Vipassana-Lite Diary and Photo Album

Since students weren’t allowed to write even one word at the 10 day silent meditation course (the actual course included 12 days at the Hyderabad center) I've gathered these tiny images from my memory, scrolling back over the days. Photos were taken, with permission, the last day of class. (If you want to read a more indepth reflection, see the first essay posted on this blog, January 17, entitled, ACCEPTING THE IMPERMANENCE OF LIFE.) We knew each other by our shoes only, as the rules included no eye contact. We also promised not to drink, have sex, lie, kill (a challenge with abundance of evening mosquitos) or talk.

***on the train up to Hyderabad March 31, we met a lovely family who had recently buried their grandmother….she died at age 114. Widowed at 23, she had outlived many of her children, leading a healthy independent life in Kerala until the very end. Wow. We were also amazed by the stick-thin porter who carried our three bags of supplies (going to the Child Haven Orphanage also in Hyderabad) up and down the big stairways...see?

***I get a kick out of the names of bathroom fixtures in India. Seeing “Hindware” and “Commodore” printed on toilets makes me laugh. The sign in the women’s bathroom stall at the Vipassana Center caused me to break the vow of noble silence with an unexpected snicker: “Use sanitory napkin pins.” Huh? Bins, I figured. Check out this center spitting sign, which was ignored by many.

***we had to keep our eyes downcast at the Center, to remain single-minded in a meditative state. Watched a tribe of tiny, tiny red ants successfully kill and eat a very live moth that had been disabled in some way. My eye was drawn to the fluttering on the cobblestone path… the moth valiantly working to get away. But the ants would chase him and climb all over, beginning to devour the body. A Hollywood Epic, the Great Ant Attack, the moth was consumed. Several hours later when I returned to the scene, there was no evidence of the murder. I remembered my friend Alice Stewart’s comments around such prey and predator relationships, “Honey, everybody’s gotta eat.”

***downcast eyes also put me in great touch with the most mellow of birds. The size of a robin in the US, this bird was soft in its coloring, like coffee with lots of cream, almost pale yellow. The top of the head was whitish gray, eyes keen and slanting. Watching him poke about the grounds, I suddenly was struck by how much he looked like many, many older Indian men I have met. With that sallow, smooth look, penetrating glance, and a thinning head of hair, he was, “Grandpa.”

***saw a large, empty piece of waxy honeycomb caught in a pile of dry leaves. The six- sided little cells resembled the honeycomb ceilings in the meditation halls. Forgetting to keep downcast eyes one morning, I saw the ceiling stretching after meditation. Tipping my stiff neck back back back, “Ahhh,” I looked up.

*** on one of the early days, we “old students” (meaning those who have taken more than one Vipassana course) were directed to go to a cell. The posted list showed I was assigned to room 10. Somehow, by the time I climbed the stairs into the warren of cells, I had convinced myself I was in cell 11. I sat in the 6 by 8 foot cell for the 90 minutes or so, then went to lunch. Later in the day, I sat back in the main meditation hall and heard an insistent bird singing five notes. What was she saying? Sounded like, “this is the last call.” Was that it? I wondered what it meant.

That afternoon, I returned to the cells, and found a name tag for Rajshree on cell 11. Ah! “Yours is the last cell!” I belonged in Number 10, not 11. That is what the bird was chirping. Number 10 was the last in the row on that section of the hall. Well, had I listened to the bird earlier, I would have respected Rajshree’s space. Vipassana teaching is very clear; we are not to interfere with another student’s pillow.

***speaking of “old students,” the first day, I overheard one of the volunteers refer to me as, “that old lady from the US.” Turns out, the volunteer was also American, age 71! Another old student was Supriya, the meditator who sat on my right. Her energy was so grand! So calm. Turns out she has completed more than 30 Vipassana courses. Here we are.

***on hot days, the body odor in the hall was intriguing and unpredictable. My closest neighbors smelled like fried tofu or tahini. Later in the week, the unmistakable aroma of mashed potatoes wafted by. I had a few flashbacks to seventh grade gym class, and the stinky girls’ locker room. In those days, many of us were just 13, and not remembering to apply deodorant every morning.

My own body was frequently covered with a fine layer of sweat (as I burned off old anger), and left me smelling like a slightly soft apple most of the time. Being fruit was a pretty safe incarnation…could have been smelt!

***weird physical byproduct of the course: the initial meditation training involves directing all concentration to the triangular area above the upper lip and below the nostrils. For 40 hours of meditation, the student simply and exclusively focuses on this space, becoming aware of the space and all related sensations. Was it the vigilant concentration? Sweat? I don’t know why, but this area on me got red, rashy, burning and itching. It looks like I had a waxing done! Even two weeks later, the skin is still a bit dark and raw. Weird.

***one of our lovely teachers, Saraswathamma of Bellary, near Bangalore, told us of her introduction to Vipassana...she was widowed with four children, the day before she was to move into a new home. Her husband had a massive heart attack the day before their house warming. Now, some 25 years after that horrific day, she exudes a calm and joy that we sought like flowers leaning into the sun. Saraswathamme is a tiny lady. I jokingly crouched way down to finally make eye contact on our final day. As the Buddha said, MAY ALL BEINGS BE HAPPY!