Welcome to Vipassana Valley

Some very honest observations from my friend Nix, who is traveling in Asia at the moment.

I have signed up for a Vipassana course - 10 days of seated meditation, from 4.30 am to 9pm, during which noble silence is observed (this includes no eye contact or gestures with fellow students) and no food is served after 5 30pm.
I never thought I would attempt a Vipassana course, but then again I would never have believed that I would spend 2 weeks in an ashram chanting "jaya ganesha" and "hare krishna" either.

So, eagerly anticipating this "deep surgical operation on my mind" and the resultant clarity I hope it will bring, I join my fellow meditators for the bus journey to the remote Vipassana valley.

day 0:

While registering, we are treated to our first encounter with the only voice we will hear for the next 10 days, that of SN Goenka, the ex-industrialist responsible for the reintroduction of the Vipassana technique to India and its subsequent spread to the west. As his hoarse and croaky Pali chants die out somewhere between a painful gasp and a moan, I think "this is the man who is going to teach us the Art of Living? He sounds like he's about to expire." I smoke my last cigarette with a fellow South African I met on the bus.

days 1-3:

"focus all your attention on the triangle between your upper lip and nostrils", exhorts Goenka. For the next 3 days, this is all we do - focus, focus and more focus. Except I can't! My mind behaves like a pinball arcade game on warp speed, ricocheting from one material desire to another. Ping! "Those are nice Punjabi pants she's wearing - I must buy a pair" (100 points), "I need another toe ring/ bracelet/ hair extension/piercing/ Ganesh t-shirt", Pong! "note to self: buy Himalaya shampoo, the tibetan chants cd, have a fruit salad when back in Leh" (1000 points).

This tape plays on a continuous loop for 2 days and just as I'm starting to reconcile myself to a life of Paris Hiltonesque sheer superficiality, it stops to be replaced by the most agonising boredom imaginable. The 4am wake up calls are starting to take their toll and I haven't really slept in 3 days. I fall asleep during meditation, a lot. But there's light at the end of the tunnel - tomorrow we learn the Vipassana technique. Hooray, liberation looms!

day 4:

I have been anticipating that today will be the day I finally crack open the stubborn nut of my mind. Hah! Nuts is about right - we must be crazy to do this. We have moved on to the immensely exciting task of scanning our bodies in minute detail and "observing" the sensations that arise. I can tell you what I'm feeling PAIN - every muscle in my body is screaming in protest at the hours of sitting, sitting, sitting. "remain equanimous? yeah right, and in any case what kind of word is equanimous? can I even spell it? is it in the dictionary?"

I am also no longer amused by the earnest downcast expressions of my fellow meditators. They all look like they're coming down off a heavy trip. My descent into dark thoughts is abruptly halted by the sight of one of the men, who wears his Farmer Brown Scarecrow hat pulled down so low over his eyes, its a miracle he can see where he is going. I christen him 'cat in the hat' and he saves my sanity over and over in the remaining 6 days.

Day 5:

I've broken throught the pain barrier, only to find myself back in the superficiality supermarket. This time, my mind is like Roadrunner on speed. Halfway through the morning slot I give up on scanning my body and decide to fantasise about one of the dhamma servers instead. Our idyllic retreat on a sunbaked island is rudely interrupted by the lunch 'gong' - it's 11am, only 7more hours of meditation left today.

It occurs to me that this is an excellent (if somewhat extreme) method for stopping smoking. I have not craved a cigarette once. And when i think of them it is with perfect equanimity.

Day 6:

YES! I have managed to not move an inch during all three of the 1 hour immobile meditation slots, I can distinguish gross from subtle sensations, I am a Zen master (oops, Vipassana master) AND we had a block of chocolate each at lunch today. Triple whoopeee.

Day 7:

My mind is a washing machine set to spin cycle and I am back to observing my respiration (why cant Goenka just say 'breath'?). I am intensely frustrated by the regression and spend lunch with silent tears dripping down my face, muttering incoherently into my spicy gloop. "Only 3 more days" becomes my mantra. I am feeling extraordinarily sensitive to sound, and the frog faced lady sitting behind me, moves, sighs, burps and farts incessantly throughout the immobile meditation hours. My attempts at observing sensation with equanimity are interspersed with violent fantasies of trussing her up in a carpet and sealing her in a soundproof safe.

And then, a breakthrough - I catch a glimpse of what it means to experience annica (the impermanence of all things). I have not reacted to sensations with either craving or aversion and I am creating the oppportunity to eradicate some old sankhara (mental conditioning)

Day 8-10:

I actually look forward to the moment when Goenka's monotonous drone starts up again "shurukarna - start again, start again..." I am feeling blissful, full of love and compassion towards my fellow beings - everyone looks so beautiful to me. I even feel somewhat sad at the thought that the course is almost over. On the morning of day 10, the final "vishram karna, vishram karna - take rest, take rest" that heralds the end of our silence , leaves me feeling terrified at the prospect of interacting with people again. This lasts all of 10 seconds though, as the first man out the door of the dhamma hall, gives a delighted whoop and pretty soon we are all chatting away quite manically, with grins broad enough to split our faces! We have hysterics at lunch when the gong for the last meditataion sounds and a very zen chinese girl stays seated on the ground, unresponsive to the Pavlovian training we have undergone. "What you doing?" someone enquires, "observing", she replies, with perfect equanimity.