I'm two days out now from serving at the meditation retreat. I attended the retreat as a volunteer--"server"-- in the kitchen. Although I did not attend as a student, the volunteer kitchen help was still required to meditate. We meditated three times daily for one hour each time.
After going almost one complete year without formally meditating, sitting felt like taking a long drink from a fresh water well. I had missed it.
Having returned to Santa Cruz, I'm still feeling a little loopy, but slowly I'm decompressing. The meditation retreats always do that to me, especially the Goenka ones. I did not participate in the rigorous ten hour a day training, but still I feel like I've gone through minor brain surgery.
It has been one year since I was first introduced to Goenka's Vipassana meditation technique. But even volunteering to prepare meals for the participants is an experience that deepens ones practice, deepens the effects of the technique.
Sitting in the backseat of Kiran's car, once again driving through the lovely hills of the lower Silicon Valley, I definitely felt stoned. Yes, that is exactly how I felt, like everything I saw out my window, the buildings passing by me, seemed distant and very quiet.
During the last two days, I debated whether to stay for the additional three day work shift at the center. I could feel the intentions of those around me, to entice me, or coax me, or invite me to stay. But I was ready to leave. The restrictions of all those rules, the discipline of the meditation, and the stress of trying to get along with my fellow kitchen workers made we want to leave the place, for a short time anyway. Indeed, once in the car I thought about Albert Einstein and what he said after leaving California, working for a time at the California Institute of Technology, "I've been loafing in Paradise."
In a way, the Vipassana center was a paradise, at least my version of what paradise would be like--a place where every one meditates, no one talks, and each human is on a spiritual quest.
During this stay, my commitment to the technique as well as my practice became more firmly established. There was no doubt that I would one day go back, and that I would not ever leave the path.
But on the last day, I also thought, "I would really like to get out of here and Play...would like to watch a Netflix movie, and get on my computer and play Plants vs Zombies, and stop being super nice to everybody.
Sitting in the back seat of the car going back to San Jose, I began to get motion sick. Kiran's car had a lot of vibration in the back. I was getting nauseated and having a hot spell, wanted to roll down the window for cool air, and to sleep.
While looking out the window I contemplated on the distant feeling I had about all that my eyes saw while scanning the beautiful countryside. I recalled the "stoniness" I felt for about 30 hours after I saw Emptiness back in Iowa City. Chotak had led a guided meditation for the folks at Jalandara and I had fell into the deepest meditation ever. During that teaching I had fallen into the sky and later came up panting hard as if my breathing had been suspended for a time.
The next day, at the morning lecture, Chotak's voice seemed far away. He held up a pen and continued discussing the emptiness of objects. Then he looked directly at me and said, we all see the same thing, don't we Molaan? I was unable to answer that question and said to myself, I don't see anything. But to him, I mumbled, "Could very well be."
And so, I had for a brief 24 hour period seen the emptiness of all objects. And then it ended.
This time, using the method by Master Goenka, I noticed a similarity in feeling. Similar, yet different. Sitting in the back seat looking out the window, watching the street signs, and towns, cars, and businesses go by, listening to Kiran and his friend talk in Hindi, I realized what was different. Whereas, with Chotak, for a short time, I could not recognize the objects I looked at. This time, I recognized all that I saw but felt nothing. It was I who was empty.
After going almost one complete year without formally meditating, sitting felt like taking a long drink from a fresh water well. I had missed it.
Having returned to Santa Cruz, I'm still feeling a little loopy, but slowly I'm decompressing. The meditation retreats always do that to me, especially the Goenka ones. I did not participate in the rigorous ten hour a day training, but still I feel like I've gone through minor brain surgery.
It has been one year since I was first introduced to Goenka's Vipassana meditation technique. But even volunteering to prepare meals for the participants is an experience that deepens ones practice, deepens the effects of the technique.
Sitting in the backseat of Kiran's car, once again driving through the lovely hills of the lower Silicon Valley, I definitely felt stoned. Yes, that is exactly how I felt, like everything I saw out my window, the buildings passing by me, seemed distant and very quiet.
During the last two days, I debated whether to stay for the additional three day work shift at the center. I could feel the intentions of those around me, to entice me, or coax me, or invite me to stay. But I was ready to leave. The restrictions of all those rules, the discipline of the meditation, and the stress of trying to get along with my fellow kitchen workers made we want to leave the place, for a short time anyway. Indeed, once in the car I thought about Albert Einstein and what he said after leaving California, working for a time at the California Institute of Technology, "I've been loafing in Paradise."
In a way, the Vipassana center was a paradise, at least my version of what paradise would be like--a place where every one meditates, no one talks, and each human is on a spiritual quest.
During this stay, my commitment to the technique as well as my practice became more firmly established. There was no doubt that I would one day go back, and that I would not ever leave the path.
But on the last day, I also thought, "I would really like to get out of here and Play...would like to watch a Netflix movie, and get on my computer and play Plants vs Zombies, and stop being super nice to everybody.
Sitting in the back seat of the car going back to San Jose, I began to get motion sick. Kiran's car had a lot of vibration in the back. I was getting nauseated and having a hot spell, wanted to roll down the window for cool air, and to sleep.
While looking out the window I contemplated on the distant feeling I had about all that my eyes saw while scanning the beautiful countryside. I recalled the "stoniness" I felt for about 30 hours after I saw Emptiness back in Iowa City. Chotak had led a guided meditation for the folks at Jalandara and I had fell into the deepest meditation ever. During that teaching I had fallen into the sky and later came up panting hard as if my breathing had been suspended for a time.
The next day, at the morning lecture, Chotak's voice seemed far away. He held up a pen and continued discussing the emptiness of objects. Then he looked directly at me and said, we all see the same thing, don't we Molaan? I was unable to answer that question and said to myself, I don't see anything. But to him, I mumbled, "Could very well be."
And so, I had for a brief 24 hour period seen the emptiness of all objects. And then it ended.
This time, using the method by Master Goenka, I noticed a similarity in feeling. Similar, yet different. Sitting in the back seat looking out the window, watching the street signs, and towns, cars, and businesses go by, listening to Kiran and his friend talk in Hindi, I realized what was different. Whereas, with Chotak, for a short time, I could not recognize the objects I looked at. This time, I recognized all that I saw but felt nothing. It was I who was empty.
