After getting settled in Pakistan, I got on the internet to begin planning my trip through India. I knew that I would start in Udaipur where I had a connection from someone I had met in California and I also knew that I wanted to find a 10 day meditation retreat I could attend at the end of November, just before returning to the states on Dec. 1. My search led me to a meditation course as taught by S.M. Goenka at his Vipassana meditation center in Bodh Gaya (one of over 120 such centers worldwide). The course would start on Nov. 16th and end on Nov. 27th, giving me a few days to get back to Delhi for my flight home. I was delighted as the timing seemed perfect. It was only after deciding to attend this retreat that I discovered Bodh Gaya is where Siddhartha Gautama sat under a sacred fig tree now known as the Bodhi tree and became enlightened 2500 years ago. After his enlightenment he became known as, "The Buddha" which is a title that means, "The Enlightened One" or "The Awakened One." The tree that now resides there is also referred to as the Bodhi tree and is believed to be a direct descendant of the original.
I do not consider Buddhism a religion. There are no Gods and no beliefs that must be followed. In fact, one is encouraged to question everything that is claimed in any of the Buddhist teachings (the Dharma). This is extremely satisfying to my questioning, rational, perhaps over-rational mind and quite different from my (very brief) excursion into Christianity many years ago.
The central teachings of Buddhism are described by the 4 Noble Truths:
1) To live is to suffer
2) Suffering arises from attachment and aversion
3) There is a way of living that can lead to the end of suffering
4) That way is the eightfold path
The eightfold path that can lead to enlightenment is:
1) Right view
2) Right intention
3) Right speech
4) Right action
5) Right livelihood
6) Right effort
7) Right mindfulness
8) Right concentration
I find all of this imminently reasonable, particularly since I am encouraged to discover these truths for myself through the art of meditation.
I do meditate from time to time, but not very consistently nor nearly as often as those who are more serious. And my meditation is not very directed, aimed merely at trying to quiet my restless or "monkey" mind or at least to observe it in this chaotic state.
The goal of this Vipassana meditation course is to teach a more rigorous method of meditation. The teaching begins with an instruction by Herr Goenka via cassette tapes to concentrate on the area of our upper lip, the entrance to our nostrils and the nasal cavity up to the bridge of our nose. For the first 3 days we spent the entire 10+ hours of meditation trying to focus our attention on this small area that was reduced in size to only the upper lip and entrance to the nostrils on the 3rd day.
With the pain in my neck, shoulders, back, butt, legs, knees, ankles and feet (did I forget somewhere?) and my incessant monkey mind, this was not an easy task for me. But I did my best and occasionally I would hit a stretch of a minute or 2 in which my concentration would remain relatively unbroken. I could discern some subtle sensations that would ordinarily go unnoticed, such as the swaying of my nose hairs as I breathed in or out and the difference between the cool dry air coming in and the warm moist air going out.
The next step was to use this same tool of focused concentration to scan the entire body. This seemed a bit like using a dental tool to clean the Taj Mahal, but again I tried my best. We were told to start with an alert, calm, quiet, attentive mind of perfect equanimity. I remember thinking that if I could start with all of that, I wouldn't need to take this stupid course. We were told to choicelessly observe any sensation (pain, itching, vibration, tingling, etc.) as well as any reaction (such as attachment or aversion) to any of these. Again and again this idea of choiceless observation with a mind of perfect equanimity was stressed. We are told that it is not due to any external stimuli that we experience joy or sorrow, that it is due instead to our reactions of attachment or aversion to these stimuli that cause these feelings. We are told that ultimately it is within our power to cease such biased observation and that we can move instead into a place of perfect equanimity where we neither crave nor fear anything and instead simply see the world as it is. It is through the practice of meditation that this truth can be experienced. In this way, Buddhism is the ultimate in personal responsibility.
It is extremely difficult for me to purge my mind of the extraneous thoughts that constitute most of my thinking. But hour after hour I tried and occasionally I would find myself settled into what I call "the quiet zone." But I would not be conscious of this while it was occurring. Rather, it was only when the spurious conscious thought that I had just BEEN in a very quiet and peaceful place would enter my head that I would realize that some version of "me" HAD been quiet up until that point. But with the thought of it, it was gone. This touches on the idea of who/what is "me" and comes up a lot in Buddhism. It is one of the central conundrums that must be investigated.
One interesting experience involved my sitting neighbor to my right (we had assigned seating). He was an Indian looking fellow (dark skinned) and occasionally, from a disturbance deep within his gastro-intestinal tract, he would emit an explosion of gas that was accompanied by a sound that was part bull frog and part elephant seal. The dimensions of this "burp" were so astounding that were adolescent boys intent on out burping each other to be in his presence during one of his eruptions, they would instinctively bow down as humble novices to their new master. I'm sure that everyone else in the meditation hall was as astounded by Mr. Burpie's outbursts, which were a daily occurrence, as I was. Because I was sitting directly next to him I suspect that the vibrational rush ordered up from deep within my being in response was perhaps more pronounced for me than it was for most. Regardless, I discovered after my first few exposures that my body no longer responded in this manner and would remain quite undisturbed by the event. I believe my response changed from one of shock to one of much greater equanimity, much like we were instructed to try and cultivate. But in this case, "I" did not create this equanimity, it simply appeared.
Perhaps that is how it comes about. Any striving to cultivate wisdom and to incorporate it into my personality is simply an exercise in ego development. Perhaps true wisdom simply grows from a well cultivated garden.
At any rate, I spent the rest of the 10 days trying, with little success, to choicelessly observe my body as I scanned it from head to toe and back again. In the end, it was clear that it would be unrealistic to expect any sort of epiphany from 10 days of instruction. This is a practice that must be used regularly if one expects to benefit from it. And while enlightenment is probably possible at any instant, one should not be surprised if it does not come even after years, and perhaps lifetimes, of sincere practice. But I am currently of the mind that final enlightenment is preceded by a series of steps in that direction, each one helping to extract one from the pain of dukkha (suffering) and each one bringing with it a greater measure of peace, compassion and gratitude. So one need not wait until complete enlightenment occurs to reap benefits from the practice, they will begin to accrue immediately.
Only time will tell if I possess the wisdom necessary to continue this practice.
