Last night I returned to SF, 7 days earlier than planned. On day 2 of the meditation retreat the stitched wound on my side began to swell, and on day 3 I reluctantly admitted it’d be best to be nearer to medical care. I wanted badly to stay, but I had to leave.

The ride home was serene. Frustration and disappointment did enter my mindspace, but coasting on the momentum of what I’d practised, I easily brushed negativity aside to focus on objective present reality. This was easy because it was as fun as it was scenic.

The highway cut through green rolling hills. Cows and sheep grazed in the distance around the base of hundreds of giant sleek wind turbines. Blasts of air shook me as I occasionally rode the drafts behind freight trucks hauling diligently their cargo. Set my mood to a nice blend of excitement, motivation and contentment.

We had all agreed to abide by several tenets for the duration of the course. One being “I shall stay through the full 10 days,” and another being “I shall refrain from killing.” Then, with a thud, another poor insect added its thick, viscous yellow-green guts to the several already splattered on my visor and jacket. I would kill probably a hundred critters on the 4 hour ride back. Oh! Yet another revelation. Perfection is not possible. Or is it? What do I know, I only stayed through 2 days. But a very interesting 2 days:

On day 1 we were given simple instructions and set to meditate in 2 hour sessions from 4:30am - 8pm, with breaks in between. Exceedingly simple instructions: focus attention on the breath, limiting to a small triangular area above the upper lip and to the entrance and inside of the nostrils. When the mind wanders, take note and refocus. That’s it.

The first half of day 1 was excruciatingly painful, and BORING. The seated pose is hard on the body, legs particularly. The mind wanders schizophrenically, and it feels strongly justified for it. The breath is too simple. There doesn’t seem enough to focus on, and the mind, infinite as it is, demands entertainment. Such blandness is revolting to it. And it threw rages of indignation for being made to focus on something so menial.

Then came progress. It’s not that you don’t want to, it’s that you can’t. This came after mentally committing to the task. Just give it a shot, and find out what it feels like to try it. You’re stuck here for 10 days anyways. Then I quickly realized that it wasn’t the lack of willingness. It was that my mind is not capable of focus. Unaccustomed to it, it simply didn’t know how, and it had the perfect, ego-riding excuse for not trying. Once I took away that excuse, I became aware of its inadequacies. I could hardly take one full breath before ending up head in the clouds.

That night I had many vivid nightmares. Fortunately this didn’t startle me too much since I’ve always had vivid dreams. This was just more frequent. In one dream I met my killer after finding a severed head in a closet during a visit to his house and then realizing that the severed head was my own. I subsequently forgave him over tea and made light of how freaked out he must have been when his murder victim showed up at his house seemingly having re-spawned.

Day 2 I experienced several bits of insight. The breath seemed to contain some deep deep subtleties of which I was only scratching the surface. For one, I became aware that I didn’t really know how to breath. I had heard that it’s best to breath into the belly instead of the chest, so that air fills the bottom of the lungs instead of the shallow top. But do you fill the bottom most part first? And on the exhale, do you roll your stomach inward bottom most part first, like squeezing a tube of toothpaste from the bottom? Or do you roll it top to bottom, or all at the same time? Does it matter? Heh. I shelved that question for later because we were supposed to focus on that small triangular area.

We were taught to accept the reality of the mind; that it wanders. And the mere recognition that it had wandered is enough to bring back focus. I noted several classes of wanderings. There were shallow diversions. One moment I would be breathing, the next I was drinking beer and playing scrabble with Tyrion Lannister. Video games, tv shows, movies, songs. Never ending songs! Then there were characters. People. Relationships. Past, present, and future dalliances and romances. Imaginary conversations and scenarios. These were easily brushed aside simply by acknowledging the mind’s state of distraction. But I would encounter further trouble.



Obstacles more obstinate in nature arose. I found myself in conversation with 2 friends at a round standing table. A third man in a grey suit joined but did not speak. He stood closely by with a fist full of cash, and would interrupt by handing us money when we said something funny. He was expressive, with a amused look, but said nothing. We turned our attention to him and tried to figure out what he was about. What to say to get him to hand out more cash. After a few minutes I realized the absurdity of the scene and expected automatic resolution at the recognition that my mind had wandered yet again. But I did not snap out, and I could not remember how to get back, or even where to get back to. I vaguely recalled that there was some reality I was supposed to be tending to, but I could not remember specifically what that was. I looked to the stranger, and then to my friends for clues, but they shrugged and continued chatting.

I don’t know how long I was stuck there. I had to remind myself several times not to become fearful or frustrated. To accept reality. That I was stuck. This helped. Then I realized that there is only me. There is no one else. And once I realized that there is nowhere to look but within myself for direction, I felt what seemed like a quick gust of misty breeze, and the scene vanished, and I returned to the touch of respiration at the tip of my nose.

I took a quick mental note. This obstacle was more significant than others. It reflected a deeper, more calcified mental habit of mine. To go with where the wind blows. To look to others and to the environment for direction. We took a break for tea. I felt exhausted, but revitalized, like my brain was a muscle and I had just finished a good workout. The next session I would experience my last major type of obstacle before I left the course.

About a dozen people approached me, holding forth a large painter’s tray the size of a round dinner table. As they came closer I recognized the people as personifications of distractions dear to my personal history. They were caricatures of people, ideas, musings. And on their tray were morsels of yet more distractions. Gadgets, paints, books, magazines, games, toys. They beckoned me to pick one. To indulge one and to play with them. I refused and they put on sad puppy faces. I stated that I was busy, that they were distractions. But they would not leave. They encroached closer, insisting, surrounding me, to assert their right to exist and their desire to be recognized.

I was unable to resolve the standoff. I remained stuck until the bell tolled and the session adjourned. During break as I stood outside I thought of a few things I could have said and tried. I would tell them not to be so attached to their present forms. I’m not here to annihilate you. I’m here to transform you, to reclaim you, to repurpose the mental energies tied up within you for new uses. Then I thought that was absurd. I’m trying to be diplomatic with imaginary characters in my head. But it goes to show that old mental habits are hard to break, and sometimes, a sense of fear akin to self preservation can manifest when you try to change deep seated ones. This scenario didn’t recur for the remaining sessions of my stay.

I have a feeling that these adventures in concentration are only periphery. That these cognitive musings might themselves be a form of diversion for me, as I find them very entertaining to think about. We were told that following the breath will lead to deeper revelations. Perhaps I don’t need to be musing so extensively on these encounters with obstacles, and just find the most efficient way to return to focusing on the breath. I don’t really understand what there could be about the breath in and of itself that could be revealing. I remain curious, and will continue to practice focusing on the breath on my own until I can attend the next 10-day session, possibly starting 4/1 (I’m on the waitlist)