Insight Meditation Society, Barre, MA
I woke up at 5 on the second day of retreat, and after a simple
breakfast of oatmeal porridge and green tea, headed to the meditation hall for
a day of contemplation with my fellow retreatants.
The day’s practice consisted of periods of silent sitting
alternating with mindful walking. The only interruptions were a lunch of salad,
freshly baked wheat loaf and a vegetarian soup and then later that evening a
light dinner consisting of soup, bread and fruit or dessert.
I needed the retreat. I run 3East, a unit dedicated to the
treatment of suicidal adolescents, and the work is filled with helping young
people overcome the suffering of enduring misery and unrelenting suicidality.
The tension of weeks of work continued to evaporate as the day
progressed and I looked forward to the evening sitting session before heading
off to bed. As the summer light faded the evening birds settled from a day
chirping and singing. Their song had been a delightful source of anchoring
attention, and when they stilled the flickering candles on the altar at
the front of the hall barely overcame the darkness that brought with
it drooping eyelids and a desire to sleep.
When the session ended, one by one people left the hall, and I
fought the desire to head back to my room to sleep. I wanted to sit for a
little longer. “Pay attention, notice drowsiness, notice that you just had the
thought “pay attention,” get back to your breath.”
Struggling with sleepiness, I noticed anxiety which relented as
I refocused on my breath. 'Where were you all day?' "Always here,"
answered the breath as I counted: Breathe in 'one' breathe out 'one', breathe
in 'two' breathe out 'two' breathe in 'three' breathe out 'three'... More
people left and again I started to fade. Soon there were only three of us left
in the hall and a gentle moonlight meandering in through the windows
added a touch of wonder to the moment and then the next moment and the
next. A summer breeze seemed to come out of nowhere creeping in through the
semi-opened windows, teasing the curtains to join it in a dance. Oh the joy,
the whimsy, the universe at play! One person got up and left quietly. One
fellow traveler left in the room. 'I wonder if I will be the last to leave?'
the thought floated by. My ego chimed in, 'you can be the last to leave!' Pride
awakened and joined the ego, 'you will have sat here longer than anyone else.'
I noticed these thoughts, and then gently let them go. 'Naughty mind,' I thought
judgmentally and then judged the judging.
Back to breathing. 'Behind me, the person is sitting behind me
to my left.' In the gloom of the hall, I glimpsed the outline of my companion
through the corner of my eye. They were sitting so very still, although every
now and then I sensed them moving rocking back and forth. Half an hour passed.
I looked down at my watch. 11:03. Ego and pride came back 'you can do this, you
can out-sit them.' I protested, 'This is not about beating anyone! This is not
a competition, and besides I have to be up at 4:45.'
"I can let it go!' I decided to call it a very late day and
immediately noticed joy arise. My companion had taught me
an important lesson that day! They had given me the opportunity to
notice my rigid attachment to a goal, to notice pride and ego, even while
on retreat.
'Thank you my companion.' My heart exploded with loving kindness
for the lesson. With that I got up quietly, straightened my cushion, put my
hands together, and bowed slightly towards the altar. Then, I turned to my left
with the intention of bowing with gratitude to my teacher. I did so then
realized there was no one there! Instead a large potted shrub in the back of
the room swayed gently back and forth in the occasional midnight breeze. I
bowed and smiled at the mischief of the universe, and the plant seemed to smile
back. I committed to stop by to say hello in the morning.
