C L U B M E D
A welcome diversion into a bit of comic relief from our trying times. A piece written some time ago by my dear friend Jerry, who these days is writing much more celestially, and is greatly missed. - Peter Webster
C L U B M E D
by Jeronimo Miller
?What is the likelihood you would willingly consent to the following regime: that is, to sit with a small group of devotees in a meditative state for one hour, then walk most deliberately in meditative state for the next hour, and repeat this cycle three more times for a total of 8 hours of walking and sitting meditation? Eh?
Well, the likelihood that I would willingly consent was high. In fact, I did enroll.
Beginning at 9 AM and concluding at 5 PM, this program includes maintaining a reflective state during a wordless Spartan lunch, and tea every couple of hours. I am not to communicate with my fellow voyagers and, as all eye contact is to be avoided, I will not even look at them. I am free to answer the call of Nature providing I void with mindfulness. Telephones will be unhooked, dogs will be debarked and total silence will reign.
And, if I’m lucky, Nothing is what I’ll achieve.
For this, my people crossed the desert?
Actually, this single-day experience is modest compared to Vipassana meditation retreats where for 10 days people sit for 18 hours, eat sparingly, talk not at all, sleep little and apparently revel in it. Why, I even met a man who pursued the rigours of sitting in a shack constructed of clear plastic sheets on 1 X 4s in the north woods near Thunder Bay, Ontario, year around, for THREE YEARS! He slept four hours a night and meditated the rest of the time. He lived alone and pursued his discipline while friends brought him firewood and food. I came down with restless rump fever just hearing about his ordeal.
My involvement in a formal meditation practice began very recently. I’m a virtual sitting virgin whose meditative maidenhead is only now being probed, so to speak. I joined an in-progress group of Vipassana-style meditators a few months ago in an attempt to dismount from my maverick mind, get out of the hot sun of desire and sit quietly in the shade of dispassionate observations.
Ha!
To date, were I to be graded for my efforts to disassociate myself from the persistent procession of my thoughts, I would earn about a D minus. I seem to succumb regularly to the assaults of my “Committee,” the entity in my mind that condemns me to sublunary realms with the antiquated echoes of “would have, should have and could have.”
Why cannot I still these shrill, persistent voices? Apparently I have concocted, cultivated and coddled a thoroughly undisciplined mind, a gray-mattered gang of gross ganglia whose primary purpose is the pursuit of the objects of Desire. .
Desire.
Ahh, there’s a motivating word. If an Enlightened State is one in which the mind sees the world free of prejudicial leanings - neither for or against - then Desire, and its antithesis Loathing, pulls the mind away from the lucid bliss of the unbiased view.
“Yield to the willow tree all the desire and all the loathing in your heart,” a Zen text suggests. For without these prejudices clouding the view, the mind sees things with an unimagined clarity.
There is a relationship between meditation, discipline and desire, the masters tell us. Controlling desire requires disciplining the mind. Disciplining the mind can be achieved through meditation. Meditation can still the mind and walk it past the allure of desire.
And what exists beyond the realm of Desire? Breathes there a universe of Spontaneity and Emptiness, I have been told, of Clarity and Unimpededness, the qualities of the true nature of mind. Ultimately, there is only Awareness.
Well sir, how about them apples? Apparently it’s undesirable to desire. Hmm, I’ll just whisk desire off my plate right now and replace it with mashed potatoes. Yeah.
Wait a minute, what am I saying?
Me? Lose desire? Moi, champion consumer, possessor of the unbridled appetite, world-class fantasizer, a veritable storehouse of attachments, sit quietly and watch my thoughts? What about A through Z? What about 1 through 10,000? What about Brazilian bikinis?
And, hey, wait a minute, isn’t that why I’m here – to fulfill as many of my desires as possible? Isn’t that my obligation as a coupon-carrying capitalist, and a fan of the fetching femme?
So what’s wrong with desire, eh? And now that you mention it, what the hell’s the problem with a little loathing now and again as well?
The problem with desire, a learned friend tells me, is that it almost immediately causes mental agitation. Look, there’s an object of my desire; how do I get it? Now that I’ve got it, how do I keep it? And now that it’s been around for a while, I’m not so sure I want it with as much fervour as I once did. What I really need is that object Over There, then I’ll be truly happy. Now, how do I get that? And this thing that I’ve already got, I wish it would go somewhere else. I don’t really need it any more, and I might grow to hate it if it doesn’t leave. Funny how desire can lead to hatred.
