SEEKING NIRVANA

Breaking the Silence at An Ashram

Could I make it through ten days of silent meditation?

I knew the experience would be intense but I wasn’t ready for the pain. Every hour I could feel it building in the muscles in my back and my joints, my feet, knees, hips, and spine. My body was not used to sitting in the same position without moving for hours on end. I’m not sure if the fierce pain was from just holding the positions for so long or if the heat and altitude were affecting me too because even my hands were hurting.

I had signed up for an intensive meditation retreat at an Ashram outside Mumbai on the advice of a friend to explore 10 days of silent meditation. Vipassana means to see things as they really are and it follows Buddhist teachings. I would take a vow of ‘noble silence’ for the full 10 days.

When I signed up I was working in a highly stressful job in television news, so I wanted to discover how to calm my mind and spirit. I needed to find a way to quiet the brain chatter that would start the moment I’d open my eyes in the morning.

I was prepared for the mental challenge but first I had to get over the unjustifiable fear that they would try to indoctrinate or brainwash me into joining a religion or cult when I was in a meditative state. Vipassana is a non-denominational program that doesn’t rely on mantras or visualizations to achieve inner peace.

I hired a car and driver to take me to the institute in the town of Igatpuri, about 140km from Mumbai. I arrived early afternoon in the sweltering heat, unloaded my bags, and went to the registration area to sign in. It was a lengthy, tedious process with nearly a hundred other men all doing the same thing. Men and women are strictly segregated from the moment of arrival, even married couples, to avoid distractions. We had to fill out numerous forms, sometimes repeating the same information over and over again before we would move to the next table for more checks and instructions.

We would wait on benches and when the first person in line would move out we would all shuffle one position over. It felt very robotic but I guess that’s how they are able to maintain order and encourage participants to be patient and leave their egos at the door. At one of the last tables, I was interviewed by a man who told me I would have to remove my bracelets and ring but I could keep my earrings and nose ring. When I couldn’t get one of my small beaded bracelets off, he cut it off.

I surrendered all of my valuables including my mobile phone, iPod, laptop, pens, paper, books, and anything that could distract me from the meditation process.

I was surprised to discover I would have a private cabin with an overhead fan, a single bed, and my own bathroom. There was no shower just three buckets and a pouring cup. I dropped my bags, filled a bucket, and decided to give myself a cooling sponge bath. Hot water is only available from 6:30 – 7:45 am each day so I had no choice but to use ice-cold water and shampoo since I couldn’t find my hand or body soap. I’ve learned to improvise when I have to.

We hadn’t begun our noble silence yet and as I walked around the grounds of the campus I noticed people were staring at me, something I’ve been getting used to in India. I know why they are staring but I was surprised when one man asked me why I had earrings and a nose ring. I responded “Because I like them, “ which seemed to shut him up.

I met a young man from Germany who also had both ears pierced. He had taken the course once before at the Vipassana Center in Germany which was housed in a former Nazi facility, which I found strange and creepy. He’d just come from a meeting where he was told he’d have to leave because he wasn’t strictly using Vipassana techniques. He managed to convince them that he would follow the rules.

After that, whenever we would pass each other we had to maintain our noble silence which meant no nodding or gestures. While we would recognize each other we would quickly look away. I learned to keep my head down to avoid breaking the vow.

I would still see people staring at me though, and sometimes whispering and gesturing to their friends. I even saw one group of older men trying to check out the forbidden female compound through holes in the fence.

Exercise and yoga are forbidden but the campus is huge and is nestled in the mountains and it is very hilly with lots of stairs so you get a good workout, especially in the heat.

There is no reading or writing (keeping a diary is absolutely forbidden), no cameras, no smoking, and you must maintain modesty at all times which means wearing shorts or going shirtless are a big no-no. There is absolutely no outside contact, and you must surrender yourself completely to the teachers, in other words, don’t question them and take what they are saying as the truth. You must give up all other rites, rituals, and other meditation techniques (as my German friend learned the hard way). There is no incense, beads, rosaries, singing, dancing, or praying.

You must accept the five precepts of Vipassana, an Indian meditation taught for more than 2500 years. Abstain from killing (all food is vegetarian), stealing, any sexual activity, telling lies, and all intoxicants. Veteran students also have to fast every day after noon and are forbidden from using high and luxurious beds. My bed is off the ground but far from luxurious with just a thin mattress on a wooden board and no pillow. There is no charge for the retreat it is all donation-based. New students are not allowed to make a donation until they complete the course.

