With just two weeks left of my time in India, and more than half a subcontinent to see, I decided to instead do nothing, sort of literally. I was enrolled on a 10 day Vipassana meditation course at the Dhamma Satu Centre, Chennai. It would involve a strict regime of 4am starts, ten hours of meditation per day and no talking.
The course hadn’t appealed so much when I first heard of it. Would the body not wither away without physical exercise? Would the boredom drive me crazy? The more anecdotes I heard from other travellers, the more I learnt it was as much physically demanding as mentally. The more I attended meditation classes, the more intrigued I became at the possible benefits of such an intense level of commitment. I was eager to explore what lies beyond the conscious, to improve my wandering concentration, and whilst not being especially miserable, to rid myself of certain discontents. I was also fed up of sightseeing and wanted to do something “off the beaten track.”
It turned out I wasn’t doing something so different after all, Vipassana courses are now firmly on the backpacker trail:
“Hey man!” said Josh, my American namesake I’d met in Udaipur, some 1000km away. It was a nice reunion but I felt knowing someone might make the none-talking vow difficult.
Registration began in the afternoon during which a commitment was made to abide by the Five Precepts of the code of discipline (abstention from killing, stealing, all sexual activities, telling lies, all intoxicants.) Women and men were to be separated for the duration and departed to different sections of the centre. Noble Silence began at 7pm, at which time we were each assigned a mat and cushion on the floor of the main hall. Alone in my thoughts, I wondered what I’d let myself in for. We’d be making “surgical cuts” to the roots of suffering and I was wary as to whether I really wanted to slice away at the cynicism and sardonicism with which my ego had built its foundation. What would be the end result of such an endeavour?
The bell rang and at 4.30am, a mixture of fifty or so European, American, Japanese and Indian men, sat cross-legged in the main hall to receive instruction from the tape recorded voice of Shri Satya Narayan Goenka; the man who reintroduced Vipassana, a technique used and taught by the Buddha 2500 years ago, which had become corrupted through organised religion and disappeared from India, its origin, surviving in its original form only in Myanmar.
Goenka gave an introduction to the ‘path’ leading to the end of misery, to happiness and to Enlightenment. The first step on the path is Samadhi, concentration. We were instructed to be aware of the sensation felt as air entered and exited our nostrils as we breathed. This would in fact turn out to be our only instruction, not just for the first hour long session, but the first three days. Finishing his instructions, Goenka urged:
“Work ardently, work diligently, work attentively, diligently and attentively. You are bound to succeed, bound to succeed.”
I set out to work ardently, diligently and attentively, but I wasn’t succeeding. I was feeling angry; at the people around me; the coughers, sneezers, scratchers, saliva swallowers, bone cracklers and belchers, at the aeroplanes flying overhead every 15 minutes and at the person who thought it a good idea to build a meditation centre next to an airport, at the Mosquitos and at the first of the Five Precepts of the code of conduct that meant I couldn’t swat them. Mostly I was angry with myself and my failure at a seemingly simple task, to concentrate on the breath…
Meditation sessions would last either one hour or one and a half. In between would be two slops of an indistinguishable grain for breakfast, a filling lunch of rice, chappatis and various curried vegetables and an evening snack of puffed rice and fruit. There were 10 minute breaks in between other sessions during which we walked up and down the (physical) path outside the main hall to bring blood flow back to numb legs. At the end of each day we watched a video lecture. Here Goenka was in his element, using stories, jokes and analogies to explain the root cause of suffering and how the practice worked, ending each lecture; “May all beings be happy” before exhaling a long “Hmmmmm.”
It turned out the path to ending suffering involved suffering; sitting in a half lotus all day hurt, and when on day three we were told to hold our position without moving for the full length of the three one-hour long sessions, it became clear that pain was an integral part of the initial practice. If we could view the pain objectively we could detach ourselves from it. In theory this could be extended to emotional discontents; anger, fear and loneliness when viewed objectively could be dissipated.
Hill-running and hiking had made me no stranger to pain and I masochistically relished it on Sunday morning runs up Arthur’s Seat. But this was different. There I had a visual goal in sight – the top, plus the extra encouragement through the earphones of my iPod of Rage Against the Machine telling pain to “Fuck You! I won’t do what you tell me!” Here in the stillness of my body, time stood still and pain was all evading. Still, I made a determined effort to make it through the session as instructed. After roughly 20 minutes my main problem area, the metatarsals of my feet started to hurt. Deepening my concentration, I kept my focus on the breath, trying to observe the pain objectively, with some success. After what must have been 45 minutes it became too much and I was no longer transcending but enduring. The sound of Goenka’s voice, “Anicca!” began his closing chant to the session, and meant just a couple more minutes. I had made it and was pleased but had my ego strengthened through the triumph?