And the problem with loathing? I’m loathe to discuss it.
Perhaps, as my meditation mentor tells me, there is real value in trying to empty the mind, to see past the mirages of my pursuits, my attachments. Muddy water settles clear when left undisturbed.
Anyway, here I am, two weeks prior to the Major Med, about to begin a rehearsal of walking meditation.
When one performs a walking meditation, the idea is to concentrate on every move, being mindful of each action. He/she ambles very slowly, thoughtfully, taking many minutes to make 20 paces. Slugs and sloths honk when passing, for this is one slow stroll.
The idea is to concentrate on the minutia of each movement, my mentor instructs, and clear the mind of all else. If another subject arises, which it surely will, let it come, don’t embroider it, and then let it go as I concentrate on my walking. If the mind continues to obsess about it, I am to tap it with my “it’s only a thought” wand and watch it disappear. We all need to develop the ability to let go of thoughts.
We also learned that - (drum roll please) - THE PURSUIT OF CHASING PLEASURE AND THE ATTEMPT TO AVOID PAIN IS THE SOURCE OF ALL HUMAN SUFFERING.
You might want to read that line again.
Our mentor explained the ground rules, we practiced a little more walking and sitting, and agreed to meet one more time next week, one week prior to M Day.
The week passed quickly and soon we were eagerly plotting our path toward Nothingness again. We wrote up a List of Events, and I was chosen to perform the dual roles of Time Master and Gong Boy. I preset a wrist alarm to prompt me to sound a Tibetan gong as the signal to initiate the next event.
One Gong: Time to begin Walking (or Sitting)
Two Gong: Time for 10 minute Tea Break
Three Gong: Time for 30 minute Lunch Break
Four Gong: Time to Cease; also known as the Four Gong Conclusion
We also chose our sitting spots and walking lanes. We will all sit together in a loose circle in the living room, each of us using the others’ presence to heighten our energies. When the walking gong sounds, we each are to head off to our own private paths in bedrooms, offices, hallways - basically any area long enough to allow 10 to 15 paces without running into anybody else.
After lunch, we are to wash our own dishes and rack them. My partner Ivete and I will monitor the fireplace and wood-burning stove and keep them stoked.
From the minute everyone walks in the door the following Wednesday morning at 8:45, we will be silent. There will be no eye contact, and we will go directly to our pre-assigned seats.
There will also be no hugging. This will be a special hardship, for to be on Denman and not tenderly enfold another is to violate one of The Islands’ Trust’s most cherished by-laws: Thou Shalt Hug with Egalitarian Enthusiasm 10 Times A Day.
A few more guidelines were offered: Do not wear a watch (except for me), excessive jewelry or perfume. Keep a cough lozenge in your pocket. Do not walk with your hands beside you. Keep your fingers interlaced either behind or in front of your body. When sitting, rest the hands on a cushion to avoid touching the genitals, unless there is a history of overt or even mild stimulation-by-cushion in your family. If that is the case, you are advised instead to cover the genitalia with a wooden salad bowl wired to a motion detector which, when activated, directs you to step away from the automobile and throw your ferry tickets into the shrubbery.
Socks are preferable to slippers, as you can make contact with the floor more intimately.
The idea behind all these strictures – yea, the whole idea of meditation, we are told, is to Break the Conditioned Habit. The Western culture has an obsession with the body and with physical comfort . In this way one breaks the conditioning of the sensual, luxurious, sense-oriented mode of this society.
The mind, our guide reminded us, will tempt you to do things other than walking or sitting. Avoid stretching. Keep a water bottle at your walking place. Stay aware.
Above all, simply attend to what is arising in your consciousness. Don’t embroider it.
The next 6 days flew with the southeast winds, and soon it was the Night Before Meditation Day. Both Ivete and I had trouble sleeping. We were smitten with pre-trip excitement, our minds churning with anticipation. And we were going on a trip – indeed, a day-long journey into silence and change.
We awoke the next morning, eager for Nothing. We performed our ablutions with haste, had a quick breakfast and then covered mirrors and paintings. Firewood was brought in, stoves were stoked and, by 8:30 AM, we were ready.
