Take a natural breath...

Before I attempt to make my way through a barrage of emails and before I talk to too many people about the experience, let me try to blog my ten days of a monk’s existence for posterity.

What a ten days.

So, from the beginning (it's a long one, get comfortable).

With sadness I departed from my lady, Effie and made my way to the Vipassana centre.

A little administration, greeting, smallish talk with other nervous first-timers and quietly confident returning students. Then shown to a simple shared sleeping quarters and then down to an initial meditation sitting.

So – what?

Sit in whatever position is, ahem, comfortable and then close your eyes.

A very old, white-bearded Indian man sits on a raised platform at the front of the room next to an old Indian women. I am in a room with hundred other students – segregated by gender. Males on the left, females on the right. A good mixture of old and young, Indian and foreign.

The old man greets us rather sternly, gives us some rules and then presses play on a tape recorder. The sound of an unpleasant guttural chanting begins. Oh dear. And then the voice begins to talk in slow, measured Hindi. And then followed in English.

So – what?

Ok team, focus on the small area around the entrance of your nose and above the upper lip and just observe the natural breath as it makes its way in and then makes its way out.

Sounds simple. Ahem.

Within seconds the mind is on Effie. And then one is aware that Snoop Dogg’s ‘Gin and Juice’ is playing on the internal jukebox. And now my legs hurt. How long’s it been? I dunno, I can’t see the clock from my cushion. I have no watch – who needs a watch in India? Me! I now need to know how long I’ve been sitting here in this position. It’s very important that I know that approximately five minutes have passed since I first arrived at a meditation course that, if completed, entails a hundred hours of this sitting. Yes, it’s important! I need to fucking know!

Is my back straight? No, it’s not straight. Ok, straighten the back. What a wonderful opportunity I have been given to straighten out my perpetually crooked posture.

Ok, it hurts being straight. It’s used to being bent.

Where was I? Ahh, my breath. Yes. In. Out. In out. Yes, very good. And what? That’s it?

Uhuh. Just focus on the breathing. Don’t try to change the breathing, don’t breath harder or regulate it. Just breath normally and observe it. What do you observe? Any sensation on the nose? What is that sensation? What response does it provoke? Any?

Just fucking irritation! Oh my god, ten days of this shit.

Thankfully after a five o’clock meal of only salted rice crispies, a piece of fruit and as much dodgy chai as one can stomach (the same meal for seven of the ten days) we were treated to meeting Goenka through the medium of DVD. We sat in the hall and watched him deliver a charming, warm, hilarious discourse which penetrated deep to the heart of my experience. He described exactly what I was going through. And he gave us explanation for the technique, reassurance of its benefits and warnings and suggestions for practice. It was utterly vital in keeping my spirits.

Lying in bed that night, I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking but it was a mixture of deep resigned despair and an attempt to remind myself that countless amazing friends I have encountered on my existential drift of India have provided living examples of the effectiveness of this technique. I have met people on the day of their release and the change in their behaviour was so obvious to me. They were beaming. Their eyes had changed. They seemed calm. They knew something.

Despite knowing this, the first day was hard. Oh boy, it was hard.

Sigh.

Thoughts of leaving constantly. But how could I be the one to let the side down? I knew that what I was doing was good. But why so hard? Why so strict? Why so much fucking work?

I could hear the fun that the rest of the valley was experiencing. Distant sounds of drumming and singing. Oh the life I had left behind!

No talking? Oh Christ, that means no singing. No guitar playing. And no writing. No nothing.

Just focus on the breath. Yes yes…alright!

Meal times were spent staring out of the window wondering what nature could do to inspire me. Quite a lot it seems. The course centre is situated with a partially obscured view of the Himalayas, just sneaking out from behind the beautiful trees populated with endlessly intriguing monkeys and sheltering cows and ladybirds and spiderwebs. Good. Something.

Simple food, a quick nap. Back to the hall. Eyes close. Focus on the breathing. This continued for three solid days. Thirty hours. With all honesty, it’s not quite thirty hours. It’s possible to escape the hall if it's not during one of the three daily hour-long ‘group sittings’. One can wander in the small designated forest area and observe one’s breathing outdoors with eyes open staring at the mountains and the nature. But I knew I should be working. The voice on the tape, the voice of S.N. Goenka, always stressed the importance of discipline for the nature of the course. With discipline one could experience the course fully (and not run away midway through) and give a fair trial to the technique.

Surprisingly, sleeping was easy for the first few days. Bedtime was 9.30pm and I was out so quickly. I even slept during the spare one hour after breakfast and lunch. And then dreams. Full dreams. Every night. Every morning. Vivid dreams.

Having recently lived in a marijuana haze, dreams become lost, clouded, forgotten. But with an increasingly focused mind and a frustrated soul (give me some woman and music dammit!) my dreams came out big time. I’ll spare you…

And then I somehow made it to day four. Vipassana day. The first three day’s breathing exercise is called Anapana. Its simplicity is its virtue. Eventually the mind does become quieter and it becomes easier to settle on the focus of one’s attention.

