My mental state ebbs and flows. Never before have I had the chance to run an experiment like this, to sit for weeks on end in the same place, largely determining what each second of my day looks like. These conditions can precipitate out the good and toxic elements that flavor each day. This is what it looks like.
The city is quite quiet. There are no cars, no people after 6pm. A voice speaking any language other than Spanish or a car that sounds abnormal bring me to the window to look out. I have seen five different species of bird in Lima that I did not know existed beforehand – I wake up each morning to their raucous calls and songs as if I am in the jungle. These emerald and cerulean birds were always here, they didn’t migrate with the virus, they were simply rendered mute by the urban machine. I live several blocks from the beach and my bedroom now sounds like I am on the beach each night; I can tell when a swell comes in from how loud the waves are as they tumble the rocks along the coast.
It has been impressive how quickly the measures that we are enduring have become reasonably normalized. The initial discomfort that resulted from the repressive confinement has faded and has been replaced by a mere ennui. There have now been multiple days in a row when I haven’t left my apartment and haven’t really felt much of an urge to do so. Every couple of days the government imposes even more draconian policies and each time it bothers me less. We are at the point where I can only legally go outside during two days this week – just for groceries and while wearing a mask. These are strange times though. Everyone wears masks. We all avoid one another in the street. No two people walk together. I see a video online of a body or person being removed from a building two blocks away from me on a stretcher enclosed in a clear plastic bubble.
Each morning I get up to meditate. I feel inordinately sensitive to everything that happens around me. I imagine that this is a direct result of the sensory deprivation that I am experiencing. I observe the doves that roost outside my window as they gather materials to build their nest. I watch the flies and bugs that live in my apartment with intense curiosity. I slowly approach them to avoid spooking them, bringing my eye close for a macroview. I have even caught myself speaking to them, in jest I tell myself, but maybe this is how insanity begins?
My mental state is directly correlated to how much I stare at the amidst whirling media vortex that gathers up – often without regard for the dubiousness of its origin – and spews forth medical reports without sufficient explanation, information about unproven cures, geopolitical propaganda related to the crisis, anecdotes from frontline workers, reports of shortages, recipes for quarantine comfort foods, reports of surpluses, reports of boredom, reports of exhaustion, reports of bodies in the street, fun craft projects, discussions of how to dress for online meetings, reports of stock markets surging, and reports of economies collapsing. Charlatans become scientists. New comedic geniuses arise. Politicians proclaim themselves doctors and epidemiologists. Those pandering false hope become heroes. Doomsayers become prophets.
I have started having frequent nightmares about the virus, earthquakes and the death of loved ones. I woke up screaming once this week. My quotidian existence though is relatively mundane. Weekends are a meaningless concept. I regularly lose track of what day of the week it is as it is irrelevant. I do little laundry as most of my days are spent in my underwear or my pajamas.
I met a girl – Olga – a few weeks before the quarantine started that was here in Lima for a work project for several months. We are very different people, but when the quarantine was imposed, we found ourselves trapped in our respective apartments alone. Her work promptly laid her off and she is working to find her way back to Santiago. We began visiting one another to have company, moving between one another’s apartments by taking specific routes on which we are less likely to encounter police with our addresses memorized and grocery shopping bags in hand. We now spend several days each week together cooking, reading, watching movies, drinking wine and helping each other to navigate these strange and difficult times. We have become close friends, forced together under the circumstances to openly share our lives with on another.
I watch other countries with horror as I sit feeling relatively safe in Peru due to the stringent measures that have been imposed. Ecuador serves as a reminder of what could happen here. I find myself thinking about exit strategies for Peru, about political/economic/medical measures to strike a manageable balance between cases, medical resources, and the need for a functional economy. I wonder about what travel will look like three months from now: without a vaccine how can global travel function?
These are strange times in good ways as well. Each evening I head up to the barren concrete roof that caps my building to watch the sunset. A few nights ago, there was a rare clear sky above Lima. Olga and I finished a bottle of wine as we looked up at the stars and fantasized about what we will do and where we will travel when this is all over. We talk about how good we truly have it in this very moment, that it is all just a matter of perspective.
A personal blog feels anachronistic in 2020 – like some quaint past time that existed, like scrapbooking, before more rapid, visual methods of sharing and communication existed. There are many forces at work here, but I think the main reason this sentiment exists is that a good many people are telling themselves that they have too little time for reading, writing or storytelling in general. Or possibly that it just doesn’t have much value. During the past few years this logic had distorted my relationship to writing and I was having difficulty creating anything; it seemed like it would have no value to anyone else. I made the mistake of conflating the primary purpose of writing, which is to reflect, understand and express oneself with the secondary purpose of creating something that others value. This kind of writing block is indistinct from the mental block that prevents many of us from pursuing our passions: we let our values get distorted by those of others.
