It is mid summer in the southern part of China and my palms are sweating profusely as seconds drag by. The air coming in and out of my nostrils become warmer and heavier. Sometimes the left nostril is the only passageway, sometimes both. I am focusing hard on my breath —- the small area below my nostrils above my mouth slightly vibrates when I exhale, and I notice the subtle temperature difference between my inhale and exhale.

Respiration is a natural mechanism. But for the first time in my life, I am doing it with such attention, and for so long —- at least an hour for one sitting. What I am undertaking is called Anapana and it requires us to fix one’s attention on natural breath. It is part of the Vipassana meditation course, which means to see things as they really are. Being one of India’s most ancient techniques of meditation, it was rediscovered by Gotama Buddha more than 2500 years ago, and is now taught all over the world, attended and practiced by people of all religions.

When I signed up for the course, I knew nothing about meditation. Nor am I religious, and so do many of my classmates. China boasts the largest population of atheists and with the government keeping cracking down on religious-affiliated organizations and activities, it is no wonder that there are only two centers offering the course in China.

Before handing in all valuables and communication tools —- pens, paper and any electronic devices like handphone, I called my family for the last time, checked my email, and posted a status about my future “disappearance”. In this hyper-connected era, it is increasingly hard to unplug from social networks, needless to say “noble silence” (silence of body, speech, and mind) for 10 days, which means that any form of communication with fellow student, whether by gestures, sign language, written notes, etc., is prohibited.

Besides, new students need to observe the Five Precepts: to abstain from killing any being (even mosquitoes that kept biting me during night), stealing, all sexual activity, telling lies and all intoxicants.

I am well-aware about the freedom to be restricted before I embark on this retreat. Being a meditation technique that is rooted in Buddhism, Vipassana aims to help with total eradication of mental impurities and the resultant highest happiness of full liberation. I read about this course from a popular blogger, a technology start-up who graduated from University of Pennysylvia, and I signed up with the intention to purify my messy mind and alleviate my procrastination by living in the present.

Coming to attend this course is risk-taking. The course sounds like a ritual-practicing retreat, and what makes it more suspicious to many traditional Chinese like my parents is that there are no charges—- not even the cost of food and accommodation. All expenses are met by donations from old students, who wish to give others the opportunity to also benefit from the technique.

For majority of students, who are in their mid forties, they come to learn the art of living. My roommate, an oil painter from Shanghai, said that her friends introduced her to the course. “They are such a great mental state now. I have a 6-year-old son and I feel very tired sometimes. I want to liberate myself so I’ve come.” One man, a Toronto-based Chinese professor, said that he wanted to deal with daily stress and live a peaceful life.

Mindfulness, which is now closely associated with meditation, is now gaining traction in China. With proven evidence from scientific research, gyms and yoga centers are becoming hot places for white-collar workers after work, and many anxious city-dwellers are giving more attention to their mental health as life gets overwhelmingly hectic with technology.

After being separated from the male students, we are brought to the meditation hall. Lines of mats are arranged orderly side by side with blanket and meditation cushion. I sit down in cross-legs, the light dims and some incomprehensible chanting starts. It is draggy and clearly out of tune, or it simply doesn’t have a tune. “What the hell is this?” I give a sneaky peak at other students and they are all sitting in lotus position like Buddhas.

As doubts grow, the chanting ends. The man in the audio starts to speak English with heavy Indian accent. He is deliberately slow but most of his words are incomprehensible. It is then followed by a Chinese audio and we are instructed to observe our breath, objectively.

Well, this is by no means a breathing exercise —- to see how long you can hold your breath; neither should you regulate the breath. Instead, we are required to observe natural respiration as it is, as it comes in and goes out.

I find it pacifying with the air blowing in, and then out. But after a while, my mind starts to wander . I could not help thinking about my plan after the course, about who might be contacting me, and about things that happened few days ago. I get really bored and open my eyes to look at my watch. Only 10 minutes passed, but it feels like an hour.

The next day I wake up by the gong at 4am. Outside is pitch dark, the air is crisply cold, and the incessant sound of the gong is so irritating that I hurl myself up from bed and drag my drowsy feet to the meditation hall.

Detaching from the world is definitely not easy. The two difficulties I meet during meditation were very human: sleepiness and hunger… During the 2h of meditation before breakfast, no matter how I wish to master the technique, there is some drowsiness creeping in. Suddenly all sensation blank out, my head lunge forward and I realize that I nearly felt asleep. I shake my head and start to observe again, and the drowsiness set in again. The cycle just repeats until my heavy eyelids sense the change of light.

Then my stomach starts growling, and it distracts me away from what I am supposed to observe. We are not allowed to eat anything after noon and meals are vegetarian, which include a huge variety of vegetables, beans and nuts. I usually take a heavy protein diet, so two vegetarian meals a day greatly reduce my calorie intake. Hunger pangs become my lullaby every night, and food occupies my mind most of the time during meditation.

For my first lunch, I take much more than I could eat to store sufficient energy. By the time I meditate in the afternoon, my stomach is so full that I find it uncomfortable to sit like a monk. What is worse, the high sugar level makes my mind drowsy again.

Since then, after every meal, I would take a walk to fasten digestion. I intend to go the little lush garden, but we are confined to a small yard outside the dining area. We are not allowed to cross the designated area, and we can only walk with our head lowered so that we won’t have any eye contact with others. Most students, including me, just walk in circles around or walk in the corridor in the dorm, over and over again.

I start to miss the freedom surrendered. When I hear the cars roaring by on the road nearby, it feels isolated and constrained. This is even worse than a prison.

Or I have always lived in a prison set up by my heart.

Every night after 10-hour’s meditation in the day, audio by S.N Goenka, the Indian master of the technique, would be played to teach or explain the technique. By Goenka, our heart is burdened by all the straying thoughts, which can be unconscious to ourselves. The mind creates the reality we see. All miseries stem from the ignorance to how we react, to the truth of Anicca ( which means impermanence), and to the reality of no self. That’s why we should practice meditation to purify the heart first.

Miseries always exist, but at least we can learn to tackle it by developing our awareness and equanimity.

The first step is to follow the rules. The code of moral conduct is to help us concentrate in meditation and to reap the full benefits of the course. Abstinence serves to calm the mind, which otherwise would be too agitated to perform the task of self-observation.

For the second step of Anapana, Goenka said that it is to train concentration. By keeping one’s attention on the respiration for as long as possible, we develop mastery over our wild mind. This can make our mind sharp and penetrating, capable of the work of insight. Respiration, which is at times conscious and at times unconscious, serves as the bridge between the unconscious and the conscious.

Along with the first step of living a moral life, we prepare ourselves for the third step —- Vipassana, which is to experience one’s own reality by the systematic and dispassionate observation within oneself of the ever-changing mind-matter phenomenon manifesting itself as sensations. This is the culmination of the teaching of the Buddha: self-purification by self-observation. And ultimately, we can purify the mind of defilements by developing insight into one’s own nature.

You can read more about my Vipassana journey on this blog and you can find more about this course on the official website