As I waited for things to begin I realized I was bored already. What are you supposed to do in your downtime except walk around the campus with your head down or sit in your room staring at the bare walls? It’s like a kinder, gentler form of prison, although prisoners can at least communicate. I think I was missing the point.

As I sat on my bed waiting for the introduction to begin, I suddenly saw a flash of white light across my window. I opened my door and my neighbor was taking pictures with his camera (with a flash!). He looked shocked to see me and had a guilty look on his face before scurrying back inside his cabin.

We were separated into groups of twenty to twenty-five as we were introduced to the techniques. We were assigned cushions that we would sit on in the same place each day. Our teacher told us to simply focus on our breathing. That’s it, just focus on breathing in through our nose and out through our mouth and don’t try to control it.

Our daily schedule would include ten and a half hours of meditation every single day for ten days.

That first session was only one hour but every muscle in my body was screaming in pain. Because we were beginners, we were able to shift position and the entire room was constantly squirming. Every time someone would move I would look around even though we were supposed to keep our eyes closed. I found it hard to concentrate because of all the distractions. Outside there were crows squawking, dogs barking, and a rooster crowing. And inside, there was non-stop coughing, sneezing, and people yawning out loud. People were snorting, clearing their throats, burping, farting (I was in a room full of men), and there was even a guy snoring. Occasionally the teacher’s chants would play from the speakers around the room. I found the low, deep, throaty droning sound of Buddhist chants, soothing and gave me something else to focus on.

After lunch, as I was relaxing in my room there was a loud pounding on my door. I was enjoying the peace and tranquility when the noise gave me a jolt. I nervously opened the door and there was a little old man with a note telling me that the assistant teacher wanted to see me. Oh oh. What had I done wrong already? Did they see me peeking?

When I got to the hall there were about thirty of us lined up, single file, seated on the floor in three rows waiting to speak to the three assistant teachers, the head teacher is only seen and heard on DVD and is not even at the center. I mentioned in my intake interview that I had arthritis so he wanted to know if I was experiencing any trouble sitting for so long. I told him it was painful. But I got no sympathy, and instead he told me I would learn to control it. He said some pain is physical but the rest is psychological. Try telling that to my swollen joints.

It was in the middle of the four-hour afternoon session when I started to question whether I should continue. It was hard to concentrate with the excruciating pain. When my feet started tingling and getting pins and needles, I started to question the safety of sitting cross-legged for hours. What if I get deep-vein thrombosis? (Okay so I was a little melodramatic.)

After the third hour, I got called back to speak to the assistant teacher with a small group of those he was most concerned about. I’d heard a few of them hyperventilating during meditation. He wanted to know if we were able to maintain focus. One guy said he had a feeling of electrical shock and another said he had a feeling of lightness like he was floating on a cloud. What drugs were they on? The assistant teacher told them it was just their mind playing tricks.

I decided to stick it out although I wouldn’t jeopardize my long-term health. I enjoyed the solitude and introspection but I think I’d prefer doing that on a deserted island somewhere instead of sitting next to a group of burping, farting, and hoarking men.

The next morning at 4:30 am I was seated in position on my cushion and trying to stay positive. I had a very good first hour and was able to block out the distractions and remain focused. And then the pain returned.

After breakfast, during our three-hour marathon session, I completely lost it. Every joint in my body was on fire and time seemed to stand still. I tried to focus on my breathing but I was in agony. Finally, near the end of the session, I started to plan my escape.

I realized I had better zen moments watching the surf roll onto the beach or staring at a sunset or being hypnotized by the flames in a fireplace. This was torturous and starting on day five we would have three one-hour sessions each day where we would have to hold our position without moving. It’s called Sittings of Strong Determination. I call it voluntary torture.

After lunch, I went to the assistant teacher and told him I was leaving. He was visibly shocked and said, “You know you can change positions now.” I said, “It’s not going to work, it is too painful.” He finally gave up trying to change my mind and filled out a note for me.

I had to be escorted to the office and wait my turn outside the headmaster’s door. I felt like I was back in school. When I finally told them I was leaving they were clearly not happy but saw I was determined. They made me fill out more forms and gave me another note that I would have to show to security or I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the grounds.

Wait. What?

They called a car to drive me back to Mumbai, but they wouldn’t allow me to call and book a hotel room until I left the campus.

As we drove out the front gate I started to smile. I felt a huge weight lifting off of my shoulders and I felt free again.

I didn’t look back.

I had a lot more fun at Holi celebrations in Jaipur.