Volume 7

Just Sitting and Breathing

Exploring why I hesitated at each attempt to begin this particular Chronicle, I realized that unlike earlier volumes, the experiences described here are not complete. One cannot write about being done breathing and existing. Furthermore, the meditation related topics are so broad that a summary would be impossible even if I had a comprehensive understanding. I realized that what I was attempting to compose was a thesis for my travels, struggling to explain not only why I travel, but what I am experiencing and how it effect the constantly evolving understanding of who I am. I have been among the trees for a while now. Maybe its time to look at the forest.

Before Pushkar, my meditation experience was limited at best. I might easily have mistaken vipassina (a type of meditation focusing on breathing) for a pasta dish. I gave Swami only a brief mention in my writings on Rajasthan, but his patient introduction to meditation satisfied my initial objectives (enhanced focus and calmness). Still, I wanted more.

We weren't sure what to expect at the meditation gathering in Sarnath. Having spoken with one of the organizers 6 weeks earlier, we were intrigued enough to backtrack halfway across India to check it out (you know how much I love trains!). Our trip would have been pleasantly uneventful were it not for the extraordinarily obnoxious touts in Varanassi. They hovered like hungry mosquitoes and would not be shooed away. In the end, we endured to take in a boat rike on the sacred Ganges River. The burning bodies on the river did not amaze me as much as the live dolphins swimming in the river (nowhere near an ocean).

The rigid schedule of the meditation gathering (not a true "retreat" because we did not maintain silence and were free to wander the streets) did not bother me. However, I was quickly frustrated by other aspects of the event. Perhaps it felt less real to be among a group of almost all Westerners (instead of Asia's usual gathering of flip-flops and well-worn loafers, the entrance to our meditation hall was littered with Tevas and hiking boots). Also, I was used to Swami's guided meditation in a room of 3 or 4 people. Here, in a room of more than 50, my unguided-mind was easily distracted by every cough, sneeze and sniffle. Most of the attendees had come directly from 10 or 20 days of retreat in Bodh Gaya. They all seemed comfortable with 4 hour-long sittings each day. On the rare occasions I was able to maintain my far-from-full lotus position for the entire period, I had to painfully unfold my legs and lie on the floor until enough blood and feeling returned for them to support me. The first few small group discussions I attended were dissapointing (since when is 25 people a small group?). These discussions were dominated by psychobabble and references to famous people I'd never heard of. Where was the personal insight that we were told was an integral part of Vipassina? This was not working for me. Carrie was having her own issues with the event. It began to look like a wasted effort.

The turning point came on the third day when it was suggested that nothing significant had to come from a meditation session. It was OK to just be a creature peacefully sitting on the face of the earth. When I applied this idea at the next sitting, the result was an inner peace greater than any in memory. I quickly became more receptive to other concepts that were introduced. This was about the time the skeptic in me expected the cult leader to offer salvation in exchange for all my worldly positions. But oddly, we weren't being told what to think. Instead, we were being exposed to perspectives from which to better understand ourselves. We were encouraged to discuss, contemplate and challenge each concept before applying it to our personal situations. As our "cult leader" (Christopher Titmus) was a former Buddhist monk, the teachings/concepts were all related to the Dharma (teachings of Buddha). I imagine that most of the concepts could also be related to the Bible, Koran or Talmod. What mattered to me was that they made sense intuitively and were supported by my direct experiences. The concepts begin to build on each other, suggesting an unlimited number of paths to expore. I will limit myself to only a few here (others will surely appear in future volumes). My attempt is not to try to convince you of their relevance, but to share some of thought paths I have traveled (of course, if at any time you feel the sudden urge to join my cult, please reply with credit card #, expiration date…).

