2020/09/12

What I wish I knew Before Vipassana | by Troy Erstling | Medium

What I wish I knew Before Vipassana | by Troy Erstling | Medium



What I wish I knew Before Vipassana

An open letter to new (and old) students who wish to take a 10-Day Vipassana Meditation course, as taught by SN Goenka

Troy Erstling
Jan 10, 2017 · 14 min read
A 10 day Vipassana Meditation course as taught by Goenka is intense, confusing, and often frustrating. Although I’ve now completed my third (twice as a student, once as a server), I’ve definitely had my days where I felt like walking out.
So, to help new students that have the aspirations of completing their first 10 day Goenka course (or even old students who want to give it another go), I have decided to lay out all of the things that I wish someone had told me before I took my first course. By going into it with a firm understanding of the below principles, you can focus on the practice, rather than trying to sort through the confusion and skepticisms. I believe that a little additional expectation setting and clarity can go a long way into making sure you get the most out of the experience.
I understand that this post might not be Goenka (or even Vipassana approved), but this is what I would tell to a close friend who is about to take a course. I hope that this helps you to get through it all with equanimity and come out with a smile 😃
*Disclaimer/Spoiler Alert — It’s a long post, but 10 days of silent meditation is a long course. Take your time to get through this. There are also a lot of spoilers in terms of what you will go through. If you want to go in blind and don’t want to know about the technique, I don’t suggest reading past this point.
1) It’s not a “retreat” — I often have people reach out to me and ask me about going on a meditation “retreat”. Vipassana is definitely not a retreat. It’s hard work. Treat it as such.
If you are going into a Goenka course with the intention of taking a vacation or relaxing, you’re in for a rude awakening. It is a course that has you working all day every day. When you sit down on that cushion, go into it with the intention that you are going to work on yourself, and you are going to work harder and push yourself more than you ever have in your life.
Don’t get me wrong, when you leave the course you will feel more refreshed, invigorated, calm and relaxed than you ever have in your life, but in order to get those results you have to work hard and come in with a serious attitude. It’s not a vacation or retreat, your work ethic should reflect this.
2) It’s a boxing match — Building on the above point, I treat every sitting session as a boxing match between myself and the habit pattern of my mind. Your mind will do ANYTHING it can to distract you from working. Unpleasant thoughts, feelings, and emotions will all rise and distract you from working as you should be. Don’t let your mind win. Patiently observe when your mind is trying to distract you, and do your best to get back to work. Some sessions you will win, other sessions you’ll get knocked out. This is normal. But get back in the ring and get back to work after each session.
3) Day by day schedule
The first three days of the course are spent in what is known as “Anapana”, which is essentially focusing all of your attention on your natural breath. Pay attention to the breath, mind wanders, bring it back to the breath. If you can focus for a minute straight, bravo. If you can only focus for a few breaths at a time, don’t get discouraged, this is absolutely normal. Even old students struggle to focus their attention for more than a minute at a time on only their respiration. At times it will feel like a ping-pong match in your head, this is a natural part of the process.
  • Day 1: Focus on Breath
  • Day 2: Focus on the feeling of your breath going in and out of your nostrils
  • Day 3: Focus on any “sensations” or feelings that arise on your upper lip. This can be an itch, a tingle, the feeling of breath going into and out of your nose, heat, perspiration, coolness, dryness, any physical sensation you can feel. The sensation isn’t important, the observation and focus on it IS.
  • Day 4: You learn the technique of Vipassana — Prior to this you were focusing on any sensations that arise on the area of the upper lip, now you will do this to your ENTIRE BODY. Top of the head, back of the head, sides of the head, forehead, eyebrows, nose, ears, cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, pectorals, biceps, triceps…and so on. Part by part. Piece by piece. From the top of your head down to your feet until you have examined every single solitary aspect of your body for any sensations that arise.
  • Day 5: Scan from top of the head to the feet over and over looking for sensations. This is also when the Adhittana (strong determination) sittings begin. You will now sit for the full hour without changing positions/posture (if you can).
