BTS: Why I DIDN’T Want to Study Buddhism
Buddhism Through Service is a continuing series dedicated to understanding Buddhism through cultural immersion, historical context, and lived experience. Written by Hana Walsh, the series may also feature guest contributors offering additional perspectives.
Hana Walsh, 137 YinD
There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth;
not going all the way, and not starting.
-Buddha
I can’t count how many times someone has assumed I already knew about Buddhism or suggested I should. For the past four years, meditation has been a consistent part of my life. I’ve always been open about my practice, and conversations about spirituality often landed in the same place: “Oh, you meditate? So, are you into Buddhism?”
It’s a fair question. Meditation is a central part of Buddhist practice, and there is overlap between what I was doing and some traditional techniques. Still, something about it never quite fit. Looking back, I realize that what I was reacting to wasn’t Buddhism itself, but my own limited understanding of it.
The Version of Buddhism I Rejected
Before arriving in Thailand, my perception of Buddhism was shaped more by assumptions than experience. In my mind, Buddhists were old men on mountaintops— detached from the world, sitting in stillness for decades. And while I could appreciate the idea of inner peace, I couldn’t understand its purpose. What good is peace if it doesn’t extend beyond yourself? If it doesn’t help anyone?
Then there was the concept of non-attachment.
At face value, it sounded almost nihilistic. If everything is temporary— if joy, connection, and meaning are all fleeting— then what are we really holding onto? What’s the point of a beautiful dinner with friends if, in the end, it’s reduced to nothing more than a passing moment? The way I understood it, Buddhism seemed to suggest: Feel it, but don’t cling to it. Experience it, but don’t value it too deeply.
I didn’t want to diminish my experiences into “just chemistry” or treat meaningful moments as disposable. I like caring deeply. I like feeling fully. I wasn’t interested in a philosophy that seemed to ask me to do otherwise.
Then there were the precepts.
The five precepts—no killing, no stealing, no sexual misconduct, no lying, no intoxication— are, on paper, entirely reasonable, so it wasn’t the content that bothered me— it was the existence of rules at all. The idea that peace or enlightenment might be conditional didn’t sit right with me. You’re saying I don’t “qualify” for inner peace because I hosted wine and cheese night? Doesn’t make sense to me.
And so, based on these preconceived notions, I decided Buddhism wasn’t for me.
The Turning Point
That might have been the end of the story—if not for Thailand.
When I applied to the Peace Corps, I listed three location preferences. At the time, I made a quiet commitment to myself: if I were placed in Thailand, I would take the opportunity to learn about Buddhism with an open mind.
Naturally, I was placed in Thailand—specifically in Chiang Rai, a region known for its deep-rooted traditions and abundance of temples. This is when I realized I had no more excuses. I was about to live the next two years in maybe the most idealistic place to learn about Buddhism.
So, on my journey north, I downloaded Buddhism for Beginners by Thubten Chodron, put in my headphones, and started from page one.
What’s Next
In this series, I’m striving to unlearn what I thought I knew and rebuild my understanding from the ground up. I’ll cover the basics: its history, core teachings, meditation practices, and the frameworks that shape it. But more importantly, I’ll be seeking to answer the question: What does Buddhism actually look like in real life? Not on a mountaintop, or even in a temple— but in the everyday moments.
So far, I’ve come to realize just how wrong my initial assumptions were. I won’t get into it now, but I’ll leave you with this: Buddhism may not be about escaping the world. It might actually be about learning how to live it even more fully than before.
