*Disclaimer: I apologize in advance for the length of this blog, but 10 days inside this head of mine makes for a lot of words.
We knew that a ten day silent meditation course would be challenging… up at 4am, two meals a day, no food after 12noon, ten hours of daily meditation, no speaking, no body language, no notes… very challenging. What we didn’t expect was that the challenges would begin before we even arrived.
The confirmation email that we received had a section titled “Directions and Transportation Options” but the only information contained in this section was a bus leaving from Bangkok for $500 Baht each way. We weren’t in Bangkok, but that didn’t seem to be a problem, we had an address and two days to get there. So a couple of days prior to the start date we caught a bus to Kanccanaburi – just like the address said. Upon arrival we discover that Kanccanaburi is not only a town, but also a Province. It appeared that what we had taken for the street address was actually a town, so we bought tickets for the next morning for Sangkhlaburi – just like the address said. Sangkhlaburi is a small village high in the Thai mountains bordering Myanmar. The hostility between the two countries can be felt at every road block check point where armed soldiers board the bus to check papers. After a four hour bus ride up a very steep, very windy road, we reached the town of Sangkhlaburi, only to discover that Sangkhlaburi is not only a town, but also a district. Back to square one. After a bit of creative detective work on Kevin’s part, we caught a last minute van that dropped us at a waterfall in the middle of nowhere at a junction in the road. After some confusion and a lot of pantomiming we were gestured to get into the back of a police pickup truck. Unsure if we were getting a lift or being arrested we got in and rode up some back roads, until finally, under police escort we arrived at the Dhamma Canccana Meditation Center.
Immediately upon arrival Kevin and I were separated. Everything except a few clothes and toiletry items were taken from me and I was shown to my room. Staying in hostels and guesthouses for the last 14 months made my cabin look nice. Very small and very basic, but the bathroom was IN the room, which put it right up there with Best Western for me. I was told to wait for the 5pm dinner bell, bring the dishes that were in my room and come to the dining hall. And then, I was alone.
Being alone and silent was new for me, raising four children, hosting exchange students, friends and travelers, and traveling for over a year now with roommates, computers, mp3 player etc., I really hadn’t realized until I was plunged into solitude how much stimulus there was in my life. As I lay in my tiny bed in my newfound solitude, I first gave thanks for my amazing view. I had an end cabin which gave me an incredible view of the jungle and the mountains of Myanmar in the distance. Then I began to review the five precepts that I had agreed to honor when I checked in…
#5: No intoxicants. In the middle of nowhere in the mountains, far from any 7-eleven… shouldn’t be a problem.
#4: Abstain from sexual activity. They had taken Kevin to…who knows where?… so, done!
#3: Observe noble silence. Noble silence means no communication of any kind. No speaking, no notes, no body language. This one was a bit of a challenge for a couple of reasons, mostly because, as it turns out, I did see Kevin from time to time, from a distance. And each time there was a glance, a smile, a wink, subtle exchanges that told me that he was there for me. There were a couple of tough days that these small connections were the only thing that got me through to the next. And once, he made the shape of half a heart with his hand, and I completed it with mine from across the room, it felt like a stolen kiss.
#2: Don’t take anything that doesn’t belong to you. Okay, stealing is not my thing, no problem.
#1: Don’t cause the death of any living thing. This one should have been the easiest of all, but then I saw them… masses of huge mosquitoes (big as vampire bats, and just as eager to suck my blood) just hangin’ out in my room. It was as if they knew and were taunting me. As I lay on my bed staring down the biggest one I mumbled under my breath, “This is your lucky day buddy”, and reached for the mosquito lotion.
At 5 pm the dinner bell rang, actually it was a gong, the same gong that is heard coming from Wats everywhere. That’s cool, I thought, but it would be the last time I would think this, by the end of the ten days I would grow to hate that gong, especially at 4 am. I gathered my dishes and walked silently to the dining hall. I was taken to a counter that was about 16in. deep and faced a wall which had the number of my cabin on it, C20, so this was it then, I had become a number. This was where I would spend every meal, staring at the wall. I thought that possibly I had found the place where Martha Stewart had been incarcerated.
