I've been back in Okinawa for a few weeks. I spent almost two in meditation in Kyoto. There have been a few people who've been asking me what it was like, and I shall do my best to relate my experience of the meditation. While I'm sure the experience is similar in some ways for people, I'm also very sure that it is different in others. So whatever you read, please regard it as my story and not an explanation of what anyone else might experience.
First, a little about the location. The meditation center is used solely for that purpose, meditation. The center was constructed around 8 years ago and currently holds two meditation courses a month. The remote and quiet location also suits the activity quite well. There really were no distractions and very few reminders that a society existed outside the grounds (such as the occasional car, maybe just a few every day). The room and board was simple, yet fully adequate. We slept in group rooms with futons spread out at night (this was instrumental in me getting over my aversion to other men snoring) and ate vegetarian dishes prepared for breakfast and lunch by "old students," people who had previously completed at least one meditation course and chose to assist this time.
Upon arrival on the 23rd, we handed over any type or reading or writing material we had. The point of this collection was so that there would be no distractions during the 10 days. And with no distractions, one must really pay attention to all the things going on during meditation (more on that later). So I entered into this 10 day course with no books, no paper, no pens, just me and my clothing and toiletries and a futon in a room with six other men. That day also marked the first evening meditation. We took a vow of "noble silence," meaning we were not to speak with, gesture to, or make contact with anybody else (except the teacher or the course manager if we had questions or issues) for the entire 10-day course. The purpose of this is to further reduce distractions one may encounter.
Starting on the first day, we were woken at 4:00am. "Free" meditation began at 4:30 and lasted for 2 hours. I call it "free" meditation because we were not required to sit for the entire two hours. If needed, we could take breaks, go for a walk, stretch, things like that. Breakfast and break time ran from 6:30 to 8:00, followed by a 1-hour group sitting from 8:00 to 9:00. Group sittings differ from "free" meditation in that all participants are expected to sit together in the meditation hall for the entire hour. "Free" meditation periods, like the two hours in the morning, could be done either in the hall or in ones own room.
9:00 to 11:00 was another two hour free meditation period. Lunch ran from 11:00 to 1:00pm. The four hour stretch from 1:00 to 5:00pm was all meditation, with a 1-hour group sitting in the middle. Tea time from 5:00 to 6:00 (fruit and tea for new students). The last group sitting came at 6:00 to 7:00, followed by a videotaped discourse about the meditation we were experiencing. Once the discourse ended, there was a final meditation until 9:00, with lights out coming at 9:30.
At first glance, it may seem like there's a lot of time and not much to do. But in fact, I found out that meditating was a lot of work for me. Within the first few days, I developed a very clear idea as to what parts of my body meditation causes to hurt: knees and upper back. I also came to realize just how scattered my train of thought really is.
The main focus of this meditation technique is one's own breath. So for the first three days our objective was simply to observe the breath that came in and out of our noses. There were many moments where I'd be focusing on that subtle feeling, only to realize a few minutes later that my mind had wandered onto the most random and unrelated topics. I traced my train of thought back and was simply amazed at to how I reached such randomness. But the wandering mind isn't something to be upset about - it's just a fact, our minds wander. Once I noticed that I had lost concentration of my breathing, I simply had to bring it back into focus and resume paying attention. Over and over I had to bring it back. Perhaps I'd only get 3 or 4 breaths in before the mind wanted to jump away. But over time, I noticed the length of time I was able to concentrate increased.
But there was pain. I don't remember where it started first, probably the knees. Sure, there is lots of sitting in Japan, but often it involves moving around, shifting positions, etc. During the meditation, emphasis was placed on not moving, allowing the body to just be. I found that soon after the pain in the legs came, numbness followed, mostly in the feet and lowers legs (though this did lend to an interesting feeling I like to refer to as "turning to stone," as if one were rooted in the earth...in fact, just this week when my foot went numb, I tried to see if I could move my toes - I couldn't, but I could recognize that the nerve in my toe was firing and that the muscle was incapable of doing so - a very interesting feeling).
The middle of my back also caused me some issues, until I learned on the last day from a veteran meditator that sitting up straight is the best thing to do. Leaning forward puts a lot of stress and weight on the support muscles of the back, so sitting up straight, even though it sounds like it would be more difficult, is in the long run much easier.
