By Gabrielle Jackson
When my friend Cassi and I first thought about learning Vipassana meditation, I immediately jumped in with a hugely enthusiastic ‘yes!’ despite the facts we knew including no food after midday and 10 days of no talking.
When my friend Cassi and I first thought about learning Vipassana meditation, I immediately jumped in with a hugely enthusiastic ‘yes!’ despite the facts we knew including no food after midday and 10 days of no talking.
I’m incredibly lazy so the thought of sitting around doing
nothing for 10 days didn’t seem like a tall order to me. In fact, it seemed
like a pretty good idea. And then, add to the mix, thinking about myself all
day, every day. Hello? Heaven! What could be more interesting or entertaining,
I wondered? What’s all this about ascetics? This is hedonism in its purest
form, I thought.
And then I got here.
Before we started, we had to agree to follow eight precepts:
1. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from killing any beings.
2. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from taking what is not given.
3. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from sexual intercourse.
4. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from false speech.
5. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from drinks and drugs which fuddle the mind and
reduce mindfulness.
6. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from taking food at improper times (after midday).
7. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from dancing, singing, music, shows, from wearing
garlands, perfumes, cosmetics, adornments and ornaments.
(Oh shivers, I just killed a bug. I think it was a mosquito,
or a flying ant. It landed on my computer and I squashed it. Have I failed? I
thought number one would be easy to keep.)
8. I undertake the
rule of training to refrain from using high and luxurious seats.
Do we have to consciously stick to these things on purpose,
I wonder, or do we still get credit if it just so happens that we fulfill our
duty by default? Because I’m pretty sure I can stick to 1 (apart from my little
indiscretion just now) 2, and 4 and, since my iPod is broken 7 as well, and I
seem to be doing pretty well at number 3, though not necessarily by choice. And
since we’re on a retreat in the middle of nowhere, I can’t get food or alcohol if
they don’t give it to me, so 5 and 6 should be OK. The bed in my room is
literally a wooden slat, and since I’m not travelling with a Sealy
Posteurpedic in my backpack, number 8 appears to be in the bag as well.
So, after very little consideration, we agreed to these
precepts and were accepted into a Buddhist retreat somewhere in Thailand to
learn Vipassana meditation from a Burmese monk.
Our first task was to go to our cabins and check our clothes
for appropriateness. It was discovered that I had two bottoms and no tops that
were appropriate for wearing here. This could be difficult given the hot, humid
conditions. The lady in charge brought us back some pale lavender cotton
numbers that look like hospital-issue pyjamas. But at least they look cool.
After I’d showered and changed into my mental asylum gear,
we had to go to the hall for a ‘Dhamma talk’. It went for almost one-and-a-half
hours. The gist of what I understood was that yogis are coming and go, coming
and go, coming and go. Towards the end I picked up that they have feelings –
they feel upset, angry, agitated and itchy.
Next, we had an interview with Sayadaw, the teacher (that’s
a literal translation of his name). He advised us to be mindful of everything
we do – to notice everything – our breathing, walking, the smells, what we
touch, how we react. I noticed the hall had lovely parquet flooring and several
clocks that didn’t work.
Apparently, when meditating (which is 10 hours a day here) you’re
not supposed to think about anything. AT ALL. Not yourself, not the imaginary
relationship you’re having with a man who knows nothing about it, not your
book, not your holiday, not your home, not where you’d like to live, not – if
you had to choose – whether you’d choose to write a great book or meet a great
man. Nothing. Nada. Not even about the fly crawling up your leg.
This might not be as easy as I thought.
Ah this is hilarious! Sounds like a recipe for another awesome story, can't wait to read about how it all went down.
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