The next three days got progressively more and more difficult. But by the end of Day 4, I felt like I hadn't made any progress. I couldn't focus for more than a minute or two at a time, despite the insane number of hours we had dedicated to meditation. My back was aching. I couldn't sit still. And the mosquitoes. Oh man, those mosquitoes. If you can't get your mind to sit still, try doing so with the ominous buzz of a mosquito constantly in your ear, just waiting to suck your blood at any second. With the amount of prophylactic bug spray and bug cream I absorbed on my skin, you would think my blood would be poisonous to mosquitoes at this point, but try telling that to the countless mosquitoes for whom I was breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a mid-afternoon snack.
VW had told me in my initial interview on registration day that people hit "rock bottom" around day 3 or 4, though everyone is different. Something really rubbed me the wrong way about how he so cavalierly used the phrase "rock bottom." When I picture someone who has hit rock bottom, I think more about someone who is addicted to meth sleeping in a box on the streets, only eight teeth left to their name, having just sold their last cd (Sublime's 40 oz. to Freedom) for their sixth hit of the day... and it's only 11am. Not someone who is having a rough time at a meditation retreat. I never really felt like I hit "rock bottom" at this place: it was hard, yes, and it got harder, yes, but at no point was I ever like, "I need to get out of this place, this is the worst possible thing that could happen."
We had the opportunity to schedule a brief "chat" with one of the monks if we felt like we were struggling in particular. It was hard to admit that I might be struggling more than other people, but this wasn't a time to be proud, this was a time to make sure I got everything I possibly could out of this retreat. So during one of the meditation sessions in Day 4, I headed over to the dining hall and sat down with the Tai Chi instructor to talk about why I was having a hard time. The chat was... less than inspiring. It basically amounted to me telling him something along the lines of "I'm having trouble concentrating" and him telling me that "you're having trouble concentrating because you're unable to clear your mind." Thanks, guy. So that was kind of a bust. But to be fair, what was I expecting, really? Some magical answer that was going to make everything okay? Nope. This isn't going to be easy, and I definitely get it and I'm ready to get back out there.
Every day there are a few more empty spaces in the meditation hall in the morning. Fewer people at Tai Chi. Fewer people at meals. People who for one reason or another have decided to leave. As sad as this is to say... you can kind of tell who is going to drop out next. There is certainly a spectrum of calmness here. Some people are SO zen, it's incredible. And others are so antsy, it's amazing they've made it this far. Still though, it's sad to see a new empty coconut sack on the ground where a person used to sit. Despite all the time we've spent together, I'll never really know who that person is because... well, I probably never looked them in the face to begin with, even if they were sitting right next to me.
The silence has been a really interesting facet of this whole experience. It has turned out to be easier than I thought it would be to maintain. I don't really feel the urge to speak at all. I'm pretty committed to trying to clear my mind while I'm here and, rules aside, you just can't do that if you're talking to people. But it goes beyond just talking. Pretty much all non-essential communication like hand gestures or greetings are all gone. All physical contact of any sort was completely gone. And for me, I wanted to avoid even the temptation to interact with other people, so I made it a practice to not look at anyone whenever possible. This usually meant keeping my gaze at the ground. And I religiously avoided looking over at the women's side of the meditation hall (or any other halls for that matter) because no good could come of that. The interesting thing about not looking at people is that I felt like each day I would stumble upon someone "new" who I had NEVER seen before, but not because they were actually new, just because I didn't look at anyone's face. Sometimes I would come close to slipping up, like if I almost bumped into someone or something and would instinctively want to say "sorry" but I never actually did say anything. Normally, this kind of behavior would be seen as completely anti-social, but everyone here totally gets it and many of them did the same. Some people would smile if you happened to catch each other's gaze, but only briefly before you both looked away. Some people would give no facial expressions whatsoever. I went back and forth between the two. But everyone understands. There's no judgement, no hard feelings.
