Adventures in Buddhism

At the Southeast Vipassana Center in Jesup, GA, there's not a lot of relaxation and rest to be had. They warn you right off the bat that it's not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. After I included a history of antidepressants, antianxiety medication and sleep aids in my medical history, they emailed me to insist that I have a Medical Professional certify my ability to survive the course in good mental heath. Then they called, and asked if I was REALLY SURE I was off all this medication.

Yes, yes I was.

Since I don't have health insurance I asked the good people of Planned Parenthood, "hey, while you're down there looking at my vagina, can we talk about zen?" The Vipassana Center called back after I sent in my A-1 mentally healthy forms, asking am I REALLY SURE I'm wanting to do this, and am I really aware of the dangers of intense, painful panic attacks and depression relapses?

Bring it. I ain't afraid of no ghost.

We arrive on the evening of Day Zero, and are fed the last dinner we'll be seeing in 11 days. It's good food- lots of rice, fresh salad, all organic vegetarian and a decent array of teas to choose from. We then find out bunks and have just enough time to meet our roommates before "Noble Silence" kicks in. That means no talking, eye contact, writing, communicating or gesturing to other students. There are to be no distractions for anyone's meditation. Basically, we're on our own. I bid a quick hello and goodbye to the woman bunking below me, who I named Miss EatPrayLove because of her slight resemblance to Julia Roberts. EatPrayLove had a friend, Patricia, who came to take the course with her. They had known each other for years and were both teachers at a school for kids with speech pathology. Very cool. Since pre-existing friends are distracting, they bunked Patricia elsewhere, and I would only be seeing the back of her head from that point on, as she was seated in the row ahead of me at the Dhamma Hall, where students meditate.

The gong rang early the next morning- ugly early, at 4AM. Ostensibly, students are supposed to go and meditate in the hall from 4 to 6:30, but we have the option of meditating in our rooms instead. Naturally, being fully awesomated, I dragged my ass out of bed and hit the hall. I was dedicated! I was motivated! I was...nauseous. Crap. Funny thing about acid reflux- I LOATHE early mornings, and the inevitable flooding of my stomach with acid makes them particularly rough. In the real world, I force a small breakfast down my gullet and tough it out- the food absorbs the acid, and the motion in my morning makes it bearable. However, here in Meditation Land, there is no food allowed in the dorms (as food attracts bugs) and the kitchen is only open during meal times.

Crap. Crapcrapcrap.

I weaved and lurched through about an hour f attempted zen, then tiptoed outside the hall, dry heaved, went back inside and could barely sit upright. "Focusing" was out of the question. I went back to meditate in my room so I wouldn't distract the 30 or so Morning People in the Hall, but lying horizontally basically put me right back to sleep. Fail. Zen fail. A silent breakfast of hot oatmeal and fruit at 6:30, then more solo meditation time. (read: nap.) Then we have our Morning Meditation in the Hall for an hour. We have the option of heading back to our rooms to meditate (read: nap) or we can stay in the hall. I chose to "meditate in my room," warm and snuggly under the covers.

Finally it was lunch time. Pretty decent fare, although I could already sense something was missing... I couldn't quite put my finger on it. We then have our afternoon Group Meditation, after which our Teacher, Brett, spoke to the new students. I explained the acid reflux and asked if he had any tips- he said, (in hushed, sotto tones,) to do what made me the most comfortable. Cool. Hey, it was nice to talk to someone- even just for a sentence or two. There are another couple hours of meditation, then it's Fruit O'Clock! Not dinner, but Fruit O'Clock! We don't get dinner at the Vipassana Center- only fruit and tea. The combination of citric acid and the acidity of the tea was pretty unsettling.

I gurgled all throughout evening meditation with the group. Then it's Movie Time! Each evening, the Vipassana Head Cheese S.N. Goenka, speaks to us for about an hour. But it's not live- it's a DVD made from a video shot in 1991. He spoke a little about the process of meditation, and chanted some prayers for us in his deep baritone voice. He sounds like a Burmese version of Vincent Price- I kept expecting him to tell me that a ghost would be following me home, or break out into a Thriller laugh. No such luck.

