Monastic Meditation (Thailand)
Moments prior, I had paced back and forth in my room, psyching myself up. Like a nervous teenager about to place his first ask-out-phone-call, I had started up the path to the Monks cabins twice already, only to turn back at the last second. Finally, I grabbed my sack, found the most appropriate looking fellow [see picture], pointed at my head, and showed him the razor and can of shaving cream. Unless you're willing to risk a bloody scalp, the first time you shave your head, you don't do it yourself. Plus, how often would a chance like this come along?
"No Philippe, I won't do it". This was my hair dresser's reply when I told her to take it all off. She reinforced it with "You'll look stupid."
Over the previous years, Rachel and I had grown pretty close. She'd patiently coaxed me along – slowly moving from my preppy corporate cut toward something a bit more interesting. This day, however, on the eve of my departure date, I intended to shave my head as a symbolic act - to reinforce my efforts to overcome vanity (vanity = insecurity).
Rachel's points, coupled with the sudden occurrence that she might be right, broke my resolve. We settled on the highest clipper setting (#4).
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Upon entering Thailand, B, T, and I sat down to discuss our options. Since my hiking shoes had been stolen by a 15 year old hooker in Vietnam (great story I'll share later - NO, I didn't sample her services), their plan of trekking along the Burmese border was out of the question.
After considering my choices, I decided that a meditation retreat was the best call. THE COOLEST THING ABOUT TRAVELING IS THAT YOU FREQUENTLY CAN, AND DO, MAKE WHAT-PATH-SHALL-MY-LIFE-TAKE DECISIONS.
After checking out few places, I found what I was looking for - Wat Rampong [see picture]. It was a beautiful Theravada Buddhist Temple that instructed monks and lay people in 10 to 26 day Vipassana (insight) meditation courses:
Yohan, a 'happenings' (ie rave) promoter from Finland, began the course the same day. We spent the morning following a Nun around the temple grounds [see picture]. Maggie (originally from Sweden) described the course and demonstrated the techniques we would be using to "develop a greater understanding of our bodies, our feelings, and our minds". Nothing she said was exactly clear though. No precise directions, no instructions posted on the walls. Once a day we were to meet with the Abbot [see picture] to report our progress and seek guidance. Otherwise, we were on our own. The only warning Maggie thought important enough to repeat twice was, "The course is difficult. Many Yogies (meditation students) do not make it past a few days".
While awaiting a darma talk, Jeff, an American ex-patriot living in Seoul, began wispering to me. He wanted to know why I'd shaved my head and how long I planned on staying for. To my response of "to get into it, 26 days of course", he replied "WOW", followed buy an earnest "Good Luck".
His reaction coupled with Maggie's warnings confused me. This back to basics living wasn't all that tough. These others were just weak minded wimps - me and my shaved head were going to waltz through this.
Night , Day 4
I awoke and had to fight back the tears brought on by an overwhelming sense of despair. "I want to get out of here, I WANT TO GO HOME". I realized that I could easily grab my stuff and walk out of the temple. The idea appealed to me so strongly that I had to cast if off by force.
I was averaging 10-12 hours of meditating per day but only getting around 2-4 hours of sleep.
* The monastery bed didn't help matters at all [see picture]. It was basically a raised wooden board with a cushion the consistency of a door mat on top.
* The ever-present rumblings in my stomach were about as conducive to a fitful night's rest as the bed. The Yogies ate with the Monks - 2 meals a day, served at 6AM and 10:30AM (no dinner). With the exception of a dominant Buddhist shrine, the cafeteria looked like something you'd expect to find in a correctional institute. Each meal (typially one main course and one side dish) were slopped onto our compartmentalized tin trays. In all honesty, I have to say that it was pretty good. Of course, after enduring the seemingly endless prerequisite chanting (10-20 min) while staring at your food, anything edible would have triggered a Pavlovian response.
*Mostly though, these endless nights were the work of my inner demons. All the anxieties, doubts, failures, insecurities, short-comings, and fears that I'd swept under my life's carpet had in fact survived, patiently sharpened their claws, and waited for a moment like this - when I had no escape. No books, no sleeping pills, no sex, no drugs or alcohol, no email or phone, no snacks, no movies, no music.
Just me alone with my ID, which was racing to the surface of my consciousness - demanding to be heard.
Morning, Day 5
I felt a little better when I made a new friend [see picture] who told me that the meditation course was the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life. We traded stories:
- I told her about my next door neighbor, Kerean, an English bloke who had spent the past 3 years in Thailand as an ordained Buddhist Monk. This retreat was to assist his transition from the robe back to lay life. He set out to do the full 26 days but was now quitting after 14.
- She told me about her next door neighbor, Valerie. THAT morning, she had left breakfast early, stripped naked, covered herself in mud, then much to the Monks consternation, walked through the temple.
This was one weird fucking place. There was no way I was staying the full 26 days - I doubted I'd actually get through the basic 10.
What would any of my friends / family think if they saw me now? White robes, bald, chanting.
One word: Cult.
My Brother would be appalled.
So why did I stay? Basically because I knew that it was a good course that could yield great results IF I could marshal the discipline to stick with it. Also, I felt like I was on the cusp of something big - if I quit, I would only be cheating myself. The line "You only get what you give" kept reverberating in my mind.
My new friend helped keep me on track. Denis (short for Denise), was a British bird who'd recently spent a year windsurfing Australia. Half way through the course, I developed a school-yard crush on her. Like Summer Camp, the temple grounds were segregated. Males and Monks to the North, Females and Nuns to the South. Unlike Summer Camp, there would be no late night rendezvous or make-out sessions. This was what made our slow walks so precious. I would return to my room less lonely, warmed my the contact with another human being experiencing what I was.
So what did I learn, how did I grow? Although I didn't reach Enlightenment, for the first time I found myself making baby-steps toward my goals. I won't bastardize the experience by attempting, and failing, to articulate it. If you'd like to buy me a coffee at Bob's or a beer at Kelly's, I'll phil you in on the details.
I'll share this though - one night, as I watched the sunset from the Library's balcony [see picture], I remembered recent, similar scenes:
- While watching the sunset in the Mekong, I'd thought how great it would be IF only I had a J.
- While chilling on the beach in Hoi An, with a J, I mentioned that IF we had chicks, it would be perfect.
That was all it took. Maybe it was the effects of sleep deprivation but I caught myself. No matter what I had or was doing, it wasn't enough. I caught myself - I realized that this.......WAS.......perfect. I felt a great rush of affection for the temple, for the course, for everyone and everything.
I knew this moment contained a piece of what I was searching for when I came to Asia.
Word to the Third My Friends
* The Path to Peace Within; a guide to insight meditation. Helen Jandamil
* One Step at a Time; Buddhist meditation for adsolute beginners. Phra Peter Pannapadipo