Mundane Turbulence

On December 22, the day after my 30th birthday, I began a silent meditation retreat held by the Oregon Vipassanā Association at Cedar Ridge in Vernonia, OR. The association’s umbrella organization was founded by a businessman-turned-meditation master, S. N. Goenka. Goenka is of Indian Hindu descent, but was born in Burma. As he grew into adulthood, increasing his wealth and standing, he began to develop severe migraines, for which he, at one point, had been prescribed morphine injections. Lacking any real desire to become a morphine addict, he sought treatment around the world, but could not find relief. Returning to Burma, which is a heavily Buddhist culture, a doctor suggested another approach: vipassanā meditation. Goenka attended a 10-day retreat, his migraines disappeared, and he decided to dedicate himself to the technique, and then later to its propagation.

Vipassanā is, in short, the direct application of what is known as the Noble Eightfold Path of Buddhism (split into three divisions): morality, concentration, and wisdom, which, when followed, lead to the cessation of life’s suffering (Buddhism’s stated goal). The practice of morality is marked by simple abstentions (as precepts): no killing, no stealing, no sexual misconduct, no lying, and no intoxication (as well as no eating after noon, no wearing extravagant things, and no sleeping in comfortable beds for more advanced practitioners). These prohibitions are, when it comes down to it, intended to facilitate practice without the distractions that are inherent to violating them. Concentration is the cultivation of focused awareness, which is easier when unhindered by distraction, and then wisdom is the implementation of that awareness. This is a circular succession, however: morality facilitates concentration which becomes wisdom that thus informs morality; these three divisions, when broken down into their component processes are considered the “spokes” of the Dhamma Wheel - dhamma being the route of the Noble Eightfold Path.

Okay, so there’re our Goenka/vipassanā/Buddhism greatest hits. Before I go into my experience at the retreat, however, I want to give my background. I recently realized that I have had meditation in my life for 18 years, since I was an itty-bitty 12-year-old white belt in Shaolin Kempo Karate (I went to one of the Villari’s Self-Defense Centers, where my master, David Leggeri still teaches – what a great guy). Back then, and throughout the entirety of my teens, meditation was simply a relaxation exercise; I’d clear my head in order to perform in some way (sparring, etc.). After earning my black belt, I continued for another year or so, but I was in college and starting to have sex regularly and karate was just so over. With the end of martial arts came the end of meditation, at least in any consistent manner, until sometime into my mid-20s.

During that period, I met a woman named Becky, with whom I was immediately enamored. Being a far more enlightened individual than myself, she went about introducing me to a number of culturally and intellectually enriching experiences, including a visit to a meditation group (Shambala). I only attended one sitting, but during a time in my life when I was enduring weekly panic attacks, that episode stood out starkly as an exception to my norm. In retrospect, I believe that it in fact set me down the path towards not only resolving my panic disorder, but also rediscovering meditational interests. And as my personal and academic pursuits progressed, I became evermore interested in expanding my understanding of meditative practices. “Mindfulness” was just becoming the newest buzz word in psychology, and I was decidedly on board. Over the past three or four years, I have worked to reinstitute a regular practice, and to know that practice on an intellectual level.

All of this is meant, really, as a disclaimer: the experiences that I had during the meditation retreat were of course colored by my nearly two decades of – however sometimes fragmented – practice. My understanding is that everyone feels very different things during these retreats, and expectations should not be developed from my story. Okay, end of extended warning. I’ll start with the details of our daily schedule:

4:00am: wake-up call
At every period throughout the day, a lovely gong was rung to let us know that it was time to do the next thing (whatever it happened to be). This was a fantastically liberating experience, as it meant that I could simply let go of time; it was someone else’s obligation and concern. Also, this was the time during which I showered.