7 pm, another gong, time for our first meditation. This was when I discovered that Kevin and I would in fact see each other. Entering the meditation hall was surreal; a large open room with dark hardwood floors. On the far side of the room, the men. Along one wall in rows two deep were pedestals upon which sat monks in their burnt orange robes. Next to them on the floor were rows of cushions and upon one of these sat my husband. I took my place on the women’s side of the room on cushion #28 (another number) and sat, trying to copy the posture of the other women. To my left, #27, was a strikingly beautiful woman probably in her mid-fifties. She was petite but statuesque and sat tall and straight, unmoving. She would have made a perfect traditional Thai dancer. It was easy to picture her in the tall golden headdress, tell a story using her hands with her long fingers. To my right, #29, also a very beautiful woman, a bit younger than #27, had a sweet demeanor, and one day even offered me Tiger Balm for my aching knees. And after the course was over, took many photos with me and exchanged email info. And then, there was me, feeling like a moose stuck in between these beautiful Thai women. When everyone was seated, in from the back room came “The Master” the head monk, and took his place on his pedestal at the front of the room facing everyone.
I sat very quiet, straight back, eyes closed, then suddenly, I heard “the voice” for the first time. Out of the silence came a recorded voice on audio cassette, deep, gravelly and chanting in Hindi. His voice was droll and monotone and each sentence ended by trailing off into a guttural “aaaahhhhhhh”, much like the scary sound in the movie, The Grudge. Each time I was certain that that was it… surely he had breathed his last, then suddenly he would return to life and continue. I could barely stifle a giggle and I sneaked a peek at Kevin to see his reaction to this. I saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, but he quickly regain composure. I felt a little guilty that I was looking forward to his imitation of “the voice” after this was over. For the first time since Rachel had returned home, I was actually glad she wasn’t there. One look between Rachel and me at that moment would have no doubt sent me into uncontrollable giggles and we would have all been kicked out. I managed to regain my self-control, and would eventually get used to the voice, even look forward to it as it signaled the end of the sessions. Settling in I was determined to concentrate, to work hard and learn from this experience. But after…Oh I don’t know…two minutes, my mind began to wander, to take over actually, and the thoughts were coming in rapid sequence… Am I sitting right? Why was there no instruction on how to sit? I’m already uncomfortable. Who says you have to sit cross legged to meditate? And what if I get gas? Do I let it go? Hold it in? So many strange and random thoughts. I opened my eyes and peaked at Kevin, he was sitting so peacefully, so serene and calm. I thought to myself what an amazing man he is, so committed and controlled. I was reminded of a time years ago when we smoked… I approached him one day and said, “I think we should quit smoking”. He looked at me and asked, “really?” “Yes”, I replied. He walked calmly to the rubbish bin, opened it up, threw in our remaining cigarettes and said, “Okay”. What? What I had meant was… We should discuss it, come up with a plan and a quit date. Surround ourselves with coping tools. Have a few petty fights as we go through withdrawals… you know, like ordinary people. But my husband is no ordinary man, and when he commits to something, he commits 100%, as I watched him meditate, I was filled with pride.
By the end of the second day I had sung in my mind, every song on my mp3 player, every song from my childhood, completed my Christmas list, written poetry and the concept for a novel… and yes, for very short periods, even learned to concentrate on my breathing.
