Dukha. Misery. Anitya. Impermanence. Anatman. Non-self.
After 10 days of learning how to
engage in mindfulness, I am back to my normal life. I struggle as I try to
apply the doctrines of non-existence and impermanence to my daily life events.
It was easy when I was removed from my perceived reality of all these years.
For 10 days, I was tucked away in a retreat center, surrounded by green trees
that overlooked a manicured meadow. No communication of any sort was permitted
with the rest of the world, except with the teacher during break. Cardinals,
woodpeckers, nuthatches, robins, starlings and bluebirds practiced their music
till late evening. Someone kindly provided a comfortable bed, an extra blanket
and even a hot water bottle and medicine when I was sick. Someone cooked
delicious, nutritious, vegetarian food and served it wholeheartedly. Someone
chimed the gong at intervals from 4 am to 9 pm to remind me of the daily
schedule. In essence, I breathed, ate, slept, walked, contemplated and dreamt mindfulness.
Day zero was fun, meeting fellow
meditators, new and old. The rules seemed easy to follow. At 6pm, a light
dinner of salad, PBJ sandwich, rice, soup and a variety of herbal teas. Thenceforth
began the Noble Silence. Sitting cross legged came naturally to me. Eyes
closed, lights dimmed and embark on the inward journey. Focus on your
breathing,
as it is. 3 hours seemed to fly. Lights out at 10 pm. I slept
in fits and starts-new bed, new pillow, strangers for roommates. Out of bed at
4 am, meditate from 4.30. After about 45 minutes of
Anapana my stomach growled
“coffee!”. From 5.30 to 6.30, we could continue there or in our rooms. I got
up, glad for some movement. Tiny needles shot up from my feet to my knees. Back
in my room, I tried hard not to think of breakfast and resumed Anapana. “This
too shall pass” I told my stomach-ache. At the shower, I discovered I was able
to do quite a bit with less. Breakfast at 6.30 was a choice of juices and
herbal teas, cooked oats and other healthy looking cereals, fruits, toast,
yogurt, cottage cheese, organic soy milk and whole milk. No coffee! How could I
survive without something that I was used to for nearly 5 decades? I
desperately grabbed a glass of orange juice and downed it in a gulp. I noticed
I ate more than what I did at home. The herbal tea without milk warmed my heart.
A walk in the rolling meadows, a little rest and back to the meditation hall.
Lunch at 11, rest or walk or talk to your teacher, meditate from 1 pm. The
headache and nausea began around that time and lasted till 10 pm. Was this the
beginning of the uprooting my
sankharas? I felt terrible that I missed the sessions. The assistant
teacher enveloped with me with compassion and empathy-extra blanket, medicines,
a hot water bottle and a rice-crispy for the night. “I will bounce back
tomorrow. I want to do this.” She believed me. I did.
The deracinating of my sankharas
became more obvious to me by about day 5. In chunks of decades, my past
unfolded, jogging my memory stuff that lay deep in the recesses of my mind.
Stuff that I thought I had overcome. Creating pleasant, unpleasant, comfortable
and uncomfortable sensations-a recently healed shoulder sprain, a pounding
headache, heaviness in the chest, a smile, a tear, an itch, a beating pulse, a
twitch.
On the last night, the silence
ended and we engaged in noble chatter. At 11 pm, sleep was hard to come by.
That’s when the dissolution began. Starting from my feet, it spread upwards
till it reached the top of my head. Every part of my body was pulsating
steadily. Just like the pulse beat one feels on the wrist. Only there were 100s
of pulse beats. Was this a precursor to
Bhanga gnana?? I was not imagining it. Would I soon ‘see’ and ‘know’ that
I am a part of the highly revolving mass of nano particles? I wanted to savor
the moments. Could I? How could I not? How could I remain equanimous and tell
myself “This Too Shall Pass?” I didn’t want it to! It was
my experience.
I had the right to enjoy it. But then, it did pass, too soon.
Anicca.
I wasn’t ready for Nirvana. Not yet.
I wanted to go home. On day 11, I stood outside at a
Greyhound bus stop, waiting for my bus which was two hours away, determined
that I would make every effort to live a Vipashyanic life henceforth.
Dukha. Misery. It was a Sunday and the
doors were not open yet. There was a light drizzle and a cold breeze pierced
through my thin jacket. The tall, black man next to me had wasted 30 dollars on
a taxi to see someone who wasn’t there when he knocked on her door. A white family
of 4 talked about home schooling their gifted child with autism whom the public
school system had failed. A young, Hispanic woman with beautiful, long hair
stood smoking. I will call her Mary.
After half an hour, the doors
opened. A young, black woman ran in, crying “Was that my bus?” I will call her
Shauna. By the time she paid off the taxi and crossed the busy street, the bus had
left. “I swear the driver saw me. How could he do this?” Of course it was all
her fault and there was no refund. She had to buy another ticket for a later
bus. She sat in a corner, calling someone, crying and cursing. Mary called
someone on her phone and she was crying too. She was going home after visiting
her 7 day old child who was under intensive care. “I am so tired! I had no
sleep last night and my feet hurt. Wore the wrong shoes in a hurry!” Shauna
finished her call and turned an attentive ear to Mary. She dug into her bag and
pulled up a pair of flip flops. “Here! You can have them. I have a good pair of
shoes on, and don’t need these.” Selflessness. Mary smiled through her tears
and accepted the flip flops gratefully.
