Vipassana post-script

Lumbini, Nepal


Some folks have said I may have painted an overly bleak picture of my experience with the Vipassana meditation course. Perhaps a long-honed propensity to sandbag swayed me toward under-selling what I came away with. I most certainly didn't want to appear like some of the few starry-eyed alumni I've met who can't seem to find anything but unqualified, raving praise for their own experiences. That kind of summary always smells of "promotion" to me, or of someone clinging to a life preserver of dogma. I prefer the dynamic of "attraction". Check things out for yourself. If you find something or things you like, excellent. If not, perhaps the practice or philosophy is not for you.



There is no doubt that the Vipassana course put me through ten honest days of gloves-off grappling with my brain and body. But when do you ever grow without some fear or pain? I don't want to discourage anyone. This course taught me a LOT. I will continue with this practice and, if I'm lucky, very likely do another course or more at the Vipassana center in California. Without exception everything we were exposed to was practical and self-assessable. In other words, I was able to judge for myself to see what I found. For the record, I was - and I very much like what I felt.



It's not a small coincidence that I'm writing this post from Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha. Tami and I made a last-minute change of plans for trekking and came north into Nepal. The road goes near Lumbini where we've heard that a handful of Buddhist monestaries is growing in a large campus of sorts. Each monestary is built in the style of the representative country where Buddhism is practiced. We had a very good two-hour meditation at the Korean complex.



For me, life in this modern world is confusing and not easy to navigate with happiness and tranquility. Vipassana seems to be a useful tool to help me do that better. That's enough for me to keep on trying.

Travel back to the age of chivalry

Following on the subject below of things swinging, we just finished traveling in the state of Rajasthan where you can't swing a cat without hitting some medieval fort or palace. Most of them are perched dizzily on intimidating bluffs or escarpments. Nearly everyone who comes to India makes a trip out to Rajasthan to take in the romantic settings and desert landscape. I think we spent almost a month.
Us with Jaisalmer Fort behind

Rajasthan has a history that seeps from the ruins of its past. About a thousand or more years ago, different "clans" moved into the area and building fortifications. I can only imagine water was more plentiful then because the region prospered judging by the architecture and infrastructure left behind. Cities grew and some of the people obviously made a great deal of wealth. From everything we read, the "Rajputs", as they were known, also fought a LOT.
A havelli "house" in Jaisalmer - they'd be palaces anywhere else

Actually, in the those days and before, city states seemed to always be fighting. From my read of the history of Rajasthan, it didn't take a lot to start a conflict. In one case, the prince of Jodhpur was promised the hand of the princess of Udaipur. He died unexpectedly so the second eldest son was elevated to crown prince. Tradition had it that the marriage would proceed as planned but with the second son. The Maharaja of Udaipur, however, didn't like the second son as a choice and instead promised his daughter to the prince of Jaipur. This was enough of a breach of protocol that the Maharaja of Jodhpur and his army intercepted the wedding procession with ALL THE DOWRY GIFTS (worth a very great deal) on its way from Udaipur to Jaipur. The armies of the two offended city states pursued the Jodhpur transgressors back to the fort you see below and gave siege for NINE MONTHS. These were serious folks when it came to honor, fighting and money.

Jodhpur Fort and part of the old city


Sometimes, the forts were not enough to hold off defeat. In rare circumstances, a siege was insurmountable. Some lasted for years and the occupants of the forts would eventually run out of food and water. When everything was viewed as hopeless, the defenders embarked on a final path that epitomized their idea of chivalry and honor - jauhar. Much religious ceremony preceded jauhar but the final steps included the self immolation of all the women and children in the fort. This often numbered in the thousands. They built large funeral pyres of wood, covered them in oil and burned themselves to death. When this was completed, the men would ride or run out through the gates to fight until death. In one case in Jodhpur, the fort was almost taken in a surprise attack. There was not time to conduct the rituals and burning. Rather than have their women and children treated with dishonor, the men had to cut their throats. Imagine the fury of their fighting on riding out against their foes after leaving behind their families, dead by their own hands.

