A Zen Buddhist Walks into A Vipassana Bar…

As I detailed in a series of posts earlier this summer (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3), I went to one of the Goenka Vipassana retreats at the center outside Dallas. I mentioned I would write some about my impressions of the experience from a Zen perspective, but it has taken me a month or two of reflection to get to that point.

First and foremost, we live in an amazing time and place. We have basically any form of Buddhism and/or meditation system at our fingertips here in the West. If we want to deeply pursue a practice, it’s available to us. That is not the case in other countries where one or two traditions might predominate. So, whatever “flavor” of practice might suit you best for whatever reason, it’s there if you’re willing to get involved and maybe occasionally go out of your way to pursue it.

Secondly, I think any tried-and-true, traditional school of Buddhist meditation practice will lead to the same place ultimately: loosening the seemingly intractable grip of ego, eroding ingrained negative mental patterns, and ultimately, understanding who you really are and what life really is, beyond the conditioning we receive as a result of everyday existence. Our ability to follow the precepts extends from an understanding of our own conditioning and the suffering that creates, alongside the understanding that everyone – indeed everything – wants the same happiness that we want. We are not each a separate existence but part of a greater whole, so what reason is there to cause harm?

Vipassana is one such school of meditation. Zen is another. Both have been around for a long time, and to some extent, Zen was a reform movement that sought to bring back the meditation-centered values originally established with Vipassana. To me, they are closely related and not incompatible.

That said, I am a Zen practitioner. Maybe this is true in part because it was the first practice I encountered, and this occurred at a time when it more or less saved my life, so I owe a debt of gratitude. Maybe there is just something about Zen that works with my particular conditioning and perspective. Maybe it’s something about the balance between outer concentration on form and the inner experience of ultimate freedom that come with Zen practice. I’ll never know, but Zen has resonated with me since the moment I first encountered it. Maybe even before that, because it already felt familiar and true to me in a way that nothing else ever had.

So why did I do a 10-day Vipassana retreat? The simple answer is that I needed a big dose of hard practice for reasons detailed in the previous posts, and the price was right (i.e., donation at my discretion – after the course, no less). For the most part, Zen sanghas do not offer that kind of extended immersion in practice, unless your sangha does a traditional 7-day silent Rohatsu sesshin once a year in December, or you do a monastic practice period. But my day job is teaching, and the end of my semester almost always conflicts with Rohatsu. And my own sangha doesn’t really do silence very well anyway. There tends to be a lot of chatter because we come from all over the country and don’t see each other often. But having experienced the relative outer silence of Rohatsu and brief monastic stints a time or two before, I knew I needed that again. In some sense, it was also about the challenge. Could I really overcome my conditioning and not-talk for 10 days? Could I really do that much meditation, despite whatever discomfort, boredom, and/or frustration it might present? I felt my practice had gone soft, and I needed a jolt. The Goenka retreat provided that.

Zen and Vipassana

Despite the fact that Zen and Vipassana have similar aims, the practices themselves differ considerably. Zen, at least in the Soto tradition, emphasizes the practice of shikantaza (just sitting). That’s it, that’s all. You’re just sitting. If extraneous thoughts come, let them pass without hopping onboard. If physical sensations happen, they happen. Stillness of body corresponds to stillness of mind, so try not to move too much. It’s experiencing exactly this, whatever this happens to be, fully and completely. It’s wholeheartedness, giving oneself totally to the act of sitting, adding nothing “extra” in the form of mental commentary or labeling or attaching to certain outcomes.

Vipassana, in the Goenka version and other traditions, has particular concentration objects and uses guided meditation to some extent. The concentration practice might be meditation on breath, sound, physical sensation, etc. But there is always an object of single-pointed concentration. The concentration is said to promote samadhi (mental focus), which paves the way for several specific moments of insight (vipassana) and ultimately prajña (wisdom). The sequence in which all these things occur is mapped out very precisely in the Sutras and is supposed to occur in the practitioner in a fairly set order of stages or levels called jhanas. The focus seems to be fairly exclusively on personal enlightenment or liberation, but moral practice in the form of precepts is considered to play an integral role, so it’s not that Vipassana excludes the needs of other beings, as we might assume from a Zen/Mahayana perspective.

In a nutshell: If Vipassana is a sequentially delivered course of swimming lessons at the Y, Zen is your uncle throwing you into the  lake and saying “swim to me.” You’ll learn to swim either way. Vipassana has a particular set of mental forms for the practitioner to follow, but little in the way of outward ceremony. Zen has a fairly precise outer form, particularly as pertains to physical posture and a few other traditional/ceremonial practices, but the inner mental experience is one of finding one’s own way to liberation. Obviously, in either case, having a teacher to coach and cheerlead the practitioner through rough spots is extremely helpful.

In Zen the samadhi/vipassana/prajña develop alongside one another at the practitioner’s individual pace. There are no “levels” of practice. We do what the Buddha did and what all Zen Ancestors have done. The practice of zazen already contains within it the realization that they experienced before us. All we have to do is engage in the practice fully, and the awakening and liberation that are already inherent show themselves, little by little, even if we don’t notice it happening. Practice is precisely enlightenment, whether you are a fancy so-called “Zen Master” or just trying out zazen for the first time. It’s all just practice. And it’s all the real thing too. Both at the same time.

Goenka’s Approach to Vipassana

Many aspects of the Goenka retreat were very foreign to me as a Zen person. And here I should mention that many aspects of the Goenka interpretation of Vipassana are also atypical of Vipassana generally. For instance, the role of the teacher in the Goenka tradition is, well, rather baffling to me, honestly. Other branches of Vipassana such as the ID Project, Against the Stream, and the Insight Meditation Society all have independently operating, accredited teachers. Goenka Vipassana does not. Goenka himself is the teacher of all Goenka retreats across the world.

Oh yeah, also worth mentioning: S.N. Goenka happens to be dead.

But even when he was alive, the content his retreats was delivered in the form of audio instructions and video discourses, so there was no way to communicate with him on a person-to-person level. Yet he must’ve been physically present for some retreats, so maybe those were different. But nowadays, wherever, whenever the retreat, the content is always delivered remotely and is therefore exactly the same. In a very corporate-y, or perhaps scientific way, the retreat’s contents, and presumably results, are endlessly duplicable.