Goenka is a charismatic man in his 60's (well, in his 60's at the time of the taping, anyway) and he sits on a deus and addresses his students in a loving, paternal manner. He loves us. He wants all beings to be happy. We know this because he explains that that is what he is chanting: "May All Beings Be Happy." To which the students (both our class and the ghostly ones in 1991) all bow our heads to the ground and say "saaadu...saaadu...saaadu," which roughly translates into "well said. We agree." Then we meditate for another half hour and call it a night. In silence.

Ah, but the insomnia reared its ugly head that night. I tossed and turned as quietly as possible, but the squeaky bunk bed made the sound echo through the dorm area. I'm sure EatPrayLove was ready to kill me. I couldn't sleep for a number of reasons- first, I was restless because I'm a very physically active person and I'd been made to sit still all day. There are two walking trails in loops close to one another, but they take all of 4 minutes to complete and we are not allowed to run, walk fast, or do any sort of formal exercise. We can't even stretch, as it would be "distracting."

Even though men and women are completely separated from one another and physical contact is strictly forbidden, there is to be no visually or aurally distraction created. Bah. Not even yoga. Meh. It was hard. Also, not talking was hard, but I was looking forward to that challenge. So far, on Day 1, I'd had to talk to Aishah our Course Manager, because she told me to come see Brett, our Teacher Assistant for New Student interview. But it was no big deal- I could go silent. I was sure of it.

After a fitful night, the gongs rang at 4AM. I made an effort to rise, brush my teeth and get dressed, but I wound up climbing back into bed after the first wave of "bleh" came. I tried to meditate in bed, but after zero sleep it was a losing battle. I was asleep in minutes, and snuck in naps througout the day to try and balance out the wasted night. I wanted mental and emotional energy for the group sittings, so I slept whenever possible. This quickly proved not possible.

Aishah the Course Manager is a good person, and loves her job. (Which she volunteers for.) She took it upon herself to come check on me, waking me up the next morning to "see if I was OK, and to see if I was doing OK with my meditation." Um. Yes? I don't know, it's 5:30 in the morning? Plus, if you've read my blogs "The Ghost" and "And the Darkeness," you know that I HATE being woken up by people in my room, softly calling my name. Physical contact is forbidden, as well as loud sounds, so all Aisha could do was put her face near mine and quietly call my name until I woke up. This is how I used to wake up on the nights when Andrew, my psycho obsessive roommate, would sneak into my room and try to climb into my bed. Super disconcerting.

I struggled that day, but got the basic technique down. My mind would wander, but I could gently guide it by the nose back to focus. We were supposed to be concentrating on the touch of the breath on the small area just inside and below the nostrils. And I pretty much got it down. I think the furthest off-track I got was a bizarre fantasy in which I was a grandmother telling my grandkids, "Oh, in my day, we didn't HAVE hoity-toity SHOULDERBLADES. We had to carry our shit on our ribcages!"

Random stuff would pop up. I got a very intense, vivid memory of riding the escalator up from the parking garage towards the Target on Santa Monica Blvd. in West Hollywood. Ah, pointlessness. Back to the breath. Occasionally, stuff would hurt or get sore, so I'd do a little self-check in: Hey there Head, how ya doin'? Cool, cool, good to know. Neck? Still sore? Ah, sorry to hear it. I love you. Feel better. Chest, back? Talk to me- how's it going? etc. etc. As each part would respond I would give it love and encouragement. Overall, I seemed to be doing OK. I was getting the technique down, and hanging in there. Aishah's constant micromanagement was driving me crazy, but I viewed it as a game.

One of our roommates talked in her sleep, which is bad enough on it's own, but she would sit up and speak in different voices to herself and it scared the shit out of me. No sleep. Some phlegmmy Korean lady down the hall would hack and cough all night, then snore. I felt bad for her, and tried to use it as an opportunity to get over my aversion to the sounds of sickness. Then when I got bored being charitable, I'd stuff a pillow over my head and feel miserable. I was exhausted. Every day. One lady didn't like the Course and left. This freed up a spot for me on the back wall, where I could pretty much see everything. Not that my eyes were open and I was daydreaming. Shit. Back to the breath.

