Perhaps the question I've gotten asked most since Vipassana is: "Are you totally blissed out?" -- or something to that effect. And that's what's actually hardest to explain to people. There's no bliss, no nirvana about it.
Vipassana means "to see things as they are" -- not as we want them to be, or fear they may be, or seen through the lens of our ego. It's actually not calming or relaxing at all. Sitting peacefully for hours each day is strangely one of the most difficult things I've ever done (although infinitely better this second time). And the thing is, it's not even fun meditation -- the type where you contemplate life or get guided through mellow meditations about a deserted beach.
It's about the most boring thing you can imagine: watching your breath. For hours at a time. For 10.5 hours a day. It's a bit like living in a monastery, with your days guided by bells and gongs (the "noble silence" rule is the most sacred of the litany of rules we must agree to prior to joining the course). As the days progress, you start to internalize the schedule: wake up at 4am; meditate from 4:30-6:30am; breakfast at 6:30am; meditate from 8-11am; lunch at 11am; meditate from 1-5pm; snack at 5pm; meditate from 6-7pm; discourse on the technique from 7-8:30pm; meditate from 8:30-9pm; in bed by 9:30pm. Repeat x 10 days, and throw in a day before and a day after for good measure.
For the first few days, even though we're told to focus on nothing but our breath, I gave my mind permission to wander. After all, it was during my last ten-day course that I had an epiphany that I should stay in India and work at LifeSpring; and during my last one-day course that I decided to finally stop deferring my offer to return to consulting. With the move back to NYC in just a few months, I could sure use another flash of brilliance for the path ahead.
Instead, I got... Bella and Edward. Lots of them. After my mind space of Bella and Edward was fully explored ("there are actually a lot of similarities between 'Twilight' and 'Gone with the Wind'"), my mind moved onto "Reality Bites" ("I wonder how well Ethan Hawke and Winona Rider got along in real life because they seem awfully different"), and "Black Swan" ("Now that girl could have used some Vipassana"). After pop culture, my mind moved onto food and what I wish I were eating at that moment (not helped by Tyler sending an article on an incredible foie gras restaurant in NYC on my way to Vipassana!).
At some point in Day 3, I finally had it with giving my mind free reign. It was clear that there would be no epiphanies on life between "Twilight" and foie gras, so I finally decided to turn my attention to what we were supposed to be doing.
By Day 4, we moved on from "ana pana" (watching our breath), and now turned to sensations in our body. Told to sit perfectly still for TWO hours, we were asked to observe the sensations on our body, moving our attention from the top of our head to our toes and back up.
I couldn't do it. I was freezing the entire week (leave it to my poor packing to not even bring socks!), but at this new exercise, my body completely revolted. I began sweating and feeling extremely feverish -- and couldn't help but fidget the entire time we were meant to be still as a statue. In the discourse that evening, we learned that often either the mind or the body (or both) reacts extremely negatively at first. In my Hyderabad course, it was definitely my mind, which kept telling me that this was for people who were "miserable" and I needed to leave ASAP (the first tenet of Buddhism is that life is misery). This time, my mind was a bit of a bumbling idiot, but it was more docile and easier to control. It was my body that was betraying me, with all its pains, aches, and itches.
But despite this, the teachings started to really resonate (what's funny is that I don't even remember these teachings from last time... it was as though I was just so focused on getting through the ten days!) The core of Vipassana is around observing and more importantly, remaining equanimous and not reacting. We are conditioned to run away from anything we consider "bad" and constantly desire anything we consider "good." This, in dhamma teaching, is what leads to misery, as "bad" things will inevitably always happen, and we constantly crave things beyond our reach. By focusing on sensations of the body and simply not reacting to pain, itching, or other sensations, we begin to "train" our mind at the deepest level to experience the adage: "This, too, will change." Nothing will be "bad" forever, so there's nothing to run away from.
By the end of course, sitting perfectly still for one hour was no longer misery. In fact, I had come to actually enjoy the meditation and even my pain, as I knew it was transient and would leave as soon as I stood up. Perhaps the most powerful meditation was my final sitting on the last day of the course. As I observed the sensations throughout my body, it began to feel as though my body had turned into a complex web of vibrations. As I focused on my spinal column, I suddenly felt an incredible surge of what felt like "lightning" going up and down my body -- a wave of pure joy. And as quickly as it came, it left. Rather than crave for more of it, I felt like I had finally internalized that everything passes; nothing lasts forever... and was grateful for the lesson.
So what's different about me? I'm not completely sure. Tyler says I'm much more calm now (versus being "deer-in-headlights" after the first time)...I can certainly agree with that! Some things are for sure. It feels like a giant weight has been released. It literally feels more freeing to laugh. I still get annoyed at this, that, or the other -- but I pull myself out of it with just a few breaths. My endurance is greater, concentration stronger, and I notice things I somehow never had before. And there's also a lot less drama -- it's easier to just do what needs to be done and get on with life.
I think about what my friend, Ali, advised another friend who's about to go on her first course in Dharamsala:
"Realize also that throughout the 12 days, there are ups and downs. Everyday is a new experience. Everyday you will go deeper and deeper into yourself and confront everything that comes to you. Do not run away from what you see, realize, understand. Some will be good, some will be bad, some will be painful, and some will be sad."
No doubt about it, it's a bit like a lobotomy of your mind... It's a highly personal path, and the actual course is just the beginning of a life-long journey. Don't think I'll be attaining nirvana at any point soon, but that's also not the point. After all: It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it's the journey that matters, in the end.