4:30 – 6:30am: meditation in our rooms or in the dhamma hall
Our first meditation of the day allowed for choice of surrounding. My room was in a small bunkhouse shared with six other dudes, so the dhamma hall (the shared meditation room), which was relative spacious, was almost always my preference. On top of that, the temptation to sleep during these miserably fucking ungodly nightmare hours was far too alluring with the presence of a bed – even if it was this one:

Cozy?

6:30 – 8:00am: breakfast and rest
Every morning, we had a variety of lovely breakfast choices: some kind of oat-based cereal with dehydrated blueberries, fresh fruit (oranges, bananas, apples), yogurt, hot oatmeal, stewed prunes and raisins, three types of bread/toast (with butter, peanut butter,  or preserves), milk (soy, rice, or cow), and a large selection of teas. There was also sometimes a kind of veggie and rice stew. Yeah, breakfast ruled: I generally ate a couple bowls of cereal with rice milk and bananas, along with a toasted PB&J, until the latter really started feeling way too heavy (about halfway through the retreat). Tea was also essential. Then I’d usually grab a 45-minute nap.

8:00 – 9:00am: group meditation in the dhamma hall
This was the first of three daily required sittings in the dhamma hall. During this time, we’d be given specific meditation instructions, which would guide us until at least the the next required sitting. These – and all – formal instructions were relayed via audio recordings of Goenka.

9:00 – 10:00am: meditation in our rooms or in the dhamma hall, according to teacher instructions
In addition to the formal instructions given by Goenka’s recordings, there were occasions during which we’d be called in small groups to sit at the feet of our live teachers. The retreat being segregated by gender, males had a teacher (Adam Shepard, just a really nice guy), and females had a teacher (Anna…something; right, I had no real interactions with her), both of whom were present at the front of the dhamma hall during the required sittings. The questions were simple check-ins to make sure that we were progressing at the minimum pace, lasting no more than a minute or two, and sometimes the teacher would offer encouraging advice. This particular slot was almost always used for female check-ins, so I didn’t have to stay, but I did most days anyway, again for accountability’s sake.

10:00 – 11:00am: meditation in our rooms or in the dhamma hall
Didn’t have to be in the dhamma hall, usually was.

11:00am – noon: lunch and rest
This was our last full meal of the day, so in spite of its timing, the offerings were din-dins. The food was…the shit: all natural, simple, not a lot of spice, all vegetarian (and more often vegan than not), and delicious. Dishes I remember: lentils, veggie stew, spaghetti, some kind of Indian-style mash, tofu steaks, chili, tempe steaks, falafel. All of these main dishes were accompanied by salad and other fresh veggie dishes, as well as some kind of starch (usually brown rice). I really could not believe how good the food was! It’s the kind of food that makes you realize that you want to change your dietary habits (I’m sure there were plenty of dudes there previously uninterested in tofu).

noon – 1:00pm: teacher meetings
If we were having questions or concerns about our practice, this was a time for which we could schedule a meeting with our teacher for about 5-10 minutes. I didn’t sign-up during my stay; generally, this was my second napsies.

1:00 – 2:30pm: meditation in our rooms or in the dhamma hall

2:30 – 3:30pm: group meditation in the dhamma hall
This was our second of three daily required sittings in the dhamma hall.

3:30 – 5:00pm: meditation in our rooms or in the dhamma hall, according to teach instructions
This was usually when male students would be invited to answer questions about progress from the teacher.

5:00 – 6:00pm: tea and rest
No meal, but tasty teas and fruit. Also, I think the teachers were available for meetings during this time, as well.

6:00 – 7:00pm: group meditation in the dhamma hall
The third and final daily required sitting in the dhamma hall.

7:00 – 8:15pm-ish: daily discourse
Movie time! This was when we got to “meet” Goenka, watching recording lectures (or “dhamma talks”) that would explain the theory behind our previous practice, as well as outline upcoming practice. Goenka is…a darling old man. The videos, which were recorded over 20 years ago, nonetheless convey a sense of a vibrant, intelligent, clever, and engaging individual. This is Goenka as he appeared in the videos we saw:

Total sweetheart.

