Almost two years ago this week, I took my first ten-day silent meditation course north of Toronto .The experience was a gruelling rollercoaster as the particular technique I learned, and the conditions under which one learns it, exposed and had me work through the deep layers of the dynamic between mind and body.  My life changed significantly after the course and many of my day-to-day activities, as well as aspects of my emerging career as an educator and scholar, are imbued with the fruits of walking a dharmic path – that is, a path of unfolding the space of the possible.

 

I returned for another ten-day course at the Vipassana centre and upon my return I am writing this reflection to see what has changed within me, to re-examine my purpose(s), and ask questions that will propel the movement of thought and action.

 

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Vipassana means ‘insight’ in Pali, the language in India during the time of Buddha.  It means to ’see things as they are’.  Spiritual paths typically espouse the importance of moral living, a balanced mind, and wisdom of the truth about nature and reality, but it was Gotama who (re)discovered a technique for cultivating this wisdom in the most direct of ways.

 

I think most people in our society take meditation and spiritual paths to simply be a matter of taking an occasional look inside ourselves and using the subjective mode of experience as the yardstick of what we hold to be true and real.  I think this is incorrect, or at least a very unwise view of how spirit, truth, god, reality or other such things are known through contemplative practices of meditation.  The work of Francisco Varela helped me to see mediation and Vipassana in the following way:

 

The first person, or subjective mode of experience has a ‘giveness’ that is so ready-at-hand we often take it for granted.  This mode is pre-reflective and does not involve critical distance, investigation, introspection, or reflection about the experience itself.  Subjective experience can become an object of inquiry in the same way that human culture is the object of study for the anthropologist.  An anthropologist cannot take cultural practices and assumptions at face value, that is, if he is interested in knowing how and why these practices and assumptions exist, he must take a second person intentional stance.  This stance is one of suspending belief, judgment and assumption.  Of course, the anthropologist must be present and situated within the culture, and even allow himself to become part of the culture.  The interpretations made by the anthropologist will be shaped by his or her subjective experience, but in the context of intersubjective validation, this subjectivity diminishes somewhat when other people can apply similar anthropological methods and come to similar interpretations. 

 

In considering consciousness, we can similarly take an intentional stance towards our own experience in the first and third person with neither being a privileged mode of knowing experience.  When I think of the third person mode, I think of the cognitive science research  done with monks sitting in meditation and electrodes on their skulls.  The EEG maps of the brain, however, tell us nothing about the content or quality of an experience.  Yet gaining subjective knowledge of experience and consciousness is not just a matter of looking inside, but like the rigour and method required in empirical study of the natural world (a second person stance), so too does the inward turn require sustained dedication, discernment and examination that suspends judgment.  Vipassana is a way of taking this second person stance towards one’s consciousness and is quite methodical in how it undertakes the work of not only examining the dynamic that exists between mind and body, but also to work with this dynamic in a way that reveals fundamental truths.  Direct knowledge of such truth is what liberates us from ignorance, ignorance that brings about misery and suffering. 

The technique is taught under very specific conditions and I would like to briefly describe these conditions to give both a sense of the rigour involved in the process and the context of my experience.  I arrive at a wooded retreat centre that has a dining hall, meditation hall and residences for up to around 60 men and women.  I am asked to fill out a questionnaire about my previous and current mediation practices, current state of mind, health status, use of medications and intoxicants and a brief history about my family, work experience, and any experiences of trauma.  The purpose of the questionnaire is to help the teachers determine if you are of sound enough mind and body to undertake the work.

 

The first evening begins with taking five precepts:

 

1.  To not kill or harm any being.

2.  To not steal.

3.  To not speak lies.

4.  To not engage in sexual misconduct.

5.  To not consume any intoxicants.

 

Old students, those who have attended a ten-day course in the past, take three more precepts:

6. No food after noon.

7. No clothing or jewelry that stimulates sensual pleasure.

8. No sleep on high, luxurious beds (not an issue at the retreat as all beds are basic).

 

There are different ways of looking at what these precepts mean and why they are important and I will perhaps get to this conversation in other writing.

 

We take a vow of noble silence which asks that we do not communicate in any way with the other meditators over the ten days.  This includes verbal, non-verbal, and physical contact.  We are only allowed to speak with the course manager and the teachers about the facilities and the technique.  As well, we are asked to give any books, pens, paper, cell phones and other devices to the managers for safekeeping so that we will be less likely to be distracted from from practicing the technique.  Finally, men and women are segregated for the duration of the course and specific pathways and course boundaries are set up to maintain segregation.  As much as this segregation is maintained, my eyes never find it that difficult to occassionally wander over to the most attractive of women sitting on the other side of the meditation hall.