Each individual’s reality is constructed of the stories that we tell ourselves – about existence, about those around us, about the natural world, about what has value. The majority of my writing has always been about travel as it provides a physical and cultural landscape that offers experiences that we can contrast against the stories that we have in our minds. It can be a healing process that helps us grow as we encounter people with different values that lead lives we hadn’t imagine existed beforehand – suddenly our horizons expland. It can help us to feel freer and empowered to escape or change the dehumanizing systems that may have led us to travel in the first place. Reading and writing are mental travel – they are tools that can help us to navigate the stories that provide structure to our reality. Reading enables us to reflect and grow as we take a journey through a landscape that someone else has created. Writing requires us to reflect deeply upon our experiences in order to create a landscape that we can share with others, for their benefit and ours.
Traveling, reading and writing enrichen the strange and wondrous journey that is existence. I am going to continue writing and sharing stories about my life, beyond just travel, with reckless abandon. I am going to deliver verbose and self-important prose about myself living with intention that inevitably will be interwoven with esoteric concepts. These reports will detail my exploration of the finges of my mind as I attempt to carve out a peaceful, loving existence amidst a hostile landscape. I will attempt to give consciousness and recognition to that which lacks it; I will attempt to tell alternative stories. It is my quiet and solitary form of resistance against the story that tell us that furniture is better than a jungle, that teaches you that you can consume your way to happiness, that iceberg lettuce is delicious, that animals don’t have feelings, that the earth was created 6,000 years ago, that sitting at a desk the entire day is okay, that the finite is infinite, that you deserve this and I deserve that, that tomatoes should be white on the inside, that when the seas rise we will just move to a higher location, that feelings are meant to be silenced, that quicker is better, that we don’t have souls, that violence can beget peace, and that the future is going to be better – just wait!
I remember that there was a point in my childhood when I believed that the president was in charge of a country; that he directed and was consequently responsible for its course. As the years have passed I have been progressively disillusioned and my role has been inherently complicated as I have realized that course of the world is nebulously steered by all of us and we are all eminently human. We are not in a vacuum, although as an individual it is difficult to fathom the varied and complex impacts of a decision, they nonetheless propagate through the world. We have entered, with the increased interconnectedness of the world made possible through communication technology, a time in history where we are able to view humanity from a meta perspective made widely accessible. We are able to see what emerges from six billion of us; we are able to watch as we commit very human atrocities and mistakes of the past, but with no one to blame but ourselves. What are we doing?
Emergence is the way complex systems and patterns arise out of a multiplicity of relatively simple interactions. The observed intelligence and order that arises within ant colonies or bee hives is a good example, or the incredible interconnected vast network of knowledge and information comprised entirely of ones and zeros that is the internet. In the same way that these systems arise, the complex consciousness that wrote this and that is currently reading it arises out of the incomprehensibly vast interconnected combinatory network that is the human mind/body. Our perception, our emotions, our ability to reflect, our ability to exercise impulse control, our ability to create, to understand, to learn all emerge from this interaction.
We have scarcely explored the labyrinthine depths of our minds and bodies. Our brains define us within the animal kingdom; they are the height of evolutionary complexity refined over billions of years. The spread of our genetic material around the earth has been catalyzed by the incredible adaptability of our minds and bodies to our environment and by our consequent ability to recognize threats and opportunities. This adaptability and complexity is represented physically within the three pound mass that is our brain; three pounds comprised of roughly 100 billion neurons, each one with thousands of synaptic connections running to other neurons. This network typically accounts for 2% or less of body weight, yet it consumes roughly 20% of the body’s oxygen and 25% of its glucose.
Neurons receive signals from every part of the body through the nervous system, which operates as a complex network strung together with synapses that send signals from neuron to neuron for processing with the purpose of regulating our internal systems and perceiving external threats and opportunities. They operate as excitory and inhibitory cells, firing along their synaptic connections if a certain chemical or electrical threshold is achieved from the thousands of other neurons with which each one is connected. They are our connection to the external world in addition to all that constitutes our internal world. Neurons form smaller networks in this way, building and strengthening synapses each time that they fire simultaneously. The more a network fires, the more glucose and oxygen it receives. We store every event or moment, along with its feeling tone and much other inconsequential data, in this way. An imprint is made in our mind. Memories and feelings are recalled by similar events or even seemingly innocuous occurrences. Evolutionarily memory serves the purpose of storing information regarding threats and opportunities. Our minds are structured to be most adept at recognizing threats and tend to store them more markedly than positive experiences as positive experiences have far less consequences for our survival. Neurons underlie the functioning of all the basic systems that constitute our body, a vast array of interdependent switches.
Our concept of self emerges as we have no other relation to the world than through the memories, the imprints left on this network as a recipient or actor in all of the events that constitute our lives. We are that which perceives, craves, fears, wants, reflects, acts, feels; all of which can only have the body as their referent. This subjectivity gives rise to a subject. The self brings everything together into a cohesive concept, but one that is malleable and continually evolving with each passing moment as the physical web of connections that learns, remembers, and changes.