  • Day 6: Scan from top of the head to the feet, and then from feet to the head
  • Day 7: Scan both sides of the body at the same time. If you were previously scanning right side and then left (example right ear and then left ear), now you will try to do both at the same time, passing from the top of your head down to your feet, and then from your feet back up to your head.
  • Day 8: At this point you may or may not have free flowing sensations throughout the body, making it easy to quickly scan from the top of the head down to the feet, and then back up. If you were previously moving slowly, now you can begin to move a bit faster. If you don’t have these free flowing sensations yet, not to worry, this is normal. Continue to scan part by part, piece by piece. If you have free flow in some areas, scan through those quickly, and if you have to go part by part for other parts of the body, this is fine.
  • Day 9: If you’re experiencing gross subtle sensations free flowing throughout the body, you might be able to begin doing the “internal scans” where you penetrate from the front of your body through to the back, and then from the back to the front. Or penetrate from left to right, and then right to left. Personally this has never really clicked for me, so I don’t fully understand it yet.
  • Day 10: You can begin talking again after the Metta session. Metta is Peace, Loving, Kindness meditation. This is my favorite session of the entire ten days. It’s beautiful, and then when it’s finished, you can talk again 😃
  • Day 11: Morning session and then leave after breakfast.
***Note — Day 2 and day 6 are the hardest — especially day 6. Keep this in mind if you’re struggling on these days, it’s normal.
4) Common terms defined
There is often a lot of confusion about the words that Goenka uses. I personally believe that this is because they are directly translated from Hindi, and his English isn’t perfect, so some of it gets lost in translation. I have defined my understanding of the common words he uses as to minimize confusion and not get swept up in the semantics of what he talks about.
  • Sensations = Physical Feelings — This can be an itch, a tingle, a chill, the touch of your clothes on your skin, heat, perspiration, coolness, dryness, pain, discomfort, pulsating, throbbing, or something you can’t quite describe. Sensations can be both pleasant (tingle/chill/subtle vibrations), or unpleasant (itch, pain,throbbing) Sensations are simply any physical feeling that arises on your body.
  • Impermanence = arising and passing — All feelings or sensations that arise on the body are impermanent, they won’t last forever, and it will eventually pass. This is the law of nature, or what he refers to as “anicca”. As he says, “There’s no itch that lasts forever”. As is such with the human body. The body is constantly changing, and nothing is permanent. By observing sensations and feelings on the body arise and pass, we are witnessing the law of impermanence in action.
  • Misery — He uses the word “misery” a lot, and I believe this is a bit extreme. I like to think of it as creating our own unhappiness or unpleasant/negative states of mind, and how to free oneself from these habits.
  • Craving = Pleasure or pleasant experiences. When we experience something we like we usually say “I like this, I want more of it”, and when it doesn’t necessarily happen again, it causes us to become unhappy. This desire for pleasant feelings is what he refers to as cravings.
  • Aversion = Unpleasant or unwanted feelings, things you want to go away. Things we want to avoid. When we experience something we don’t like, we will usually say, “I don’t like this, make it stop”, and in doing this we become averse to unpleasant or unwanted experiences and feelings.
  • Equanimity = Non-reactivity — This is probably the most important word/teaching of the entire course. Remaining “equanimous” means to be able to observe both pleasant and unpleasant sensations and not react with craving or aversion. The ability to simply observe, and not react (which is the most difficult part). If a pleasant sensation arises it’s easy to say “whoa what the hell was that! That was cool!”, and if an unpleasant sensation like pain arises it’s easy to say “My leg is KILLING me right now!”, and then adjust your posture to try and alleviate the pain. Learning how to simply observe and not react is the learning how to remain equanimous. This also becomes an analogy for life, as the key to living a happy life is remaining equanimous and not reacting to the various up’s and down’s that we experience in our day to day lives.