The “assistant teachers” who run the retreats have a precise script that they follow, including in private interviews with the students. When I had experiences that differed from what we were supposed to be experiencing according to the instructions, the assistant gave generic advice that she had clearly delivered in the same exact manner hundreds of other times. Frankly, it felt parroted and perfunctory, robotic even. Granted, I don’t expect to personally connect on a deep level with a teacher I just met, but in dokusans with unfamiliar Zen teachers in the past, even if for only five minutes, the teacher always did his/her best to form a personal connection to the degree that was possible in that time frame. The student/teacher connection is indeed one of the real hallmarks and assets of Zen, which I suppose I took for granted before.

Also, if he’s dead now, does the organization consist only of assistant teachers? Did he not name at least one successor? If not, that’s just weird. Will the retreats proceed in perpetuity using the machinery already set in place? I guess so. Again, that feels a little strange to me.

Zen in general, Soto Zen in particular, and even specific sanghas and groups within the different Zen lineages, all have their own accredited and recognized teachers with their own particular perspectives on Zen practice. Serious study of Zen requires a personal, one-on-one connection with an experienced teacher. You may not always agree with or even necessarily like your teacher, but an element of trust in the teacher and the practice as a whole has to be there. A good Zen teacher is very much “what you see is what you get” in terms of his/her distinct personality, so it doesn’t take long to understand what he/she is about and to develop that sense of trust. The assembly line approach of the Goenka retreats was, on the whole, rather alienating. Is this an attachment on my part? Maybe. It’s also just what I know from Zen. The entire Zen tradition and most of its major texts hinge on that mind-to-mind connection of teacher and student reaching back, at least in theory, to the Buddha himself. This seems somehow essential to me.

Is ten days of very intense meditation too much for a beginning practitioner? It would’ve been for me. My first Zen sesshin was a 4- or 5-day affair after I had sat 20 to 30 minutes a day for three months or so. It went from 5:00a.m. to 9:00p.m. and consisted of just sitting with occasional dokusan, oriyoki meals, brief chores, and periodic brief chanting services (which, until then, I didn’t know Zen had). But mostly the endless hours of sitting. I was woefully unprepared, and it was January, in rural Wisconsin, and I had ridden with other people, so there was no escape. It was like going crazy, very slowly and quietly, seeing exactly how insane I was as if there were a mirror in front of me, and coming out the other side of that mirror unharmed but with a completely altered perspective. That sesshin remains one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Extremely rewarding, but indescribably challenging.

The Goenka retreats are 10 days of pretty much nothing but meditation, but for longer hours, for longer sitting periods, with near-complete verbal silence – in other words, extremely challenging for anyone of any experience level. And yet complete beginners come to the Goenka courses to learn meditation. A huge hats-off to those people. I have no idea how they manage. I might’ve gone truly, stark-raving mad.

Goenka encourages people to meditate two hours a day after the course, one 60-minute period in the morning and one in the evening. I’m not sure how anyone makes time for that. That would require monastic levels of commitment, which is very difficult in “the marketplace” (aka layperson life), which is why they have monasteries in the first place. Finding two 60-minute periods in a normal day of lay life is, frankly, unrealistic. On a really good day I do one 40- or 50-minute period. Usually more like 25 or 30. Having a daily practice at all as a layperson is somewhat challenging for most people. In fact, I have met years-long monastics who returned to lay life and discovered that they had a hard time maintaining daily practice without a set daily monastic schedule of group practice. In some ways, I feel like Goenka’s expectations set practitioners up for failure.

Yet he does run things on a very business-based model and seems to attract a lot of driven professionals, so maybe businesspeople thrive on the challenge of unrealistic expectations that they strive to meet anyway. Still, I’d be surprised if many people really do manage the two-hours-a-day recommendation over the long haul. But big kudos to those who do. That is some serious dedication. Maybe the Goenka approach works for a specific subset of the Type-A, high-achiever type personality. I am not that type.

One of the major tenets of Goenka’s retreats is that he allegedly offers nothing dogmatic or sectarian. Sorry, but that is simply not the case. In some sense, yes, Buddhism is compatible with just about anyone’s lifestyle and will not conflict with existing religious views or practices, or lack thereof. However, Buddhism is still Buddhism whether you are “into labels” or not. To claim it’s anything other than that is rather disingenuous and borderline disrespectful to centuries of teachers.

More egregiously, however, Goenka insists on his own particular interpretation of Buddhism. And that is entirely dogmatic and sectarian, regardless of your position on what “Buddhism” is or if it should even be called that. Specifically, he insists that Buddha’s real teachings were only preserved in Burma/Myanmar and only passed down by a few teachers – including, of course, the teacher and tradition he learned and taught. He also insists that his particular body-scanning Vipassana technique is the only real meditation technique taught by the Buddha. And that, my friends, is just plain, flat-out Completely Not True. At one point in a nightly discourse he alludes to “other meditations of liberation” so it’s possible he recognizes other specific traditions, but that was the only such allusion I ever heard.

In the last night’s discourse, he tells of a Burmese Buddhist prophecy that the “real teachings” would rise again out of Burma and return to India, eventually spreading to the whole world, and he strongly implies that he is the person who fulfilled the prophecy. What?!?

Umm… sorry, but that’s where I have to hop off the bandwagon. If you claim you are the only one who has the answer, you definitely do not have the answer. In fact, you are probably harming people in some sense. That’s the sort of thing I would expect from that Bikram Yoga guy or the Hare Krishnas or fundamentalist Christians, but from a Buddhist? Jeez. The actual Buddha himself even said you shouldn’t believe his words without testing them out.

Some Conclusions

All this said, I believe that Goenka’s retreats are valuable despite their shortcomings. They teach a solid technique, just as I stated in the previous posts. But I think some aspects of his teachings – specifically the claims to exclusivity while declaring himself “nonsectarian” and “nondogmatic” – have to be approached with caution and not a little skepticism.

