Meditating with monks: day six (in which she is very mindful)

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By Gabrielle Jackson

7am: This morning I sat through the sitting meditation session for a full hour. I only moved once but I’m not going to say it was easy. It hurt. A lot. But every time I thought about giving up and going to sit in a chair, or even open my eyes to look at the clock, that bloody Michael Phelps was in my ear. Curse on him! But I did it, so now I am going to reward myself by sleeping through the first hour of the next session.

This morning I noticed that they guy who says grace at meal times is not Sayadaw, who I thought it was for the past five days. And apart from the words, ‘breakfast’ and ‘lunch’ I don’t think he is speaking in English, which would explain why I can’t understand it. I don’t actually think they look that much alike, apart from the fact they’re both tall, bald, Asian men with glasses and brown robes.

Yesterday they fertilised the garden and this morning the air is heavy with the stench of manure. I didn’t even stop to smell the frangipani. But I did try to be mindful while sitting on the toilet. Well, that’s not entirely true. I remembered when I stood up, so I pulled on my pants with great thought.

11.36am: The sweet floral aroma has returned to the air. In spite of this, sitting meditation is still agony. I think the bruising in the foot I hurt four months ago has returned. Is that even possible?

Today I was wandering slowly back from lunch. Did you get that? Wandering slowly. I caught myself in the act! I was wandering slowly. I wasn’t noticing much, because I was engrossed in thoughts of my bruised foot and how it could still be bruised four months later, but I was going pretty slow!  

Another thing I’ve noticed: unless he’s sitting in the interview chair, I don’t know who Sayadaw is. There seem to be quite a few tall balding Asian men with glasses in brown robes here. It is another puzzle I must solve.

There is something seriously wrong with the resident cat. It makes the loudest sharp barking noises, all day and night. It barks. It’s a barking cat. Or maybe just barking.

4.17pm: I can barely walk and in the last sitting hour I only managed to sit still for 26 minutes. This time, when I was about to give up, I had Amy Winehouse singing in my ear, ‘I cheated myself, like I knew I would.’ Talk about having voices in your head from opposite ends of the spectrum. Not that modesty is usually the way I roll, but I’ve got to say I obviously don’t have the talent of either Michael Phelps or Amy Winehouse, so why am I torturing myself with their voices? I’m more like that Australian rower woman who stopped rowing in the Olympic final when they were in the lead. But again, an Olympian. Why? Why can’t I just face I’m not that good at anything and give up?

Today I noticed that the electricity pylons are made of concrete. While noticing I fell off the path into the mud. This is why noticing is not good for me. I need to watch where I am going. I fall over. Maybe that’s what they mean by mindfulness – watching where you’re going, not looking around at everything else. Hmmm. I must enquire about that.

9.30pm: Another torture session. My left hamstring is killing. My right groin aches. My feet and ankles are swollen etc etc.

I had terrible trouble concentrating today. I just couldn’t stop thinking. How can you do that? I would become really determined and say to myself, ‘Right, no thoughts.’ And then I would say (in my head), ‘That’s a thought! You’ve failed already.’ That’s when I was actually thinking about not thinking. When I forgot to think about not thinking I was planning the party I might have for the Olympics opening ceremony. Then I remembered it will be about 4am in Australia so the hour I’d spent planning it was basically wasted. This went on all day.

All the rain has really brought the frogs out. You should hear them, it’s ridiculous. It sounds like a flipping frog farm, if such a thing exists, which I imagine they must do in France, where they eat them. I would not like to live near one.

I finally washed my hair since it was so itchy. I think I found an ant in it. It’s amazing how not itchy it is now. There are no mirrors in this entire complex so I have no idea how bad it looked. But who cares?

Today I saw a lady in the dining hall pick up an ant off the floor on a piece of paper and take it out to the garden. Seriously, I couldn’t make this stuff up. 

What happens next? Read day 7 here

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