I discovered pretty quickly that total isolation was causing me to notice things. Without all the usual distractions I was seeing details that had eluded me in the past. The layers of the jungle outside my window, hundreds of varieties of trees and plants, each one unique. I noticed sound more, there were more species of birds, bugs, frogs and geckos than I could count, and each one sang his own exclusive song, there was never even one moment of silence in the jungle. I even noticed the bugs themselves. I had learned to pretty much become one with the bugs working at the Organic farm, but that was learning to accept them on my body, this was different, I was seeing them in their own environment without human interference. One morning on my way to the 4:30am meditation I watched thousands of ants (I am not exaggerating) marching military style in rows at least six deep in a progression that ambled down three flights of outdoor stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a 1”x12” wooden plank, presumably covering a storm drain. There was not one inch of this approx 5 foot long plank that was not covered with ants. Thousands of ants, and then off the other end in the same six across military formation to the nearby rubbish bins. At the end of the session, at 6:30am they were gone from the plank but the troops were still marching six deep, this time back up the three flights of stairs carrying on their backs like tiny sails the spoils from the days sojourn. I was alone, no one else had seemed to notice, but I thought it was beautiful (yes Rachel, ants can be beautiful) and I later thanked God for this little gift, as I never saw them again.
I sat on the steps leading down to my cabin for two nights in a row with a toad bigger than any I have ever seen. The two of us sitting silently together, me examining every detail of his toadness, and him, licking flies from his eye, we just sat together silently. On the third night he wasn’t there, but the fourth night he was there and sat facing up the stairs as if waiting for me. I think he missed me too.
And the sunsets…wow! With no one to share them with, and no camera to capture them, there was nothing to do but just be present. To revel in God’s beauty that was recreated night after night. I sat watching every detail in the changing colors and shapes, wondering if Kevin was seeing this too. I was discovering that I was learning so much more than meditation here.
Then one day, about three or four days in, a surprise came. Each evening we are privileged to put a face to the voice that we hear during the day at our nightly one hour discourses on DVD. There is much wisdom to be gleaned from these concepts and I was learning so much. One of the important lessons I learned was the fact that the only reality in our lives are the moments that we are experiencing this very second. Everything else is either memory or projection, and what we do in our human nature is attach either craving or aversion to every memory or projection. If it is a pleasant experience we attach only pleasant memories to it and begin to crave or miss it. Or the other way around, for instance if I say that I had a bad day… the truth is that I had a negative experience that day and I attached a negative memory to the entire day. Anyway I had gone into this in prayer of letting go of some of Illusions in my life, so I began to review some things during a time when my mind was wandering at meditation, and God brought to my heart some illusions that I have been holding on to a little too tightly, and suddenly, surprisingly during the 4:30 – 6:30 am morning meditation, my heart was snapped in two, and the tears came. I couldn’t stop them, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t break silence, so for about an hour I sat silently with tears dripping from my chin. After the session was over, I went quickly to my room and took a shower.
Traveling with companions and staying mostly in dorm rooms, privacy is…well, there is none. So I have learned that if I must cry, the shower is the most private place to do it and no one knows. I took a lot of showers over the next few days. It was in this shower that I realized my biggest addiction. Writing. I needed a pen. Writing is how I work things out, and without a pen I had no outlet. I needed a pen!