To his credit, the coverage of Buddhism 101 (the Four Noble Truths, the precepts, the Noble Eightfold Path, the Paramitas, etc.) is presented in an accurate, easy-to-grasp manner that would appeal to and make sense to a wide range of people. I’ve already mentioned my admiration for the level of dedication from the organizers and participants in these courses, as well as the wholehearted practice that characterized the event as a whole. Despite the sometimes assembly-line feel of the experience, in the end, it does introduce tons of people to the practice of meditation and the value of Buddhist teachings. For that, the Goenka folks should be commended.

In terms of organization and fundraising, they also deserve a lot of recognition. There is, as far as I know, no Zen institution in the U.S. that manages to attract hundreds of people to its doors, and every center I know struggles with the issue of fundraising. I’m not sure what it is about the Goenka organization that pulls in such dedicated volunteers and donors, such that they can finance beautiful and functional practice spaces all over the world, but Zen could certainly learn a thing or two from them. Buddhism is inherently non-profit in the truest sense of the word, but we live in a world that revolves around money, and we have to come to terms with the fact that Westerners are not used to donation for the sake of selfless giving. They want something back for their investment, and we have to be clear and honest about what that is (and “nothing to attain” or “non-gaining” isn’t going to cut it for most new practitioners). Churches have the promise of heaven, which is so abstract, yet brings in million$. We’re very cagey in Zen about the promise of liberation in this life, and yet it is demonstrably real, so maybe we should be a little more upfront (albeit realistic) about that aspect of practice…

Goenka is, as I mentioned, just one representative of Vipassana and teaches only one of many techniques from that tradition. Meanwhile, Vipassana is only one of the many Buddhist traditions. Luckily, here in the U.S. we have the opportunity to explore those different traditions and find what works. But at the end of the day, I always advise people to stick with what works and engage in it deeply once they find it. The amount of options we have here encourages people to dip a toe into many different traditions but never fully immerse themselves or commit. Yet that commitment to a particular practice is an indispensable part of the process.

In the end, Vipassana is great and might be the right practice for some people. It was neat to experience it in such an immersive way. But I’ll stick with Zen. Your mileage may vary.

Book Review: 10% Happier by Dan Harris

Harris, Dan. 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works–A True Story. New York: It Books, 2014.

I ran across this title through the recommendation of a friend, and a day or two later, I saw it in a report on ABC’s Good Morning America. I stumbled upon it yet again somehow on Amazon, so I decided to Kindle it and read it as an airplane book on a recent trip to NYC. It happens to chronicle, among many other experiences, a 10-day Vipassana retreat, which is something I did recently as well and detailed in a series of posts (starting here).

I’m a longtime viewer of ABC news shows such as GMA, Nightline, and 20/20, so I was already familiar with Dan Harris as a a wry and intelligent investigative reporter. This book did not disprove that opinion of him. His writing is clear, down-to-earth, funny, engaging, and highly readable.

Essentially, the book chronicles his journey from hardened skeptic regarding all things he considered “woo-woo” (which is to say, anything vaguely spiritual), to a dedicated meditator extolling the virtues of mindfulness. Along the way, we get a number of details about his longtime reporting gig covering faith in America, his various other jobs at ABC, and especially his life as a competitive, ambitious, dedicated, and above all, stressed out reporter. He begins with his initial impressions of Eckhart Tolle and ends as a regular Vipassana practitioner who displays an admirable knowledge of and respect for Buddhist thought and tradition. It is never clear in the book whether he considers himself Buddhist or not, but then again, many people engage deeply in Buddhist practice without declaring themselves anything, so that’s a mere curiosity on my part, not crucial to the book in any way.

The real strength of this book is the case it makes for the benefits of a daily meditation practice. I won’t recount all those here, but suffice it to say he constantly refers to personal experience, the wisdom of his rather famous teachers — names like Epstein, Goldstein, Kornfield, and Salzberg pop up again and again — and contemporary research on the neurological and behavioral effects of regular practice. These discussions include mention of surprising advocates for meditation, such as corporate execs and even the Marines (to help war returnees deal with or prevent PTSD). Despite his relative fame as a news reporter and his access to some notable founding teachers from the Insight Meditation Society, he comes across as a regular guy, and he makes it clear that anybody with the interest and at least 5 minutes a day can become a meditator.

At least from my perspective, having seen the sense and value in Buddhism and meditation basically the second I was exposed to them, his skepticism seemed excessive at times. I realize that for unfamiliar non-practitioners, it might be hard to separate the wheat from the chaff — or to be more specific, authentic, tried-and-true practice that’s been around for millennia from The Secret™ — so I suppose in that sense, his skepticism serves a purpose. He does a good job differentiating the techniques handed down from teacher to student for around 2600 years since the time of the Buddha, which have measurably reduced all sorts of suffering in countless individuals since that time, from the loose mishmash of East, West, and pseudoscientific nonsense that we have come to call “New Age.”

As is the case in Vipassana generally, he emphasizes the concept of liberation, which he relates accurately to a pretty lucid description of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths. In a nutshell, regular meditation practice — including Zen, Vipassana, any reliable, time-tested technique that utilizes the experience of present reality to expose our thoughts and emotions for the sham that they are — leads eventually to an undoing of the ingrained mental habit patterns that lie at the root of all suffering. And of course, yes, painful things happen, but we can learn to respond rather than blindly react. To make a choice rather than follow compulsion. To realize that all desires, compulsions, and blind reactions are, at their very basis, the result of attachment to how things are not and/or aversion to how things actually are.

He also tackles the Buddhist newbie question, “If I accept everything about the present moment, doesn’t that just mean complacency and apathy?” The answer to that question is, of course, “No, quite to the contrary.” As a competitive person in a highly competitive profession, it seems logical that he would be concerned about “losing his edge” if he erodes his attachment to success. But let’s face it, every thing we attach to is impermanent. Not to say we should be *de*tached and unfeeling. That’s not at all what Buddhist practice is about either. He eventually comes to his own conclusions on that question, and I’ll leave that for readers to discover. I imagine this issue has relevance for many new practitioners. I’m sure I entertained the question at one point or another.