The "Victory Tower" in Chittor Fort

Part of the wall at Chittor Fort

Fighting between city states or principalities was not uncommon. Everywhere, Europe included, went through those long, brutal centuries where fighting touched everyone at some point or another. They built huge walls and lived inside them for a reason. Violence came up close and, if the need called, everyone who could joined in the battle. Whichever city was stronger, prevailed getting the economic spoils. It occurred to me that the US never went through this brutality. Apart from one paroxysm of nastiness - the Civil War - our history has no scar tissue from American on American violence. We have the wars to eradicate the Native Americans but those, for a long time were portrayed as a noble cause - and there are few or no monuments of those conflicts left behind to remind anyone. Makes me wonder if this contributes to our willingness to use violence to get what we want in current times.

Another part of Chittor's wall

Anyway, you can almost throw a dart at the map of Rajasthan, get on a bus or train, go to the city and see some freakish fort or battlements or palaces. At one point, Tami and I badly misjudged the map in our book. We took a six-hour bus ride to get to a certain old fort to find out no roads penetrated the hills between us an said fort. We deliberated and headed instead the opposite direction to Chittor. It was supposed to be good, as well. Well.....good it was. This was just one more of those scenes where we wandered around ruins Disney would covet (but never approach in quality or scale) and mumble the litmus test phrase of travelers' fulfillment, "You've got to be kidding me."

Old alcove paintings at Bundi Fort

Being the early part of the hottest season, we were blessed to have most of these ruins totally to ourselves. We could wander for hours and only see a few other people. We could find supremely meditative and beautiful places and sit for long periods imagining what the royal high-life might have been like. Very nice stuff.

Interior at Naggaur Fort

Another interior at Naggaur Fort

I have to admit, I'm tired of seeing stuff, tired of buses and new guest houses, tired of the grime and Indian guys who cannot behave like adults. I'm tired of Indian food. Be that as it may, India just keeps coming on. There is so much to see here I am at a loss to contextualize it. If you get a chance, you'd be missing out on so much if you didn't come here.

Like a wild monkey...

Jaipur, Rajasthan

At 7:00 this morning we bid a poignant goodbye to the place where we'd just spent ten challenging days. After a very great deal of consideration, Tami and I joined a meditation course taught in what is, reputedly, the technique most true to that taught by Sidhartha Gautama Buddha 2,500 years ago. The technique is called Vipassana, which means "to see things as they really are". The course was held at a beautiful little campus just outside of the city of Jaipur in a desert arroyo that could be in the hills behind San Diego. The place was overrun with peacocks, parrots, a handful of other colorful birds and the occasional mongoose - stark yet peaceful contrast to most of the locales we've visited in India.


I first heard about Vipassana during my first trip here in 1994. I met a young Canadian couple that had recently finished a course and they could not enthuse about it enough. Their description and the descriptions of many other people over the intervening years have invariably acknowledged the difficulty of the course but praised the peace of mind that comes from working through it. The challenge comes in the form of 10 days of silent, mostly sedentary contemplation. You enter the course and say nothing for the duration - even to yourself. You're not supposed to make eye contact with other "meditators". Separation of men and women. You rise at 4:00 a.m. and work until 9:00 p.m. with a few rest periods. Your two meals and one snack are served in a dining hall. The idea is to focus on your inner self.

I have to admit, I was intimidated at the prospect of enrolling. In the past couple years we met many alumni who told us they were emotionally and physically overwhelmed during the experience. Most people have no experience trying to hold a sitting position for more than a few minutes, let alone holding a position on the floor with nothing more than a thin pillow or two to support you. After even just an hour, pressure points, joints and muscles ache. After a few days, the pain is supposed to be inescapable. The psychological pain, a result of the introspection and intense focus, was also described as agony. Again, the vast majority of people never slow down to try to take an objective look at what's going on inside themselves. Most people go from cradle to grave without attempting to take such a look. When those that do try take the step, they often don't like what they see.