On Day 4, we had another New Student check in. I watched people go up and ask Brett their questions. Poor Patricia went up and I could see her distress in the dim light of the hall- her raven black hair was held in an enamel clip, and I could see this clip bobbing up and down and left to right as she tried to communicate. I looked over at Patricia's friend, EatPrayLove. Still in perfect meditation pose, eyes closed. So balanced, so equanimous. (Goenka's favorite word.) I envied her Zen- surely she was on the path to Enlightenment.

When it was my turn to speak in hushed tones to Brett, I explained that I was NOT sleeping. He told me to just accept that I would not be getting much sleep while at the Center. Thanks? Hrm... We were also allowed to ask questions at the end of the night, and I asked Brett about Goenka's insistance that nothing was permant- everything was Anicha, Anicha, Anicha. (Change, change, change- which Goenka insisted on repeating in triplicate at every opportunity.) "So if everything changes, and goes away, how can we be happy about anything? How can we trust in anything? What if someone says 'I love you?' Should I just keep checking back with them every 5 minutes?" Brett smiled. "Just accept the impermance, and hope for continuity."

Bah.

The following day was the BIG REVEAL- Vipassana day! During a very special 3-hour meditation block (mandatory of course) we would be taught the practice and technique of Vipassana Meditation! Ready? Ready for the big reveal? The secret to all life, eternal lives, nirvanic bliss and enlightenment? ...It's a body scan. The same damn thing I'd been doing since Day 1. Checking in with each body pary and feeling the sensations. Son of a...! (FACEPALM.) The purpose of the body scan is to detect the subtle vibrations and sensations throughout the body and identify them, then accept them with objectivity, don't lable them 'good' or 'bad,' and move on. Do this piece by piece, top to bottom. Then bottom to top. Then symettrically, feeling both arms at the same time and both legs at the same time. Then flowwww... There. I just saved you 10 days of your life.

You're welcome.

I was still fuming at Fruit O'Clock. Really? The same shit I'd been doing all along? Goenka says that in dismissing each sensation with objectivity and remaining equanimous, we will prevent the creation of New Sankaras. Sankaras, (just in case you don't know,) are feelings of Craving or Aversion. Like or Dislike. And according to Goenka, who is going directly from Buddha's teachings, Sankaras are the root of all misery. I was confused- how can a 'like' be bad? I 'like' a lot of stuff. I just 'liked' my friend's photo on facebook- how can this be negative? That Sankara of a plate of hotwings? Mmmm. So good.

But, Goenka explains, they are bad because due to the impermanence of everything in life, no hotwings last forever. Everything is change, change, change. So I like something. Then it goes away. Then I miss it, long for it, and crave it. I become miserable, he insists, and generate a Sankara of craving. In fact, Goenka says, every time I create a NEW Sankara, it MULTIPLIES my preexisting ones. As soon as I enjoy or dislike ANYTHING, my Sankaras multiply, and my misery multiplies. Only though the habit of objectively accepting then dismissing the subtle physical sensations of my own body can I eradicate my Sankaras- and once I get deeper within the body, OLD, preexisting Sankaras will emerge and dissipate as long as I am dilligent with this Vipassana meditation.

Hmm. Okayyyy.

Since Vipassana is touted as a highly scientific, nondenominational SCIENCE of meditation, I ask Brett the next day: "If energy can neither be created nor destroyed, how is it by "creating" one Sankara, I "multiply" the others?" He smiled and mumbled something about how "multiply" might not be the best translation. "Okay, well since there is no such physical thing as a Sankara- if you cut me open, you will find none, I assure you- let's just assume he's talking about salt and amino chemical patterns being reinforced throughout the brain? Is that it? Just reinforcing bad mental habits?" "Something like that."

Hrm.

At that point, I started to check out a little. Plus, over on the men's side of the room, there was a Burper, and it was super distracting. On top of the standard sniffles and sneezes, having someone deeply belch while you're trying to focus was challenging to say the least. If Goenka was right, and the man was simply deep in meditation and releasing his Sankaras, then maybe it's not so bad, but since the only way I could visualize a Sankara was to picture it as a cockroach with a colorful satchel filled with Emotional Baggage, the image of a man burping up cockroaches became very unsettling.