Vipassana means "to see things as they are" -- not as we want them to be, or fear they may be, or seen through the lens of our ego. It's actually not calming or relaxing at all. Sitting peacefully for hours each day is strangely one of the most difficult things I've ever done (although infinitely better this second time). And the thing is, it's not even fun meditation -- the type where you contemplate life or get guided through mellow meditations about a deserted beach.
It's about the most boring thing you can imagine: watching your breath. For hours at a time. For 10.5 hours a day. It's a bit like living in a monastery, with your days guided by bells and gongs (the "noble silence" rule is the most sacred of the litany of rules we must agree to prior to joining the course). As the days progress, you start to internalize the schedule: wake up at 4am; meditate from 4:30-6:30am; breakfast at 6:30am; meditate from 8-11am; lunch at 11am; meditate from 1-5pm; snack at 5pm; meditate from 6-7pm; discourse on the technique from 7-8:30pm; meditate from 8:30-9pm; in bed by 9:30pm. Repeat x 10 days, and throw in a day before and a day after for good measure.
For the first few days, even though we're told to focus on nothing but our breath, I gave my mind permission to wander. After all, it was during my last ten-day course that I had an epiphany that I should stay in India and work at LifeSpring; and during my last one-day course that I decided to finally stop deferring my offer to return to consulting. With the move back to NYC in just a few months, I could sure use another flash of brilliance for the path ahead.
Instead, I got... Bella and Edward. Lots of them. After my mind space of Bella and Edward was fully explored ("there are actually a lot of similarities between 'Twilight' and 'Gone with the Wind'"), my mind moved onto "Reality Bites" ("I wonder how well Ethan Hawke and Winona Rider got along in real life because they seem awfully different"), and "Black Swan" ("Now that girl could have used some Vipassana"). After pop culture, my mind moved onto food and what I wish I were eating at that moment (not helped by Tyler sending an article on an incredible foie gras restaurant in NYC on my way to Vipassana!).
At some point in Day 3, I finally had it with giving my mind free reign. It was clear that there would be no epiphanies on life between "Twilight" and foie gras, so I finally decided to turn my attention to what we were supposed to be doing.
By Day 4, we moved on from "ana pana" (watching our breath), and now turned to sensations in our body. Told to sit perfectly still for TWO hours, we were asked to observe the sensations on our body, moving our attention from the top of our head to our toes and back up.
I couldn't do it. I was freezing the entire week (leave it to my poor packing to not even bring socks!), but at this new exercise, my body completely revolted. I began sweating and feeling extremely feverish -- and couldn't help but fidget the entire time we were meant to be still as a statue. In the discourse that evening, we learned that often either the mind or the body (or both) reacts extremely negatively at first. In my Hyderabad course, it was definitely my mind, which kept telling me that this was for people who were "miserable" and I needed to leave ASAP (the first tenet of Buddhism is that life is misery). This time, my mind was a bit of a bumbling idiot, but it was more docile and easier to control. It was my body that was betraying me, with all its pains, aches, and itches.
But despite this, the teachings started to really resonate (what's funny is that I don't even remember these teachings from last time... it was as though I was just so focused on getting through the ten days!) The core of Vipassana is around observing and more importantly, remaining equanimous and not reacting. We are conditioned to run away from anything we consider "bad" and constantly desire anything we consider "good." This, in dhamma teaching, is what leads to misery, as "bad" things will inevitably always happen, and we constantly crave things beyond our reach. By focusing on sensations of the body and simply not reacting to pain, itching, or other sensations, we begin to "train" our mind at the deepest level to experience the adage: "This, too, will change." Nothing will be "bad" forever, so there's nothing to run away from.
By the end of course, sitting perfectly still for one hour was no longer misery. In fact, I had come to actually enjoy the meditation and even my pain, as I knew it was transient and would leave as soon as I stood up. Perhaps the most powerful meditation was my final sitting on the last day of the course. As I observed the sensations throughout my body, it began to feel as though my body had turned into a complex web of vibrations. As I focused on my spinal column, I suddenly felt an incredible surge of what felt like "lightning" going up and down my body -- a wave of pure joy. And as quickly as it came, it left. Rather than crave for more of it, I felt like I had finally internalized that everything passes; nothing lasts forever... and was grateful for the lesson.
So what's different about me? I'm not completely sure. Tyler says I'm much more calm now (versus being "deer-in-headlights" after the first time)...I can certainly agree with that! Some things are for sure. It feels like a giant weight has been released. It literally feels more freeing to laugh. I still get annoyed at this, that, or the other -- but I pull myself out of it with just a few breaths. My endurance is greater, concentration stronger, and I notice things I somehow never had before. And there's also a lot less drama -- it's easier to just do what needs to be done and get on with life.
I think about what my friend, Ali, advised another friend who's about to go on her first course in Dharamsala:
"Realize also that throughout the 12 days, there are ups and downs. Everyday is a new experience. Everyday you will go deeper and deeper into yourself and confront everything that comes to you. Do not run away from what you see, realize, understand. Some will be good, some will be bad, some will be painful, and some will be sad."
No doubt about it, it's a bit like a lobotomy of your mind... It's a highly personal path, and the actual course is just the beginning of a life-long journey. Don't think I'll be attaining nirvana at any point soon, but that's also not the point. After all: It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it's the journey that matters, in the end.
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