So why enter the course? I felt I had no major crises in my life. Nonetheless, at any given time there always seems to be a flow of distress that ebbs and flows beneath the functional surface of living. Whether I'm concerned about relationships or work or financial security or the inescapable reality that my life is coming inexorably closer to its end; periods of unmitigated peace are fleeting and rare. Some menace often seems to be lurking around the corner.

I've done enough rooting around with my anxieties to know that a) I'm not unique in this worrying (almost everyone does the same) and b) most worrying is pointless (everything will pass as it's going to whether I stress about it or not) . All I can do is try to do the right thing in the present. That said, I also know that taking a focused look at my fears and hopes would require a lot of work and letting go of many patterns of "distraction". Since I'm about to transition back home, into one of the vortices of artificial, superficial torment that is the materialistic Western Word, now seemed like a good time to see what fears I could clear out of the mouldier recesses of my psyche.

My room

Even though participants are discouraged from writing, I could not help making some notes every day. This is an honest ten-day session, not eight days in the middle bookended with half days of in- and out-processing. We got started on the eve of the course with some meditating in the Dhamma hall. The teacher and assistants also explained how the next 10(+) days would proceed. There were 33 men (me as the sole non-Indian) and 17 women (four non-Indians). We sat on the floor on 30" square pillows with a smaller rectangular pillow under the butt. Already, in the first couple hours, I shifted repeatedly because of the pain.

Our schedule

Day 1) They wake us by ringing a gong in the center of the campus. Much more peaceful than an alarm clock. Mid-way through today I envision myself dejectedly scrawling the first of ten hash marks on my cell wall. The life of a monk or the that of an exiled prisoner? The idea is not to react to any sensation - pain, itching, twitching, etc. Watch them with the knowledge that the truth of the universe is that all things arise and pass and so will your sensations. In the instructor's words, "No itch is eternal."

I tried sitting "Indian" style like most of the other meditators but within an hour or so had to unfold my legs because of the pain. As the day wore on, my changes became more and more frequent. Of the other men, only one - a 60(+) year-old Sikh man, 70 or so pounds overweight fidgeted more than me. Temps are in excess of 100 degrees. With nothing to divert my attention, I cannot believe the monstrous and slowly unfolding length of the day.


One of the meditation halls

Day 2) I'm glad I can't speak with anyone. This is hellish and I want to see how I deal with and interpret it. This a.m.'s first session was the worst so far. The pain was excruciating but fighting it while falling in and out of sleep infused the entire two hours with a nightmarish quality. The Sikh man (and two others) now sit on chairs in back.

Day 3) I realized that I forgot to take my Doxycycline (for malaria) for the past two days. Otherwise preoccupied. The silence and isolation help instill the sense of individuality and earnest importance of this whole endeavor. We've been give plenty of instruction but as the teacher quoted Buddha last night, "I can show you the path but you must walk it yourself."

This a.m. I finally got a glimpse of non-thought. My mind focused and slowed. It was brief, just a few short interrupted silences, but shortly after came a wash of insights and a feeling of clarity. Shutting out the background noise works like a long-overdue laxative. Unfruitful thoughts like status or money concerns or guilt about people I've wronged or indictments against those who've 'wronged' me or hedonous revelry melt away. Goenka (the founder of the Vipassana organization) in last night's discourse, laughed that the mind "is like a wild monkey swinging from branch to branch." How apt. Until I got a glimpse of my mind's mania, I'm not sure I would have understood his analogy. My thoughts seem to run as fast as possible from one to the next. There is a dissonant narrative loop playing in my head constantly. It's very likely you wouldn't even see unless you were patient and wanted very much to see it. The brain is tricky and seems supremely eager to not let you get a look at it.


