(this is part four 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 warns me that I’ll be thinking about sex for at least the first four days of the meditation retreat. “Because you’ll find that your mind wanders a lot… and sex is just a natural place for it to wander to.”
I remember being thirteen and in algebra class, and thinking the same thing. And I remember, even a few months ago, looking forward to the weekend with my girlfriend (because we lived in different parts of the city). But I’m not attending a ten-day silent meditation retreat to fantasize about sex.
Not when there’s so much else to figure out. Like how to enjoy moments when the weight of the past and the future are on my shoulders. And how to think about concepts like meaning and existence without stumbling into a black hole of meaninglessness.
“You can only contemplate meaning and existence for so long before you just… you know… want someone to fuck your brains out,” she says. “You know what I mean?”
I don’t know what she means. But I nod because I’d prefer that she doesn’t elaborate.
*****
It’s the morning of the first day of meditation. And my mind is wandering. So I open my eyes and look around the ashram. And scan the rows of women who are so close… but seem so far away. Because I’m not permitted to talk to them… or even look at them.
I know I should close my eyes and focus on my breath. But I don’t want to close them. Because I’ve noticed a beautiful Indian woman sitting eight rows across and two heads down from me.
Her face is coffee and milk. Her features are delicate and smooth. And her posture is perfect. “I could fall in love with a woman like her,” I think. “I wonder if she could fall in love with me?”
But I won’t find out. Because she can’t look at me. And I can’t approach her and say something like, “Hello, I’m Dan… you probably hear this all the time… but I think you’re beautiful. And I know there’s so much more to you than just being beautiful. So I wanted to say hello… because I figured you’d say hello back, and that’d be a beginning, and then we can start to be friends.”
My intention, of course, wouldn’t just be friendship. It’d also be to find out if I could love this woman. And if she could love me. And if so… bring on the courtship rituals. If not, well, I have a wonderful friend… or in a worse case, nothing less than what I have now.
I smile. Because my mind has drifted completely away from my breath. Which is fine because before her, I was only thinking about my hunger pangs. Which are so strong right now. I wish they’d go away. Anything is better than these hunger pangs.
I close my eyes and try again to focus on my breath. But my mind returns to my stomach. Which roars loudly enough to keep the focus on my stomach for the rest of this first meditation session.
*****
It’s the third day of the retreat, and I’ve learned that I don’t have to be so attached to my hunger. I can just observe it. And when I do, I notice that it’s just a sensation… one of many sensations occurring simultaneously all over my body. And I don’t have to run from it, or even want it to be over. Because it’s simply not a big deal.
Which means that my mind can focus on other things. During formal meditation hours, I’m mostly aware of my breath and the sensations on my body. But when formal meditation hours are over… sometimes I let my mind wander a little bit.
Like right now. I’m walking around the circular walking path and thinking about her. The cute Indian woman. And wondering whether I’ll be thinking about her more… now that I’m not thinking about my hunger.
*****
It’s the sixth day, and I haven’t stopped noticing her. I can tell you, for instance, that she changes her clothes midday… when she probably showers. That she likes to tie her hair in a pony tail for the last meditation session. And that she closes her eyes and begins her meditations before her neighbors do… and well before I do.
But that’s as far as it goes. I observe her… and then I observe my breath. No wild sex fantasies. No kissing fantasies. Not even any hello fantasies. Just observations. And moments, like now, when I think about my life and notice patterns…
Like that I’ve fallen in love many times. And always, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. And the smartest. And the most loving. And the person I knew I was going to marry since I was, like, five.
These loves have been nice for a time… but never worked out. Either because she turned out to be a lesbian. Or I decided wrestling championships were more important than her. Or she cared more about her eating disorder than me. Or I cared more about my business than her. Or she didn’t believe in monogamy. Or I fell in love with her best friend…
I’m just observing my mind’s reflections. It notices this pattern, but that’s as far as it wants to go. Before returning to my breath. And to sky… which is becoming dimmer and dimmer as the sun starts to set.
*****
It’s now the eighth day, and I still haven’t fantasized about her. It would be so easy… especially when she pulls a blanket over her body. Oh! So… damn… sexy!
But instead of fantasizing, I return to my breath and the sensations on my body. Until formal meditations end, and I decide to walk for a while. And as I walk, I make two new observations about my relationship history:
The first is that I’ve bounced back from every woman that I thought was the only woman in the world for me… the moment that I found a new woman that was the only woman in the world for me. The second is that I’ve looked for the wrong things in every relationship that I’ve ever had.
I’ve wanted either to fill holes from the past or cater to fantasies about the future. But I’ve never wanted to just exist in moments. Never!
And I know that things have changed. Because for days I’ve been walking in circles and existing in moments completely; meditating in an ashram and existing in moments completely; observing a cute Indian woman and existing in moments completely.
*****
It’s my final day at the meditation center, and participants will be permitted to speak with each other in less than two hours. But I know that I won’t speak to anyone… especially not to her.
Not as an act of defiance or deprivation. But rather because it’s the thing that I most want to do. Because for the first time in my life, I feel complete. And I don’t need to meet her or think that she’s the one… to feel happy… because I imagine that one day, with her, I might feel complete.
Because I feel happy now. And I feel that feeling of completeness. Of having everything that I could possibly want. In this moment. And this one. And again… in this one!