There was nothing outstanding or saintly about him; he is, quite simply, the granddad you wish you had. His discourses were filled with hilarious and poignant anecdotes (which often had the entire room laughing and transfixed, respectively), as well as a more than solid understanding of a variety of Buddhist concepts and terms (which he often translated and interpreted directly from Buddhism’s original – and now dead – language, Pāli). I would be surprised if there were anyone at the retreat who didn’t look forward to these lectures.

8:15-ish – 9:00pm: group meditation in the dhamma hall
A required sitting, but really just a post-discourse time-filler, generally no longer than about 20 minutes.

9:00 – 9:30pm: open Q&A
If students had a question or two, they could approach their teacher. Most of the time, I just headed to bed; after all, by that point, I’d been meditating for between 10 and 11 hours!

10:00: lights out
Thank the gods.

So, with a couple exceptions, that was our daily schedule! And now, the experiences that stood out and/or were meaningful to me:

December 22 (Orientation Day)
This day…did not start well. The previous evening being that of my birthday, I may have, potentially – maybe – had too much to drink, running around Portland. There’s actually still a question in my mind about the whole situation, because I drank what I’d believed was within my limit, had plenty of water, and also made sure my stomach was more than full (which, along with…observing the contents of my stomach, actually makes me lean towards food poisoning). Regardless, I woke up on my friend Josh’s floor (not where I landed, but where my sleeping area actually was, I swear) without any real ability to stand or really move very much at all. One of my best friends, Laz, was in town along with his sister, Zenith, and it actually got to the point – during the late morning, convulsing on Josh’s floor, pleading “please please please” out loud to an empty apartment – where I’d asked him if I could spend Christmas with his family in case I couldn’t recover. He and Zenith came to my rescue with soup and crackers and orange juice and bananas – a true kindness. I was able to get it together enough not to call the whole thing off; and wow would that have been embarrassing.

Midway through the afternoon, I was picked up Peter and Rebecca, who had volunteered to drive me from Portland to Vernonia. The first thing I noticed about them: they are a rather strikingly attractive couple! We got to talking over the course of the hour-ish drive, and I learned that they are also very intelligent and interesting people, as well as doubly courageous, given that they’d had little to no previous meditation experience. When we eventually got to Cedar Ridge, we continued to have stimulating conversations, and after males and females became segregated, Peter and I began to bond on our shared interest in Jewishness. I definitely get an older cousin vibe from him, which makes me happy.

That evening, we met in the dhamma hall, pledged to maintain the precepts, and then took the vow of “noble silence,” which meant not only no verbal communication, but no nonverbal communication, either. We also received our first meditation instructions in what is called ānāpāna, which basically means “inhalation and exhalation.” The type of meditation we’d be doing would involve no controlled breathing – just hanging out with our regular breath.

Day 1
I was surprised with how easily I was able to wake at 4:30 in the morning. The entire day was spent doing ānāpāna, simply observing (objectively) any sensations that we could feel anywhere in our faces (I actually learned to intentionally feel the ever-existing pressure within my sinuses). I remember walking through the grounds after breakfast and thinking, this is my reality now. Wild.

Day 2
On the second day, we paid attention to the touch of our breath within a circumscribed “triangular” area, from the bridge of the nose to just above the upper-lip. If we felt any sensations as a result, we were instructed to merely observe those sensations. As I really started paying attention to my nose, I had a grand realization: there is a world within my nose (yeah, I know, it is big). The discourse that evening was particularly thought-provoking, as well: Goenka was talking about the importance of morality, and he had no problem labeling certain professions as immoral. Butchers are immoral: they harm other beings through slaughter; arms dealers are immoral: guns don’t kill people, people kill people – people who sell guns, that is; and many businessmen are immoral: they are elated when there is scarcity, which causes prices to rise (Goenka noted that he spoke on this from personal experience). I was impressed with his candor, really.