Emergence can also be used to understand our collective existence and the nebulous properties of humanity that arise through our interaction with one another and all that is external to ourselves. As we breathe, as we transport ourselves, as we speak, as we eat, as we drink, as we consume, we interact with and change what we perceive as external to us. The global economy, political decisions, war, environmental degradation, materialism, inequality, injustice, the intellectual edifice, the institutions that govern our lives all emerge out of the complex interaction of over six billions three pound bundles of neurons. Each of us is a node in this vast network.
The scale and range of these emergent properties are continually growing with the growth of humanity, but our minds appear to be insufficiently adapted to the current state of human existence to find a sustainable balance. Evolution individually rewards unflagging vigilance, rapid response in instances of occasional threats or opportunities, and the maintenance of internal physical balance. Difficulty arises as we live in a world that is perpetually in flux, that is completely interconnected, where there are constant minor threats and a myriad of opportunities. The mind and body are motivated through the interaction of neurons with glands that release chemicals, such as adrenaline, dopamine, norepinephrine that produce strong internal feelings with which we are all intimately familiar, stress, lust, fear, craving. It is evolutionarily advantageous for these feelings or motivators to have a strong impulse towards action as they evolved to do exactly that, but often have a tendency to misguide us or continue driving long past any recognizable destination.
We no longer live a hunter gatherer’s existence; we no longer live in small tribes where social standing is of incredible importance for the propagation of our genes, we no longer live in a state of perpetual physical threat; we widely recognize the benefits of constraining population growth. We are operating an old system directed towards contemporary aims. What are we seeking? Happiness seems to be the general consensus. What is happiness?
On Happiness
I have traveled high and low, seen the miser living in gilded misery, seen the jubilant pauper, seen the tortured genius, seen the grinning imbecile, seen the begrudged beauty, the exuberant eyesore, the restless junky, the disgruntled devotee, the ungrateful heir, the contented monk, the joyous artisan, the bereaved widow, the lively libertine. I have journeyed into my mind through a lengthy process of reflection, self-observation, and research.
What is happiness? To many people on earth, myself included, this idea appears as the primary aim of existence, although we by necessity approach it obliquely as it is nebulous, flighty; it seems to be perpetually beyond the grasp of many. It isn’t a place, it isn’t a thing, it isn’t a goal, there is no way to grab it, there is no agreed upon path; there isn’t a definition that seems satisfactory. We spend our lives pursuing it though with some socialized notion of what it represents to us, an idea of the right path. Rare is the individual who lays happiness out as their specific goal, even rarer is the individual who does this and ever finds it. The prevailing idea that dominates our world currently is that we maximize the happiness or well being of individuals through the maximization of personal freedom, which is inexorably linked to the idea of material prosperity.
Is happiness something completely abstracted from the external world, a proper balance of chemicals in one’s mind? Is it innate? Is it something that can be cultivated? Is it an identifiable, consistent sensation of tranquility, absence of suffering, comfort, satiation? Or does it originate from things external? Is it relative material prosperity? Is it granted by god, by faith, by fate? Is it to be found in other people, in family, in community, in friends? Is it love? Is it health? Is it to be found in understanding, in learning, in philosophy? The ability to perpetually gratify an endless stream of desires? Is happiness mere distraction, through entertainment, through substances, through work? Is happiness found in expression, creativity, art?
Can you make another person happy? Will anyone ever be truly and completely happy as long as suffering exists? Does it even exist, is it tangible, or is it just a delusion, the very conception of which leads us wayward? Is it by its very nature fleeting or is it something that can endure? Can it ever be found in the future or is it something that we must find in the moment, in the life we already have? Is it the right combination of all of these things? Is it something that varies from person to person? Or is there commonality amongst people? Is the very act of searching the problem?
Do we know how to make ourselves happy? How often are we misguided in our pursuit, deluded as to what we think we desire as opposed to what we actually desire? How often do we speculate in our dissatisfaction or anxiousness that having something or someone, or the reverse, the absence of something or someone, will bring us happiness, only to find out that we were mistaken upon satiating this desire?
The discomfort that a craving or aversion creates disappears when the object that it desires is achieved; it is possible this is the best way to interpret the quiescence, tranquility or contentedness that many of us construe as happiness. It leads to our networks of neurons fleetingly lighting up. Within the brain the most human of areas seems to be the prefrontal cortex, which has evolved to reason, speculate, control impulses, and simulate with the object of satiating social and physical needs, but our ability to speculate on outcomes and determine a clear path forward diminishes with complexity and depends on our previous experience in that area. The prefrontal cortex is often not accurate; it is not properly oriented to our complex world; it is adept at deciphering how to find food, water or a mate, but not as skilled at deciding between a dozen products or choosing a career path. If we have not encountered a specific situation previously, it is likely that we are going to misjudge the outcome and its consequences to ourselves.