  • Sankaras = Habits or Reactions — My Assistant Teacher described Sankaras to me as “things that are repeated over and over by the mind, body, or speech. When repeated numerous times it becomes a habit.” When Goenka speaks of Sankaras rising to the surface, these are the habit patterns of the mind manifesting in the form of either cravings or aversions as feelings in the body. For example a part of your body with no sensations could be a Sankara of craving (because you want a sensation there and you aren’t getting it), or a sensation of pain could be a Sankara of aversion (because you want it to go away).
5) The practice/philosophy defined so you aren’t confused and can focus on sitting
To summarize the above, the philosophy/practice is defined as follows:
First we concentrate the mind. Once the mind is focused/sharp, you can begin to feel subtle sensations and feelings in the body you don’t normally feel. These sensations can be pleasant or unpleasant, but they key is to recognize that they are impermanent; they will eventually pass. The habit pattern of the mind is to react to pleasant sensations with craving, and unpleasant sensations with aversion. The key is to understand that sensations cause reactions. Learn to observe these sensations, and not react, because these sensations are impermanent and will eventually pass. This process of observation without reaction is referred to as developing equanimity.
By following this process, you essentially make yourself more sensitive to and aware of your feelings. In your everyday life, you will begin to notice that there is always a feeling or sensation that comes before a reaction. If you can, try to notice which feelings cause which reactions. If you can’t catch the feeling before the reaction, when you do react, try to notice how you feel, or how long it took you to notice the feeling ex) If you get angry, stop and try to pay attention to what sensations or feelings there are in the body. This attention to feelings will then help you in the future to notice when you are feeling a certain way, and remain equanimous rather than reacting.
6) If/when you ask the teacher questions — you will probably get vague answers — this is normal and don’t get frustrated, it’s a part of the practice. At first it’s frustrating because there’s a tendency to want a more robust answer, but there’s a method to the madness, and there’s normally great wisdom in these concise answers if you pay attention. No matter what my question is, the answer is usually something along the lines of “observe it and remain equanimous.”
7) The less you eat, the better — it’s hard to meditate while full. Eat the bare minimum — while you might get hungry at times, the overall practice will be better.
8) Progress is measured by your ability to remain equanimous and not react to both pleasant and unpleasant sensations — not how powerful the sensations are — As the days go on, sensations become easier to notice, and become more powerful. It’s easy to see this progression in sensations as progression in meditation, but this is not the case. Don’t play the “sensations game”. True progress is measured by your ability NOT to react to these sensations.
There’s also a tendency to have a good session and then want to repeat/replicate that previous session, and then if we can’t, we wonder why and think that we’re regressing and get frustrated — but that’s just craving. Realize that a good session might not ever happen again (it’s impermanent), and appreciate the moment for what it is, rather than trying to replicate it again. I’ve had sessions where my mind was lazer focused, only to have my concentration completely shot for the next two. Keep at it and remain equanimous.
9) 5 Enemies or Hindrances that will prevent you from focusing:
  1. Sensory desire (kāmacchanda): the particular type of wanting that seeks for happiness through the five senses of sight, sound, smell, taste and physical feeling.
  2. Ill-will (vyāpāda; also spelled byāpāda): all kinds of thought related to wanting to reject, feelings of hostility, resentment, hatred and bitterness.
  3. Sloth-torpor (thīna-middha): heaviness of body and dullness of mind which drag one down into disabling inertia and thick depression.
  4. Restlessness-worry (uddhacca-kukkucca): the inability to calm the mind.
  5. Doubt (vicikicchā): lack of conviction or trust. “
#5 was the biggest for me my first go around — I spent a lot of time in skepticism of the technique and the teachings of Goenka, instead of putting my reservations aside and giving thought to them at the end. When you’re in the course, you’ve already committed to it. See it through to the end and put your skepticism aside (but it will be tough). If you want to, give thought to the skepticism afterwards and decide which elements of the practice work best for you. Every moment is precious, don’t waste it doubting the technique.
10) 5 Friends that will help you in your practice:
  1. The first friend is faith, devotion, confidence. Without confidence one cannot work, being always agitated by doubts and skepticism.
