Could the key to life balance and harmony be
found on a 10-day silent meditation retreat? We turn down the volume to find
out.
From foo-foo spiritual workshops to
practical psychologist sessions, I’ve done work to improve the clarity of my
inner vision. Still, there comes a time when it gets a little cloudy. It’s
tricky to remain positive when you’re wondering why life has handed you lemons.
I’m looking for a tool. Something practical
I can use when I’m down - but also when I’m feeling good. I’ve heard of a
meditation technique called Vipassana that encourages people to lead balanced
and harmonious lives. So I’m heading to Dhamma Pataka, a Vipassana center in
Worcester, in the Western Cape
I turn into the driveway that leads to
Dhamma Pataka, a collection of low-lying buildings beneath the Brandwacht peaks
of the Hex River Mountains. My nerves are sloshing with anticipation. I’m
wondering how, if I’m to be silent, I’ll know what to do when I reach the end
of this road. Thankfully there are signs (with actual English on them – what
was I expecting?) and talking is allowed during registration.
Reluctantly, I hand over my car keys and
phone. The administrator reminds me of my mother – a good sign, I think. Still,
my life back in Cape Town seems far away and without an immediate escape, I
begin to feel claustrophobic.
My car is just outside, I remind myself,
and with the help of some deep breaths, the panic recedes. I’ve jumped my first
hurdle… now what?
Initiation
Not surprisingly, the answer is meditation
– and lots of it. It’s 4am, and I’m being coaxed from my slumber by the
sounding of a Buddhist gong – it’s the most pleasant way I’ve ever been roused.
Thirty minutes later I’m sitting
cross-legged on my meditation cushions (a large selection is provided so
meditators can get their perch “just so”). My seating arrangement feels pretty
good but two hours is yawing ahead of me. Seriously? I’m supposed to meditate
the whole time?
Just a new minutes in and my perch feels rather
“so-so”. I’m forced to change positions – a couple of others have already done
the same. Although I tell myself this is no place to be competitive, I’m glad
I’m not the first to crack. I also wish I’d brought a watch.
My
seating arrangement feels pretty good but two hours is yawing ahead of me.
On day two, I decide to scope out my fellow
meditators before we begin. Who are these people? Each morning we file into the
hall before the sun has risen; men use one entrance, woman another. We sit on
opposite sides of the room, a blank of windows to our tight through which a
gentle breeze blows. Some are fluffing and folding pillows into impressive
architectural creations. Others, their backs poker-straight, hands gently
folded in their laps, appear to have already arrived at their destination.
Again I feel that prick of competitiveness – I too want to “get there”.
Others,
their backs poker-straight, hands gently folded in their laps, appear to have
already arrived at their destination.
The house I’m sharing with three other
women is simple – but’ it’s spotless and spacious. From my bed, I can look out
onto trees and the dusty horizon beyond. There’s to be no interaction with
other meditators but I feel unnatural to pass these three women with eyes
downcast. I smile at one, and when she doesn’t return my gaze, I can’t help but
feel hurt.