There were some really interesting thought processes going on in my head at that time, too. Perhaps contributed to by the fact that we couldn't talk to anyone, I started developing ideas about what kinds of people my co-meditators were. These ideas ranged from very pleasant (someone was a good meditator, seemed peaceful and respectful) to angry (someone was seemingly taking more food than others, being lazy, not respecting the quiet nature of the meditation).
The man toward whom I felt the most animosity was a guy in my room. The first night, I had trouble sleeping due to his snoring. I tried my best to ignore it and even thought of covering my head with my pillow. But I started thinking that covering my head with the pillow was just running away from the problem. Men snore, some loudly. I figured it would behoove me to accept it and see what happened. So each time he started snoring, I focused on my breath. There were a few times, however, where the thought of pulling him out of his futon and smacking him in the face crossed my mind. And all this thought did was to serve to keep me awake longer, because I would lie there and imagine how angry I would get. Not ideal. So I'd go back to focusing on my breathing, and while I don't have any idea how long it took (I don't wear a watch, and my cell phone had been collected for the duration of the course), I eventually fell asleep. He snored every night and I had my own little battle, but I think now I can handle snoring much better than I could have before the course.
But it didn't end there. At meal times, I somehow got a glance of his plate (though now I could probably admit that I was looking for reasons to justify how I was a better person that he was...yes, this is the kind of stuff that was bubbling to the surface for me). I kept noticing that he would not only take lots of food, but he'd go back for seconds (and probably thirds). And he always waited in the dining hall until everyone else was gone (probably to stuff his fat face!). One time, he took three bananas at tea time! How dare he!! Couldn't he see that everyone else was taking at most two and being respectful of others?! And he drank his tea too loudly! I started thinking of him as a freeloader, someone who came just to have a nice 10-day break from work and stuff his face full of vegetarian food.
I hope this reads as ridiculous as I'm trying to make it sound. Because it absolutely is. I had never talked to this man, never really seen his face (remember, we're avoiding communicating with each other, and eye contact is one type of communication), had no idea what kind of person he was like. But my mind decided he was a loser. My mind, based on all its experiences so far, made this man seem to be less than me. But what's the point? What did I have to gain from all this anger and righteousness simmering within? Nothing. Nothing but more anger. Nothing but more suffering for me. And to think, we do this kind of thing everyday without even realizing it. And we don't know better, we don't know how to make it stop. But I have an idea how to stop it now. It's not easy, but it's there.
(It turns out, the Freeloader is actually making his living as a musician, which I think is pretty cool, being inclined toward music myself. I started thinking about how maybe if gigs weren't happening that often for him, how he might need to eat a little more than the rest of us, assuming some pathos-inspired "starving artist" image. Even this thought isn't necessary. The fact is he ate what he ate. Nothing special about it.
I still don't have any idea what kind of person he is, and there's still this (totally imagined!) negative experience of him in my head, but now I can look back and see why his actions were just actions and not attacks against me or anyone else. I also stopped to think about how I might have been doing things that bothered other people - a humbling thought).
So, the results of this meditation? On the last day, when we were allowed to resume conversation, my friend Roy and I had lunch together in the dining hall. It was one of the happiest conversations I've had in a long time. The peaceful energy in him, in me, in everyone at the course, was so apparent. I had trouble not smiling for a few days after that (imagine me walking around Osaka and Kobe with a grin on my face - people probably assumed I was a brand new foreigner amazed at the sights and sounds of urban Japan). Even now, I find myself simply happy at the way things are going, neither remarkable or amazing, simply full of peace and a happiness that is hard to explain right now. I am also much more aware of things these days, such as my reaction to events, my train of thought, my breathing. It's a fascinating web, this body and mind thing we've got.
Some of my co-teachers have jokingly asked me if I'm enlightened yet. I simply shake my head, smile, and tell them I'm working on it. A few have even asked for information about the meditation and I happily directed them to the website, even printed some information out for the two of them.
I'm not claiming to be a better person now. And it's not like I've had amazing realizations about the universe or life as we know it. I simply sat and focused, listened to and followed the instructions of our teacher, and now I am doing my best to keep the experience a daily practice. Sometimes it's hard, but that's ok. I just accept that it's not easy and find ways to stay motivated to meditate. Living alone in a quiet village helps (laughs), but not necessary. I feel very good these days, which is perhaps the hardest thing to explain.
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