His description of his 10-day retreat experience pretty much corresponds to my first and many subsequent retreat experiences. I found that part especially funny and relatable, not to mention very realistic. As I’ve described in another post, “retreat” is really a misnomer, and you’re in for a rude awakening if you expect it to be a fantastic, groovy mind trip or the mental equivalent of a week in the Bahamas.

My one real criticism of this book is that he is rather hard on Eckhart Tolle. Yes, fine, Tolle was the Oprah darling of 2008 – but so what? I’ve seen these reactions to his work before: unattributed Buddhism, or “Buddhism lite,” or that he’s too self-important, or that he’s full of New Age nonsense. But I actually do not agree with any of those claims, except maybe the unattributed Buddhism, in part. Then again, I think even that he does for a calculated reason. I always thought of The Power of Now and especially A New Earth as non-sectarian Buddhism that doesn’t call itself Buddhism, which is an expedient means to reach soccer moms who would never read a Buddhist book. He utilizes numerous illustrations from Buddhist tradition, especially Zen, and he certainly does attribute those to the tradition. He displays a solid knowledge of Western philosophy and psychology, as well as the world’s great religious traditions, particularly their mystical branches. I have no reason to doubt the validity of the spontaneous enlightenment experience that he relates pieces of in both books. Although exceedingly rare, that happens to people. I also don’t believe him to be self-important. He sees himself as a messenger or conduit, as the guy who happens to be delivering the news (like Harris, really), but sees the message itself as primary. Every account of his personality that I’ve seen or read, including the one in Harris’s book, describes Eckhart Tolle as extremely unassuming and genuinely humble. I agree that Tolle doesn’t provide a lot on the how of stepping out from under self-created suffering, but he certainly gives a few basic options, and I’m sure truly interested readers can go on to find the real techniques that can help them loosen the grip of ego.

Speaking of how-tos, at the end of 10% Happier Harris offers some brief but useful, and, as he notes, teacher-approved instructions on various Vipassana techniques, including “open awareness” which is almost identical to zazen. He also presents a brief Q&A section that includes realistic beginner questions about the hows and whys of meditation.

Overall, this is a valuable text for anyone who has relatively little knowledge about Buddhist explanations for the human condition and/or is skeptical about but interested in meditation. He offers a clear account and makes a convincing case, which is at its most convincing when he relates it to his own experience. He does an excellent job taking the New Agey stigma out of meditation practice, showing how reasonable it is for, well, anybody. ABC fans will also note references to favorite newscasters and reporters, particularly his mentor-mentee relationship with the late Peter Jennings.

More experienced meditators will get no less out of the book, as  it provides a inside look into another practitioner’s path and inner life, and there’s a lot there that they will find familiar and amusing. If you’ve ever had trouble working a regular practice into your busy life, he offers useful inspiration and some practical ideas for that as well. If you have ever wanted to get up and run out of the meditation hall in the middle of a retreat, you”ll relate. His discussion of the title towards the end of the book also offers as good an explanation as any if you ever need an elevator pitch for the value of meditation.

The Vipassana Experience: Results

See also, Part 1 and Part 2 for other details about the Goenka Vipassana course I attended.

Results

Goenka talks a lot about results, which is not common in my Zen tradition, where we are discouraged from having a “gaining idea” or expectations from our meditation. On the one hand, I felt like he built up a lot of preconceptions for people by harping on that, and they could be disappointed if it didn’t deliver. On the other, it was nice to hear someone talk openly about the liberation that only intensive meditation can bring. I’ve experienced some of these effects in my Zen life, but we’re not supposed to hold it as a distinct goal. And yet that’s a hard balance to strike, since obviously we all start sitting for some reason. I started meditating in the 1990s to deal with recurring bouts of depression. It has helped a good bit, but mainly as a side effect of the loosened grip of underlying, ingrained thought and habit patterns. And yeah, I still have plenty of those, but not in the amount and severity that was present before.

I went to this course, not because it is Vipassana, but because it offered the most intensive practice at the lowest cost I could find (i.e., whatever I could/would donate). And I needed some intensive practice.

For the last year or more, I have continued (and at times, struggled) to do zazen regularly, but the fire had really gone out of my practice. It had become perfunctory and routine, and my thought life and outer life had devolved into a series of bad habits and compulsive reactions. I was starting to get really discouraged. I had begun to indulge in reactive, escapist behaviors like unconsciously overeating to avoid my feelings, watching a bunch of TV when it clearly wasn’t the right choice, and feeling resentful about my work and demands on “my” time. I was even starting to resent people who appear happy and at peace, which is definitely not the mudita (sympathetic joy, aka the opposite of Schadenfreude… so Freudenfreude I guess) that is supposed to come from right effort and practice. I knew I needed a jolt to the system, a dose of hard practice, and this course fit my schedule and my pocketbook. And I could drive to it.

Despite the minor annoyances, the physical challenges, and the “weird s**t” detailed in my last post, I do feel that I’ve experienced some important results from this course. Around day 6 or so, I very suddenly divested myself of some grief and regret I had not fully processed from a few years ago. It had to do with the death of my very special dog Henry the beagle, the loss of a job / almost my whole career, and a relationship that I had allowed to drag me down – all of which went down at roughly the same time.

It’s easy to say “let it go” to people, and since then my life has gotten immensely better objectively speaking, but paradoxically, it still can be hard to put down baggage that you’ve carried for so long. The pain is somehow comfortable in a sick way. So I’m not sure how, but suddenly as I was finishing up an afternoon meditation, I was just able to step out from under all that stuff, all at once. It was very unceremonious, spontaneous, and when I opened to door to my pagoda cell, it just all kind of whooshed out in front of me. I doubted for a couple of days whether it really happened or not, but yes, I believe it really happened.

That “stuff” must have been connected to some of the other compulsions I mention above, because I haven’t felt the need to overeat since I left the course. I know it’s only been a short time, but it seems pretty miraculous to me. An 8-hour drive home without stopping to buy a bunch of junk food? Almost unimaginable. I have almost always given in to that urge on long drives, and if I didn’t, it was because I tried really hard or planned carefully and brought a bunch of healthy stuff instead. This time I didn’t consciously avoid it or force myself not to, just didn’t want it. I went out for Indian with my gf and only ate half of my order, saving the rest for the next day’s lunch. What?!? Similarly, I haven’t wanted to watch TV or play on Facebook or any of the other myriad avoidant activities that had started to take over my life. Maybe this would be nothing to someone else, but it’s a huge deal from my perspective. When I’ve had an “old thought,” I’ve immediately and consistently recognized it as a habit pattern, and just thought “huh, oh well, look at that” and gone on with my day.