  2. Another friend is effort. Like faith, it must not be blind. Otherwise there is the danger that one will work in a wrong way, and will not get the expected results. Effort must be accompanied by proper understanding of how one is to work; then it will be very helpful for one’s progress.
  3. Awareness. Awareness can only be of the reality of the present moment. One cannot be aware of the past, one can only remember it. One cannot be aware of the future, one can only have aspirations for or fears of the future. One must develop the ability to be aware of the reality that manifests within oneself at the present moment.
  4. The next friend is concentration, sustaining the awareness of reality from moment to moment, without any break. It must be free from all imaginations, all cravings, all aversion; only then is it right concentration.
  5. And the fifth friend is wisdom — not the wisdom acquired by listening to discourses, or reading books, or intellectual analysis; one must develop wisdom within oneself at the experiential level, because only by this experiential wisdom can one become liberated. And to be real wisdom, it must be based on physical sensations: one remains equanimous towards sensations, understanding their impermanent nature. This is equanimity at the depths of the mind, which will enable one to remain balanced amid all the vicissitudes of daily life.”
11) Use cushions, it makes a huge difference — Pretty straightforward, but so important. Getting the right ratio of pillows will make a bit difference, especially if you have back problems. Personally, I like to be about 6–8 inches off the ground. Some people I’ve seen put cushions under their knees, but I don’t do this. I don’t recommend using a chair unless you have a serious injury. The likelihood of falling asleep in a chair is much higher.
12) Go to sleep during rest periods — If you have the chance to sleep, take it. My personal rhythm was to take a fifteen minute walk after breakfast and lunch, and then go to sleep for the rest of the break time. I didn’t sleep during the time after tea/fruits, but others did.
13) It’s painful — but the pain is necessary — One of the biggest complaints I’ve seen from others is that it’s very painful. Let’s face it, even if you’re an experienced meditator, sitting for 1–2 hours straight, for 10 total hours a day, is a lot. Especially when you get to the Adhittana (strong determination) sittings, where you’re not supposed to change posture for the full hour, it can become a lot to handle. I personally get a lot of pain in my knees, my feet frequently fall asleep/go numb, and my shoulders/back will be very sore once I get past day 5 or 6.
This one took me a while to understand, but once again it’s all about equanimity. Learning how to not react to sensations, especially the unpleasant ones. Goenka mentions that by learning how to not react, no matter how unpleasant the sensation is, we train our mind at the deepest level to remain equanimous…and it’s true. These sittings have become a cornerstone of my practice, and the stronger I become at not changing posture, the stronger my equanimity becomes as well. Pain is sometimes the best teacher of all 😉
14) If you can’t fall asleep at night, that’s normal — Once you get to day 6/7, if you can’t fall asleep, this is 100% normal, and is actually a good sign of progress. Goenka explains that we need sleep for 2 reasons — the body, and the mind. If you have been practicing well and making good progress, your subconscious mind is rested — so while your body needs the rest, your mind may not. If this happens to you, don’t worry. Continue to observe sensations while lying in bed and keep the equanimity flowing (easier said than done though).
15) Sankaras can hit you — and hard — don’t freak out — This is where things get a bit freaky. I’ve had ringing in my ears, my jaw locked up on me, thrown up, stomach aches… I’ve had some pretty violent Sankaras. I’m definitely an outlier of sorts here, and most of this doesn’t happen to people unless it’s a longer course, but it’s happened to me. I know I freaked out when it happened to me, so I don’t say this to scare you, I say this so that if something like this happens, you remain cool, calm, and collected, and realize that it’s impermanent — it WILL pass.
16) Enjoy it! Like everything else, the 10 days will fly by (no matter how long it seems at the time). Enjoy the experience and work hard. Goenka continually says that every moment is precious, and it’s true. Appreciate every moment you have there, because in the end it’s impermanent and will pass before you know it. Im eternally grateful for discovering this technique, and I couldn’t be happier with the changes I’ve seen in myself. I hope you have the same and I wish you the best of luck on your journey.
May all beings be happy! May all beings experience real peace!
Did you have a similar experience? Please comment below and share what you would add. The more we help each other, the better!

