Silence Is Precious: Unless You Have Four Days Of It....

My nephews Ethan, 2 1/2 yrs old, and Jordan, 3 weeks.

They are unrelated to the following post, except that that they are just so darn cute.

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Ah, the joy of talking.

 

I just spent the last 3.5 days doing the exact opposite of talking. (Not talking, in case you hadn’t guessed yet.) I did this shutting of my mouth at a meditation retreat in Marin, CA, about 30 minutes from Berkeley, at the Spirit Rock Meditation Center.

Ooh, you’re probably thinking, meditation retreat. How calm and serene that must be!

Uh-uh. No siree. Guess again partner. Lemme give you our schedule just so you understand:

Retreat Schedule:

6:00 (a.m.) Wake up

6:30: Sitting meditation

7:00: Breakfast

8:30: Sitting meditation

9:30: Walking meditation

10:15 Sitting

11:00 Walking

11:45 Sitting

12:30: Lunch

1:30: Rest (thank God)

2:30 Sitting

3:00: Walking

3:45: Sitting

4:30: Yoga

5:15: Dinner

6:30: Sitting

7:00: Teacher Talk

8:00: Walking

8:45: Sitting

9:15: Sleep

 

Word has it the Dalai Lama himself looked at our schedule and said, “Damn, are you guys out of your f***king minds?”

So yes, that is the schedule we 60 or so silent people, ranging from ages 21 to 65, followed.  How was my experience?  Well, actually, it was really, really hard.

I soon discovered that sitting meditation ain’t exactly my forte. I was an anxious, wiggly-squiggly dude. And when I wasn’t wiggly-squiggly, I was falling asleep, or thinking the most random of thoughts. I mean, this kid named Chris Attisha from the third grade popped into my head. I haven’t thought of Chris in like 10 years! What are you doing in my head, Chris? Especially at a time like this!

The walking meditation wasn’t a whole heck of a lot better. Walking meditation is where you walk excruciatingly slow, focusing on feeling every step. It’s a little easier because you’re moving, but you also have to endure the heckle of snails on the ground passing you, jeering, “Look at these slow fools!”

I know so far I’ve given the impression that the retreat was really tough. And I do intend to keep giving that impression. But I must say, the food was incredible. Mostly vegan, all of it homemade and delicious and creative, I looked forward to those meals with salivating anticipation (don’t tell the teachers, I was supposed to be in the moment). And we couldn’t talk to anyone while we were eating, so we had no choice but to look into our delicious bowls of food and get lost in the wonderful, healthy tastes. (*Side note-only eat this much vegan food if you want to poop 4-6 times per day.)

To give a better idea of what exactly all this meditation business is about, it can be summed up in one word: mindfulness. Or you can call it awareness, consciousness, paying attention, being in the moment, being there. They all point to the same idea: notice your thoughts, notice your actions, instead of reacting or thinking unconsciously, like when you fly into a rage because your child put his used diaper in the fridge.

One way I started thinking about mindfulness is that it’s like having a really good, non-judgmental friend you respect and look up to. So when you start getting angry, or frustrated, or jealous, or expectant, or any of the whole range of emotions we experience every day, you have to tell your friend your thoughts: “Joe, I should be a funnier person,” or, “Joe, it seems like everyone is happier than me,” or, “Joe, I’m in such an angry rage I might punch my boyfriend in nose.” Joe, being the nice non-judgmental friend he is, won’t make you feel bad, or say don’t do that, or laugh at you. He’ll just smile at you and nod, or maybe just say a kind word. And in the mere act of being mindful, of identifying and labeling and acknowledging how and what you’re feeling, like magic much of the emotion disappears, or you at least gain some perspective on it.

But the great thing is, this friend is inside all of us!

Now, this whole mindfulness business is easier said than done. Much of the retreat I was bored, frustrated, sad, or looking forward to being back in civilized life. I kept haranguing myself for being a bad meditator, for not enjoying the experience as much as I thought others were. At many points, I eyed my keys in my backpack and thought how easy it would be to put my backpack in my car, drive back to Berkeley, mindlessly multi-task in peace….go to the cross-dressing party at the new co-op I moved into….

But I was committed. I didn’t go there to have a fun, easy experience. I went to learn more about myself, to be with myself in a way I never had been before. Silently, without distractions, without people.

Funny enough, my best and brightest moments of this retreat were when I made my own noise. There was going off by myself to hike on the trail after lunch, sitting on the ground, and having a 30 minute jam session with two sticks and a rock. Then on the last morning, vigorously humming the Rocky theme song while on the toilet. And lastly, this morning, when in the bathroom alone, breaking into an impromptu Circle of Life from Lion King (coincidentally, the song I played on piano at my first and only piano recital in third grade), complete with body gyrations.

What is to be learned from all of this? For one, I learned that we don’t all fit into a mold. Sitting meditation is a nice idea, and it has certainly done wonders for many people. But that’s not who or where I am right now. And it’s a huge trap I don’t want to fall into to say that I should be this, or I should be that. I know I feel the best when I’m active and physical and with people I love. That’s a precious thing to know, and value, worth a lot more I could ever earn at a job.

I keep thinking about this idea of my path. We so often live with this idea, thrown at us from all sides, that there is a certain way to do things. We get it in moral lessons from things like religion (which also does a lot of good, don’t get me wrong) or the media, or people, or even just our tendency to compare people. Advice is good, especially from those we love and trust. But we’re all teachers, if you ask me. And we’re all our own best teacher, when we’re mindfully in touch with ourselves.

It’s time to own my path. When he was 29 years old the Buddha left his secure life as a prince and went out on the road to find purpose in life. Jesus did much the same, essentially forming a new religion and taking on the Roman Empire.

I think I know what Jesus or Buddha or whoever else you look to for guidance would say, at least my version of them: follow your path, carve it every day in your tears and laughter and rushing footsteps and aches and gains. Follow the beating of your own heart. And don’t ever let anyone, most especially yourself, tell you that you’re anything but beautiful and capable and worthy of giving and receiving love. You are and I am and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Lord knows I’ve fought myself long enough on this issue. You just have to say it enough times until you know it in the core of your being. I am worthy. I beautiful. I am good.

Contained in all this individuality is the most beautiful, unifying paradox I know: that we are one. We are all traveling our own unique path, and yet we are all traveling to the same end. Christians call it heaven, Buddhists call it Nirvana, and Jews call it bagels, lox and shmear (just kidding). Inherent in all these names are some unifying concepts—an end to suffering, finding peace, happiness. You can use different names but if you feel true joy and see it mirrored in the eyes of the one you look at, you know the words all just try to describe that same feeling.

So that’s some of what I learned. I learned you can take 4 really rough days and turn them into something you’ll carry in your heart for the rest of your life.

May you be well J

Ryan