Shout Out #24
Trip Start
Jun 05, 2006
1
27
41
Trip End
Ongoing
Jaipur,
India
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Ten days of silence wasn't an intimidating idea. I've had weekends where I didn't say much beyond hello to a grocery clerk. In fact, I'd take great pleasure in not having to listen or speak nearly as much as I do. It'd be a great service to humanity should speaking be drastically limited. To quote my favorite poet, Saul Williams:
"...There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness..."
Odd from a man getting paid to speak, but it gets at the precise point of noble silence in a 10-day vipassana course. To speak requires thought (ideally) and to meditate is to be without thought: thoughtless. Reading, writing, and listening to music...also thought stimulants to be foregone throughout the course. As I checked in my materials of mental stimulation I knew it wasn't simply about being quiet. Noble silence is about being with yourself, acknowledging everything that comes to the surface when the distractions are gone. That was far more intimidating than not speaking.
After handing over my materials and checking into my room I got my last words in with Elad, the Israeli man I met in Pushkar. We spent them talking about how the animals tend to act slightly different in India as we watched the peacocks flying up to the tree branches. We didn't talk again until we both had changed rather dramatically.
Going into it I knew very little about what IT actually was. Prior to the course my daily schedule had been a casual affair- waking mid-morning, minimizing my time in the mid-day heat, checking out the sights in the evening, and reading in my room until 2 or 3 AM. In the course the morning gong rang at 4 AM, our first meditation was at 4:30, there were 10 ½ hours of meditation each day, and a nightly 1 ½ discourse on the philosophy of the practice. Though my schedule was reversed dramatically it happened easily. Waking to a gong at 4 in the morning is actually really pleasant. My lifelong love of late nights and late mornings shifted literally overnight. I have since maintained a similar schedule and wake more eager to start the day.
For the first three days we practiced annapana meditation, a method of observing natural respiration and the sensations around the nose area. We were allowed to freely shift our sitting postures; we simply had to observe the sensations around the nose...for 10 ½ hours a day, 3 days straight. Time moved sloooow and the days were loooong. On the third day I didn't go crazy but I started to wonder whether craziness would ensue after 10 days of nasal watching.
My body also slowed down, particularly my digestion. Every time I stood up or sat down a piercing pain inflicted my right side, especially in my right lung. (Sensations I could easily observe.) At first I thought it was from awkward sleep on the hard mattress. When I spoke to the meditation leader he told me to take smaller portions of food. (He called us up in groups of 2 or 3 to ask how we were doing. It was acceptable to speak with the teacher.) In his presence I felt none of the pain but when he mentioned food I realized exactly what was wrong- I had three days of porridge stuck in my large intestine. I could actually feel how my intestine wrapped around my stomach. It felt like it was made of wood. Being my first course, I was allowed to eat three meals a day- breakfast, lunch, and a small dinner. It was far too much food. The pain went away when I controlled my appetite.
On day 4 we were introduced to Vipassana. As perfected by Guatama Buddha 2500 years ago, Vipassana is a "method of developing self knowledge through self observation." Buddha didn't teach religion or dogma. He simply spoke of what he did to become what he became. This is from one of his discourses:
"Do not simply believe whatever you are told, or whatever has been handed down from past generations, or what is common opinion, or whatever the scriptures say. Do not accept something as true merely by deduction or inference, or by considering outward appearances, or by partiality for a certain view, or because of its plausibility, or because your teacher tells you it is so. But when you yourselves directly know, "These principles are unwholesome, blameworthy, condemned by the wise; when adopted and carried out they lead to harm and suffering," then you should abandon them. And when you yourselves directly know, "These principles are wholesome, blameless, praised by the wise; when adopted and carried out they lead to welfare and happiness," then you should accept and practice them."