I’m going to continue taking Goenka’s advice about checking your “respiration and sensation” when something negative or an old habit crops up. It’s not that I’ve never heard that advice before, but all that meditation practice really helped place a pause between my compulsive thoughts and my reactions to them. It really is possible to observe an emotion as it rises and recognize it before you react blindly. I really can examine a so-called “situation” or issue as just some story I’m telling myself rather than as objective reality.

Like I said, I know it’s only been a short time, but at least I got an important reminder that liberation from suffering – maybe not all suffering, but a lot – really is possible.

And things really do feel different, so I’m looking at my results with a positive “we’ll see” approach. Maybe this stuff will “stick,”  and maybe it won’t. But I’m happier than I was before, so to me, it was definitely, positively, absolutely worth ten days out of my life.

Some Other Random Observations

Since I couldn’t write down anything or talk to anybody while I was at the course, I tried to retain some of these random reflections that occurred to me while I was there. In no particular order:

• Wow, who would’ve thought I would ever floss this much?
• Southwest Vipassana Meditation Center is like Disney World for meditators, which is to say it’s the exact opposite of Disney World in almost every way.
• Rabbits: Everything they do is adorable.
• Any rabbit at any given time looks like she’s posing for a “Happy Easter” card.
• I admit it. Sleeping feels better than meditating.
• Instant coffee: not as bad as you’d think.
• I’m getting really neurotic about soymilk.
• The Snake Incident: 15 ladies with their noses pressed against the glass of the window in the entrance to the meditation hall staring at a scene of riveting drama. Will the rabbit get away from the 5-foot cottonmouth snake? Yes, he just nonchalantly hopped away.
• If someone choked in the dining hall, would people break the rules and call for help? (Yes, I’m sure they would.)
• Will somebody here finally crack and run stark raving mad out of the meditation hall? Will it be me?
• Opening doors for each other: the only nice thing we can do for each other without talking or making eye contact.

I’m sure there were others, but that’s all I can think of for now.

In Sum

I was deeply impressed by the level of organization, the dedication of the all-volunteer staff, and the top-notch facilities. It’s hard to believe people can be so generous with their donations of time and money, but they are, and it’s a really wonderful place for it. These people get no material gain from doing all this to make the courses possible. They’re just folks who benefited from this practice and want others to experience it. That’s it.

I was also deeply moved by the dedication to practice by the people around me. Only twice did I hear people speak when it wasn’t to a teacher or course manager, both kind of involuntary utterances due to being startled, so they don’t even count. Everyone was always gentle and helpful. They all worked so hard and practiced to the best of their ability. I really couldn’t believe there were 100+ people who could be so dedicated enough to come to this particular, let alone 100+ people attending a course at any given time throughout the year, let alone the thousands of people who attend these at centers all over the world and have for decades. It’s amazing in the truest sense of the word.

If you are serious about some hardcore, intensive meditation practice offered on a donation-only basis, I highly recommend this course.

If you have previous meditation experience in another tradition, try to give up the comparisons as soon as you can. You can evaluate all those matters later.

If you think you can’t not-talk for 10 days, you’re probably wrong.

If you’re determined to make it through the course, you will.

If you think you need it, you probably do.

If you follow the instructions as closely as possible, you will come out of the course happier than when you got there, and it can lead to very real, positive changes in your life and thought habits.

If you do get something out of it, keep practicing in some meditative tradition. Just pick one that works for you and stick with it. It can be Vipassana, or any number of comparable practices in the Buddhist tradition. Be disciplined.

A Note on “Real Happiness”

Goenka mentions “real peace” and “real happiness” in the video discourses we watched every night. At the end of almost every one he would raise a hand and close his eyes and wish these things to everyone, both in his original audience and anybody seeing the lecture on video later. And I truly believe he meant it.

“Real” happiness isn’t the same as dancing around and being “Happy” all the time, although that song and the video are really fun and I like them. Real happiness means you can maintain equanimity in the face of most emotions or situations. Fake happiness has an underside of clingyness, like “yay this feels so good I hope it never stops, ever!” But of course it does, and then you’re sad because you want it to come back. Sadness, meanwhile, isn’t just sadness. It’s sadness plus wishing whatever sadness you’re feeling will go away right now, dammit! So it’s sadness, plus extra bonus sadness about feeling sad.

Equanimity means you can feel an overall sense of okayness in the best and worst circumstances, whether your feelings are pleasant or unpleasant. It’s enjoying the pleasant stuff just for what it is while it’s happening, and understanding that the unpleasant feeling or experience will not last forever either. Change. Anicca. All the time. I think that’s what he meant by real happiness, or at least that’s what it means to me. I’m not full of equanimity 100% of the time, but when I practice consistently, I always get better at it.

From the Metta Sutta:

May all beings be happy. 
May they be joyous and live in safety. 
All living beings, whether weak or strong, 
In high or middle or low realms of existence, 
Small or great, visible or invisible, near or far, 
Born or to be born, may all beings be happy.

May I not deceive another, nor despise any being in any state; 
May I not by anger or hatred wish harm to another. 
Even as a mother at the risk of her own life, 
Watches over and protects her only child, 
So with a boundless mind may I cherish all living things, 
Suffusing love over the entire world – 
Above, below, and all around, without limit; 
So may I cultivate an infinite good will toward the whole world. 

Standing or walking, sitting or lying down, 
During all my waking hours, 
May I practice the way with gratitude. 

Not holding to fixed views, 
Endowed with insight, 
Freed from sense appetites, 
One who achieves the way will be free 
From the duality of birth and death.

A Word on Retreats

For anyone who’s never been to any kind of Buddhist meditation retreat, let’s clear something up right away: “Retreat” is a misnomer. You’re not really retreating from anything. All your “stuff” is right there, in your face, for you to deal with once you’re done thinking about the grocery lists and random high school memories and that report from work.

