(this is part five of a ten-part story about a recent meditation retreat. You can connect to the project on Avanoo here.)
The woman with the cute British accent tells me that when she returned from the meditation retreat, her family and friends liked her better, but feared for her more. “My parents actually had an intervention with me because they thought I’d joined a cult.”
I thought about my family and friends. Mostly doctors, lawyers, scientists, investment bankers, consultants. Always amused and interested by my pursuits… but rarely approving. Which is why I didn’t tell any of them about the meditation retreat…
Except Wilford and my parents (and our Avanoo community… ten minutes before I left). Wilford was supportive. “It’s wonderful,” he said. My father was suspicious. “You’re not going off the deep end?” he asked. My mother went off the deep end. “I’m just worried that you’ll get into some weird sexual shit,” she said.
How could she say something like that?
“I don’t want you to come back thinking pain and pleasure are the same thing,” she said. I didn’t know how to respond. So I told her that the weather outside looked nice.
*****
It’s my second day at the meditation retreat, and I’m trying to integrate the instructor’s lessons into my practice. I’m focusing on my breath. In and out. For hours at a time. Accepting that my mind cannot stay aware of my breath for longer than a few seconds.
It drifts to my hunger… to the cute Indian girl eight rows across and two heads down… and to imaginary conversations with imaginary people. Which is all fine. Because right now I have a fickle mind. This is the reality of the moment. And it’s my job to be observe my mind, and to pull it back to my breath whenever it moves away from my breath.
I notice, as the hours pass, that it’s impossible to control what thoughts or emotions enter my mind. If I tell it not to think about hunger, for instance, it starts obsessing over hunger. So instead of practicing control, I’m practicing giving up control… observing rather than participating in my mind’s craziness.
As I watch, I’m learning about the mind’s obsessions… its attachments to ego… its identifications with moments past and future expectations… and its inability to focus on breath… or to enjoy even the most enjoyable moments.
*****
It’s the afternoon of the fifth day, and I’m eating a banana… slowly. This is a minor miracle. When I’ve eaten in the past, I’ve been starving – or perceived myself as starving – and wanted to get as much food in my stomach as quickly as possible.
Today I’ve slowed down considerably. My meditations are influencing my eating habits. Probably because I recognize, now, that hunger is one of many sensations in my body. My face and neck feel cold air (because I’m outside). My feet are tingling from the constriction of my shoes. My nose itches. And so on.
These sensations all have different textures… but they’re similar because they’re just sensations… and because they’re changing all the time. And by observing them and not getting involved, it doesn’t even bother me to watch hunger. Because I know that eventually, it’ll be gone.
This is, for me, a totally new way to experience life. Until now I’ve exerted lots of physical and mental energy to be a champion wrestler… to not give in to hunger… to run a start up company… to be a good boyfriend… and so on. Which is a strategy that has worked… but at the price of happiness and, sometimes, sanity.
Now I’m learning that I can achieve ever better results – while staying happy and sane – by not exerting any effort at all. Instead, I can just acknowledge that change and progress are natural. That the universe has been changing and progressing (evolving) for billions of years. And that I can do the same.
Without any sweat! The universe evolves by moving from moment to moment. By occupying each moment fully. And I can do the same. I can exist fully in each moment. I can be joyful in my work and life and relationships… right now! And it takes no effort at all. Because I’m already here… now.
*****
It’s the last day of meditation and I’m packing my clothes… almost ready to drive home. I know, for the first time in my life, who I am and what my job is:
I am the observer of the thoughts, emotions, and sensations in my mind and body, and my job is to choose what to observe in this moment.
The thoughts, emotions, and sensations in my mind and body are how I experience the world. I can’t control them… but I can watch them. And by watching – by giving up control over my sensations – I have more control over myself – my real self – than ever before.
Because I don’t need anything. I am whole and complete as is. Even with hunger. Even without the hot Indian girl. And now, every time I breathe, it’s the most liberating breath I’ve ever taken. Because it’s the first and only breath I’ll ever take in this moment.
****
As I carry my bags to the car, I realize that my mother’s deepest fears have materialized. I’ve come to the conclusion that pain and pleasure are the same. But this doesn’t mean that I’ve developed any weird sexual fetishes.
It just means that I’ve experienced pleasure and pain. And that I’ve noticed that pleasure and pain are sensations that come and go… and will continue to come and go. And neither is worth chasing after or running away from.
Because neither sensation affects the inner joy that I experience when I observe each moment as it changes… changes… changes. Which is the reality of my world, now. Changing sensations. Which is also the reality of things.