In the dining hall there is a two sided bulletin board, it has on it the day’s schedule, general information etc. one side in English, the other in Thai. There is, on this board, a sign that says “If you would like to speak to a teacher, sign up below” Great, I wanted to talk with one of the assistants about getting a pen, but unfortunately there was nowhere to sign up. I looked at the Thai side assuming the information was identical, saw the signup sheet in Thai, and put my name on it. I returned at the allotted time and was escorted into a very hot hallway, no fan, no breeze, I am shown a short wooden stool and told to sit until I am called. So I sat, and waited, sweat dripping down my back and forming on my upper lip. “Aha! A sensation”. For the last few days we were supposed to be observing sensations on our upper lip, to be attentive and aware. And finally there it was, sweat. Not a lovely sensation, but a sensation nonetheless. I felt very nervous and apprehensive sitting there in the hallway like an inmate waiting for a parole hearing. And then the nightmare began… One of the leaders approached me, Good, I thought, She seems like a nice one. She bent over and quietly said, “It will be just a few minutes more, the Master is seeing the men first”. The master? I don’t want to speak with the master…I just want a pen. Oh man, I had to get out of this. Just as I was getting up she returned and said, “The master will see you now”. On the walk down the hall I tried to explain that I didn’t really think we needed to bother the master with this but she would have none of it. At the top of the stairs at the far end of the hall she practically shoved me into the room. And there I was, at one end of the empty meditation hall, and there he was in his burnt orange robe perched on his pedestal, at the other. I felt a bit like Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz, and fully expected him to bellow, “Come forward tin man.” But instead, I silently walked the length of the hall and sat cross legged on the floor at his feet next to my interpreter. So I started explaining that I am a writer, then as soon as I said it, it felt like a lie, so I corrected, “Well, I write” and then went on to say that if I could just get a pen to get some thoughts from my head to paper then my head would be cleaned out for meditation. At the end of my perhaps three minute speech, she turned to him and said about three words in Thai. I am pretty sure she condensed my pleadings to “She wants a pen.” He responded to me through her, “Concentrate harder”. I can tell you that I remained respectful, but inside I said, Really? Those are your words of wisdom? C’mon oh wise one, if I could do that I wouldn’t be here. I started to plead my case, but he held up his hand and said, “What if one person wanted to sing, and another to sweep? What would things be like around here then?” I wanted to say… Oh I don’t know…happy and clean? But instead I said, “I understand, thank you for your time”, and left as quickly as I could. And that is how I had accidental audience with the monk master, or master monk, I’m not sure which. And still, no pen.
I returned to my room feeling a little defeated and rebellious. This was supposed to be a meditation course, not a Nazi prison camp. If I had wanted to sing, I thought to myself, I would have just done it, used what God gave me… and then it hit me. He didn’t actually say I couldn’t write, he said I couldn’t have a pen. So I decided to use what God had given me. I took a walk and gathered freshly fallen leaves. I couldn’t pick any, it goes against the no killing any living thing precept. I really must ask where we get our veggies every night – hmm, maybe accident victims. So when I had a stash of leaves and a sharp stick, I began to write. It was slow and tedious, but I felt better right away.
One evening at the 6pm meditation, another surprise. As I lifted my blanket that covers my lap during the sittings, there was a small gift. I recognized it as my old first aid pouch, so I knew that it was from Kevin. Getting back to my cabin that night felt like Christmas morning, I couldn’t wait to open my gift. Inside were packets of instant coffee, a heating coil and a note with words of encouragement about this giving me a lift at the 4am wake up, and a sweet comment, “You looked good today”. I assumed it was in reference to my posture at meditation, unless he thought that my baggy Egyptian pants, stretched out T-shirt from India, hair in braids, no make-up and a mosquito bite the size of a dime on my forehead was a good look for me. Now I don’t mean to gloss over the fact that I am married to the sweetest man on the planet, but let’s focus on the most important part of the note… the man had a PEN!!!! I quickly found a leaf, and with my screw hook (I found it worked much better than the stick), I scratched in the words, Can you get me a pen? Thanks for the coffee. I love you., and gave it to him at that night’s discourse.
The next day I was giddy with anticipation, I couldn’t wait to get my pen. I kept a diligent eye on every trash bin searching for scraps of paper, and finally hit the jackpot when I came across a discarded calendar that was blank on the back. At that night’s discourse I was a little surprised when Kevin made no attempt to smuggle me his pen. I wondered if the scratches were too mottled on the leaf, maybe he couldn’t read it. But then at the end of the session, as we were being dismissed to go to our last meditation of the night, I saw his plan. He was going to do it the right way, he was going to do what I had tried and failed to do…he was going to ask. And worse yet, he was about to ask the one person who knew that I had already asked and been rejected, the interpreter. I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t call out, that was it then, I was doomed. At the last meditation that night he looked so sad. I knew that she had said no, and I could see that he felt that he thought he had failed me. I prayed that this wouldn’t interfere with his progress in the meditation, I was sure he was doing so well. Suddenly I felt immensely selfish. I tried to encourage him with looks and smiles. That night I felt intensely lonely, the only thing I wanted more than a pen was to be lying in this tiny bed in my husband’s arms.