Anitya. Impermanence. “I’m not
gonna sit here till that bus comes! I’m goin out! Can I leave my bag here?”
Shauna asked the woman at the counter. “Sure. Go ahead. I will keep it locked for
you.” More acts of kindness! I was eager for a walk too. We put our bags in the
run down room across the lounge. Shauna left with a friend. Mary leaned against
the bench wearily. “Can I get you some coffee?” I asked her hesitatingly. To my
delight, she accepted. Throwing her shoes in a corner, she slipped into the
flip flops and we stepped out. Everyone and their families traipsed about,
enjoying the ‘Taste of the City’ festival. Participants in the local run showed
off their medals and t-shirts. Mary and I walked 3 blocks down to a coffee
shop. We sat on the benches outside, sipping coffee, watching the festival.
“I have to spend 40 dollars a day,
every other day to visit my child. Sometimes they don’t have a room and so I
have to spend another 60 dollars on a hotel. After I come home, I have to take
my 5 year old to the clinic. She is on treatment for Leukemia. My two older
ones are straight A kids. My new ex is harassing me ‘cos he thinks I am
preventing him from seeing his child. It’s not me. It’s the police. They don’t
want him there, cos he’s been very abusive and was arrested. He pushed me out
from a bus when I was pregnant. That’s how the baby got hurt I think. I was
bleeding so bad. His culture is very different from my culture. I didn’t know that
before I met him. He also made me do drugs. But I have been good for 8 months
now. I realized I valued my kids more than the drugs. I have to take a test
twice a week and prove I am good or else they won’t let me see my baby.”
Dear Enlightened One, This Too
Shall Pass, but when? How does one maintain equanimity when every day is filled
with suffering and injustice?
My turn. I told her briefly about
the camp. “Sounds so peaceful! I need to try that. I am so stressed!”
“Do you have friends?”
“No they don’t talk to me after I
got into drugs. The only person I have is my counselor. She’s good.”
“You are a really brave, young
woman. You should be very proud of yourself! Here, take my phone number. Whenever
you feel really down, and want to talk to someone, call me.”
Anatman. Non-self. Back home, I
gobbled up the idli and sambar that my husband had kindly cooked. A big mug of
coffee savored. Did our home cooked food always taste this delicious? My puppy
seemed overjoyed. She probably experienced object permanence confusion while I
was gone. My vegetable plants looked really grown! How did I survive without my
computer and cell phone for 10 days? Emails, messages, emails, messages. Apparently,
the world had run as usual in my absence. No one seemed to mind that I didn’t
reply to their messages the minute they arrived in my mailbox. Strangely, I
didn’t either!
I asked my son the question I was
dying to ask. “How could you ignore all those problems in the course?” His
reply was like a gentle slap in the face. “Mom, do you realize you started
accumulating new
sankharas by paying attention to those ‘problems’?” My ego was
larger than I had thought. Not only had I spent some energy and time on my
negative impressions, I had also shared them with my fellow meditators on the
last day.
My ideas,
my opinions. Nothing wrong in having them.
“I went there to learn a
technique. Nothing else mattered.” Wise words from a 19 year old. I was
reminded that ‘The disunited mind is far from
wise; how can it meditate?…’[Bhagavad Gita]
Gnanodayam. Epiphany. Vipashyana
is a way of life. It is not merely meditating for an hour or so, daily. It must
pervade everything I do.
It was easy to apply it to things
that gave me pleasure. Drinking a mindful cup of delicious coffee. Breakfast at
the kitchen table instead of my desk, one hand clutching the mouse. Mentally
scanning my body during running-head to toe, observing my breathing, my heart
beat, my stretching muscles. Being completely mindful during interactions with
family and friends. Savoring every moment, yet mindful of the transitory nature
of the sensations. On the other hand, acceptance of negative life
circumstances. Not letting negative actions and words hurt. Being aware of how
my actions and words affected others. Forgiving those who harm. Remaining
equanimous in the face of adversity. So difficult, sometimes almost impossible!
After nearly two weeks, where am
I? One hour of Vipashyana daily when the world around me is quiet. Around 5 am
or after 10 pm. During the day, 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there. The rest of
the day, constantly questioning-sometimes in retrospect, sometimes during each
encounter. Why did something affect me a
certain way? How did it manifest physically? How could I have reacted
differently? How was/is my breathing affected? Some events/words created a heaviness in the
chest, some a lightness. Irritation increased my breath rate. Some events and
words actually struck my stomach. Sankharas—negative impressions accumulated
over the years—affecting my metabolism and leading to my migraine? Mind and
Matter.
Letting Go and Acceptance. The
most unattainable goals. Something to work on.