My friends FL and BE are both still here, though I can tell BE is struggling. About once a day we'll catch each other's eye and give each other a sort of knowing smile. She's the only one I'll let myself keep eye contact with for more than a second, but even at that, it's a maybe three- or four-second indulgence before I break myself away. It's comforting to have a friend here. Which is probably a bad thing.
In the afternoon on Day 4, I finally tried out the hot spring. There are a handful of natural hot springs around the grounds, two for men and one for women. They are here to help us relax and we are free to use them during any of our breaks, but up until this point, I pretty much always just went back to bed and slept more. Most people go either after breakfast or after hot chocolate when it's not so hot outside, but I opted to go after lunch so there happened to be no one else around. It was actually really nice. Like a giant, stone hot tub. And hot but not too hot. Very relaxing.
Tai Chi in the mornings has been interesting. I've been looking forward to these sessions if for no other reason than they help me wake up a little bit in the morning. I had always thought of Tai Chi as this really cool martial art, but this was far different than I had pictured. There were a lot of funny names for the moves we performed and it felt more like a dance than anything. But then one day our instructor showed us what we were actually learning. It was sort of the equivalent to how you learn that F=ma in high school physics and you're like "ok, I get it, this isn't rocket science" and then someone is like, "and here's how we apply this to get rockets into outer space" and you're like, "WHOAAAAAAA, THAT'S what I was learning?!" He gave us a little demonstration of what Tai Chi looks like at full speed and I'm pretty sure he actually flew at a couple of points in the demonstration. It was one of the coolest things I'd seen... ever.
There's also another retreat participant who cannot for the life of him sit still during Tai Chi. Literally. He is constantly in motion. And is rarely doing whatever exercise the instructor is leading. And it's super distracting. I'm here to calm myself and you're making that really difficult. Come on, guy, get it together!
The Metta meditation is starting to get easier. I'm getting used to the concept of directing positive feelings toward myself. And I'm thinking less about who I need to direct positive feelings to when we're doing that for other people. I'm coming to realize that it's less important who specifically those feelings are directed to and more just the fact that I'm doing it. Also, Little Monk is HILARIOUS. Who knew monks could crack jokes like that?
Speaking of which, there's this English monk who is probably the funniest one of them all. He's super pessimistic (which is kind of ironic), tells it like it is, and it's really funny to hear him talk. You can tell that he "gets it" because, well, he's Western. He's a welcome change of pace from the rest of the Thai monks. I kind of feel like you need a guy like that at these retreats aimed at Westerners or there would be a cultural bridge that's missing.
I've noticed a big change in how I've been going about my daily chore of sweeping around the meditation hall. Whereas on the first day, I used two brooms and was making huge sweeping motions to blow the dirt and grass away, now I'm using one broom, much more calmly and mindfully. It's just as effective, takes less effort, and certainly more in-line with the whole ethos of this place. It wasn't really a conscious change, it just kind of happened.
The food here has been pretty consistent and in my opinion pretty good. It turns out that breakfast is basically the same thing every day: rice soup, bananas, cucumbers, lettuce, and palm-infused water. Lunch is pretty similar to the first day as well, with a curry or two, all of which I find to be really tasty. Thai people know how to make some goooooood curry.
A few days before coming to the retreat, I kind of re-injured my ankle again. I think what did it was when we spent an hour walking around Koh Phi Phi in flip flips and a huge backpack trying to find a hostel. Thank you, mysterious Norwegian girl. So while everyone else here is barefoot and wearing flip flops, I've been in shoes and socks because it feels way better on my ankle. It's annoying because I have to take off my shoes every time we enter any hall. Plus, out of 80 people, I'm the ONLY one wearing shoes. But whatever. I'm not here to impress anyone. If I need to wear shoes, I'm going to wear shoes. (...I definitely still feel a little self-conscious about it.)
When I got into my room at the end of night #2, I found a huge lizard crawling on the wall inside of my room. By huge I mean HUGE. Like... at least a foot long. We looked at each other for a minute and I made a mental pact with him that as long as he doesn't eat any of my stuff, we were cool. I'm pretty sure he understood. And to be fair, it was probably me who was in his room and not the other way around.