Buddha's Eightfold Path is divided into three main arenas- sila (morality), samadhi (mastery of mind), and panna (wisdom). Noble silence is a part of sila. The vegetarian diet we were fed is also part of establishing healthy sila. The initial practice of annapana meditation introduced elements of Samadhi. With each inhalation and exhalation and the observation of sensations coming and going, my mind naturally wandered in every direction- past, future, and very little now. Some memories or projections were hard to shake and brought much anger, pain, or joy. They were my attachments to ideas and my burdens of being attached. Observing respiration simultaneously worked to develop control over the mind, created better awareness of the present moment, and helped develop awareness of the present reality as it is without having any craving or aversion (attachments/desires). It was good groundwork for the method introduced on day 4.
Literally translated from Pali, vipassana means introspection- insight that totally purifies the mind. Vipassana brought the additional benefit of developing panna, or understanding reality as it is, not as it appears. By shifting our observation from the nose to the rest of the body, following a route from head to foot, and witnessing all the sensations that come and go, the constantly shifting nature of the universe became more clearly apparent. My ideas about those sensations also became more clearly apparent. We could sit however we liked but we were meant to hold that posture throughout the duration of a session. In time my legs gave sensations I identified as pain or discomfort and I wanted to move. In the rare moments when I truly observed the sensations with equanimity it was easy to sit in one position for long durations- the pain only existed when I identified certain sensations as being painful. With much practice it is possible to take control over the mind to the extent of not reacting blindly to stimulus and becoming fully aware of the true reality in life.
Our universe is an ever-fluctuating field composed of miniscule units of energy that appear and disappear trillions of times per second. Like the universe, our bodies are in flux, composed of the same flighty particles of matter. That's reality, not reality as it appears. Our minds are composed of four segments- consciousness, perception, sensation, and reaction. Goenka, the man who brought Vipassana back to India from Burma (the tradition was kept alive by Buddhist monks in Burma and within the past 50 years it was reintroduced in India by Goenka) describes these segments best.
"The first segment is called vinnana, which may be translated as consciousness. The sense organs are lifeless unless consciousness comes into contact with them. For example, one is engrossed in a vision, a sound may come and one will not hear it, because all one's consciousness is with the eyes. The function of this part of the mind is to cognize, simply to know, without differentiating. A sound comes into contact with the ear, and the vinnana notes only the fact that a sound has come.
Then the next part of the mind starts working: sanna, perception. A sound has come, and from one's past experience and memories, one recognizes it: a sound...words...words of praise...good; or else, a sound...words...words of abuse...bad. One gives an evaluation of good or bad, according to one's past experience.
At once the third part of the mind starts working: vedana, sensation. As soon as a sound comes, there is a sensation on the body, but when the perception recognizes it and gives it a valuation, the sensation becomes pleasant or unpleasant, in accordance with that valuation. For example: a sound has come...words...words of praise...good- and one feels a pleasant sensation throughout the body. Or else; a sound has come...words...words of abuse...bad- and one feels an unpleasant sensation throughout the body. Sensations arise on the body, and are felt by the mind; this is the function called vedana.
Then the fourth part of the mind starts working: sankhara, reaction. A sound has come...words...words of praise...good...pleasant sensation...and one starts liking it: "This praise is wonderful! I want more!" Or else: a sound has come...words...words of abuse...bad...unpleasant sensation- and one starts disliking it: "I can't bear this abuse, stop it!" At each of the sense doors, the same process occurs; eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body. Similarly, when a thought or imagination comes into contact with the mind, in the same way a sensation arises on the body, pleasant or unpleasant, and one starts reacting with liking or disliking. This momentary liking develops into great craving; this disliking develops into great aversion. One starts tying knots inside.
Here is the real seed that gives fruit, the action that will have results: the sankhara, the mental reaction. Every moment one keeps sowing this seed, keeps reacting with liking or disliking, craving or aversion, and by doing so makes oneself miserable.
There are reactions that make a very light impression, and are eradicated almost immediately, those that make a slightly deeper impression and are eradicated after a little time, and those that make a very deep impression, and take a very long time to be eradicated. At the end of a day, if one tries to remember all the sankhara that one has generated, one will be able to recall only the one or two that made the deepest impression during that day. In the same way, at the end of a month or of a year, one will be able to recall only the one or two sankhara that made the deepest impression during that time. And like it or not, at the end of life, whatever sankhara has made the strongest impression is bound to come up in the mind; and the next life will begin with a mind of the same nature, having the same qualities of sweetness or bitterness. We create our own future, by our actions."