Troy Erstling
WRITTEN BY

Thoughts on how to live a happy life and perform at your best https://upscri.be/8c6085/

My exhausting meditation retreat: 10 days of Vipassana, silence and spiders | Health | The Guardian

My exhausting meditation retreat: 10 days of Vipassana, silence and spiders | Health | The Guardian


My exhausting meditation retreat: 10 days of Vipassana, silence and spiders


I went to New Zealand to break my brain and put it back together, without ever having meditated before. I had no idea what I was in for
The author meditating: ‘A full 10 days of constant meditation created a barrier between the worrying and me.’ Photograph: Attit Patel for G Adventures


Jodi Ettenberg
@legalnomads
Fri 1 Apr 2016 01.30 AEDT

I  signed up for a Vipassana course in a moment of quiet desperation. I was coming up on close to a year of insomnia. I found myself exhausted by the anxiety of not sleeping, yet unable to find any meaningful rest. For the first time in my life I was having panic attacks. Nightly, they were triggered by the dawning realization that sleep would elude me yet again.

I was also dealing with chronic pain. A bad accident as a kid followed by a series of rib fractures and back injuries over the years generated a state of permanent hurt made worse with the lack of sleep and an excess of cortisol.

I chose this specific course, which took place in New Zealand, because despite the trendiness of meditation classes and apps, Vipassana seemed to be about equanimity, discipline and hard work – right up my alley. I am not the most woo woo of humans, and the idea of a giant drum circle of positive thinkers made me want to run away screaming.

Vipassana is different from mindfulness meditation, which focuses on awareness, or to transcendental meditation, which uses a mantra. Instead, it dictates a blanket command of non-reaction. No matter the pain as you sit, or the fact that your hands and legs fall asleep and that your brain is crying for release. You are instructed to refocus attention on the objective sensations in your body, arising and falling, as you do a scan of your limbs in a specific order. By doing so, over 10 days, you train yourself to stop reacting to the vicissitudes of life.
I told my friend I wanted to break my brain and put it back together again

While descended from Buddhism, the modern-day courses are secular in nature. The father of these retreats is the late SN Goenka, who was raised in Myanmar and learned Vipassana from monks there.

When a friend asked me why I was willingly heading into solitary confinement, especially since I had never meditated before, I told her I wanted to break my brain and put it back together again.

“I need to defrag my hard drive,” I quipped. “It isn’t running efficiently.” I compared it to hiring a personal trainer to help me at a first-ever gym session.

She disagreed.

“No, it’s like running a marathon having never run before. Jodi what are you doing to yourself?”
The grounds of the mediation retreat near Auckland. Photograph: Jodi Ettenberg

On the first day, a bell rang outside my door at 4am, reminding me that despite the darkness, it was time to wake up.
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I was not, nor will I ever be, a morning person. I felt a rush of anger rise up in me when I heard that sound, and fantasized about taking the gong and flinging it into the forest. So much for equanimity.

I tumbled out of my cot and got ready for the 4.30am meditation session. The first day’s focus was on awareness of breath. That’s it. When your mind moved from that awareness you brought your mind back to the fact that you breathe. The simplicity of this instruction felt incredibly futile.

I had a hard time focusing on my breath because of the persistent burning in my back. Regardless of how many pillows I piled under my knees, it bubbled up until it hit a crescendo.

You are allowed to speak to the teacher during office hours, and I went that first day, knotted in pain and panic. Eyeing me serenely, he asked how long I had been meditating. Sheepishly, I explained that I hadn’t actually meditated before. Plus my back was falling apart. Plus I didn’t know how to focus on my breath. I should leave, right?

With total calm, he told me to disassociate my panic from the pain. I was making it worse for myself by focusing on the hurt, which only magnified it for me. He told me to do my best, whatever that was.

I snorted before I could help myself.

“Oh, you’re one of those,” he said with a soft smile. “Perfectionism won’t help you here.”

I trudged back out of the meditation hall and into the bright New Zealand sunlight, reeling. The teacher offered a wooden L-shaped contraption to help prop up my back during the meditation. As to whether I was meditating correctly, he was silent.
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The message was clear: I was competing against my best self, not anyone else’s.

After the first three days of focusing on breathing, we were introduced to Vipassana. This involved sequences of long body scans in a specific order. Throughout, we were instructed to be aware of the sensations or pain we feel. By not allowing ourselves to react to what our bodies felt, we were training our minds to build a barrier against blind reaction.

A simplistic example of the Vipassana technique: if your leg falls asleep as you are scanning your neck for objective sensations, your mind may wander to whether you’ll ever stand up again. You don’t move your leg to compensate. Instead, you refocus on the neck and ignore the part of your brain that is begging you to give attention to the leg pain. You remind yourself that the pain is temporary, just like everything else.

In addition to the body scans, day four marked the beginning of “hours of strong determination”. They occurred three times a day, during which we were not allowed to move. Your leg hurts? Too bad. You itch like mad on your nose? Can’t scratch it. For the entire hour, you sit and you scan your body. Along the way if there are points of pain, you observe them impersonally as your scan reaches those points, knowing they are impermanent.

