"The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else.."

When I arrived they confiscated my keys and cell phone. I wasn’t allowed any reading or writing materials, no computer, ipod or radio. I was told in no uncertain terms that I could not speak or even make eye contact with anyone. It was now 2:00 am on day 7 and I felt certain I was dying. I had all the tell-tale signs of a heart attack; rapid heart rate, pain radiating up along my jaw line and down my arm. I sat in my little cell and rocked myself as I cried. I had to write this down, somewhere. I couldn’t just sit here and die alone without saying goodbye to anyone. I searched through my backpack for something-- anything-- to write on. I found some receipts. I began spilling out my secrets, apologizing to everyone; telling them how much I loved them, telling them goodbye. The worst thing, I felt at that moment, was that I had chosen this. No one had forced me to do this. I’d brought myself here. I was doing Vipassana and it was killing me.

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Flashback 3 years to the ashram. After years lost in the wilderness I’d found my path and I was walking it. I was living, bending, breathing, chanting and meditating to their schedule. I loved the discipline. I thought I’d found the answers I’d been looking for my whole life.

Not so, grasshopper.

The day before I left the ashram to return to civilization my teacher pulled me aside and said, “Dharma, I think you're now ready for Vipassana. It will answer all of your questions-- the questions you don’t even know to ask will be answered for you. You will cure your writers block. You’ll finish your book. You’ll figure out your relationships. You will locate the keys to the kingdom when you do Vipassana.”

His eyes were dancing as he told me this. I knew of Vipassana and I’d heard it was like meditation boot camp. I had no interest. I am a lousy meditator and that is precisely the reason I’d become a yogi. Yoga is a moving meditation. My monkey mind can’t keep up with my swiftly moving body in practice. When my body speeds up, my mind slows down. I had made my choice and I didn’t need to add on any little a-la carte practices.

What I came to learn was that Vipassana is not meditation boot-camp-- it is meditation Navy Seal training. Vipassana is the system of meditation through which the Buddha became enlightened. After enlightenment, the Buddha taught nothing but Vipassana until the day that he died and when he died, his apprentice took over the practice. There has been an unbroken line of teachers from the Buddha to today; teaching Vipassana, teaching the dharma, leading others to liberation.

What my teacher had said intrigued me but when I went to the Vipassana website I changed my mind. Every novice must begin with a 10 day retreat. On the retreat you do nothing but meditate, 10 hours a day with only short breaks to walk, stretch your legs and eat. You cannot read, write, listen to music, watch tv, use the computer or phone, or speak to anyone. No eye contact. Who would willingly do such a thing? That’s worse than solitary confinement! Even inmates get to talk to each other and the guards. I could do that for, I don’t know, 3 days, maybe. But 10? No way.

Every few months, however, the thought of Vipassana would bubble to the surface of my mind and I would think, “Oh, maybe I’m ready for Vipassana now. Let me check the retreat dates…” and then I would remember that it was 10 DAYS LONG and I would put it out of my mind again. Years passed this way.

One day, something clicked. I couldn’t wonder what I was missing any longer. I was feeling rushed, stressed and unhappy. I felt like I was going through the motions. I felt like a ghost in my own life. And worse, all the peace I had found at the ashram had dissipated. I was angry and impatient. I found myself flipping people the bird in traffic. I was angry with myself, more than anything. I was in a relationship with a man I desired but didn’t respect. I was addicted to him and for that I felt ashamed. I’d gotten lost again.

So, does a ten-day meditation retreat sound like a vacation to you? Well, it ain’t.

Make no mistake: When you do Vipassana you go right out of your ever-lovin, cotton-pickin mind. I shit you not. Vipassana will crush your big fat ego under it’s heel and nearly kill your spirit in the process.

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I arrive at the retreat center, an hour east of Dallas in a flat, featureless property adjacent to a working family farm with plenty of cattle. The silence would only be punctuated by the bell, signaling time to rise, and the occasional “Mrrrrooooooo” of the cows. Thank God for those cows.

We are instructed to do nothing in our practice but observe our breath as it goes in and out through our nostrils. That is all. My mind can only focus on this for seconds at a time. It is deadly, brutally dull. I replay every drama from my life and every movie I’ve ever seen. I scan my past for exciting memories and replay them until I suck the delight right out of them.

The mind does this when it’s bored. It reaches back to the past to revisit reliable sources of passion and pain. The mind runs away from the tedium of the present. The mind runs away from realizing the inevitability of its demise.

They don't tell us this until around day 8 but this is apparently the ultimate purpose of Vipassana-- to help prepare us for death. Withdrawing our senses, expunging all activities which serve to distract us from the realization that every moment we are living, we are dying. And I'd thought I was here to work on increasing my attention span. I'm in big trouble and I know it.

Day 3-- This ain't so bad. Oh, wait a minute. Yeah, it is.

I'm becoming accustomed to the routine. So far, I've found it easy to avoid talking and making eye contact. After 20 hours I'm beginning to make progress in my meditation.  