Day 3
We narrowed the focus of our attention even further on day 3, observing sensations only on the inside of the nose, around the nostrils, or above the upper-lip. The dhamma talk that evening was about concentration, which had been the purpose of progressively narrowing attentional focus. Goenka spoke about “right” concentration vs. “wrong” concentration, giving a rather shocking example: the concentration required for predators to hunt prey is impressive, but it is, in fact, wrong (which isn’t their fault or anything – it’s just that they’re ignorant). Between his critique of certain professions and his critique of the natural world, Goenka was indicting a great deal of what we take for granted. Again, I was impressed.

Day 4
Vipassanā day! We started the morning attending to sensation between only the nostrils and the upper-lip, but from 3:00 – 5:00pm, we were required to attend training in vipassanā, which is basically a body scan that starts at the top of the head, traveling down to the tip of the toes, noticing any sensations that arise without any judgment. For the first sitting – in which we were instructed to engage without attempting to move or shift at all – we were guided through the body piece-by-piece (top of the head, rest of the scalp, forehead, eyebrows, eyes, ears, etc.); as maintaining my posture began to take its toll, I began trembling and sweating. It was not easy, but I got through it.

The discourse that evening detailed the basic mechanism of vipassanā: the mind-body phenomenon. The theory asserts that thoughts and emotions cause physical effects within the body (and they of course do, from changes in breath to biochemical reactions), all of which accumulate to cause distress and suffering, and even if we’re not aware of these effects, they are always present. Worse yet, they manifest in all aspects of our lives, including relationships, work, and so on. Therefore, in order to remedy all these external effects, one must be able to become aware of and equanimously approach their catalytic internal roots – this, of course, being the purpose of vipassanā, and being the actual cultivation of wisdom.Interesting stuff.

Day 5
Slowly: vipassanā, vipassanā, vipassanā.

Day 6
On the sixth day, we started moving with greater fluidity from the top of the head to the toes, and then back. That morning was a rough one for me, as I’d had the misforture of learning throughout the previous night that one of my bunkmates was a pretty loud sleep-talker/yelper. I really do find sleep-talking to be totally creepy, I have to say. So my morning meditations were…not so good. By the late-morning, I decided that I would try a bit of meditating in my room, lying in my bed (I had the perfect awake-staying position: legs butterfly style with my knees propped on either side of the bed frame, and a pillow propped uncomfortably under my neck). As I scanned my body, I had the most sublime sensation: a burst suddenly hit me, and I felt…ecstasy. It was like allover tingling and vibration that lasted for about 2-3 minutes, after which I considered, did I just have a female orgasm? It. Was. Awesome. And no I did not even consider approaching the experience equanimously. In fact, wandering around after lunch, I thought, it’s been a week since I turned 30, and wow things are changing.

This attitude did not serve me well. As I meditated in the dhamma hall that afternoon, I again began to feel tingling across the surface of my body; as I’d hoped this would come again, I set about not only observing this sensation, but also maintaining it. As one area of my body gained sensation, another would lose sensation, and I found myself in a cycle of attempting to keep the feelings  going, no matter what. I began to lose myself in this game, thinking of nothing but how I would keep’em coming, and as part of me started to realize that I might want to stop, another part insisted, forcefully, that stopping was not an option. After about 20 minutes of this, I finally broke away, collapsing onto the floor. In spite of a good 15 minutes of meditation to go in the hour, I decided that I was just done; silently, I cried. At the next break, I rushed up to Adam and told him, crazy-eyed, that the experience I’d had was overwhelming, and I didn’t know what to do. He assured me that I wasn’t, in fact, supposed to do anything, and that if I ever felt overwhelmed, all I had to do was return to my breath. I thanked him, and then booked it to my room, weeping along the way, and for around 5-10 minutes after. I didn’t quite know why I was crying…I think I just didn’t know what else to do. I then sat in my bunk and got back to work, allowing my breath to guide me. I had anticipated going a bit insane during the retreat, and…sure enough, there it was.