The practice moved on to concentrating on the area between the upper lip and the nostrils, and becoming aware of any sensation felt there. Then on day four we finally began to practice Vipassana. It involved being aware of the subtle sensations throughout the whole body. Starting at the top of the head, the meditator was to feel what sensations, if any, existed, before making their way down the body exploring each part in turn for sensations. Goenka advised:
“It could be a hot sensation, it could be a cold sensation, it could be a pleasurable sensation, a painful sensation, a tingling sensation, be aware of any sensation. But remain equanimous to the sensation, whatever the sensation, remain objective and equanimous. And work diligently, you are bound to succeed, bound to succeed.”
The theory was that through being aware of these subtle sensations, not usually consciously recognised, ‘sankharas’ – mental conditionings; the cause of suffering, would be released. It was important to remain equanimous to the sensation, to treat all sensations alike, whether pleasurable or uncomfortable, so as not to form any more attachments or mental conditioning.
It wasn’t a great time to be learning this new form; I had a headache, my feet were sore, my back and shoulders ached and Goenka’s incessant habit of repeating everything he said was deeply agitating me. I gave up on the session, brought my knees to my chest, my head to my knees, and simply rocked. I felt defeated, returned to my room and slumped on my bed. There was a mosquito inside my net. I made a half hearted attempt to lift the net and shew it out but I didn’t lift it high enough and it was crushed against the net. It was accidental misdemeanour but I had broken the first precept and was a step back on the road to Enlightenment. It was time to knuckle down.
I resolved with extra determination to use my mind to beat the pain. The next day I had a breakthrough; by taking a pair of thick socks and rolling them inside themselves, I created pods that would relieve pressure on the sore part of my feet. It was far from Enlightenment but I felt much happier. Compared to others, it was a primitive device. The meditation hall had become an exhibition of various ingenious contraptions for easing discomfort; doubled over mats, yoga bricks and items of clothing were carefully placed to provide more comfortable platforms. It seemed ridiculous and I sought advice from the teacher (the only time when it was aloud to speak.) I was seated on the floor, himself on a chair (no ego there then…) I wanted to know if it was possible to get the same benefits from meditating lying down. He seemed unhappy with the question, talked about the discipline aspect of the practice, but gave a hesitant yes. What I really wanted to know was whether the Buddha could have attained Enlightenment lying down but the bell went before I could ask. From then on I gave less attention to the hour long ‘endurance’ sessions. If I couldn’t transcend the pain after 5 minutes, I moved to a more comfortable position (although it was forbidden to lie down in the main hall.)
The Buddha is said to have come to the realisation through heightened awareness, that the cells of our body are made of subatomic particles that are continuously arising and vanishing. Indeed all matter is such and in 1960, the physicist Donald Glazer used his ‘bubble chamber’ to measure this occurring 10 to the power of 22 times per second. The next stage of development in our practice was to become aware of this ephemeral nature, to feel the arising and passing away of these particles, to move through the body sensing this uniform, vibrating type of subtle sensation. To become aware of this truth enabled one to experience fully the meaning of ‘Annica’ – that everything is impermanent, and it therefore makes no sense to form attachments to one thing or another.
The course was drawing to the latter stages. I noticed that I was able to concentrate for much longer periods and was having some success feeling the subtle vibrations as I moved down and up my body. But there were still many ‘dull’ areas where no sensation could be felt, and I was far from being able to ‘penetrate’ – be aware of the sensations beyond the surface of my skin.
Day 10 arrived and after the morning meditation we were allowed to speak once again. I was actually a bit unsure how to and at the first attempt my words came out a bit stumbled. It wasn’t long though before everyone was talking easily. Although we had spent the past week and a half avoiding eye contact, the shared experience had brought a closeness of genuine friendships. Later on, tired and sore, I sat down to begin the final meditation without any expectation. Almost immediately I began to feel vibrating sensations. It felt like I was being massaged from head to toe and it was difficult to remain objective to such a pleasurable feeling. The hour passed quickly and Goenka came into song. As he was coming to his peak, a persistent burper relieved himself one last time. The timing induced a fit of giggles in me. It was an infectious, joyous laughter that spread to those in my immediate surroundings and in that final moment I felt at one with my fellow meditators.
It wasn’t immediately obvious what, if any benefits had come from the course. I found it difficult to tie in the theory to the reality and instead just tried to observe how I reacted in certain circumstances that might normally cause irk. Something I detected was that I started to notice when my ego had been offended and was able to look more deeply at the reason why, before it had a chance to react. It encouraged me to continue the practice, to recognise that what I perceive as other people’s short-comings is based on my own prejudices and it is only their attempt at themselves finding happiness, no matter if I believe they are on the right or wrong path. Hmmmmm.
JoshuaLangtonTravels 