I tried hard to scan that night, but memories kept popping up- sudden, specific memories of times with Jay- the time I surprised him by waiting under a streetlight for him to drive by while wearing a frog costume. The time I jumped on him, wrapping my legs tightly around his hips while I dangled one arm and "groomed him" with the other. He let me climb on him and called me a Lemur. The time we splashed in the fountain together in Winter Park- one he'd re-propose to me at when he got the engagement ring resized. A few tears escaped. I approached Brett. "Um, so, maybe these are Sankaras coming up, but I'm having very intense memories and they're making me a Sad Panda- how should I deal with the emotion?" Brett smiles. "Just accept that that'll happen and move on. Be objective."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks..."

Hrrrm. But that night, I guess I finally managed SOME sleep, because I had either a vision or a dream.
Doesn't matter.
What matters is that in the vision, I was meditating outside in the sun when a beautiful dark-skinned woman in traditional African robes and a beautiful headwrap approached me. She was covered in a fine layer of dust, and I knew she was Of The Earth. God. Like when you see Morgan Freeman and you just know. She walked to where I was sitting and reached out to me, reaching into my chest, into my heart, and removing a long purple plume from within me. "I'll carry your sorrows for you," she said, and tucked it up, pinning it away in her massive headscarf, where I knew it would stay safely forever and I'd never have to deal with it again. She looked at me with love and I awoke.

I awoke feeling truly loved and peaceful. That night I dreamed about Jay, but it was just standard dreams. We weren't fighting. He wasn't coming back to me. I didn't wake up disoriented or confused as to why I was alone. I woke up feeling relieved.

The covert sleeping didn't stop- and the covert writing began- with the sadness gone, and my complete trust in Enlightenment Through Vipassana sullied, my brain had a full-on revolution. And it was televised! I invented the Vipassana Network in my head, and wrote about the myriad of silly things that made me laugh throughout the day's events. I wrote an audition piece for a friend. I wrote half a screenplay- and I wrote this on papertowels in the darkness, or in secret or in the few precious moments of privacy I'd have when EatPrayLove was meditating in the Hall and I was "meditating" in my room. I wrote, I wrote, I wrote. And I was happy.

I had a daily supply of Clif Bars, and I would eat one each day in the woods, (to keep the bugs from wanting to get the crumbs from my dorm) and to not arouse jealousy. Mmm Clif Bars. I noticed after each sitting, I would spring from the hall like a snake from a can of snakes. I would take lively steps towards the bathroom or the trails or the mealhall- wherever I could.

Gradually, the rest of the students would stumble out, squinting in the brightness like Mole People and milling about. The Shuffling Zombies shambling around tickled my heart. I love Zombies. On the 9th Day, during the time we are typically released to have private meditation (read: sleep) in our rooms, they flipped the script and instead played a tape recording of Goenka speaking.

It lasted for over an hour, and I grew antsier and antsier waiting for it to end. When you hear no loud sounds or voices for 9 days, and Goenka's baritone instructions, affirmations and dissertations are all you hear, every one of his words comes like a Thunderball. I heard his voice in the shower, in the few brief walks in the woods, in my sleep. I could even catch myself internally replaying the songs he'd always sing in Hindi- songs with words in a language I do not speak were echoing, echoing, refraining between my ears.

Goenka also has a very specific pattern of speech- repeating some words in triplicate, others in duplicate, always with a very deliberate, controled delivery... Today it was just unbearable. I could feel myself catch the first word, then crave for the second, then long for the third just to complete the pattern- and what's worse, Goenka was pausing longer and longer between the repetitions, causing us to hang on his every proclamation- This was the only way to get out of my ignorance, to get out of my misery, my misery, my misery.

Hey, wait a tick... What the fuck!
This is exactly how they brainwash people!
Holy shit!

At that moment, what I'd been missing every day at breakfast, lunch, and Fruit O'Clock kicked in: SALT. Ohhhhh fuck. Salt. Fucking SALT!
Of COURSE!