The grief you didn’t fully process when your grandma passed away a decade ago, the regret of punching your best friend during a Monopoly game when you were 9, the details of the harrowing divorce you went through last year? All those things you’d rather not think about in daily life, that you actively suppress? They will come up in a multi-day meditation event. You can’t retreat.

Intensive meditation experience for me has always been like holding up a big magnifying mirror that I can’t look away from. Sometimes what you see isn’t pretty. And you have nowhere to run, no one to talk to about it, no distractions, no one to coddle you. You have to put on your Big Girl Pants and work through it, head on, integrate it into your life, and move on. And very quietly too because you’re surrounded by fellow meditators. So erase all the hippie blissful fantasies about what a meditation retreat is like. It’s your real life, intensified by about 6 notches.

And your legs and back will hurt. You can mitigate that by changing positions from period to period, arranging your cushions differently each time, but in the end, when it gets around 45 minutes of a 60-minute period, or 40 minutes of a 50-minute period, etc. there is no retreating from that either.

This is all part of the process, confronting your reactions to unpleasant sensations. I mean, if it’s excruciating, yes by all means move your legs. But as quietly as possible out of consideration for others. And know that the pain might still be there even if you move. If your concentration is going really well, the pain doesn’t really seem to matter so much. But if you’re distracted, that won’t necessarily happen.

And everybody gets distracted, even the most experienced meditation teacher. I’m quite sure the Buddha got distracted sometimes. He just didn’t let it bother him and went right back to meditation when he noticed it. That’s what we do too. No sense in getting frustrated. That’s a distraction too.

If you’re working really intensively, you might also have sensory hallucinations or think you’re going to go insane. Ignore that and keep meditating. Those are distractions too. You’re not actually going insane, and those bugs you are sure are crawling all over your neck? Go ahead, touch your neck. They’re not there. Ignore them. Keep meditating.

Don’t be surprised if you cry – out of sadness, joy, annoyance, pain, happiness, whatever. Crying is allowed.

All that said, intensive meditation experiences are also amazing. If you really do what you’re there to do, or at least give it your best effort, major positive shifts will probably happen in your life. You will be happier – but not in a sappy, elated, excitable kind of way. That’s not what real happiness is. Real happiness is the ability to maintain equanimity in the face of whatever happens to you – happy or not.

It is absolutely true that meditation can help you let go of the clinging, craving, and aversion that are the source of pretty much all human misery. And yeah, in all that, you probably will experience some really glowing, happy moments too. They will pass. Let them go.

But really, glowy elation, “bliss” if you will, is not the point. Anybody can be happy when they’re happy, but can you still be happy when sad, annoying, or frustrating things happen around you? Can you be depressed, but not be depressed about being depressed?

That’s the real test, isn’t it?

I can’t say I always pass that test, but I’m getting better at it all the time. And I’m not special. You can too.

The Vipassana Experience, Part 2

This is a continuation of my previous post about a 10-day Goenka Vipassana meditation course at the Southwest Vipassana Meditation Center in Kaufman, TX. If you missed it, check Part 1 first, or some of this may not make sense.

Sound / Silence

Unlike most silent Zen or other meditationey retreats I’ve ever attended, this one was pretty loud. Well, relatively. Not that anyone was talking – it was actually impressive how well everyone really stuck to the rules – but talking isn’t the only noisy thing humans do. And even the tiniest sound carries well in the meditation hall. Very well.

This course featured the full cast of possible characters you might encounter at a meditation event of any size:

Sneezy, Sniffy, Coughy, Snorty, Squirmy, Groaner, and Loud Breathing Guy (LBG).

And introducing Compulsive Knuckle Popper (CKP), a new character for me.

There were also brief visits by Tooty McToots.

LBG would breathe really loud when CKP or any of the other characters made noises, either out of annoyance or to re-settle his mind. I could never tell. He also LBed periodically for no reason too. It got legitimately funny after a while.

But seriously? Popping your knuckles – all of them – in the middle of a meditation period? That was new. CKP was second only to Guy Who Wouldn’t Stop Futzing with his Feet at a Zen retreat I attended once. That time I just discretely moved my cushion during a break. At Goenka courses there’s assigned seating, and knuckle popping especially resonates in the large, echoey hall, so there was no escape. None!

The first three days people were allowed, even encouraged, to shift around in their seats and find a suitable position. That was also new. It was a little distracting, but at the same time, I appreciated it while it lasted. I’ve never been to a Zen event yet that had longer than 50-minute sitting periods.

My reaction – or lack thereof – to all these sounds pretty much told me how my meditation was going. If  they broke my concentration, annoyed me, or made me angry (and yes, I spent one whole period cursing them as though I had mental Tourette’s), at some point I would come to understand that they weren’t doing it to me. I was just reacting. This process always occurs in the beginning phase of a retreat, but most I’ve been to are far smaller, so the full cast isn’t always there, and it’s never that loud.

Yet, as the course progressed – and as cornballs as this sounds – they would eventually serve as little mindfulness bells to let me know when my attention had wandered. Eventually I didn’t even notice them at all. So it was all good.

As far as talking or other communication, I was really surprised how easy it was to get along without it. I’ve always been kind of an introvert, and this place was pretty much an Introvert’s Paradise. Cue Coolio.

One of the reasons I went to this retreat in the first place was to get away from the distraction of my iPhone, Facebook, and the like. I had become way too dependent on my devices, to the point that I think my gf felt a little abandoned sometimes. Yikes! I was thrilled to hand them my phone on registration day, and as it turns out, I never missed it for a second. I felt very free without it, as a matter of fact. For the record, they have a very efficient system of keeping up with whose items are whose, and all are kept in a locked trunk throughout the course. So you’re definitely not going to lose your stuff.

Meditation

As a Zen meditator, I had little to no experience with specific concentration objects, so although the overall goal was the same (equanimity in the face of, well, whatever), the techniques were somewhat new to me. The first three or four days were anapanna, meditation on breath. Specifically, we were to observe the sensation of the air coming in and out of the nostrils, then eventually just experience the sensations on the triangular area between the entrance of the nostrils and the top of the upper lip. You’d think there would be little to no sensation there, but if your mind is super-concentrated, there’s actually quite a bit.

