As I lay in the grass—tired of everything: meditating, not talking, not seeing Luciana, lying in the grass, not working, not exercising—I hoped for an escape from my boredom. I had already appreciated nature, already reverted to childlike imagination (converting a piece of bamboo into an imaginary tennis racket and golf club, hopping from log to log barefoot), already tried sleeping through it all. What was left for me to do? I continued my newfound pastime of breaking dead leaves in different ways when the wind started to blow. The gift of the wind on my skin and hair was enough, in that moment, to entertain me. Then, suddenly, I spotted brown leaf floating high in the blue sky. A show!
I knew I would get to see this leaf float down from the heavens. And a show it would be. It began its waft aimlessly, taking on no pattern of movement, tumbling through the air. After a few seconds of its random flight, I was terribly excited to see the leaf begin to spiral on its descent, delaying its inevitable landing. Some seconds after I began enjoying the sight, I noticed its flight path suggested a landing on me! Although its journey happened to end a few feet away and not on me, I delighted in its dance in the wind.
Wow. What a thrill. The acknowledgment of how little stimulation I had experienced in these last nine days made watching such an ordinary event feel like a true marvel.
There was more wind during the rest of my stay on the grass, but instead of leaves falling from great heights, I was only blessed with the sight of men checking, hanging, or taking their laundry off a nearby clothesline. I had noticed that some of the more veteran students knew how boring things would be and planned to entertain themselves with the joy of handwashing their laundry. The frequency of washing for some of these returning students suggested that they had brought only enough clothes for a day or two. They seemed only either to be meditating or walking to and fro from the clothesline.
We were called by three strikes of the gong (a familiar sound, heard no less than 14 times each day), signaling it was time to meditate again. Our reaction to the gong was rather Pavlovian. As soon as it began to sound, men got to their feet and began walking in the same direction without saying a word to each other or hearing any sort of instruction. By day nine, the schedule had been quietly memorized by all. My Pavlovian response to the gong went beyond simply knowing it was time to return to the meditation hall, time to eat, or time to wake up. I also felt an induced urge to pee. Since I had gotten into the habit of going to the bathroom before each session or meal, the gong now triggered the urge all on its own.
During the hour-long meditation, I fought boredom. No longer pain. My knees and hands could now handle a full hour without moving. But my mind had had enough. I began to watch Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who Shagged Me in my head. What a joy it is to watch a movie from memory. I nearly laughed out loud in the silent meditation hall when I “watched” the character Ivana Humpalot introduce herself. Drawn to this particular sense of humor at that moment, I reminded myself of the scenes featuring Alotta Fagina from the first movie. This brought me even closer to an outburst of laughter—so much so that I had to switch back to the Vipassana meditation technique I was supposed to be practicing. I alternated between meditation and watching Austin Powers in my head for the rest of the hour, much like I had done with Caddyshack during a meditation a couple of days prior.
After meditating, it was snack time. We had a whole apple (a treat) and tea. My very organic apple had no defects this time, which was a real treat. I decided to eat it as slowly as possible. I cut fine “chips” to have a long-lasting, crunchy snack. After a few chips, I decided to start cutting the apple with the blade toward me so that the potential risk of cutting my thumb could serve as additional entertainment. I kept cutting and enjoying slices, taking long pauses to sip tea and ensure each bite was fully swallowed before taking another.
A guy who looked like a younger Al Pacino started washing his dishes in the sink next to me. I noticed that, despite being one of the guys who regularly visited the clothesline, he had begun to stink. Al filled his glass with tea and then walked out of an unused side door. Why? I wondered. There was essentially no reason to leave through that door. He stood outside for a minute or so, unmoving. Then, before leaving, he took a quick glance to his right. And then I knew why he had chosen that door. It was all for the momentary glimpse into the women’s cafeteria. Just a split second of looking in at the women was enough entertainment for him.
I finished my single apple after 20 minutes of cutting and eating. I looked around proudly, certain that I would have been the last to finish, reveling in my brilliance—when I heard a loud crunch.
At some point during the 10-day silent meditation retreat, my thoughts started narrating themselves like this. It seemed only natural to write them down—against the rules, of course.
Very interesting. Was laughing my head off. Don’t know how you lasted 10 days. Hope you will share some meditation tips with me.