Just then, we heard a gentle knock at the door, and in walked our Guide. We greeted her with constraint, in keeping with the theme, and she took her seat. We talked briefly about the day’s routine and then at 8:45AM the other three meditators arrived. We offered them the subdued greeting. Everyone took their places, and we started with a 10 minute sit at 9:00AM. Then the gong sounded and we slowly sauntered to our walking lanes, six solitary souls shuffling for surcease from the hyper-programming of our culture.
My first hour of walking mediation was an ambulation with anger. Anger arose in my consciousness and clamoured for attention. Turmoil was us. But by the end of the hour, I just became bored with anger.
10:00AM – Time To Ring The Sitting Gong - Everyone gathered in the living room to sit for one hour. During this second hour, my sitting meditation was a foray into fear. Frightening thoughts arose in my consciousness and staged magnificent melodramas. I freaked and fluttered and embroidered like crazy, but by the end of hour two, for the moment at least, I had become bored with fear.
11:00AM - Time To Ring The Tea Gong - When we finished our tea, we silently strode off to our walking lanes once again and strolled until Noon. Not as many thoughts flickered across my mind screen during this third hour. I could feel myself relaxing a bit. I vowed not to look at my watch, the same protocol I use when flying to England. And an all day meditation takes just about as long as flying from Vancouver to London, and it’s a lot cheaper, but you have to stand half the time
12:00PM – Time To Ring The Sitting Gong - During this 45 minute period, we either sit or consult with our guide, who checks to see if we’re okay.
12:45 PM – Time To Ring The Lunch Gong - Like wraiths crossing a foggy plain, hazy figures began gradually flowing into the kitchen, hands melding with bowls and spoons, then ladling soup and sitting and softly supping. No words, no visual acknowledgements as each of us eschewed any stimulation that would riffle our gathering calm. We each washed our bowls and spoons and began to walk again at 1:15 PM.
2:00 PM – Time To Ring The Sitting Gong. Everyone reassembled in the living room and quietly took their seats. I was mostly aware of following my breath, feeling the sensation of cool air entering my nostrils and warm air exiting. At times I would feel my chest rise and fall with the easy rhythm of my respiration. I was becoming seriously calm.
3:00 PM – Time To Ring The Tea Gong - Those wishing to avoid caffeine withdrawal were grateful indeed for this tea break. Later, we moved on for our final hour of walking meditation. Since I was Time Master and Gong Boy, I knew it was 3:00. Past Iceland by now and coming up on the New Hebrides pretty soon, I cogitated, and then let that thought go and slowed down to a steady plod, thinking mostly about my steps, when I thought at all. Before I knew it, the time had come for the next to last gong.
4:00 PM – Time To Ring The Sitting Gong - For the final time we all gathered in the living room and sat. My mind became a little restless, anticipating the end. We were over Scotland now and Heathrow was less than one hour away. I tried to maintain my distance from anything not resembling The Void, but the thrill of actually having exhibited the discipline to perform this meditation was elbowing my stillness out of the picture. In a few more minutes I can do summersaults and yell “Marzipan!” and fry-up a couple of fat tofu burgers with garlic mayo and sautéed Bermuda onions! I’ve earned it!
5:00 PM – The Four Gong Conclusion: We Are Finished.
We had the option of leaving while still maintaining our silent space. Immersion into a world of sound can be painful to the ear. But we chose to stay and talk. Our guide did not wish us to go home feeling disturbed if “issues” came up that were disquieting. She also told us that ours was the first group she had led wherein not one participant dropped out and left early.
“!”, I thought, “good for us!”
We gathered together in a circle of six and held hands. After a while, our leader asked us to write a letter to ourselves stating what our hearts wanted right now. She gathered the letters, put them in envelopes and said she would mail them back to us in six months and we could see “what had been in our hearts.”
Since we were officially beyond the gong, we all hugged and happily headed home. I felt a remarkable lessening of physical and mental tension and am definitely open to new spells of silent space.
Self realization, I remember above all else our guide telling us, uncovers the news that you don’t exist, that your body is only a figment of the mind, and that finally there is no body, no mind, no me. There is only Awareness – only that which is consciousness itself.
Unborn.
Undying.
Eternal.
z