Day 7
I awoke the morning of the seventh day ready to get back on track, and ready to allow sensations to come and go as they pleased. During the first meditation, I had the strangest sensation: it may sound crazy, but I felt as though the outer layer of my body was disintegrating, and that I was actually made of light – even the insides of my eyelids appeared as though light was shining on them. I was like a reverse black hole, with black fissures opening around my body, spewing out black matter. This lasted for about 20 minutes, during which I did my best to simply remain equanimous.

The discourse that evening concerned devotion, and it was particularly interesting. Goenka asserted that devotion is valuable only insomuch as it allows for the confidence required to attempt any given endeavor. The idea of right devotion can be summed up with a succinct example: be Christ-like, not Christian; in other words, one should emulate the qualities of whichever religion’s founder, rather than merely asserting belief in that founder. I found Goenka’s recounting of the compassion that Jesus felt during his torturous death to be extremely moving. He referred to Jesus as “a prince among saints”; very skillful.

Day 8
Continuing body scans, I had a very interesting moment during the eighth day while meditating in my room. I don’t know if I breathed in some peculiar way, or had a hiccup or what, but I was in the middle of scanning the trunk of my body when, suddenly, my focus turned inside. I began feeling around the fog and confusion of my innards! As I brought my attention to my extremities, I noticed that I was traveling along what felt like my bones. I did this for awhile, and then decided to experiment a bit: I focused on my heart. It felt like…I was holding my beating heart in the palm of my hand. I experienced this as extremely profound, and as I came out of meditation, I wept.

Day 9
By the ninth day, I was entirely exhausted. Fun fact: apparently I can fall asleep while sitting up (not my proudest moment). Also, the anticipation of the end of the course (and the fact that we’d be allowed to speak again on the tenth day) was really starting to gain primacy in my thoughts. I did have a very interesting revelation, however: I’d previously thought that I was trucking along nicely, managing a nice and easy flow of attention and sensation across my body. Wow was I wrong. I began noticing that I had a number of blind spots across my body that I’d previously gone over, essentially assuming that I’d felt sensation when, in fact, I most certainly had not. As I attuned to those areas, I began noticing intense pains, including severe aches and shooting sensations. The realization was this: in all external facets of my life, I do the same damn thing. I think that I understand something when, in fact, I am ignorant; I think that I’ve got a solid relationship with someone when, in fact, the relationship has serious problems; I think that I’m fine when, in fact, I am not. I have a lot to work on.

Oh, also, during a break in meditation while in the dhamma hall, Peter walked past me and dropped a piece of gum into my lap without even the slightest gesture of communication. A student sitting next to me witnessed this and looked at me with bewilderment. I could only imagine what he thought…is there a contraband black market at dhamma camp? Classic. (Peter later told me that he’d waited eight days to execute that gag.)

Day 10
After breakfast and 8:00am meditation on the tenth day, we were allowed to talk to each other again! The dining hall, previously segregated, became a common area for both genders to finally start sharing their experiences. The whole building was filled with a sense of ebullience, and everyone was smiling and laughing and just giddy to talk. Peter and I and various other students spoke about practice and theory, and Peter and Rebecca were reunited. Also, reading the back of a teabag, I noticed that I could read significantly faster. It ruled.

January 2 (Closing Day)

Christian at 30. Heck yeah those are pink gloves.

After a final discourse in the morning on how to implement vipassanā in one’s daily life (an hour of meditation in the morning, an hour of meditation in the evening, one 10-day course per year, and giving service), Peter and Rebecca and I helped clean camp by removing the twine that had previously marked our boundaries (a task in retrospect that seems somehow meaningful). On the 11-hour bus ride that followed, I thought about how this experience had changed who I am, and how I think it will continue to do so. I think, for now, what I want is more discipline and fewer distractions…I don’t know what that means exactly, but I’m gonna work it out.