Start Again; 10 days in Vipassana

Until I am hit with a severe cold half way through the course, I am surprised at how getting up at 4:00 a.m. doesn’t seem so hard when just going to sit. Morning is the only time I seem to be able to keep my mind from constructing my future, reconstructing my past, or constructing stories so completely unrelated to anything that they just hang in the air like bizarre trapeze artists, then dissipate into smoke. The meditation hall is always in half light and silent, even though sixty of us are occupying the space breathing. I rise as quietly as possible from my cushion and walk out to use the port o potty, the moon searing the sky crisp in the cold, snow crunching underfoot. The whole world has this buzzing and everything is so beautiful my heart constricts and expands with each beat, the pulsing evident in each breath. A deer looks up from her nibbling, twitches her tail, then continues. When the meditation is over the birds sing and I am able to hear them with piercing clarity.

That was the good part.

Here is what I may have said to the management if I had not taken a 10 day vow of silence:
“Fuck You! Fuck your fruit for dinner. I’m hungry. I’m dying of no protein. Give me something, anything? Just a spot of peanut butter for god’s sake. Can’t you see I am sick? Do you not hear me hacking my lungs out? Take care of me! Give ME some loving compassion! And another thing- what’s up with the DVD’s and audiotapes? Is this dude Goenka really the ONLY person who can teach this? Does it really help us gain enlightenment to have his froggy voice chanting down on us in a language I don’t understand from above? And as for sitting 10 hours a day- you’ve got to be kidding me. My back is in pain. No, not just a little pain that is only temporary and will pass- don’t Anicca me- this is excruciating! This is torture. This is not good for me. This is not good far anyone! I shouldn’t be here. This is a mistake. See, I am someone who does yoga- not someone who sits for two hour stretches. My mind is not calm and attentive- it is going bonkers. This is not for me. I’m leaving and I’m never coming back.”

Each day was an eternity. When just sitting, the time passed slowly. And yet, it passed. The intense pain of sitting for long periods passed, and then it reemerged. The weather swayed erratically- snow, sun, hail, rain, bitter cold, sun. Anicca. A bee sat dormant on a daffodil for an entire day and night.

On the last day we pardoned all those who have ever hurt us, and then asked for the pardon of all those we may have hurt. We sent out the love and harmony of our time meditating. And then, it was over.

I cried driving back into Portland for the sheer beauty of it all, the meat shop that says “real overseas taste’, the trees bursting in color, the people standing on street corners, the familiarity of the streets, the knowledge of the people I love so near. I stood in the produce market and was overwhelmed by the bustle, but then bought my spinach, the leaves so green, my potatoes, and my bacon- oh glorious bacon!

Cameron and I sat on the porch in the evening watching the sun set, sharing the stories of our separate times in silence, and were present and tender with each other, our eyes clear and bright.