Non-Attachment is a concept that I had heard before and accepted (at least in principle) as it pertained to materialism. Most people agree that it is not healthy to become attached or "cling" to our possessions (as I learned recently when my new fleece jacket was stolen from a clothesline). I had never broadened this narrow interpretation of non-attachment to include ideas or expectations. A light went on in my head when it was suggested that frustration, dissappointment and sadness all result when the ideas or expectations that we are attached to differ from what actually happens. Some of you have observed that I occasionally become fond of my own ideas (pigheaded). In those instances, I set myself up for frustration such as I found at the meditation gathering. Somewhere along the line, I greatly inflated my personal expectations of meditation (immediate solutions, wisdom and enlightenment). When the gathering did not produce the unrealistic results that I was clinging to, I became frustrated and started to focus only on the negative things. After recognizing this and releasing my expectations, I was much happier (and undoubtably more fun to be around).

Presence & Escape have become important concepts for me. Living in the present requires a maintained focus on the immediate moment, not thinking about the past (what happened, what I wish I had said, what other people must have thought…) or the future (what will happen, what I am going to say, what other people are going to think…). Framed in these simple terms, I noticed that I was escaping the present during my meditations. This led to the recognition of the pattern in my life as well. I can't count all the potentially great conversations I condemned by failing to be present and listen actively. Instead, I listened passively while my brain raced ahead to plan what I was going to say in an attempt to impress others with my whit, knowledge or experience. I appologize to those of you whose ideas, thoughts and emotions fell victim to this injustice, but I do not dwell on it now, it is in the past. I have lived much of my life in the future, planning to be happy later; when I finished what I was working on, when I got where I was going, when I was successful (whatever that means), when I was "done" (dead?). But I can't enjoy the future, only the present. Planning for the future certainly has its importance, but I found it to be a hollow substitute for living.

A presentation on escape led me to wonder what else, besides the present, I have been attempting to avoid. The speaker concluded that the attempts to escape certain parts of our lives are a frustrating waste of energy because we cannot escape our minds. Yet still, many are caught on this never-ending path. The notes in my journal were capitalized: I DO THIS. In composing this Chronicle, I asked myself, what is escape? Is it always wrong? Is my travel one big escape? Learning to ask the right questions is a major step. Trying to answer them is a whole new ballgame. I started with a personal definition of escape: A movement (physical, mental or emotional) motivated more by the desire to depart from than the desire to move towards. Next I decided that escape was not necessarily a bad thing (i.e., burning building). Escape was harmfulwhen that from which we attempt to escape is both important and not at a satisfactory point of completion. Armed with my conveniently subjective guidelines, I attempted to relate them to my departure from a path that once fit within the commonly accepted (though also subjective) definition of normal.

Certainly some of my motivations for traveling were escapist. I was tired of competition whose success was measured soley in material terms (maybe I just wasn't winning). I wanted to get away from the impersonal life within barriers (physical and emotional). Not all of my motivations were this theoretically grand. I wanted a break from the pressures of work, from spending an unimaginable amount of money on rent and from the rut I knew I was in (despite the many positive aspects of my pre-travel life). For the most part, these things were either not important to me or were things with which I was at a reasonably satasfactory point of completion.

Recent contemplation (revisionist history) has led believe that my main motivation for traveling was the search for answers to long-lingering questions: Who am I? What do I want to do with my life? Is my marriage going to survive? Should it? I concluded that my travel is not an escape from these questions, but an honest assault on them. Escape wasn't leaving a career I was misearble in. Escape was coming home from work to a bottle of wine and four hours of television. Spending 23 hours a day together is not a recommended way to run from marriage issues (the subject of thenext Chronicle). I am not attempting to escape my life. I have only recently begun living it.

That's nice Keith, but what happened with the meditation gathering?

My meditations became more focused and productive. They didn't enlighten me, but left me with a calm mindfull awareness that enabled me to better appreciate the world around me. I became more open and active in small group discussions and soon recognized that I was not alone in my quest. Others were searching as well. Bonds were formed as we discussed concepts and offered support for personal struggles. I recognized a safety that was familiar from Toastmasters and Burning Man. A safety to face personal challenges, knowing I was supported and encouraged by others who were doing the same. This quality is rarely found in a group too large to share a pot of tea. Our meditation sangha (community) shared an entire chai shop.