Six more days to go!
CONTINUE ON to Mediation Retreat Day 5: Breakthrough and Sadness
VW had told me in my initial interview on registration day that people hit "rock bottom" around day 3 or 4, though everyone is different. Something really rubbed me the wrong way about how he so cavalierly used the phrase "rock bottom." When I picture someone who has hit rock bottom, I think more about someone who is addicted to meth sleeping in a box on the streets, only eight teeth left to their name, having just sold their last cd (Sublime's 40 oz. to Freedom) for their sixth hit of the day... and it's only 11am. Not someone who is having a rough time at a meditation retreat. I never really felt like I hit "rock bottom" at this place: it was hard, yes, and it got harder, yes, but at no point was I ever like, "I need to get out of this place, this is the worst possible thing that could happen."
We had the opportunity to schedule a brief "chat" with one of the monks if we felt like we were struggling in particular. It was hard to admit that I might be struggling more than other people, but this wasn't a time to be proud, this was a time to make sure I got everything I possibly could out of this retreat. So during one of the meditation sessions in Day 4, I headed over to the dining hall and sat down with the Tai Chi instructor to talk about why I was having a hard time. The chat was... less than inspiring. It basically amounted to me telling him something along the lines of "I'm having trouble concentrating" and him telling me that "you're having trouble concentrating because you're unable to clear your mind." Thanks, guy. So that was kind of a bust. But to be fair, what was I expecting, really? Some magical answer that was going to make everything okay? Nope. This isn't going to be easy, and I definitely get it and I'm ready to get back out there.
Every day there are a few more empty spaces in the meditation hall in the morning. Fewer people at Tai Chi. Fewer people at meals. People who for one reason or another have decided to leave. As sad as this is to say... you can kind of tell who is going to drop out next. There is certainly a spectrum of calmness here. Some people are SO zen, it's incredible. And others are so antsy, it's amazing they've made it this far. Still though, it's sad to see a new empty coconut sack on the ground where a person used to sit. Despite all the time we've spent together, I'll never really know who that person is because... well, I probably never looked them in the face to begin with, even if they were sitting right next to me.
The silence has been a really interesting facet of this whole experience. It has turned out to be easier than I thought it would be to maintain. I don't really feel the urge to speak at all. I'm pretty committed to trying to clear my mind while I'm here and, rules aside, you just can't do that if you're talking to people. But it goes beyond just talking. Pretty much all non-essential communication like hand gestures or greetings are all gone. All physical contact of any sort was completely gone. And for me, I wanted to avoid even the temptation to interact with other people, so I made it a practice to not look at anyone whenever possible. This usually meant keeping my gaze at the ground. And I religiously avoided looking over at the women's side of the meditation hall (or any other halls for that matter) because no good could come of that. The interesting thing about not looking at people is that I felt like each day I would stumble upon someone "new" who I had NEVER seen before, but not because they were actually new, just because I didn't look at anyone's face. Sometimes I would come close to slipping up, like if I almost bumped into someone or something and would instinctively want to say "sorry" but I never actually did say anything. Normally, this kind of behavior would be seen as completely anti-social, but everyone here totally gets it and many of them did the same. Some people would smile if you happened to catch each other's gaze, but only briefly before you both looked away. Some people would give no facial expressions whatsoever. I went back and forth between the two. But everyone understands. There's no judgement, no hard feelings.
My friends FL and BE are both still here, though I can tell BE is struggling. About once a day we'll catch each other's eye and give each other a sort of knowing smile. She's the only one I'll let myself keep eye contact with for more than a second, but even at that, it's a maybe three- or four-second indulgence before I break myself away. It's comforting to have a friend here. Which is probably a bad thing.
In the afternoon on Day 4, I finally tried out the hot spring. There are a handful of natural hot springs around the grounds, two for men and one for women. They are here to help us relax and we are free to use them during any of our breaks, but up until this point, I pretty much always just went back to bed and slept more. Most people go either after breakfast or after hot chocolate when it's not so hot outside, but I opted to go after lunch so there happened to be no one else around. It was actually really nice. Like a giant, stone hot tub. And hot but not too hot. Very relaxing.
