Vipassana

Just before checking in to the 10-day silent meditation Vipassana course, I wrote:  

what could happen

In Ten Days?

people will die

bombs will explode

daily life routines will

continue to drone.

snow will fall

clouds will shift

hearts will break and 

people will fall in love.

the world continues to spin

by god, or unseen magicians

by the grace of the 

beloved musicians.

There's a lot I'm tempted to say about my time at the Vipassana Meditation Center in Pune, Maharashtra, India.  Saying too much might elicit expectations from others who have yet to experience it.  It's hard to approach anything without expectations, and I'm happy I went for it having heard only very general comments, without having read much.  I can say that the technique is brilliant!  

Imagine the ideal gift.  To do so, you might draw from past experiences.  Maybe your dear friend treated you to a day out:  breakfast at your favorite cafe, a walk in the park, yoga class, and an organic dinner with her comforting company all the while.  Perhaps you imagine a future gift, something you could really use.  The gift I discovered during Vipassana is the ideal gift that renews itself with each moment.  Here, we have another cliche, "that's why they call it the present".  When you choose to open it, this gift  continues to unfold.  The more it unfolds, the more beautiful it becomes.  It's you, it's the present, it's the universe, it's life.  As long as you're alive, you have the choice of acceptance.  In accepting this gift, the most beautiful depths of the self are revealed.  

There are so many ways to happiness, God, self-realization.  Vipassana is yet another practice worth trying.  Without focusing on God, the technique aims to positively alter the manner in which we react while broadening our understanding of impermanence.  In the end, we are guided down the road to decreased suffering... and increased happiness, patience, and compassion.  

If you've considered attending the course... do it!  Read no more.  

India II, part I: Why India?

The view from the mountaintop may be amazing, but it’s the climb that...  

___[your thought here]___.

For decades, the cliché has been that travelers go to India for soul-searching.  It’s been said, it’s been observed, that many Westerners from countries whose spiritual aspects are muted by materialism flock to the vast land with hopes of discovering a deeper meaning of life.  If the process is “finding oneself”, the travelers are seekers.  The initial assault on the senses, continuation of surprises, and beautiful flow of the unexpected must be experienced to understand how a trip to the subcontinent can turn one inside out.   Spend some time soaking it in and then, there it is: your soul.  In the midst of positive transformation, spinning around brilliantly before you .  Why India? 

So long as the traveler has a heart, a trip to India will tear it wide open.   Be ready for surgery of the soul.  Sadness, pity, awe, and shock may be the first emotions to flood one’s being. Upon their arrival, tourist seekers from the West are immediately confronted by India’s poverty.  The widespread in-your-face occurrence of slums, beggars, crippled, diseased, and homeless pierce the heart like daggers.   In some areas, the pollution is suffocating and the streets are lined with trash.  On the scene, one cannot help but think about materialistic attachments, the meaning of “luxury”, and the means of an individual’s mere survival. After some time, the place and its people will fill that heart with compassion, appreciation, and love.

Then there’s the God aspect.  The country overflows with rituals of religious devotion.  In the West, the politically correct manner of practicing worship is to do so behind closed doors.  Such is not the case in the land of Hindus.  Prayers, parades, pujas, and other acts of worship openly occur on the streets, at the ghats and in the flowing waters of the holy rivers, and around the various temples found in every nook and cranny.   The sound of chanting layered with drums and bells permeates the air intermittently, adding joy to the backdrop of beeping traffic, mooing cows, and revving machinery, as one passes through any city.  Images of gods, goddesses, and gurus are found everywhere one turns:  in taxis, homes, restaurants, hotels, and bus stations.  A shopkeeper starts his day by lighting incense and saying a prayer before the flower- adorned shrine set up behind the counter, unconcealed.  In every corner, in every way, the polluted atmosphere is blessed over and over again through the devotion of India’s billions of inhabitants. 

The air of India’s spirituality has spread like wildfire.   The Beatles’ George Harrison brought the maha mantra (Hare Krishna, Hare Ram) mainstream.  Devotees of Lord Krishna donning saffron robes and shaved heads are seen the world over.   Their International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) temples have been global for decades.  Along with its wide-openness of religious practice, India mothers the ancient roots of yoga and various types of meditation.   It was yoga that drew me here from the beginning and, for a large percentage of travelers, these “new age” practices are the main attractions. 

With so many ancient ruins, holy sites, temples, gurus, ashrams, and meditation courses, it’s easy for one to get lost in this enormous show of the sacred.  Seeking out the ultimate spiritual experience, travelers go this way and that, from ashram to temple to guru.  The search itself brings immediate yet temporary satisfaction.  As long as one is seeking, there is denial of the divine that lies within us at all times, in all places.  Only when the effort is dropped and the seeking has ceased, one is able to see the beauty, truth, and supreme energy in each moment, in each living being.

“So long as the traveler has a heart, a trip to India will tear it wide open”.  Within that open heart, divinity reveals itself without having to be found.  Layers upon layers of veils, which prevent us from seeing things as they are, gradually fall away.   At the end of the day, the spiritual awakenings end up occurring, perhaps not at the temples and holy sites, but on the long and winding roads that lead to their doors.