 

The timetable of the course is as follows:

 

400AM – wake-up bell

430-630AM – meditation in your room or in the hall

630-800AM – breakfast and break

800-900AM – meditation in the hall (course volunteers + meditators)

900-1100AM – meditation in your room or in the hall

1100-100PM – lunch and break

100-230PM – mediation in your room or in the hall

230-330PM – meditation in the hall (course volunteers + meditators)

330-500PM – mediation in your room or in the hall

500-600PM – tea

600-700PM – meditation in the hall (course volunteers + meditators)

700-830PM – discourse

830-900PM – mediation in the hall

900PM – bed

 

The technique is taught in two stages.  The first is ‘anapana’ meditation, taught over three days, and involves focusing one’s attention first on the sensation of breath passing above the upper lip and in and out of the nostrils.  As concentration on subtle sensations improves, focus is placed solely on the sensations experienced in a small area just above the lips and below the nostrils.  Anapana is used to concentrate the mind on a single point and one finds that by the third day of doing this for hours on end that the mind, or mine at least, can continuously perceive minute, subtle sensations for long stretches of time (5 minutes or more).  Although only a preparation for the work of Vipassana, Anapana is extremely important for enabling the mind a critical stability and precision.  That is, Anapana helps the mind discern and distinguish between different kinds of sensations occuring with varying intensity across very small areas of the body’s surface.  It is the ‘microscope’ of the science experiment.

 

I found Day 1 to be quite uneventful.  I saw that my daily meditation practice helped me find postures that I could comfortably sit in, and as I experienced no significant pain or difficulty, the day flew by.  Sharp, throbbing pains in my knees started on Day 2 and mind was struggling to focus on sensations.  I made it through all the sessions without moving very much, but emotionally I was grumpy and questions surfaced about whether or not I really needed to be doing the course.  “I’ve already done this before, shouldn’t I be using my time to do something else”, went the chatter in my mind.  I was aware of this is a normal response to what I was subjecting my mind and body to and knew that the only way through the pain I would experience through this course could only be transcended by an intent focus on how my experience and the sensations associated with them were in a constant flux moment-by-moment.  By Day 3 I was using the time during my break to meditate in my room.  I readily felt the vividness and discernment of the sensations below my nostrils and could  continuously, without interuption or thought, dwell with this space for five to ten minute stretches.  I would soon appreciate the role of Anapana meditation much more this time than I did the first.

 

Vipassana is introduced during the afternoon of Day 4 and begins with bringing one’s attention to the top of the head and observing the sensations on an approximately 1-2 inch radius area.  We are asked to observe any and all kinds of sensations from heat, dryness, and throbbing, to itchiness, moistness and tingling.  As soon as the sensations are felt, our attention slowly moves down the front of the face and then the back of the head, and so on until we have scanned each and every part of the body.  Most important is that we cultivate a stance of impartiality and equanimity to sensations.  If we are experiencing pleasant, subtle sensations we are to only observe these sensations.  The tendency of the mind is to  attach to and manifest desire for the continuity of these sensations.  If we are experiencing gross, unpleasant sensations we are again to be equanimous and non-reactive.  The tendency of the mind is to develop hatred towards these sensations.  It is hold this space of impartial witness to our experience that we learn the nature of reality as it manifests within the body; all things are in a constant state of departure while always arriving.  All things are impermanent and the depths of our suffering is rooted in relating to momentary states of existence  (ie. bliss and pain) as if they were (fear of pain) or should be (desire for bliss)  non-dynamic. 

 

About thirty minutes into the session, I heard a woman on the other side of the room start to quietly cry for about half a minute.  Shortly after that, a fellow sitting diagonally behind me collapsed out of his posture with a loud moan.  I continued to focus on the meditation as the meditation teacher asked everyone to keep their attention focused and the course manager attended to the fellow.  He stayed the duration of the course and I found out after the course from this man that something just beneath the surface was triggered in him that the initial body scan brought up.  He described feeling lost or drifting in thought and having an overwhelming surge of energy shoot up through his body and out the top of his head.

 

This session went on for almost two hours and towards the end, I could really begin to feel a deep surging pain in my left leg, bum and upper back.  Mentally, I was experiencing little anguish as I somehow maintained intense concentration on scanning through the sensations throughout my body – something attributable to strong Anapana.  Upon leaving the hall for tea time, I found myself dazed but not confused.  Everyone walked slower and it seemed that time was now running at half speed.  The course servers prepared a rosewater syrup tea for the old students and I took it as a kind gesture to offer after the Vipassana session as it’s taste was so pleasant and soothing.

 

After continuously scanning the body for a few days, I began to experience a free flow of subtle sensations throughout many parts of body.  A rush of sensation would run down my face and abdomen and all the way down my legs to my toes.  This free flow was not felt everywhere and we were instructed to dwell with our awareness in blank, hazy areas where we could feel no sensations.  After spending time observing the free flow of sensations would go back to scanning the body part by part, and return to observing where there is free flow after some time.  Eventually sensations revealed themselves everywhere.  By Day 9 I was experiencing subtle sensations throughout my body.  The experience is pleasant and we are instructed to maintain equanimity towards this state.  To wish for it to continue on is to run the opposite direction on the path.