Tai Chi in the mornings has been interesting. I've been looking forward to these sessions if for no other reason than they help me wake up a little bit in the morning. I had always thought of Tai Chi as this really cool martial art, but this was far different than I had pictured. There were a lot of funny names for the moves we performed and it felt more like a dance than anything. But then one day our instructor showed us what we were actually learning. It was sort of the equivalent to how you learn that F=ma in high school physics and you're like "ok, I get it, this isn't rocket science" and then someone is like, "and here's how we apply this to get rockets into outer space" and you're like, "WHOAAAAAAA, THAT'S what I was learning?!" He gave us a little demonstration of what Tai Chi looks like at full speed and I'm pretty sure he actually flew at a couple of points in the demonstration. It was one of the coolest things I'd seen... ever.
There's also another retreat participant who cannot for the life of him sit still during Tai Chi. Literally. He is constantly in motion. And is rarely doing whatever exercise the instructor is leading. And it's super distracting. I'm here to calm myself and you're making that really difficult. Come on, guy, get it together!
The Metta meditation is starting to get easier. I'm getting used to the concept of directing positive feelings toward myself. And I'm thinking less about who I need to direct positive feelings to when we're doing that for other people. I'm coming to realize that it's less important who specifically those feelings are directed to and more just the fact that I'm doing it. Also, Little Monk is HILARIOUS. Who knew monks could crack jokes like that?
Speaking of which, there's this English monk who is probably the funniest one of them all. He's super pessimistic (which is kind of ironic), tells it like it is, and it's really funny to hear him talk. You can tell that he "gets it" because, well, he's Western. He's a welcome change of pace from the rest of the Thai monks. I kind of feel like you need a guy like that at these retreats aimed at Westerners or there would be a cultural bridge that's missing.
I've noticed a big change in how I've been going about my daily chore of sweeping around the meditation hall. Whereas on the first day, I used two brooms and was making huge sweeping motions to blow the dirt and grass away, now I'm using one broom, much more calmly and mindfully. It's just as effective, takes less effort, and certainly more in-line with the whole ethos of this place. It wasn't really a conscious change, it just kind of happened.
The food here has been pretty consistent and in my opinion pretty good. It turns out that breakfast is basically the same thing every day: rice soup, bananas, cucumbers, lettuce, and palm-infused water. Lunch is pretty similar to the first day as well, with a curry or two, all of which I find to be really tasty. Thai people know how to make some goooooood curry.
A few days before coming to the retreat, I kind of re-injured my ankle again. I think what did it was when we spent an hour walking around Koh Phi Phi in flip flips and a huge backpack trying to find a hostel. Thank you, mysterious Norwegian girl. So while everyone else here is barefoot and wearing flip flops, I've been in shoes and socks because it feels way better on my ankle. It's annoying because I have to take off my shoes every time we enter any hall. Plus, out of 80 people, I'm the ONLY one wearing shoes. But whatever. I'm not here to impress anyone. If I need to wear shoes, I'm going to wear shoes. (...I definitely still feel a little self-conscious about it.)
When I got into my room at the end of night #2, I found a huge lizard crawling on the wall inside of my room. By huge I mean HUGE. Like... at least a foot long. We looked at each other for a minute and I made a mental pact with him that as long as he doesn't eat any of my stuff, we were cool. I'm pretty sure he understood. And to be fair, it was probably me who was in his room and not the other way around.
Six more days to go!
CONTINUE ON to Mediation Retreat Day 5: Breakthrough and Sadness
Still no mention of dinner...is there no dinner?!
ReplyDeleteNope, just two meals a day! We're bending the rules a little by having lunch just after noon, but the monks only eat before noon. The only evening thing we "eat" is hot chocolate. I lost... ballpark 6-8 lbs during the retreat.
Delete