Developed economies seem to turn on the reality that the mere conscious belief that something is desired, the belief that it would possibly make you happy, has the ability to generate a legitimate discomfort. This discomfort can generate a desire that upon satiation leads to quiescence or contentedness, regardless of whether it is misguided or self-harming. Its gratification leads to a cessation of the discomfort, creating a cycle around it, a craving. In this way many of the strange compulsions and seeking that we exhibit can be understood; our seemingly limitless materialism can be examined in this light.
The root of much of our transitory cravings and desires lies in a more deeply seated desire for beliefs. We want to believe that we are beautiful, that we are loved, that our job is infinitely meaningful, that we are important, that we are ethical, that we are intelligent, that we are happy. These beliefs cannot be made a reality, they are ideals. This leaves us trying to convince ourselves of an ideal or that it will be realized.
“The great source of both the misery and disorders of human life, seems to arise from over-rating the difference between one permanent situation and another. Avarice over-rates the difference between poverty and riches: ambition, that between a private and a public station: vain-glory, that between obscurity and extensive reputation. The person under the influence of any of those extravagant passions, is not only miserable in his actual situation, but is often disposed to disturb the peace of society, in order to arrive at that which he so foolishly admires. The slightest observation, however, might satisfy him, that, in all the ordinary situations of human life, a well-disposed mind may be equally calm, equally cheerful, and equally contented. Some of those situations may, no doubt, deserve to be preferred to others: but none of them can deserve to be pursued with that passionate ardour which drives us to violate the rules either of prudence or of justice; or to corrupt the future tranquillity of our minds, either by shame from the remembrance of our own folly, or by remorse from the horror of our own injustice ― Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments
What does happiness mean to me? It is a balance in my life that manifests as an effortless flow, as clarity, as contentedness, as serenity. A pure manifestation of this flow appears when I am meditating, when I am writing, when I am doing something physically absorbing. I seem to be elsewhere, wholly apart from the mundane preoccupations that dominate my life, even if I am immersed in them. The moments where I am at peace and find happiness seem to be when I am letting the current of life carry me, feeling the flow and watching the world whisk past rather than swimming against the current or trying to grab hold of the banks to stop the inevitable. This flow to me is the balance of the universe, all that is beyond my locus of control; understanding this means living within it.
I seem to experience two wholly distinct types of happiness: there is happiness that is derived from my life accomplishments, from the narrative that I give to my life; and there is happiness that I find in the beauty and tranquility of each moment. One lies in the actual conscious flow and the other resides in the detritus that is pulled from the flow and kept in my memory. I often look towards the narrative that I create, this voice inside me, as the arbiter on my state of being, my happiness. I believe we can perceive our lives as complete and fulfilled, as we all often do, and be completely miserable in the present. Being happy with one’s life seems to be related to achieving one’s goals, attaining certain things, but experiencing happiness seems to lie in finding tranquility, love, equanimity, performing actions that bring these feelings into one’s life. There is an important balance to be found between the two, but the second seems more imperative than the first.
Happiness can be found in gratifying cravings and desires, but a more lasting happiness is to be found in the cultivation of appreciation and acceptance. It seems that in a way, happiness is the antithesis of perpetual restlessness and seeking; it is contentedness. We see our ability to accept and find happiness in the quickness with which we adapt to a situation with no other option; most people rapidly accept and move onward. It is the choice, the option that agitates us. Striving to gratify an endless stream of individual wants is unrealistic and this path is chosen at the expense of the environment, collective society, personal time, and stress.
The physiological nature of our minds is both freeing and vexing. If all one’s self, ones memories, ones learned behaviors are manifested through physiological change, if it all amounts to a remapping or reworking of our brain, then we can shape, change, mold our minds. We dedicate much time to cultivating our physical appearance and collecting objects, yet very few of us find time to nurture our mind, to take care of it, to listen to it. Mindfulness is incredibly important as it is how we can shape our mind, through control of the focus of our mind’s eye; we are able to choose our direction, choose our path.
If we look inside ourselves it is hard not to be humbled by the complexity and the vastness of the brain, of its existence as a unique map of each person’s life, of the capricious torrent of self-directed thought and perception that characterizes each of our internal lives. We can derive compassion from an understanding of the internal life that characterizes each of us, the seeking, craving, the aversion, the weak self that is all driven by strong physical impulses. We can also begin to understand ourselves, take responsibility for the world in which we live and strive to contribute something greater. In a world that emerges from our interconnectedness, from the complex interactions of each one of us, what signals are you sending? What type of world are you ultimately helping to foster through your decisions and actions? Are you living in accordance with the values that you hold? They cannot legitimately hold much truth for you if you are not. These questions have sweeping implications for the structure of the world that we live in, for the existence of every individual. If you are not creating tranquility, contentedness, compassion, balance, and goodwill, what is the nature of your existence?