A little chanting again, as with almost every sitting, and of course the benevolent voice of Goenka - warming on me daily - instructing us in the first proper stage of this life-changing technique.

We were instructed to move our attention slowly from head to feet, observing any sensation found naturally on the surface of the body. Heat, coldness, perspiration, tickling, throbbing, rippling, bubbling, pain, pleasure, anything. And what should we do with such sensations? Nothing, just observe. Do nothing. If it’s unpleasant, don’t create further unpleasance by reacting again with unpleasant thoughts or anguish. Don’t multiply the suffering. And if pleasant – do not crave. Just observe. See how long it lasts, and continue to sweep the body with one’s mind.

And as we do this we are reminded of the simple fact of nature. The simple fact of life:

That all is impermanent.

Every sensation, however pleasant or however unpleasant – all have the same characteristic of arising and passing. Arising and passing. “Anitcha. Anitcha”.

So, on day four one encounters death. One realises the law of nature. That all beings, the entire universe even, is united in its impermanence and that all pleasures and all sufferings are essentially just reactions that occur on an internal physical level. That mind and matter are essentially united.

But these are not philosophical games. This is experience. Like Pavlov can condition dogs to salivate on hearing a bell through their experience of bell ringing and the immediate presentation of food – so we are shown how we are conditioned by our mind to react every moment of our lives. With sensations.

You see someone you like – you are happy to see them. You feel happy. The person you saw triggered that emotion of happiness, but it is the sensation that we experience that we define as happiness. The chemical rush that we experience. The increased heartbeat. The change in breathing. The sensations. It's not the person as such.

But we are not conscious of these sensations on a day to day basis. Only the gross sensations. Only the intense pleasure or pain. But all the time our body is changing, changing and experiencing sensations and our unconscious mind is responding to these, which is in turn affecting our outwood mood and entire experience of life.

(Breathe.)

We crave pleasant events and sensations and become miserable when we cannot experience them. We are averse to unpleasant events and sensations and become miserable when we experience them.

We do this every single moment of every day and we become miserable. Life doesn’t often go how we want it to go. That is fairly universal. It is a universal truth. All human beings are the same.

And for the remaining six days and with a little fine tuning of the technique, we practiced this observation and this wisdom. We got to realise not just on an intellectual level that this is true - but on an experiential level. We were offered the opportunity to begin the reconditioning of our minds to achieve peace and happiness.

So how do we do this? Well, with observation, we realise the transitory nature of our bodies and of the universe. And with all unpleasant sensations, for example, pain in the legs – one does not get upset, or cry or wince. One remains in that position for as long as possible with a straight face and one is constantly reminded by the voice on the tape, or in one’s own head, that this sensation will pass. Observe it. See exactly how it feels. What sensation is the pain exactly? How long does it take to pass? And then, sure enough, you move your attention elsewhere and the feeling passes. And then you move your legs and it really passes, followed by the most intense pins and needles you’ve ever had.

So ultimately, after ten days: each a wave of heaven and hell, accurately reflecting the instability in our lives and the changing nature of existence one comes to stage where one can observe pleasure equanimously without generating attachment and misery. One can observe pain equanimously without generating aversion and misery. One just observes.

And every day we received further discourse from Goenka the most instantly likeable man imaginable. He clarified and inspired. Every time.

And he was very clear about the technique. This is not just something to do. It’s not just a practice. It must be accompanied by a reasonable moral code, acceptable to all religions, to reduce the continuing generation of negative energies within and without. And promote positive energy. The goal is to achieve happiness - but the ultimate goal is to become Enlightened. With a capital E.

This, I learned, is actually what Enlightenment is. I never quite understood what the term meant. This is Siddharta Gotama The Buddha’s technique. This ten day course is a condensed version of the essential life teaching of The Buddha. The Buddha! The man!

This was his Enlightenment. Through meditation and moral living he was able to cease all craving and aversion and eradicate all the impurities of his previous cravings and aversions. And then to serve others. With compassion he spread the message throughout India. He spent his entire life just spreading this message. He had no interest in religion. It was the happiness of himself and others. So simple.

But what defined Buddha was his insistence that one cannot just know: “yes, I will lead a life free from craving and aversion and serve others” on an intellectual level. One must understand this from an experiential level. One must practice wisdom. And the ONLY way to fully achieve this is to practice Vipassana meditation. Every day. Only then can we see how we generates our own misery and the misery of others and actually do something to reverse the process.

Ok, enough theory. It’s too much. I can’t imagine how this sounds to those unaware of the theory or the technique but what to do?

So the ten days. Somehow I made it through. It's certainly one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life. Goenka describes it as a surgical operation of the mind - it's bound to hurt. Many people left at various stages of the course, though I think everyone who made it to day seven remained to the end.