The next morning I skipped the 4:30am meditation, let ‘em come and get me, I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway. At the 8am session, another gift was waiting on my cushion. This time I knew what it was. I had a pen! And, it turned out that I was right…once I was able to get some thoughts onto paper, they no longer haunted my meditation, at last, seven days in I was finally ready to give it my all. Maybe I will try singing and sweeping as well.
Once I was able to quiet my mind, to stop the words that were ping ponging in random chaos in my head, I could gather them up and put them away. Focusing became more and more natural, and eventually I learned to feel even the slightest sensations on my body, to acknowledge them observe them, and move on. Practicing on my own body, learning to harness the technique, I understood what a valuable tool this could be in managing pain. I thought specifically of two of my daughters, Amanda, who is studying to become a Doula, I think would embrace this as a natural pain control method during labor and delivery; and Melissa, who suffers from chronic back pain. I was able to get through both cramps and back pain without any medication. I have a long way to go, but the ability to observe sensations, even pain and remain disconnected from it is not only possible, but very valuable. However, I have by no means mastered this, and even after I got my pen my mind still tended to wander a bit more than I would have liked. But now, instead of writing or singing in my head, I was able to take the concepts I was learning, and begin to let go of some of the unhealthy illusions that I have carried with me for a very long time. It wasn’t an easy process; some had to be painfully extracted like an abscessed molar.
The process made me think of Sybil, the girl with multiple personalities. Once she began treatment, her personalities within her began to disappear. Even though this was necessary for her healing, and they were only illusions to begin with, they had been her companions for a very long time, and losing them must have been a very scary and lonely place to be. Or…to help make me sound a little less crazy, I liken the process to a mother’s Empty Nest Syndrome. How many times I have heard mother’s say, “Someday the kids will be grown and gone, and then finally my house will be quiet and clean”, and before she knows it, the kids are grown and gone, and her house is quiet and clean, but she is unhappy because somehow there was comfort in the chaos. My heart was being broken again and again, in this work of cleaning up the mess in my head.
I have decided however, that a few illusions I will keep.. Once while chatting online with Amanda, I told her that I missed Roman (the grandchild born while we have been away). She asked me how I could miss someone I have never met. I don’t know how, but I know that I do, and I will keep that one. Imagining holding his chubby, wiggly body, kissing his soft cheeks, the smell of his skin. Yeah, I’ll hold on to that one.
I have also been noticing that my prayer life has become rich and powerful. Those same pesky little thoughts that kept crashing my meditation party also liked to interrupt my prayers. I was finding that I was spending more and more time with God, and He was faithfully bringing to mind many people for prayer. Knowing that Kevin and I are praying for each other here made a big difference as well, I could tangibly feel his uplifting prayers of support, and I prayed for him many times each day.
Looking back, I am glad that I took on this challenge, and it was definitely a challenge. It was exciting going in, in the midst of it at times very painful with moments of encouraging progress, and in the end, the hope of new life. I am not sure if I would do it again or not, but the tools I learned I will take with me always. I learned to embrace the silence, but was so grateful to the women who looked me in the eyes and smiled. Technically this was breaking noble silence, but there is something very noble about compassion and encouragement, and some days I couldn’t have gotten through without them.
I think what I missed the most in the silence was laughter. In our family there is a lot of laughter, and I love the sound of joy. I missed saying, “Goodnight, I love you”. When I turned off the lights. And I missed being touched. I had taken for granted, the feeling of Kevin slipping his hand into mine, or Rachel laying her head on my shoulder on a long bus ride. I hope to never take them for granted again.
So as I re-enter the world of noise and stimulus, I will remember what I have learned and I will soak in every moment in my husband’s arms, because that is what is real, love. I have been able to let go of some of my illusions, painful as it was, and now I will seek what is real. I will snuggle up in the arms of my reality.
P.S. On the eighth day, I killed two mosquitoes, and I’m NOT sorry.
~ Andi
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