One evening, I just made up my mind to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time: I signed up for a retreat at the Insight Meditation Society center in Barre, Mass. At the time, I didn’t even know what workshop I was signing up for—it was the one that fit best into my schedule, it was short (Friday night – Sunday noon), and it was accessible (only an hour and a half drive). I booked it and that was that.
Of course, I booked it about a month or two out, and as spring began to make her subtle entrance, I was already feeling better. When the weekend finally rolled around, there was a part of me that knew it would be different, it would be hard work, it would be unfamiliar…I debated not going. But I am very disciplined and I went anyway.
The course I signed up for was called “A Taste of Freedom” and it was a silent retreat. All we did from Friday evening until Sunday at noon (seriously) was sleep, sit in meditation, eat, volunteer job (mind was washing dishes in the kitchen), sit, walking meditation, sit, walk, sit, walk, sit, walk, eat (thank god! Lunch!), sit, walk, sit, walk, sit, tea (=dinner), sit, walk, sit, sleep, Repeat. The first half of the retreat was torture. I kept noticing that my mind would jump ahead of me and start to formulate how I might be able to pass the time more quickly, how maybe I could just skip the next sitting mediation, maybe I will go for a walk instead. Whenever I would sit in meditation, my mind would go foggy and I would drift off into a dream-like state. That is not good meditation.
But after lunch on Saturday I noticed a shift. I had gone out into the garden after the meal and sat on the bench facing a large Buddha statue. There were twigs and flowers and beads sitting in his palms and resting on the alter—gifts that other retreatants had put there. I just sat there in the cool air and asked this statue if it might help me clear my mind. Could it help me with my meditation?
When we went back into the sitting hall and I closed my eyes, there was a sharpness there that certainly hadn’t been there before. My attention was steady, on my breath, and I would notice the split-second when my mind would begin to wander off. I would watch it, notice it, and then I would gently draw it back. There was a physical ease, too, to this sharpness of mind. My body was more comfortable sitting for the 30 minutes, and I could almost feel the focus resting in the front part of my brain, right between my eyes.
When that meditation session ended, and I opened my eyes, I felt refreshed, not tired. I thought to myself, “I could meditate for another half hour right now, and it would be great”. It was the first time in my life that meditation felt wonderful. For the rest of my time at the retreat, I enjoyed myself fully with every moment. I did not let my mind wonder off in ways that would distract me from the task at hand. I would simply sit when it was time to sit, walk when it was time to walk, eat when it was time to eat, and sleep when it was time to sleep. It was easy, and it was blissful.
By the time it was over and it was time to go home, I did not want to leave.
It has been a few weeks now since the retreat. Re-entering the real world with lots of noise and TVs and radios and people chatting and cell phones and computers and talking and taking care of things…it was jolting to say the least. I think it actually took me about 24 hours to remember how to multi-task. But that sharpness of mind, that blissful state that I experienced was so authentic that even though I do not feel it now when I sit in the mornings, I know that I have the potential to feel that way, and just knowing that is blissful in itself.
This was the meditation hall. I was the sixth row back from the alter, third cushion in on the right side. I had to count because we weren't really supposed to make eye contact with people, in respect for the silence (that part, I didn't really understand. But that's okay.)
