Assignment: Meditation retreat. Rules: no talking, eye contact, writing, reading, music or meat. Commitment: 10 days solid (10 hours a day), plus 2 days on either side to immerse and resurface.
Not talking for 10 days was not the part of the meditation retreat I found difficult, although I still take pleasure in saying, “bless you” when someone sneezes as a result of cultivating awareness of this programmed response. Now I really mean it.
The hard part was the lack of music. The first three and a half days (36 hours!), which were grueling, had us working on Patanjali’s 5th & 6th stages of yoga. Basically shutting down the turnings in the field of consciousness (the habitual way our minds work, skipping around from one topic to the next in a free-association romp).
To meditate for a minimum of 10 hours a day is to truly connect to the untrained nature of our minds. In yoga classes, you hear about training the puppy (mind), bringing it back again and again when it wanders off chasing crickets. I was lucky enough to be used to meditation and the seated posture (sitting with the spine erect in order to open up the central column), but these could not save me from the often hilarious soundtrack playing in my head.
I love music. That’s what I missed. It only took a few hours for me to tire of concentrating on points (in this case, the tip of my nose) and loose my focus. My mind was a veritable Pandora playlist, and the DJ had a plan. I laughed out loud sometimes (not exactly welcome in a meditation space where everyone is trying to withdraw from external input and ignore the rustling, shifting and occasional groans of discomfort as a result of sitting still for 10 hours day after day). I suggest bringing a donut for days 6-10—not the kind you eat. I learned what matters to me as certain songs and lyrics visited again and again. I let the music play sometimes, relinquishing control to see if there was a reason my mind-DJ was planning this song, then sheepishly returned to the practice of focusing my attention in an attempt to silence my inner soundtrack. I kept thinking, if I could play the songs that were visiting me, maybe I could silence them. No music allowed, no eye contact or writing either.
The lack of eye contact, I thought would make the exposure to 30+ other human beings for 10+ days less exhausting. I live alone, and often find too much exposure to people, even people I love and am having fun with depleting. I need alone time the way plants need sun. The funny thing is, you don’t have to look people in the eyes to absorb their energy or be affected by their mind states. There was a lot of anguish and suffering in that meditation hall, and I took every opportunity to sit outside, in my room, and later in a meditation cell to find a purer space to attend to the spring cleaning of my mind in order to clear a space to find the witness within.
When our minds were allowed to break free of our nostrils (pronounced nose-trills) and expand the meaning of “start again” it felt like the clouds had lifted and the warm sun had finally been wrenched free (it hadn’t, in fact it was really cold and rainy for more than half the retreat—in June). WEEEEEEEEE! My focus shifted to scanning the whole body piece by piece and part by part and the magic began. I discovered I could not connect to the ring toe on both feet, but was more surprised that every other part of me was accessible to my consciousness.
When I started practicing yoga, I would hear cues like “interior rotation of the inner thigh, drape the scapula down the back body, lift the sternum...” and I’d think, who the heck could isolate and act on those commands? Now I could, and with 6 months to process my experience I understand why this is so important. I no longer live in my head, directing my body like a reluctant robot-puppet whose abilities I did not comprehend at all. My consciousness has dropped down and is as much in my hands and feet as my heart and head.
The focus on the body also taught me that I can handle pain, in fact I found pain interesting. The way the pain in my left shoulder blade had a heat to it, constant for long stretches but totally bearable. Other pains were sharper, ice cold and metallic but quick. The problem was not pain; it was irritation. I have no patience for stupid things that could be easily fixed or should not happen in the first place. My practice was often about not scratching that pesky itch or tucking that flyaway strand of hair behind my ear so it would STOP tickling my cheek and noticing how my mind state affected my body. The tension was immediate, a clenching and drawing in like a fist. When I did manage to calm my mind, the tension would release and often (but not always) the symptom that allowed me to work with my inner-cranky was gone. A scratched itch without the scratching! ) I did have some major bug bites, and cort-aid before sitting also helped.
On day 6 I entered territory I’d only glimpsed at before in shavaasana and meditation. I don’t yet know how to talk about it, and this is probably why I’ve put off writing about the whole experience. I’ll tell you about the side effects. I did not sleep for 3 days, but I was not tired at all. I felt completely present and absolutely charmed by everything I saw, the world was suddenly in Technicolor just like when Dorothy opened the door of her house and found she’d killed the witch. The love I felt was a golden stream emanating from within; I could feel it shining through my pores, my pores dissolving. In the meditation hall (I think on day 8) my palms lit up and opened and in that instant the Guns & Roses (?) song popped into my head with the line “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame…” and I had to leave quickly so I could laugh and laugh. Heart chakra receptors in the palms—indeed!
Some would say I found god on my retreat, I say I found grace. That grace was accessed by yoga: union of mind, body, spirit. I found the witness patient and joyful and I now know she is not hard to find, all I have to do is open up to now to access her.
I also found gratitude so deep and wide I tear up at the thought. How full my life is, how loved I am, how lucky to have so many to express love to and share life with. I let go of the lack I’d been fighting with for years. The painful jealousy of those who have what I want: a mate, children—these essential parts of being human I felt deprived to be living without. How could I be deprived with the fullness of my life? I get to teach writing! I get paid to poke and prod students to wake up and engage in their lives and make a difference. And yoga, seriously? Finding yoga was my way home, back to my body, to my truest self, full of love and unafraid to shine. That I have the honor of teaching yoga classes is a daily gift, I learn so much every time I teach. Do I still hope to share my life with a mate? Absolutely. But I now know that I share my life with so many and I do have children in my life that I care about deeply and have the honor of watching them grow and offering my support.
My three-year anniversary of finding yoga is the last day of January. My thanks (in the order they brought me deeper into yoga) to Louise, Tricia, Elke, and Tom. To have such amazing guides and teachers is the truest sign of the blessings I now embrace and acknowledge with deep gratitude.
Final Note: I did drive directly to McDonalds upon leaving for a Big Mac, large fries, and a HUGE iced mocha. Absolutely divine. I also have to thank my roommate, Delia, for making our shared space one that felt calm and safe—a sanctuary. I know she was a gift too, one that I cherish sharing the experience with. You made coming out of the depths so much fun!!! If only we had a bottle of wine to celebrate our last night! Some day : )
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