 

Once one reaches this point of total awareness of subtle sensations throughout the body, we are then to piercingly take our awareness through the depth of the body.  Up until now we have only been working with sensations on the surface of the body.  This next step involves taking chunks of the body and observing for sensations from left to right, right to left, front to back, and back to front.  Again, we are to maintain impartiallity to the sensations we experience and keep working until the entire field of mind and body dissolves into subtle vibrations.  This state is called ’bunga’ (sp?) and is where the most deep rooted complexes (memories, trauma, etc.) can begin surfacing.

 

I experienced this state a few times during my first course and very momentarily on this course.  It is the most unique bodily experience I’ve ever had as everything you think is ‘you’ is experienced as vibration.  The entire core of my being felt like an electrical current.  It is a dangerous state because it becomes so easy to want the experience to keep manifesting – keeping the mind equanimous here is difficult as many sensations, blissful and painful, are overwhelming at times and requires a strong mind. 

 

Aside from some slight agitation with how slowly time was moving and overcoming an emotional, grumpy funk on Day 7, the course was much smoother this time around.  Storms came and went, but the balance of my mind was strong enough to deal with most of them.  I questioned how I would handle a longer course, such as the 20-day course that has 6-7 days of Anapana and the rest in Vipassana.  I wondered how deeper I could go into subtle interactions of mind and body in such a course, but this wondering was a distraction from the task at hand and I am making no judgments on myself.  Because the balance of my mind was stronger this time doesn’t mean further along the path to Enlightenment nor that I am a better meditator than I was before.  But I do think that I am applying the technique more accurately and that the outcomes will speak to themselves.  SN Goenka, the teacher giving us audio instruction on the technique, asks us to measure the success of our practice not by the sensations one experiences, but by the equanimity towards those experiences. 

 

 

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I finished the first course with an experience of being on magic mushrooms for two-days and as much as I was a more chilled out person, I was definitely vibrating at high level, both verbally and with the sensations on my body.  I felt uninhibited in my conversations with people and could feel strong, electric currents of love running down my body.  That experience was so unique and enjoyable that I often had to confront expectations that this course would end up just like the last.  Coming out the other end this time, I feel more or less the same as I did going in except for feeling slightly sharper, more focused and productive, and free from a bit more of the excesses of my mental chatter.

 

Laura is out in Nova Scotia for the month of August and I am staying with my dad in Hamilton until we both leave for India on September 11th.  I am fortunate for this time and for having just sat the course, because I feel able to reflect upon all of my intentions and volitions from the smallest (ie. what should i eat for dinner?) to the biggest (ie. how will my career unfold and what aims will it serve?).  I take all aspects of my life to be a continual Inquiry project and have many questions. 

 

We have left Toronto for the time being and have a big adventure ahead of us.  What will we see in India, how will my relationship with Laura evolve, how will I respond to situations, cosmologies, and people that are foreign to me, how will I process it all?  I know  part of the answer is to meet everything that comes on a moment-to-moment basis, but there is still preparation to do for the journey.  I watched a TED talk  yesterday about collecting stories that has inspired me to document my experiences and I hope that a combination of audio recordings, journal entries, photographs, artifacts and poetry will help me to document and more deeply understand what I will experience.

 

There are also questions about what happens upon our return.  I am waiting to hear back from Simon Fraser University in Burnaby, BC about my application to their PhD program in Philosophy of Education.  I feel deeply that this is the next step in responding to a calling.  I feel called to extend the inner work I am doing on myself into an arena outside myself (see my letter of intent below in a previous post).  I feel authentically motivated to make a run at becoming a university professor so that I may continue my Inquiry in a way that serves others.  My mentors have created spaces within this institution that have allowed me to practice expanding the space of the possible within myself and my students and I wish to furnish others with the same seeds and soil conditions for optimal growth.

 

My friend Ty encouraged me to not marginalize my contribution to education by paying close attention to the language that I use.  To talk of Daoist concepts like qi and the transformation of consciousness through meditation is readily recognizable amongst those in my personal and immediate academic community, but not so with the mainstream.  If contemplative practices are the inner science, I would be wise to connect it to some aspects of outer science.  If I am to make a convincing case for meditation, complexity thinking, and inquiry-based learning, what kinds of evidence and lines of argument are needed to shift away from management, factory-based approaches to teaching and learning?  What are the economic benefits?  How are skillsets improved by this work?  How can the stories of people who have done inner work be used not only as evidence, but as inspiration and a provocation? 

 

Another friend, Paul, has encouraged me to work with him on building a network of people across all facets of society that believe in the possibility of the human condition.  How can a  networked community of individuals self-organize to prompt change at the level of the individual and the society?  What spaces, language and tools will help them in this work?  A book, an online portal, a room with some chairs, and many conversations seem like good first steps.