With that as the base philosophy, there were two aspects of the meditation: breaking the barrier between the conscious and unconscious mind and developing equanimity. The deepest sankharas dwell in the unconscious mind, the part that constantly remains aware of the bodily sensations. It's only possible to overcome unconscious reaction by taking mastery over the conscious mind. Mastery is developed through equanimity, being aware of sensations without developing cravings or aversions (desire). It's a lot of discussion for a rather uncomplicated practice. Meditation isn't so much about having a huge world-rocking experience but about letting the silence bring realignment. I once liked to stay up late and sleep in late. It just so happens that my life works better when I do the opposite. Simple details have vast impacts. In silence the details speak because they can be heard.
Over the course of the 10 days I worked hard to develop the ability to sit in posture for a full hour. It sometimes happened easily and sometimes I struggled to keep focus. Outside of the meditations I spent some of the relaxation hours roaming the property and taking in the surroundings. Groups of monkeys swung from the trees, the peacocks roamed around in the shade, and other people walked by in silence. I noticed how certain birds sat in the trees and the way a chipmunk used the shadow of a tree for a cool bridge across the hot concrete. I especially watched the people and created ideas about what they were like without ever having spoken to any of them. Based on habits or body language I started to create personas. When we were able to speak on the last day, few people fit the image I created for them. It surprised me how different everybody seemed; some people seemed more honest when quiet and others were honest with language. It was clear when people used language by habit or as a tool.
In total there were around 100 participants- about 90 Indians and 10 foreigners. It was maybe 2/3 men. Men and women had separate sleeping quarters on opposite sides of the property and during the meditations sat on opposite sides of a large hall. We ate separately and remained in separate areas during the relaxation hours. I really caught a glimpse of some of the cultural differences in India. Next to all the public water taps were 3 or 4 metal cups. Not one person ever touched the cups to their lips. Even if somebody has a bottle of water, they will never touch their lips to the bottle. It's an act of possession and such items are generally public goods. Even in train stations, the cups are used the same way. It's really an amazing civil awareness. Then in the meditations, with noble silence fully acknowledged, men and women alike belched and farted with an almost frightening regularity. Certain people found ways to belch several times a minute throughout the hour... I got distracted and started counting.
By the end of the course I realized I was fully prepared to return home. Whatever threads of growth or insight that started to unravel over the year were now realigned in a new way. I didn't leave with any set ideas about what I wanted to accomplish but somehow during the course I knew I had accomplished whatever I needed to accomplish before going home. I was ready to see my family and friends; I could fly home without feeling like something was left incomplete.
On the last day we were allowed to speak after the morning meditation. I chatted with Elad a bit over breakfast but I wasn't yet ready to speak again. It took too much energy and I didn't have a whole lot I wanted to say. In the afternoon I did gain some good insight from a French Canadian guy who's been through several courses. He had a way of describing things that helped me advance my practice. After hearing his advice, my afternoon meditation was the best of the entire experience. It was the perfect way to end the 10 days.
An early morning bus took us from the solace of the meditation center back to the raucous of India proper. It was an entertaining ride. I couldn't help but laugh as the driver swerved into the wrong lanes, honked at oncoming traffic, and fought his way to the center of Jaipur. Though I had forgotten what India was like, it was now somehow different. The people weren't the same people and things that used to frustrate me... frustrated me a little bit less.
Mentally I was content returning home but I knew there was more to see. I meant to go south toward Bombay but the summer had arrived. Elad was going north and I liked his plans. We checked into a hotel based on the fact that a certain girl from the course went there. I had wanted to talk with her for 10 days and was happy to get the opportunity. She's an artist from England just completing several months working in Jaipur with textiles. Elad and I were going to Rishikesh, she had more time in Rajasthan before heading north also. The defining portion of my time in India was just beginning. It set the tone for how I've moved forward in life.