This all got us focused and ready for the actual Vipassana technique, of which there are actually many. In Goenka’s case, it’s a very straightforward, intentional body scan focusing on subtle sensations, “part by part, part by part” (I hear him in my head right now!) then eventually in a sweeping motion.

I guess due to my previous meditation experience, I took to this stuff pretty easily, and seemed to progress in it faster than I was supposed to. I seemed to be always a day or two ahead of the instructions. The “sweeping” thing started happening spontaneously after about a day of body scanning, and the “free flow” of equally distributed subtle sensations throughout the body – which is basically a nice, solid, sesshin-quality zazen-samadhi – also happened rather quickly.  At this point in the meditation session, the pain in the legs usually disappeared, which was nice.

Re: pain during meditation. It happens. Any position you sit in – even a chair – will get uncomfortable after days of doing it over and over. You can switch positions from period to period, taking pressure off this or that joint, but essentially you will hurt more as a given period progresses. It happens, but eventually it seems not to matter and can even just fade out altogether. Obviously, if it’s excruciating pain, not just some level of discomfort, then sure, shift your legs. It may or may not help. But dealing with discomfort without reacting is an essential part of meditation, so it’s not worth getting upset about. That just makes it worse.

I spoke to the female teacher about the “free flow” of uniform subtle sensation when I got to that point, and she said it was okay but not to cling to it, to keep on with the body-scanning and sweeping. Her point seemed to be that I should not crave free flow or be disappointed if it didn’t happen. But it happened every time, so there really wasn’t much to cling to. After a day or two of this, I would get to the point where my body felt like it was dissolving altogether. There was still a sense of “I” in there somewhere and the near-constant intrusion of my thought-chatterbox no mater what kind of samadhi was happening, so I guess I didn’t get Enlightened. Or whatever. No big deal. Because “shhh!!” The first rule of Zen Club is to not talk about Enlightenment. We’re taught not to expect it or look for it, although it seems to be the main point in Vipassana. Like I said, whatever.

When S**t got Weird

All this free flow and body-dissolving business was fine, but eventually I also tipped into sensory hallucinations such as the exact feeling of bugs crawling on my neck and upper back, even though they clearly weren’t there. The body scanning was supposed to be just the surface of the body, but I got so concentrated I started feeling where my organs were and what they were doing. Weird.

One morning I took a Sudafed I found in my wallet from a year ago because I was sniffly and didn’t want to distract people, so I took one. About 40 minutes later while sitting in meditation, I felt it start working, like the second it hit. My left nostril cleared, and at the same time I felt half of my brain “light up” due to the mild stimulant side effect of the decongestant. Also weird.

After a while, the “scan” was so distinct and focused on particular body parts, and it got so easy to control, I started playing around with it and started to believe I was manipulating subtle energy forces in my body, could feel it coursing up and down my spine, out my eyes, out the top of my head, etc. Talk about distracting!

There’s a knotted muscle in my back, and every time I sat down for the final two days of the course, it felt like there was a rope attached to that muscle, and someone was pulling me to the right, millimeter by millimeter. It was involuntary. I would try to stop tilting and I couldn’t, would just find myself leaning over and force myself to pop back up.

While meditating alone in the pagoda, I decided to see what would happen if I just kept letting myself tilt, like maybe it would lead me to some important realization. Instead, I just tilted so far I fell off my seiza bench and hit the wall a couple of times before crashing to the floor. I’m positive everyone in the pagoda at the time must’ve thought “WTF??” At that point I realized I had kind of started to lose my grip on reality a little and decided to go back to the nice, tame breath meditation and just consciously stick to a very slow, deliberate body scan with no sweeping. That worked out fine. After all the determined concentration of the previous days, I was able to focus really well.

And I’ll admit it. A couple of times towards the end I just gave up and did zazen, even though were were advised not to “mix techniques.”

I’m totally not distressed about any of this now, but some of it was super bizarre and disturbing at the time. Eventually though, I just came to the conclusion that these were makyo (meditative illusions) that I should ignore, and that worked out pretty well. I ended the course in a really good place.

And don’t worry, probably none of this weirdness will happen to you.

See Part 3 for my take on the results of the course.

The Vipassana Experience, Part 1

If you read the “Suffering is Optional” page, you’ll note that I’m actually a Zen practitioner. Yet, it so happens, I just returned from a 10-day Vipassana meditation course in the tradition of S.N. Goenka. I got inspired to start this blog while I was there, so that’s what I’ll talk about first. More on why a Zen student would sink 10 days into Vipassana course in a later post.

Anyone interested in taking the course or who has done one will probably be interested in a candid, detailed perspective, so here goes Part 1:

The Course

I went to the one in May 2014 at Southwest Vipassana Meditation Center in Kaufman, TX, about a 7 1/2- to 8-hour drive for me. For those who are not familiar, Goenka, a Burmese businessman, was the most advanced student and successor of Sayagyi U Ba Khin. He began teaching the Vipassana courses in 1969 in India, and over the years, honed a model for the 10-day course that worked so well, it has been duplicated exactly in centers all over the world.

When I say “course,” you may be picturing people sitting in a classroom discussing stuff they read about, but there is none of that with a Goenka course. Make no mistake, it is all meditation all the time. And then some more. Unless you request a chair, you are on a cushion (or collection of cushions) on the floor.

When you sign up to take one of these courses, they will make sure you have read and agree to follow the rules and the schedule. From the website:

All who attend a Vipassana course must conscientiously undertake the following five precepts for the duration of the course:

1. to abstain from killing any being;

2. to abstain from stealing;

3. to abstain from all sexual activity;

4. to abstain from telling lies;

5. to abstain from all intoxicants.

In addition, there are a number of other rules and observations such as, oh, no talking or communicating of any kind, no cell phones, no writing utensils or paper, no books, no distractions. Men and women remain separate and do not interact. You stay within the boundaries of the course site the whole time. New students eat two main meals a day, with fruit and tea at dinner time. “Old Students” (those who have taken a course before) only get tea. Without milk.

This sounds terrible, doesn’t it?

Guess what? It’s completely fine.

