a skill worth acquiring.
As befits someone who spent 17 years as a Buddhist monk, Lindeblad talks a lot of good sense. ‘In the western world, not least in business, I’d been told that intellect trumps virtually everything. But here, I was given convincing proof of what I’d long suspected — that we humans have so many other resources at our disposal, too. There exists an intelligence that isn’t confined to our heads, and we would do well to turn to it more . . . for the first time in my life, I felt the world agreed with me about what was important: being present in everything you do. Telling the truth. Helping each other. And trusting silence more than chattering thoughts.’ He says it was ‘like coming home’.
I May Be Wrong is no self-help book, but it contains more wisdom and will do more people more good than the complete works of Paul McKenna.
After a few years in Thailand, Lindeblad became a monk at a Thai monastery in England, which was a different sort of challenge, then moved to Switzerland, and then gave up his monkish robes and moved back to Sweden.
He suffered a profound depression for 18 months and could do nothing, beyond feeling what a failure he was. He had dedicated half his life to deepening, understanding and developing himself as a person, and for what? He didn’t have a job, he didn’t have a girlfriend, he didn’t have any hope, and only through meditation could he still his teeming, negative thoughts.
So when his money ran out, he began teaching the art of meditation, and found many willing pupils. Eventually he was called upon to write this book, which has been a bestseller in Sweden and is now being translated into every known language. Then in 2018 he was diagnosed with ALS, or motor-neurone disease as we better know it.
It’s a cruel, incurable condition, which rapidly takes away your ability to do anything at all, but Lindeblad isn’t bitter or angry. He just accepts his bad luck as he accepted his previous good luck when it came. He comes over as a wondrous man who has lived a good life, and what better can be said for anyone?
Finally, that title. The monks were engaged in an all-night meditation session and, as usual, Lindeblad was struggling to stay awake. One of the novice monks brought in a cauldron of hot sweet coffee: a godsend. Then the abbot of the monastery, Ajahn Jayasaro, stood up to make a speech. ‘Tonight,’ he said, ‘I want to give you a magic mantra.’ The monks were taken aback: the forest tradition rejects anything to do with magic and mysticism.
But Jayasaro continued: ‘The next time you sense a conflict brewing, when you feel that things are about to come to a head with someone, just repeat this mantra to yourself three times, sincerely and convincingly, and your worries will evaporate, like dew from the grass on a summer morning.’
He leaned forward, paused for effect and then said: ‘Here’s the magic mantra:
‘I may be wrong.
‘I may be wrong.
‘I may be wrong.’
This is a book of some brilliance, although, of course, I may be wrong.
Say Goodbye
In the summer of 2021 he turned 60 years old. There was no party due to the pandemic and the disease. But at the end of November, Björn Natthiko Lindeblad told TV4 Nyheterna that he would gather some of his friends to celebrate life – and also say goodbye.
Björn Natthiko Lindeblad fell asleep on January 17 in northern Halland surrounded by loved ones.
In a longer post that was published on his social media he tells how he chose to end his life. ‘i was surrounded by loved ones, I swallowed a glass of smoothie with the usual preparation, then fell asleep calmly and quietly. Without fear or hesitation, I got what I wanted’.
“If you’re reading this, I’m out of time.”
“A feeling of being blessed”
Björn Natthiko Lindeblad continues:
“I get rid of a feeling of being blessed, and well prepared for the biggest and most unpredictable adventure of all. The adventurer in me has no reservations at all. Thank you all who lit up my life.
Thank you for so often feeling, seen, understood, appreciated, trusted, supported, welcomed, even loved. The only way the one I was now remains is like a memory. In you, and everyone else who knew me.
Of course, you make that memory what you want it to be. ”He writes that those who want to make him happy are happy to cherish that memory, and concludes with the words:
“With my arms full of sun-warm gratitude, Björn Natthiko Lindeblad
Forest Monks In Buddhism
The Forest Monk Tradition of Theravada Buddhism could be understood as a modern revival of ancient monasticism. Although the term “forest monk tradition” primarily is associated with the Kammatthana tradition of Thailand, today there are many forest traditions around the world.
Why forest monks? Early Buddhism had many associations with trees. The Buddha was born under a sal tree, a flowering tree common to the Indian subcontinent. When he entered final Nirvana, he was surrounded by sal trees. He was enlightened under the bodhi tree, or sacred fig tree (Ficus religiosa). The first Buddhist nuns and monks had no permanent monasteries and slept under trees.
Although there have been some forest-dwelling, mendicant Buddhist monks in Asia ever since, as time went on, most monks and nuns moved into permanent monasteries, often within urban settings. And from time to time, teachers worried that the wilderness spirit of original Buddhism had been lost.
Origins of the Thai Forest Tradition
Kammatthana (meditation) Buddhism, often called the Thai Forest Tradition, was founded in the early 20th century by Ajahn Mun Bhuridatta Thera (1870-1949; Ajahn is a title, meaning “teacher”) and his mentor, Ajahn Sao Kantasilo Mahathera (1861–1941). Today this best-known forest tradition is spreading around the world, with what might loosely be called “affiliate” orders in the United Kingdom, the United States, Australia, and other western countries.
By many accounts, Ajahn Mun had not planned to begin a movement. Instead, he was simply pursuing a solitary practice. He sought out secluded places in the forests of Laos and Thailand where he could meditate without the interruptions and schedules of community monastic life. He chose to keep the Vinaya strictly, including begging for all of his food, eating one meal a day, and making robes made of discarded cloth.
But as word of this reclusive monk’s practice got around, naturally he drew a following. In those days monastic discipline in Thailand had grown loose. Meditation had become optional and didn’t always conform to Theravada insight meditation practice. Some monks practiced shamanism and fortune telling instead of studying the dharma.
The Modern Forest Monk
However, within Thailand, there also was a small reform movement called Dhammayut, begun by Prince Mongkut (1804-1868) in the 1820s. Prince Mongkut became an ordained monk and began a new monastic order called Dhammayuttika Nikaya, dedicated to the strict observance of the Vinaya, Vipassana meditation, and study of the Pali Canon. When Prince Mongkut became King Rama IV in 1851, among his many accomplishments were the building of new Dhammayut centers. (King Rama IV is also the monarch portrayed in the book Anna and the King of Siam and the musical The King and I.)
Sometime later young Ajahn Mun joined the Dhammayuttika order and studied with Ajahn Sao, who had a small country monastery. Ajahn Sao was particularly dedicated to meditation rather than the study of scriptures. After spending a few years with his mentor, Ajahn Mun withdrew to the forests and, after some two decades of wandering, settled in a cave. And then disciples began to find him.
Ajahn Mun’s Kammatthana movement differed from the earlier Dhammayu reform movement in that it emphasized direct insight through meditation over the scholastic study of the Pali Canon. Ajahn Mun taught that scriptures were pointers to insight, not insight-in-itself.
The Thai Forest Tradition is flourishing today and is known for its discipline and asceticism. Today’s forest monks do have monasteries, but they are away from urban centers.
Tree Weaver 