11.40am: Last night, the spider won. I tried to scare it and
it ran up to the window and was just about to run out when a lizard approached.
Good, I thought, it will eat the spider, then I can have a shower and go to bed
and not feel guilty about having had anything to do with it. The stand off,
however, between the lizard and spider, was going for a quite a long time, so I
tried to push the spider out, helping the lizard along only a teeny bit, with
the end of a broom, but my attempt failed and the spider ran in the other
direction. The spider was then on my roof. Exhausted, I closed the door and
went to bed without a shower. That’s what happens in Buddhist retreats.
It was hot, however, and I had been enduring immense
physical pain for the past 18 hours, the result of which is I stunk. I was
sticky and smelly and in incredible pain and I could not sleep. I also have a
bird nesting right outside my window. I thought birds slept at night? This one
has other ideas. Its chirping sounds like someone tapping against glass with a
key. It’s annoying. I was awake well past midnight and so when the bell went
off at 3.30am, upon which I was supposed to get straight up and shower – hoping
the spider had found another place to live in the meantime – I went back to
sleep and dreamt about showering. You can imagine my surprise therefore when I
woke up at 4.50am (50 minutes late) still in bed without having showered. I jumped up, had the
world’s quickest ever shower and still made it in time to sneak in and pretend
I’d been doing the walking meditation for the past hour.
I think my breathing is improving but the pain is still
intense. This morning I pulled a hamstring in my right leg while bowing to the
Buddha. I don’t even know who Buddha is! I only bow to him so often because it
relieves the pain in my back for a few seconds! My knees are still stiff and my
left leg now goes numb in every session.
After lunch, I noticed the gate. The exit gate. There were
people standing at it and I wanted to be them. What am I doing here? What do I hope to achieve?’
I noticed that I have not killed a lot of ants.
4.30pm: In my interview with Sayadaw I said, ‘Is it supposed
to be this hard?’ and he said, ‘No pain, no gain.’
I’ve looked around a lot at the other women today. Cassi and
I are the only non-Asians. Everybody else is either from Thailand, Vietnam or
Laos. I’m, like, double the size of the average woman here. My legs simply do
not cross the way theirs do. I look at their little miniature legs all wrapped
up nicely and feet tucking in snugly and I try it, but it just doesn’t fit in
the same way; I’ve got too much leg!
I thought I had a breakthrough today. (Do I think this every day only to realise later that I haven't?) I felt the rising and
falling of the abdomen really intensely. I got a head spin and then my body
starting rocking forward and back to the rhythm of the rise and fall of my
abdomen. It was as though I couldn’t control it – my body was just working in
harmony with itself (very unlike me). For those moments I really did forget the
pain and it was wonderful. But then I looked at the clock and only one minute
had passed.
9.29pm: The evening session is torture. When I say torture,
I am not using the literary tool of hyperbole, which I usually employ to such
fine standards. I am being serious. I now know that I could stay a torture
session should I ever be put under for my secret knowledge of kebabs.
The woman who sits behind me, and is at least 100 years old and
falls asleep during her meditation at least seven times a day, gets up easier
than I do. I want these people to know we do not come from a sit-on-the-floor
culture. The last time I sat on the floor I was in primary school.
My feet and hands are so swollen that my toes look like loaves
of bread dough in a furnace and my fingers look like sausages.
Do things improve on day five? Find out here
Do things improve on day five? Find out here
Don't miss the earlier diary entries for Meditating with monks:
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