Quick history lesson: I had to do a lot of research on how to make a zombie, for a movie. Historically, like, for real, the descendants of Witch Doctors from Africa are living in Haiti. And they have old family recipies for a very specific type of poison which is used in the slave trade in Africa to pacify captives from rival tribes until the White Devils would come and pick them up. The poison is made into a powder and introduced into the system of a victim. The victim "dies," and is found dead by some innocent bystander.

Some shitty Hatian doctor checks for vitals but has a lousy medical education, lousy equipment and no financial incentive to save the victim, so he or she is pronounced "dead" and buried by a shitty undertaker in a shitty coffin in shitty Hatian soil. This makes it very easy to dig that person up. Since the poison has DRAMATICALLY slowed their vitals, the person has not consumed more air than the coffin held, so the Hatian Voo Doo Master revives them but deprives them of salt. Then gradually reintroduces salt into the victim's desalinated system, and trains them, based on the victim's brain CRAVING salt, to do their bidding.

The tasks are done mindlessly and oblivious to physical pain. If you deprive a person of sleep and salt, it makes them more receptive to suggestion. Methamphetamine salts are given to help ADD and ADHD people, and Bipolar Disorder people take salts because their brain isn't making enough. Holy shit. Someone was trying to turn me into a zombie.

By napping and sneaking Clif Bars, I'd warded off the attack. Hot Damn I'm awesome. Do I think these people had ANY malicious, insidious motivations? Absolutely not. Sleep Deprivation, Desalination, chanting, repetition, constant monitoring and control over our physical bodies is not GREAT, but really all they want are good Vipassana students.
Which I am not.
Obviously.

After I realized this, with a laugh I arose from my cushion in the Hall. I absolutely couldn't stand another minute of Goenka, Goenka, Goenka. I HAD to move my body. I had to physically express my liberation. And so I stepped outside... and I ran. There was no one around, no one to distract- they were all inside! So I ran, luxuriating in the sensation of the wind in my hair and rushing across my ears. I pounded the grass with my feet. It felt great. I didn't go far- just in a short loop, a few skips and leaps. Two cartwheels. I found a stick and threw it from the clearing into the woods, delighting in the crash it made as it hit some branches.

I had made something happen, with motion and light and sound and joy. It felt amazing. But, nothing is permanent, all things are temporary, and suddenly Aishah was behind me- she'd come after me. "To make sure I was OK." "Yes, I'm great," I pant. "Just stretching." She insists that I speak to Brett after the lesson. "Really? I was just stretching!" "It's insisted upon." Well, shit.

A half-hour later, I'm in a tiny cell, kneeling before Brett as he floats on a deus two feet above me. Aishah has crammed in behind me- the room is so small I can feel her breath on my neck. It's unnerving. "Is everything OK?" Brett asks. Should I tell them that I've discovered their evil plot? Should I reveal my dissention? My rebellion? They told us we would suffer Severe Mental Distress if we left the course early... a threat? The truth? I wanted to see how it ends- I made it so far! I THREW A STICK INTO THE WOODS, YOU ZOMBIE-MAKING BUDDHISTS! HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?!?

"...Nah, I'm fine- just stretching, really. Just a stretch. That's all." Brett and Aisha exchange a glance, and I'm dismissed! Phew! We have a meditation break, during which we are supposed to meditate. I am too hyper. I just stew. After the break, we go back to the hall to mediate some more. Another hour passes, then, instead of releasing us, they start ANOTHER Goenka recording. Ah, well. To make matters worse, it's pretty much the exact same message as the first- the same speech, paragraph for paragraph, delivered in a slightly different way.

I had no choice but to distract myself with racy sexual fantasies to stay sane. It was the only way, really.

As soon as the last Saaadu was bowed out, I got a surprise when PATRICIA, the woman in front of me, bolts out the door- man, she's off like a rocket! I smile because I know exactly how she feels, and I smile more when I see Aisha bolt after her, like a shadow. Since I'm seated closest to the door, I'm the third one out and I see Patricia bee-lining it for the trail. Aisha is striding fast behind her. I still want to walk, so I head for the second trail nearby- but suddenly I hear something loud. Something unhappy. Patricia is yelling. At first, I'll admit, I got a pang of joy when I pictured her giving Aishah an earful for her Gestapo-policing habits- but then I listened more.