What is happiness to you? What do you seek in life? Please respond and enlighten me.
I started down a path many years ago of trying to understand my mind, a need that arose out of necessity. I was mired in the past, in the future, in desire, in aversion, in uncertainty, analyzing, dreading, wallowing, churning, drifting, dreaming; all of this genuinely impeded my ability to lead a good life, to find peace and genuine happiness. My consciousness appears to need a constant stream or feed by its very nature, something that either comes from within or without. For years I ran from my mind into distraction through substances, through entertainment, through quite frankly anything that could occupy my consciousness, permitted me a momentary modicum of freedom. This type of escapism begins a misery generating cycle of its very own, one of never ending craving and aversion.
It seemed to be an axiom from looking at the world around me that this is the way our minds work; that this is existence. I was living my life groping through a labyrinth after phantasmagorical carrots, until one day it all suddenly appeared Sisyphean and unbearable.
On this day a strange journey akin to unraveling or slow dissolution began; it was not clear in the moment, but something broke in my mind. The initial question, the very moment in which something ruptured, sent dendritic and incisive questions echoing through my mind; questions that could no longer be contained, the opening of a Pandora’s box. In this moment I began palpate the labyrinth of my own mind for the first time.
My own journey into the depths of my mind is exactly that; there is only a vague outline that can be conveyed through intellectual understanding, but I am going to write about a recent foray into my mind nonetheless.
There are many avenues to explore the mind; altered states of consciousness and meditation seem to be the most incisive. There are many different conceptions of what mediation is, it may or may not involve the following: hovering; extreme suffering; abhorrent boredom; flowing robes; removal of all body hair; lighting oneself on fire; mental dissociation to the point of a dronelike existence; mindless acceptance of precepts delivered through a hierarchical structure, such as a cult; enlightenment to the true relation between mind and matter, permitting oneself to live a liberated existence; robe soiling ecstasy; indulgent Western self importance; dissolution of spaciotemporality and a consequent renunciation of all that is material leading to one living in a cave with unacknowledged colonies of spiders breeding in one’s arm pits.
I remember the first time that I tried meditating seven years ago after delving into beat literature for the first time: I sat on the floor allowing my mind to range freely from small preoccupations such as looming assignments, an argument I had with my girlfriend, my lack of money before spiraling quickly into uncertainty regarding what I wanted to do with my life. My pulse quickened, my stomach knotted and sweat prickled my forehead before I arose with a panicked start, running away. Always running to the next thing.
2009 Lost Coast, California
There came a day when I was committed to a job and a life; I had to find peace within these confines. I had learned more about meditation, about the mind, in the years following my initial foray into idle sitting. I decided to start meditating seriously, to start a daily practice after reading a book entitled Full Catastrophe Living by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn written about the Stress Reduction Clinic and the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. There is a completely nonsecular field within traditional Western medicine, called Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, a treatment used for terminal illness, chronic pain, addictions, anxiety, depression, hypertension, stress, psoriasis… many ailments that affect humans have been treated and seen positive results with MBSR. The approach is similarly practicable for anyone interested in living a better life, to anyone who would like to be more mindful of each moment, which should be anyone and everyone.
The difficulties that I encountered previously were still extant, yet I began countenancing them for 45 minutes a day, regardless of what my life circumstances were, which often meant getting up as early as 3:30AM to sit in the cold, darkness. I was faithful with this practice for four months before it faltered with some job/life changes. My mind changed though; my stress evaporated; I found myself experiencing everything more richly; my food tasted better; I saw beauty where there was nothing before; I found myself living calmly and tranquilly; I found myself watching my mind in wonder rather than pursuing the same objects or sensations, a process that had become perceptibly futile.
2009 Lost Coast, California
Often times I have turned back towards meditation as a way to swim out past the breakers and look back at the agitated ebb and flow of my mind and my life, no longer unconsciously caught in the tumult. I found myself seemingly riding away from my life last November towards something uncertain. In the months before the trip I was looking forward to the idea of spending eight hours a day on my bicycle with my thoughts. The reality of meditation, whether on a bike or sitting on the floor, is that it isn’t always pleasant. Every memory, every possible future contingency, every relationship, every desire, every aversion arose over the four months I was riding. Everything disintegrated, again. I launched off in another direction.
2009 Sam McDonald County Park, California
I found myself in Guatemala perpetually ill from parasites, with a demanding job, a new relationship, dwindling money, and an uncertain future. A familiar darkness was assiduously creeping in from the sides, slowly blotting out the brightness of each day. I watched myself searchingly flailing. As I was riding through Mexico I met several people who had taken a ten day silent Vipassana meditation course, it sat there lingering in the back of my mind. I started my meditation practice again this summer and decided to register for one of the courses in Oaxaca de Juarez, Mexico.