The scene tonight outside the Dhamma Hall was like an infirmary. Men tottering to and fro their hands pushing where their hips meet their spines. Groaning and sighing. Some lie flat on the low cement berm to rest their backs. Five now sit on chairs to the real of the meditation hall. Temps were in the neighborhood of 110 degrees today. Everyone seems exhausted.

Day 4) Our method of meditation changed today. I don't want to give away any surprises but, as the days progress, the course challenges you more and more with increased complexity.
More pain. Many feelings of anger and resentment - all flailing in different directions. Surely this process is dredging up many things. The paramount goal here is to remain equanimous and not judge, just observe what's going on inside.

Day 5) Questions of morality being discussed in the discourse. The ultimate goal here is enlightenment or liberation of the soul. This meditation and self-assessment is the first of many, many long steps. Seven men now sit on chairs or against the back wall.

Day 6) The non-communication ultimately does take a toll. I find myself curious about my compatriots. That's saying quite a bit since I was thoroughly tired of dealing with Indian men before coming in. In many ways, India is a country filled with men who remind me of how I was when I was about 19. That kind of adolescent, know-it-all, loudmouthed, silliness is not at all pretty. Out on the street, they're always smarting off about something. It must be killing them to have to keep their mouths shut. Some already have not been able to resist.

The pagoda

Day 7) Today we were each assigned meditation cells in the above pagoda. Fascinating. The cells are small and dark. Inside you are hyper-aware of even small sensations compared to in the meditation hall under the fans. I was much better able to concentrate. By the end of the day, I was drained. I have not focused so hard for such a protracted period on anything like this in years. I finally accomplished a half lotus position for one of our group sittings today. It was hard but it allowed me to sit nearly perfectly straight up making for much better concentration. My knees now feel like someone's been hammering on them, though.

Day8) Everything has been wratcheted up for the home stretch. Again, I don't want to give away any surprises but the program for the week is progressive in what is demanded. The message driven home repeatedly is simple - 1) be aware and 2) be equanimous. "See" the world for what it is and don't hold attachments or aversions to what you see. This all begins with looking at yourself.

Day 9) Victories in this process come unexpectedly. Today I sat in a half lotus. After about 45 or 50 minutes I had a wide-open opportunity to look into the heart of pain. The pain in my right knee throbbed with a glowing heat but, with the faith that I wasn't doing any damage and with the further advice of the Dhamma that I should just be an observer, I sat. Instead of focusing on other thoughts I zeroed in on the pain. It seemed like it actually had something to tell me and part of that message was that running away wasn't necessary.

Following on the heals of this, I was able to let go of my anger at the other meditators who, by now, had been flagrantly disobeying the precepts of the course. As expected, the Indian guys caved on the non-talking agreement. By day 6 a small group of them casually conversed whenever the teacher wasn't around. At their worst, they joked and seemed to mock the whole process. I kept wondering why they were there. It was huge relief not to care any more. I was moving forward.

Day 10) This is a big summary day. After the morning's group sitting, we are finally able to talk. I seek out Tami and we meet in front of the office - the only place men and women can talk (but not touch). I feel clean, grounded, tired but exhilarated. At first words don't come easily. What can I say about something that feels profound. On my way, one Indian man who seemed to work the course seriously asked how I felt. I replied, "good". I asked him and he smiled and said, "I got something new." No small praise in a cynical, message saturated world.

May 13. Back to the top of this entry. Yesterday was our first full day out of the Vipassana center. Things move a LOT faster out here. I was a little disappointed (attachment!) to find I had to let go of some of my hard-earned tranquility. Just crossing a busy street here is at odds with thorough reflection. That's how it is, though. Tami and I also both noticed that our sense of smell was back to normal. The smells on the street were overwhelming just like when we arrived in India. Pee-yewww. (aversion!) Another funny thing was that I kept forgetting to pay for purchases. I guess being on the all-inclusive honor plan for 10(+) days somehow took me out of the loop of commerce.