Goenka designed the course this way for practical reasons. If you want to get maximum results to really see the benefits of meditation in a mere 10 days, you have to be really dedicated, and this course makes it possible for people to really focus on the practice in the most conducive atmosphere possible.

Oh yeah, and the wake-up bell is at 4:00 a.m. Did I mention that?

The daily schedule:

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher’s instructions
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher’s instructions
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher’s Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room–Lights out

For those counting, that’s a total of about 10 hours scheduled meditation time. Per day. I have done a ton of Zen sesshins of up to 7 days, and a couple of pretty strict ones, but this was hardcore even for me. Granted, some of the meditation time is taken up with recorded instructions from Goenka and/or his chanting, but by and large this schedule is pretty accurate. You log a lot of meditation hours.

As mentioned, this course is financed completely by donation – whatever participants are willing and able to give. They don’t allow you to donate until you have completed the course. So while you are there, you are existing on the charity of previous participants who wanted to help make it possible for you to attend. What you give will help future attendees. A real example of dana-paramita (the perfection of selfless giving), in the sense that you aren’t getting anything out of what you donate. It goes to help others.

My Impressions: The Center

The orientation day, or “Day 0” was pretty relaxed. We checked in, and they have you sign a second form saying you know how the course works, that you agree to stay for the whole thing, and that you agree to follow the precepts. They told us where things were, a little more detail about the daily schedule, reiterated the rules for anyone who’s not clear on them, etc. Basically they repeated stuff from the application and the website, but I get that they wanted to make sure people 100% understood that this was not some oovey groovey “retreat” where you sit around and do some casual yoga and glow with bliss and make flower necklaces. We were there to Work. We would hear that word a lot.

Dinner on the first night was delicious, and although that was the last “real” dinner we got for 10 days, it was pretty indicative of the food in general over the rest of the course. That meal was Mexican themed, and it was like all subsequent meals: simple, vegetarian/vegan, filling, and delicious. Plenty of condiments, a surprising amount of options. On the whole, the food skewed Indian, including a few dishes I hadn’t tried before. There’s even dessert on occasion. You will not be disappointed with the quality of the food. I assume the quality is similar at other centers.

The dormitories are the nicest accommodations I have had at any meditation extravaganza I’ve ever attended. Each person got a small, narrow room with its own little half bath, a sink, a chair, a bed, a place for storing/hanging clothes, and a little night table. It was carpeted, and the bath area was nicely tiled. All very clean. Just enough space to stretch, meditate, sleep, and tend to personal hygiene. All anyone really needs. The mattress was a simple foam mattress, but it was plenty comfortable, and I’m kind of picky about beds. They have clean sheets and blankets available for you to borrow if you don’t bring your own. It’s not the Hilton, but come on, did you really expect that? This place is completely staffed by volunteers and funded by donations. I was really bowled over by how nice it was considering all the times I’ve slept on floors, in bunk beds, and shared rooms (which were fine too of course) at other similar events.

The grounds are beautiful, located well outside Dallas in the countryside. You will hear birds chirping – they actually say “tweet,” it’s ridiculous! – roosters crowing, coyotes howling, cows mooing. I saw rabbits, woodpeckers, mockingbirds, swallows. It’s also possible you might see snakes, tarantulas, scorpions (little tiny ones), armadillos, and raccoons. You’ll also see a lot of butterflies, beautiful wildflowers, etc. Take time to notice these things. Pretty much all I did in my free time was walk around looking at and enjoying all the nature. You might find yourself smiling for no reason at all while just walking around.

The meditation hall is, again, the nicest one I’ve ever seen. It is roughly the size of a medium to large church sanctuary and easily accommodated the 100+ meditators in our course. The decor is a subdued white/beige with no decoration on the walls, no Buddhas, no nothing. The teachers’ sitting area is tiled completely with white marble, as are the outer edges of the main sitting area and both entrances. The men and women are on separate sides of a carpeted area, and each person has his/her own set meditation spot with a nice blue zabuton. There are so many cushions in the entrance area, anyone can find a configuration of bolsters, pads, support cushions, and zafus to make sitting for an hour or more at a time as comfortable as possible. Still, if you have a favorite cushion, bring that too. But in any case, you’ll find a combo that works.

There is also a pagoda full of little meditation closets (“cells,” like a monk’s cell) where Old Students can go from Day 1. The new students received cell assignments on Day 5. I found mine very useful when I wanted to be somewhere that was almost totally silent. And I know now, you’ve not really experienced silence until you’ve heard your own eyes blink. That said, sound carries in there thanks to the beautiful green marble floors, so people should really do their best to be mindful when walking, closing doors, etc. Loud sneezes also carry, even from inside the cells.

Although running/jogging are not permitted (too distracting!), there is plenty of space to walk, whether on main course walkways or the little beaten nature trail through the woods. Both are lovely and offer a decent amount of exercise and relaxation.

Something that I really wished I had found before I went was a comprehensive list of things to bring to one of these to make for the best possible experience. So here’s my take, in no particular order:

• water bottle
• shoes that will slip on and off easily (you’ll do this approximately 30 times a day)
• underwear and socks to last the whole time
• sunscreen for walking around outside
• a sun hat and/or sunglasses
• t-shirts or other comfortable knit shirts to last at least 1/2 the time
• 3-4 pairs of very loose pants such as pajamas or martial arts pants (no tights, leggings, or shorts)
• toiletries of your choice
• ibuprofen or other pain reliever, vitamins if you take them, allergy pills
• a zip-up hoodie, warmup jacket, or light sweater or wrap
• meditation cushion/mat if you have them, but don’t go out of your way to buy one if you don’t
• dental floss (you will have plenty time to devote to oral hygiene)
• nail file / manicure set
• foam ear plugs (just trust me)
• prescription medication
• ladies: the one-day pack of Monistat if that’s at all a concern

This list might differ slightly for colder climates. I assume you’d need a coat, gloves, and hat, and maybe some long underwear.

Things to leave at home:

• booze, drugs, any prescription medication that’s not yours
• music, books, etc.
• any criticism, prejudice, or judgement – just go with it, okay!

So what was the course like for me personally? Go on to Part 2 and beyond.