Vipassana International operates on a donation only basis teaching the meditation technique used by Gautama Buddha through meditation centers and courses organized around the world. Attendees of the course are required to refrain from any form of communication amongst themselves, but are able to question the assistant teacher regarding the technique or the volunteer coordinators regarding health issues or issues with the facility. Attendees are asked to forsake all religious practices, of any form, for the duration of the course. Attendees are required to stay within the confines of the facility. No electronics, books, or writing implements are permitted. The course is divided by gender. Ultimately, one is asked to accept five basic precepts and to work diligently within teachings of the technique for the duration of the course.
1. To abstain from killing any living creature.
2. To abstain from stealing.
3. To abstain from sexual misconduct.
4. To abstain from false speech.
5. To abstain from intoxicants.
The technique is simple in a sense, but complicated as it not something one can learn or appreciate through discourse; it requires work. The intensive nature of the course – 10 hours a day of pure meditation for ten days – is required to demonstrate the veracity of the teachings on a personal, experiential basis. The course, in its best light, merely offers guidance as one goes through a personal, yet surprisingly universal, experience of self exploration.
The schedule:
4:00am – Wake up call.
4:30-6:30am – Solo meditation in hall or residence.
6:30am – Breakfast
8:00-9:00am – Group meditation in hall.
9:15-11:00am – Solo meditation in hall or residence.
11:00am-1:00pm – Lunch and rest.
1:00-2:30pm – Solo meditation in hall or residence.
2:30-3:30pm – Group meditation in hall.
3:30-5:00pm – Solo meditation in hall or residence.
5:00-6:00pm – Tea and rest.
6:00-7:00pm – Group meditation in hall.
7:00-8:00pm – Discourse on technique and Buddhist philosophy.
8:15-9:00pm – Group meditation in hall or residence.
The first three days are spent working with Anapanasati meditation, a form of breathing focused meditation used to prepare oneself for work within the Vipassana technique for the rest of the course. Both forms of meditation are essentially the cultivating mindfulness, of impartial, concentrated self observation.
I looked forward to the course with nervous anticipation, seemingly preoccupied with the challenges that would arise to my current life, realizations that could disrupt the precarious balance of my life or the lancing of a heretofore latent misery that would begin suppurating…or something.
We arrived at the convent where we would be imprisoned for the next ten days with roughly 100 strangers. I talked briefly met a few people before silence descended. The rest of this is a weird collection of jumbled observations and experiences from my addled mind.
Day 1
Cataract Canyon, Utah 2012
The gong rings and I step out into a frigid and lightless desert morning. I feel like a boxer ready for a fight; this is a mistake. We have a 7m by 10m courtyard where we can walk, I pace under the star speckled sky before retiring into the meditation hall. The day passes in struggle as I try to maintain a rigid posture in half lotus with the piece of me that is asking why I am doing this, doubting whether I can, constantly redirecting my attention to my back and legs that burn ardently, and striving to quell the uprising of thousands of thoughts relating to life.
Here the illusion of cohesive, flowing thought is apparent; for me it is a meaningless wallowing. There is no catharsis, no one directing, a shifting and muddled stream. I am deeply focused one second, shaking and sweating as I focus on the breath passing through my nostrils, and then a throbbing pain in my back grabs my attention and then a thought arises regarding a problem that I have at work which forks into questions about my future, which catalyzes questions about my relationship, which makes me wish I could talk to Lauren, which makes me realize these are going to be ten long days….My consciousness is easily diverted by this wayward thought that morphs into another and another. I feel my breathing quicken, the sweat run down my skin, my blood pressure rising, my stomach tightening. I bring focus back to my breathing assiduously as soon as I realize it has been lost, which sometimes takes a minute and becomes more difficult as the physical agitation seems to build and remain.
Day 2
2009 Wild Cat Ridge, Wasatch Mountains, Utah
I stretch constantly each time I leave meditation. I pace in the courtyard wondering when or if the pain will abate. I fight through several sessions, waiting in quiet desperation for the gong to ring before sprawling out on the floor in release. I am aware that the very craving, the desire for the pain to cease is exponentially increasing my suffering. Minutes seem to endure for hours; time appears to be completely nebulous.
There is one man who has bronchitis and coughs incessantly without covering his mouth; he is a challenge to my equanimity and meditation in many ways.
Day 3
The pain, although I have realized that the very notion of calling it pain is part of the problem, is more manageable. I am learning how to objectively view it and not let it drive my thoughts.
I lay out in the courtyard in the afternoon, feeling the sun on my face. I focus on the sensation and it grows; it becomes stronger with each passing second until it almost overwhelms me. It feels like my face is on fire, I realize that the sun is on fire, it is on fire right now and then I get the urge to remind everyone by running around screaming ‘THE SUN IS ON FIRE!’ I lie on the ground chortling, imagining that everyone would completely lose their meditative state and equanimity, the retreat devolving into sheer chaos as everyone ran frantically screaming in panicked horror at the realization of the true nature of the sun. The afternoon is characterized by levity, everything suddenly becomes funny. I stop fighting and ruminating.