Ashram Life

Our first classroom lecture was on ‘ashram life’.  Most of us had been here before, but it was interesting to actually hear about the history and purpose of these places.  For many, ashrams are a way to escape the stresses of life.  For others, we mainly take advantage of opportune moments to learn more yoga.  Some come to the ashram to drop the roles they play on the outside.  Everyone here is equal regardless of race, religion, economic, marital, family, or social status.  

Normally, our awareness is externalized by stimuli of the senses such as food, drink, music, entertainment, & TV.  These stimuli fulfill our desires, making us happy for a while… until the desires return.  The main purpose of an ashram is to internalize awareness, giving people a chance to know themselves better and perhaps gain a glimpse into the divine nature that lies within us all.  The luxury-less simplicity of ashram life urges its community to learn methods of controlling (rather than suppressing) desires, which are often the causes of stress.  Through yogic practices (asanas, breathing, meditation, chanting mantras, & karma yoga), one can strengthen the mind.  These practices help remove expectations and judgments that cause unhappiness, while potentially dissolving the ego after time.  As for the nitty-gritty… I’ve only been to this one ashram, I’m sure there are broad ranges of differences with regards to luxury, simplicity, and privacy depending on location and price.

This ashram life is charming simplicity.  For our month here, we are four girls to a room, sharing a modest bathroom that’s just outside.  There’s a window by each bed, but no screen.  Because of the abundance of bugs (ants, crickets, beetles, centipedes, among others unrecognizable) we close them in the evening.  That didn’t stop the 4-inch, speedy centipede from finding its way into my roommate’s pants in the middle of the night.  Laugh out loud- she wasn’t bitten.  I have a ‘bug cup’ that we use nightly for the harmless evacuation of critters.  Each bed has a mosquito net, but I don’t use mine- no problems so far. 

There’s a ceiling fan that sometimes sounds like a helicopter when it’s on high speed.  It’s not terribly hot, so it’s no big deal when the electricity goes out- which is multiple times per day and the majority of the night.  (There’s a generator for the kitchen).  After hearing a story of a snake being found in a toilet, I give 1000 thanks to my dad for the flashlight.  With a light, midnight pees aren’t feared, and if the electricity is out… I can look up on the way out- to see so many unbelievable, dizzying layers of more stars than you could imagine.

Hot water for showers is available, but our tank is out of gas.  We haven’t had trouble going without.  Hand washing clothes is nice, but drying was a challenge during the first two weeks because of the almost daily bouts of rain (unusually late for this time of year).  We have Internet access when we go to town (two days for my class).  A few people have mobile phones but, for the rest of us, a phone call entails tracking down the guy with the phone at an hour that’s decent for whoever we’ll be calling.  It’s nice not having a phone.  There’s a small shop in which we can purchase books, basic hygienic necessities, and limited food (dried fruits, honey, rose jam, nuts, and delicious homemade sweets made with sugar, chickpea powder and ghee). 

5:00 comes early for most, but I love it.  We get a hot drink first thing in the morning.  Nothing like un-caffeinated herbal tea, enjoyed in silence, to get your day going.  Another joy is karma yoga.  For two hours almost every day, we’re required to perform the act of “selfless service with no reward”.  It’s actually nice.  I might have to sweep & mop, clean the common toilets, or pull weeds.  If I’m lucky, I get kitchen duty which involves chopping veggies, prepping herbs, or sifting through rice to remove stones and such.  If I’m really lucky, I get to read essays written by former students.  We’re also planning to give English lessons to one of the Indian volunteers here soon. 

A month at this place is a trip.  So many people in the neighborhood:  a priest from Belgium, a yoga & tai-chi instructor from Thailand, a retail gal from Ukraine, a server from Portugal, a dancer from Colorado who installs eco-friendly counter tops, a grad student who sings & plays harmonium in a kirtan (Hindu devotionals) band, and an Egyptian with dreams of designing a line of sportswear for women. 

Some mornings my legs feel too heavy to carry up the stairs.  Some days I walk everywhere barefoot.  Sometimes the food is the best I’ve ever tasted, sometimes I wish those carrots were raw.  Sometimes I like hearing about it, whatever it is.  Sometimes they talk too much and I really enjoy the silence. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been awesome.  Life is good.   

Today’s the first day of the rest of your life

As I write this, it’s day 18 out of 28 at the ashram.  A lovely time, though quite a different experience than the teacher training course days of 2006.  Those days were filled with memorizing Sanskrit chants & names of asanas (yoga postures), preparing practice lessons to present to small groups, and studying.  These days, there are more lectures to sit through, more karma yoga to attend to, and more unusual shuddikriya (cleansing techniques) to attempt.

As far as classes go, it seems less personalized than before- there are currently two classes in session.  The days have been a journey within, seeming like a retreat.  I don’t feel as connected to the place and other students this time around.  There’s a great sense of detachment, which is wonderful.  There no longer exists the novelty of being a first-timer.  Logically, rather than soaking it all up like a sponge, I’m doing more inner work than I previously had the capacity for. 

Being unsure of the next move, there are signs that I must to be receptive to.  I’ve been writing down the vivid, sometimes disturbing, sometimes comical dreams that have graced my sleep for the past few weeks.  Though I’ve given seated meditation a go, daydreams and gazes out into nature and up to the sky have been, as usual, more effective. 

As the second day of a three-day-silent-stretch winds down, I embrace the moment.  I’ve acquired a mass of new music and am listening to the pleasing, gentle, New Age-y sound of a group named Bliss.