The farm next door harbors many free-range kitties and these kitties slink around the mediation hall, alluringly. One kitty is so seductive, looping its little body around and around the bench outside the meditation hall, looking up at me hopefully. I crouch down and start to pet the cat. I’d been suffering from tactile deprivation in my 5 days away from loved ones and when I pet that damn cat my brain released more feel-good hormones than I’d felt in a week. YAY! Touch! Preeeeeeeety kitttteeeeeeee! 

Suddenly I was in shadow. Someone was standing over me, looking down at me. Since we were not allowed to make eye contact I did not look up, but this person wanted my attention, that much was clear. I looked up and there stood one of my teachers, bowing with palms pressed together, her head vigorously shaking “NO”. I am deprived of even this, simplest of pleasures. I bowed back to my teacher and walked around the back of the meditation hall to sit on the ground where no one could see me cry. Leaning up against the cold brick wall I cried for a minute. And then I observed myself-- a grown women, crying because teacher won’t let her pet the kitty. HA! Hahahahah! Funny. Okay. Another lesson. Well done, Vipassana. Nicely played. What day is this? Can someone kill me now? 

Day 4- I reach a place of deep compassion inside myself.

I find myself sobbing, SOBBING over Rosemary, my (almost was) mother -in-law from hell. (think of this equation:  roseanne barr+ rush + someone crass, mean and unfunny= Rosemary) I feel real and true compassion, not judgment or pity. I see the hurt, wounded, fearful child inside the loud, obnoxious adult. I weep for her.

Vipassana is working!

Day5- Wow! I am dropping down, deep!

Hours pass and I don't know where my mind has gone. I find that I can now sit still for one full hour without moving my body at all. It almost feels effortless.

 I begin watching Linden, the girl who sits in front of me in the meditation hall. We met breifly on the day we arrived and I liked her straight away. Now, after 5 days of staring at her back, I am full of wonder and admiration for her.  She sits so still,  her presence is so strong. In my mind I wrap my arms around her and rest my head on her shoulder. I miss touching people.

This is lonely work.

Day 6- Uh oh.

Something is going very wrong, here. I am starting to feel very depressed. Depression and I are already intimately acquainted but this feels different. I am getting very worried.

I begin counting cows.

I look to Linden’s back for comfort. Linden has done Vipasana before and she knows what she's doing. She has the secret. I watch her closely and ask myself, "where does her mind go?" She inspires me, still.

But I am dying and I know it. And I am tired of living with that particular reality.

WAIT! I have a New Yorker! In the car! An unread New Yorker magazine is just sitting there in my car and all I have to do is steal my car keys and head out there after lunch and get it! Fiction! Politics! Cartoons! Sweet, blessed diversion awaits me!

I become obsessed with getting that New Yorker.

Day 8- OH MOTHER OF GOD, HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I AM DYING. I KNOW I AM DYING.

Linden appears to be a ghost. Her spirit has retreated so far that I cannot feel her anymore. Her body is there but her spirit is elsewhere. I feel I am falling down into a deep abyss.

I'm dying and I don’t even care. Fuck it.

Am I supposed to be happy that this is almost over? Because now, I don’t really even care. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters, it’s all shit. Every experience is meaningless. All compassion is gone. I am nothing.

Our teachers tell us that we are now free to talk, embrace, dance, do whatever. I raise an eyebrow.

Will I care?

We walk out of the meditation hall and turn to face each other and look into each other eyes and spontaneously burst into laughter. The beautiful Middle Eastern woman whose hair I had admired and wanted to braid to quell the tedium tells me how much she enjoyed my pretty prayer shawls, how she found joy in the bright colors. The man I’d watched for days, wondering if he had a southern accent turns out to be Croatian! How delightful to hear everyone’s voices!

Making eye contact feels almost like kissing; being denied it for 10 ten days has imbued it with a sweet intimacy it never had before. I turn to face Linden, the girl who’s back I had stared at for 10 straight days and we looked into each other eyes and laughed for a full minute. And then we embraced. Instant sisters. We talk for hours.

I drive out into the world. Have you ever tripped on Ecstasy? Well, it kinda felt like that. But without the jaw-grinding intensity. You just feel incredibly open, loving and spacious. Everything feels so good. Driving was heavenly. Meeting my cranky father for coffee and croissants in the city I loathe was heavenly. I saw my aging, grumpy father with new eyes. I was gentle and sweet with him.

“You should do this more often, Dharma.”

“Thanks, dad”

After Vipassana you feel great, you feel loving and you really want to connect to people. You listen very closely, you hear what people are saying very clearly. You feel very kindly and loving towards people, but you are unattached at the same time. People sense this-- how patient and loving you are-- and they are drawn to you.  You are radiant. Hell is no longer other people. They are heaven. 

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I do not want to leave you with the impression that I am now enlightened because I am far from it. Why, just driving home a few hours ago a man cut me off in traffic and I yelled "MotherFucker!!" so loudly that my dog cowered in the back seat. And I* still* think my brother in law is a passive aggressive prat. But my time spent in deep contemplation changed me in ways I cannot measure. I dropped down deep and discovered things I did not know existed. I did not like all the things that I saw. I submerged alone and when I re-emerged from that dark place I wanted only to connect, to relate and to embrace the frightening otherness all around me.

This is another way of doing just that. 

NAMASTE.