Day 4
2013 Volcan Santiaguito, Guatemala
Vipassana meditation is introduced. The technique consists of learning how to objectively observe all of the sensations that the body is continually generating in every area where there are nerves. The theory: all thoughts are catalyzed by sensations, often times they never even enter into our consciousness as such rather only as thoughts generated as a byproduct. Our mind’s very nature is to react to these sensations, to characterize them as positive or negative. This process leads to the creation of cravings for positive sensations and aversions to negative sensations, our minds try to hold on to these sensations. The most fundamental law of matter is that it changes and therefore every sensation inevitably arises and disappears. Craving and aversion towards something constantly in flux leads to suffering. Through Vipassana meditation one can observe this process and begin to break this cycle through impartially observing sensations and the world around us in the proper light of change; to let it all arise and pass away.
I lose my concentration for a long time in the afternoon as I intentionally fart as loudly as I can and then childishly laugh about it.
Day 5
The morning passes pleasantly, the pain completely disappears for half an hour or so and is replaced by a feeling of flowing energy throughout my body. I feel an immediate release as I understand this as some sort of breakthrough. In the afternoon I painfully realize just how perceptive the concept of craving and aversion really is, as the pain returns with the next sitting. I become preoccupied with it, my attention being pulled to the strong sensation. It gains strength and I am quickly mired in aversion to the pain and in frustration that the pleasant sensations of before have gone. The hours drag on.
I suddenly see myself in the midst of this process. I take a deep breath and then the following dialogue happens in my head:
‘This pain feels like it is eating away at my soul, eating away at me. Maybe I should take a break.’
‘That is just the ego speaking, the pain doesn’t really exist, it isn’t going to hurt you. It will arise and pass, let the ego get whipped for a bit.’
‘Listen to you talking to yourself you fucking idiot!’
Then I sat with a blank mind wondering where all of this comes from. You, me, I, ego, who, what? Where does this come from? Is there something cohesive behind all of this? I worry that I have begun a spiral into some sort of madness only previously experienced with drugs.
Day 6
2009 Sam McDonald County Park, California
I work diligently. I pace in the courtyard in between meditation sessions thinking about the ego, the ego that drives me, this conception of Alex, this delusion of a cohesive person. I sum up meditation in my mind in the following way:
‘Meditation is you fighting with yourself until one of you gets tired.’
My mind now easily remains concentrated for longer periods of time; it is losing its reactionary nature. I no longer wince in Pavlovian response to the ring of the gong. My breathing remains steady; I sweat less; there is no more shaking.
Day 7
My practice continues to deepen, time easily slipping away along with the dominion of the pain in my back. As this state reigns, memories freely rise from my childhood that have not surfaced in over a decade, from previous relationships, from friends and family lost, from the recessed folds of the mind. There is a slight melancholy with all of this as I feel like it all slipped away without me every appreciating it, without me ever knowing, and I can never have it back. Ultimately, I realize that I want to live more mindfully, more aware, more present with what I currently have in my life as there is nothing more.
In the afternoon I am sitting and a mosquito passes my ear. I observe the following passing: I hear the sound of the mosquito passing my ear, which causes my muscles to tighten and my breath to sharpen, which gives rise to a negative thought regarding the mosquito, which derails my focus and simultaneously gives rise to other negative thoughts. I calmly return to my breath and then the sensations in my body.
Day 8
2013 Eggs in a Bowl, Xela, Guatemala
I am sitting in the early morning meditation session, sitting in deep concentration. I am accustomed to feeling subtle sensations all over my body and this is generally what I experience. I am scanning up and down my body trying to feel sensation in every part. Suddenly I am observing myself rocking side to side, my entire body moving. Woah, what does this mean? Is this some sort of profound moment? Am I reaching enlightenment? Am I now a god? My attention shifts to the ground below me that is rocking, moving back and forth. I hear a distant siren wailing. EARTHQUAKE! I realize that everyone is silently running out of the meditation hall and I do the same. It is important to react to some sensations. This was the first earthquake that I have ever felt in my life, although I have been present for hundreds.
As I lay in bed at night a beautiful particolored moth flies into the room and I watch its circles spiral in around the fluorescent light bulb dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. It frantically flies in circles around this singularity, careening into the bulb, likely injuring itself. Moths use what is called transverse orientation, which is using a bright fixed celestial object as a point of navigation. There essentially were no artificial lights until recently and their terrestrial location means that moths that are circling them perceive themselves as flying in a straight line. They are unable to see that they are flying in circles as they are inherently trapped within the confines of their perception. There is a profound concept here. I turn out the light.
I wake a few hours later and the moth is beating its wings against the window above my head. I gently catch it in my hat and then release it out of the window.