But I had a constant pain in my throat distracting my sensations. I missed my lady. I endured the most eclectic and frequently irritating mental jukebox imaginable (I came to realise that there is not a living moment that I do have at least one song running through my head, often on repeat). I endured a painfully strict routine, rising at 4am and expected to work ten hours a day on just one decent meal. And worst of all the old man, the “assistant teacher” at the front of the class who pressed play on the tape player for Goenka’s wisdom and offered advice when needed, was the one person who seemed to lack the patience, compassion and wisdom we were all working for. He was impatient, short-tempered, rude and incredibly strict to the point of ridicule.

Not a good example. But one struggled through one’s irritation and frustration with him to realise that we must focus on ourselves. We cannot change others.

Anitcha. Anitcha. Constantly changing. Changing…

On day ten of the course, after breakfast, the course is granted to break the noble silence. The flood gates are battered open. I was shaking with nervous energy, joy and relief. To speak! Which words? Those I had developed a connection with during the course through smiles and shared experiences of looking at monkeys and rolling eyes at the assistant teacher’s bad attitude became instant friends.

And previously, on day four of the course, my friend Scorpio, the six foot five giant who was born in London but from Indian parentage (and a talented poet and rapper) joined. As an old student he was able to join late. I was so happy to see him but obviously we couldn’t hug or chat. Just the odd wink and smile.

On the day of our noble talking, I took him aside from the excitement of the crowd and we began some vocal warm ups to ease the pain of the throat and get ourselves ready to sing our fucking hearts out on the following day.

Obviously as we were making a bit of noise, we generated some attention and a few others joined us, smiling. And then the old assistant teacher appeared. It is rare for him to get off his arse because he is old and he has volunteer assistants to do most of his work for him. He appeared from a distance with such rage on his face.

“What are you doing? Is this a singing contest?”

“No no, just warming the vocal cords. That’s all.”

“Stop it at once!”

“Ok, ok, we stop. Apologies. No problem. Peace. Shanti. Compassion.”

“You’re a bloody nuisance. Merr!”

Oh dear. Such sensitivity…er, such compassion. Hmm.

I found out afterwards that he was in the army until his fifties (ouch) and has practiced Vipassana in the remaining thirty years.

Anyway….whatever. The point remains that every drawn silent face that I encountered, for that day suddenly sprang into life. Smiles. Eyes of crystals. Hugging (the old man actually forbade us to touch each other – oh for fuck’s sake, what can he do?). It was pure joy.

This morning we watched one final discourse from Goenka, the man responsible for learning Buddha’s pure technique (corrupted and therefore lost to India over the years and only preserved in Burma) and relentlessly working to spread the message around the world by opening Vipassana centres in every continent.

We all promised to meditate for one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening. (We’ll see how it goes.) We practiced a meditation of Metta: of Loving Kindness for All Beings to spread our feeling of compassion and love from inside to out.

And now I understand religion. By day ten I had so much love for Goenka. So much respect and gratitude. His purity, wisdom and dedication have allowed me to begin to understand how my mind and body works to understand both happiness and misery. And the nature of man is to worship such people. I could worship him, really. But I won’t. He doesn’t want it. It’s not the technique. It doesn’t do anything. When he dies, people no doubt will begin to worship him and start arguing about the peculiarities of the technique and we will have wars about it. Ahh, man is stupid. Religion is stupid. It doesn’t do anything. Being happy and creating happiness around does something…

Wow, I am utterly exhausted. I am monitor-whacked once again and I haven’t read one of the twenty seven mails awaiting me. And I think no replies will be written today. I slept maybe three hours last night and after a brief stop to see a few friendly faces, I came straight here to splurge it all out.

For once I didn’t want the ironic detachment I usually allow myself on here. The experience was too real and too profound to spoil with nonsense.

There, did I persuade you? Take a course. For British readers, there’s a centre in Devon. And I forgot to mention, it’s free. It’s free. Pure compassion. To spread this joy without expectation. To just give. Of course one cannot help but give a generous donation to allow others to have the same experience.

It’s not religion, it’s just the art of living. It’s happiness. It’s freedom from one’s own mind. One’s own fears and cravings. Oh, and it's not the end of the process. It's not like ten days and now I'm Enlightened. No, it's just the beginning...

Much of the time I spent at night, attempting sleep, lying on my bed, staring at the roof or when distracted during meditation, I thought about England. I thought about all my friends, all my family. How much everyone I know could benefit from the course in so many ways. I thought of my hopes, my dreams, my fears for the future, and of coming home with such different eyes and so many Israeli girls on the mind.

India has given me so much and I am eternally grateful for it. So grateful. And to have been given the chance to learn the purest technique for achieving presence, clarity and happiness of mind…what can I say?

I think it’s time to come home.