In a recent column, I wrote about taking a one-day meditation workshop with the Insight Meditation Community of Chestertown. For years I had tried to meditate, but my mind would rebel. Trying to watch my breath I would actually get out of breath.
But never underestimate the value of professional help. I took the workshop back in January, and now, four months later, I am meditating every morning for ten to fifteen minutes. So, feeling ready to take the next step, I recently signed up for a weekend meditation retreat: a silent retreat, in which you zip your speaking lips at 5:00 p.m. on Friday and don’t unzip them again until 4:00 p.m. on Sunday.
The retreat center was in Haverford, PA, at the Saint Raphaela Center, a stately stone mansion run by Catholic nuns. They didn’t seem to mind when the meditation teacher, a Buddhist, unpacked a statue of the Buddha and set it on a table in the spacious main room where we would gather for our 45-minute meditation periods.
On the first night, the director of the center introduced herself. She was petite, about 65, wearing maroon corduroy pants, a crewneck sweater and a large cross around her neck.
“I’m Sister Margaret,” she said in a crisp British accent, “and I run this joint.”
Retreat groups rent the facility, but nuns run the facility. The food was excellent and the rooms were immaculate (no pun intended.) There were about 30 people on this retreat. Some doubled up, but most, including myself, opted for single rooms. My room had a southern exposure with a large window facing a garden. There was a twin bed, desk, chair, rocking chair, closet and sink.
What’s a weekend retreat like? Here was our schedule for Saturday: 6:00 a.m.: rising bell. Someone walks up and down the halls swinging a giant brass bell to wake everyone up. It’s kind of fun. But then comes the hard part. 6:30 am —9:30 pm: sitting meditation, breakfast, sit, walking meditation, sit, yoga, sit, lunch, walk, sit, walk, sit, yoga, sit, dinner, dharma talk (instruction), walk, sit.
The first night was hellish. The inside of my head was like a Fellini film. Make that a Fellini film having an asthma attack. I decided the instructor was incompetent and the retreaters were inexplicable. It was a gorgeous spring weekend. Why was I here when I could be outside riding my bike?
Insight: I was resisting the retreat.
Confession: Late Friday night, I turned on my iPhone. I sent my husband an email and then started surfing the web. In the first sitting meditation, I had found myself fantasizing about having all my finances in order. Now it was imperative that I find the appropriate accounting software—immediately. I was fed up with Quicken. I googled “easy accounting software Mac.” When I started reading user reviews of iBank, I knew I had slid into the abyss.
Earlier, the meditation teacher had said, “come back to your senses.”
Suddenly, I got it. He had meant, get out of your ruminating mind and literally come back to the present via your five senses: hearing, seeing, feeling, tasting, and smelling.
I stowed the iPhone. I sat in the rocker and listened to it creak. I examined the pattern of the quilt on the bed. So many little sections of different fabrics. I chewed a piece of Trident. It smelled minty and was indescribably delicious. I washed with the tiny bar of Dial soap the nuns had provided. I sniffed my hands. My God! Isn’t this how nuns smelled when I was a kid? I turned off the lights. I decided the teacher wasn’t a jerk. The room was quiet. I slept through the night.
The next morning I felt as if had awoken in a different world. My mind was calm. I had stopped thinking about electronically reconciling my checkbook and instead was thinking about well, nothing. Maybe breakfast. The rest of the weekend passed without incident. Sunday night the traffic was intense, yet driving home I felt light and happy.
But it was in the week that followed that I realized the benefit. I started having lots of new ideas. Good ones, too! I felt a clarity that wasn’t there before. I had an urge to simplify my surroundings and tweak some of my routines. Perhaps the biggest change was a refreshing feeling of openness to the infinite possibilities of the day.
Now I wonder what’s next on my meditation journey: spending a whole week somewhere? Perhaps, but only after I master iBank.
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