Day 9
Each person will see a direct correlation between the effort that they put in and the progress that they make with the technique. I dedicate myself to working purposefully, earnestly for the entire day. My concentration builds throughout the day; I do not stop meditating when I take breaks; my mind is undiffused, fixated. I walk outside after one sitting and find myself staring unwaveringly at the wall until the gong rings again. I feel subtle sensations rippling through my body, there is no more pain. I still have constant proprioception and body awareness. I pass hours feeling them flowing up and down before moving onto sensations that are passing internally. I feel air passing through my trachea and into my lungs. I feel movement in my bowels, methane pushing through my serpentine guts. I feel behind my eyeball. I feel my inner ear cavity. I feel my heart beating and each pulse of blood drumming on my finger tips, on my cranium. I feel strange sensations throughout the inside of my body.
Then the form to my body gradually disappears. I pass through my legs, my torso, my arms, and ultimately my head and they only exist as subtle sensation without form. I no longer have any awareness of the position of my limbs, of any sort of separation from the matter that surrounds me. There exists only some sort of indescribable faint sensation with no location. I am aware of this process as it unfolds, but it is not something that evaporates with this awareness. My mind is pure awareness; I sit with a blank mind for an indeterminate amount of time until the phrase ‘surgir y desaparecer’ begins repeating in my mind, appear and disappear. The gong rings.
I perceive all of my possible lives. Not specific jobs, or wives, or houses, or places, rather where I will end up if I let myself be dominated by greed, by drugs, by lust, by fear, by hate. I see where these motives, if decisions are made over and over again with them in mind, will lead me; it is nothing but misery. I have a hard time sleeping.
Day 10
The pain returns faintly in the morning and I lose my strict adherence to the technique. I play with the sensations in my body and visualize the chopping of my body into small pieces or the amputation of limbs, sensations from these areas disappears as I do this. It is strange and amusing.
After breakfast we will break the silence, something that I anticipate will not make much of a difference. I imagine everyone slowly coming back to life, some process of gradual reentry. Instead, the compound erupts with conversation and laughter the moment that we finish. I hear myself talking and it is loud, it vibrates and echoes in my ears.
We discuss our experiences, our reasons for being there, what we have learned. I have never discussed my feelings before with a group of 40 year old men.
Summation
2013 Sierra Mixe, Oaxaca, Mexico
This is my life. This is my insane mind.
We have nothing but the actually moment that is passing; the past is exactly what it is and the future will soon be as well. This is not a trite expression exhorting Dionysian dissolution; it is quite the opposite. I am earnestly expressing an idea that I have circled around like a moth around a lightbulb for years. It could be artificial light, but it seems real to me. Through cultivation of moment to moment awareness, one can be aware of all that is passing within one’s body, everything exterior, and how this relates to the past/present in order to mindfully make decisions that enrich the series of moments and sensations that our minds artificially string together into a cohesive narrative that we call our life. We can learn to live in and appreciate the present, which is ultimately all that we have.
Our moment to moment decisions are the footsteps determining the direction of the path that we walk, the one upon which we look back and project into the future. Wisdom is being aware of how these decisions are made and being able to perceive where they will ultimately carry us.
I emphatically believe in meditation, travel, education, conversation, essentially in challenging oneself and one’s values continually, as a means to cultivate mindfulness, nonjudgement, renunciation, and acceptance in our daily lives. The exercise of these virtues is taught by most philosophies and religions as they are recognized as a means free ourselves from the suffering created by an existence in a material world that is morally neutral, in constant flux, and ostensibly devoid of purpose. In each of our lives we currently embody these ideals to varying degrees.
I would recommend a Vipassana course to anyone who is interested in meditation or living a better life, but I feel the need to attach several asterisks. Vipassana teaches a universal concept, but situates it in context that, despite all of the proclamations to the contrary, is dogmatic and secular. The most damaging dogmatic concept is that one can only reach ‘enlightenment’ or ‘freedom’ through strict adherence and practice of the principles of Vipassana. There is the presentation of many Buddhist concepts as truisms that are wholly incompatible with other religions, despite claims to the contrary. In one sentence the founder of Vipassana International will rail against ritual or rites, but will staunchly adhere to esoteric and culturally relative concepts such as never pointing the bottoms of your feet towards the place where your teacher sits, regardless of whether the person is there at that moment. There is chanting in Pali, a dead and therefore inaccessible language for the layman, at the beginning and end of every group meditation session; chanting to which the majority of the people chant ‘sadhu’ three times in blind obedience and acceptance. It is no longer presented as something universal in this form; there is absolutely no reason that the teachings cannot be completely abstracted from Buddhism and religion in general. Approach it with an open mind; take what you like and throw away the rest.
Start learning about yourself, about your mind, about humanity, about existence. As far as meditation and the mind goes, accept nothing that cannot be self realized. The only reason to mediate is that it will improve your life, if this is not the case, then don’t do it.