The yelling turned to screaming- I could not hear Aishah's whispered replies, but I could tell they were not making things any better. Patricia began screaming and ranting about "And what the hell is a SANKORA, anyway? I mean, what IS THAT? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT AND YOU WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!" Her distress level was severely inporportionate to the situation- she'd become completely irrational, and I could tell she was having a psychic break. This was a fullblown meltdown, and Aisha, who is not a trained ANYTHING, was way out of her league. "I DON'T WANT TO GO SEE BRETT!!!" I could hear more screaming, crying. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" They'd taken our phones, our keys, everything. (Well, not MY keys- Mama didn't raise no fool.) I knew Patricia felt cornered and threatened and terrified.

I couldn't help her because I was a virtual stranger, and for all she believes in her delusional state right now, 'one of THEM.' The best thing to do was go find her friend- the one she'd come with. Someone she trusts.
I found EatPrayLove meditating dutifully in the Hall, like we were supposed to. Perfect lotus position. Man she's good. "Diane," I murmur, kneeling next to her then comically eyehooking the door so she'll leave with me. She does, and I tell her in the hall "I'm so sorry for breaking your silence on the 9th night- but Patrica is in the woods and she's having a really rough time, and Aishah is making things worse."
"Oh," she responds, dreamily. "Yeah, this is a really tough course- how are YOU doing?"
"No, you're not getting it," I say. "Your friend is having a meltdown in the woods- she's freaking out and she's scared and she needs you."

EatPrayLove nods.
"I'll speak to her tomorrow."

...wait. What?
She turns and goes back silently into the darkened hall to focus on Love and Compassion for all Beings. While her friend suffered 300 yards away. I was stunned. After everything we'd been learning- all these anecdotes Goenka was feeding us about the Buddha, and his infinite compassion for suffering, his sacrifice... NONE of that had taken with the "best student" among us.

Patricia's shoes remained outside the interrogation chamber/"interview room" for hours.
She did not appear at Fruit O'Clock.

EatPrayLove went to bed that night and I heard her sleeping peacefully. The next morning, Patricia was at the Group Sitting, but she looked like she'd been administered a heavy dose of Thorazine. She was completely out of it, and rocked slightly back and forth as Goenka chanted, as if mesmerized. She went into a private meditation cell later, and I heard her crying. Then she and her car vanished completely. Aishah scooped up her cushion, eradicating any evidence that Patricia had ever existed.

After the 10th Day's Afternoon Sitting, students could finally talk. The campus errupted in joyful exclamations and bursts of sounds and laughter. "Did you see the tortise laying eggs?"
"YESSS!!! Did you see the fireflies?"
"What?!? There were FIREFLIES?!?" "You gotta hit the woods right after Goenk O'Clock- they're in grassy space big enough to do cartwheels in!" "How do you- (gasp) you DIDN'T!"

I was a rebellious black sheep- between the sleeping, the secret writing, the clif bars, the cartwheels, my freedom run, and my dissentious thoughts, I am truly the worst Vipassana meditator on the planet. It's official. BUT- despite 9 Days of being told how to think, how to feel, how to act, I still, STILL knew what was best to do for Patricia. I STILL felt compassion and put her suffering at higher value than my own Noble Silence.

I may have compromised my Vipassana Salvation, but if EatPrayLove's path is the path of Enlightenment, damn it looks cold and lonely.

I'd rather suffer the slings and arrows, the highs and lows, the mosquito bites and the fireflies, and FEEL FEEL FEEL, even if it is "misery." It's human nature, and I think being human is so very precious and beautiful. Sure, my life is a rollercoaster. But no one ever got off a fun ride at a theme park and said, "wow, that was really equanimous and balanced- let's go again!" I am compassionate, I am loving, I am willing to get hurt for love, and I BELIEVE in passion and following a free-range wild heart.

Is that enlightened? No. Is it fun? You betcher ass it is!

According to Goenka and Buddha, we get several rounds at this. Maybe this isn't my time time to have peace.
After all, I asked Brett on the last night: "If everything is change, change, change, and nothing is permanent or forever, why strive for Enlightenment if it'll just go away?"

Brett smiled. "You'll know when you're Enlightened."
How very Zen.
Please pass the salt.