In response to these new requirements, a wave of people left the course. It took all of my energy not to walk out myself.

I tried to remind myself it was only 10 days. Surely I could handle 10 days of repetition and focus? I held on by a thread, until day five.
An arachnophobe walks into a Vipassana meditation course

When I was two, a family member took me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. I had nightmares about spiders for years, waking up screaming in the middle of the night. My arachnophobia has never waned, and I am ashamed to admit that it has dictated some of my travel plans.

Before the meditation course began I worried about the long days of silence. I did not worry about spiders. This was a mistake. The course was on a bird sanctuary outside Auckland, and I arrived only to find that spiders carpeted the wooden buildings, inside and out.

When you take a Vipassana course, you agree to abide by five precepts: no killing, no stealing, no lying, no sexual misconduct and no intoxicants. No writing, no talking, no eye contact, no communicating.

At the end of day one, I noticed a daddy longlegs struggling on the carpet but heading toward the door. I reached for the course schedule, only to realize I was about to kill something with a document that says you won’t kill anything.
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Instead, I took a deep breath, skirted around the creature, and opened my door. I stood there silently cheering its departure from my room.

In the meditation hall, daddy longlegs dropped from the ceiling, feeding my anxiety. Huge black spiders dotted the corner of the room where we picked up our pillows, watching over us as we shuffled into yet another meditation session.

In response, the organizers provided us with a “spider catcher”. This was a Tupperware container plus a piece of paper to slide under it for ease of transport. I did not find this helpful.
The ‘spider catcher’. Photograph: Jodi Ettenberg

Then, on day five, I hit peak spider. Just before bed, I caught a glimpse of a bulbous black spider in my peripheral vision, dropping out of a tiny hole near the ceiling. Unlike the many spiders on the veranda, this one was huge.

I leapt out of bed in a panic. Every time I tried to reach the spider, it would crawl in the hole again and disappear. I left the light on, drifting off only to dream about spiders and wake up breathless. Finally I shut the light decisively. At 2am, I awoke to a feeling of deep alarm and turned the light back on. The spider was dropping from the ceiling, right above my head.

Gasping, I fell sideways out of the bed. The spider, as startled as I, hastily clawed its way back toward the ceiling. I watched in horror as it spent the rest of the night eating other spiders in my room. I did not sleep at all.
I fantasized about flinging off my pillows and running through the hall, screaming like a banshee

Studies have shown that people who are blind or deaf have heightened ability in other bodily senses. When the brain is deprived of one input source, it is capable of reorganizing itself to support and augment other senses, a phenomenon known as “cross-modal neuroplasticity”.
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I felt a small, temporary version of this phenomenon at the course. I could not speak or write, but my mind was whirring away at an alarming speed. Trapped in a cognitive cycle of shame and blame, my phobia of spiders was magnified.

The next day, I swallowed my pride and broke my noble silence. I begged the female volunteer leader to let me switch rooms. At that point in the course several people had left, and I was able to move to a different cabin.

For the rest of the week, as everyone else sat on the grass enjoying the sun between sessions, I stayed in my room, too scared to leave.

It’s funny what your brain can do to you. A friend once said that in life, worrying ahead of time was futile, because what you are scared of never manifests. Instead, what you least expect creeps up behind you and scares you out of your mind. Or in my case, drops down from the ceiling in plain view.

I wish I could say that the spider incident was a turning point. It was simply a bump along the way. I did fulfill my goal of making it to the end, but the course remains one of the most difficult things I’ve ever chosen to do.

By day six, I felt exhausted by the pain, the sleepless nights, and a mind slowly unspooling. Some people talk about intruding memories of childhood or overly sexual thoughts during their Vipassana experience. For me, the challenge was suppressing the urge to run around like a toddler.

Instead of doing a body scan, I fantasized about flinging off my pillows and running through the empty space in the center of the hall, screaming like a banshee. I daydreamed of doing snow angels on the worn carpet, making a mockery of the meditation.

Day eight was the first time I sat through a “strong hour” without moving. When the gong rang, I was covered in sweat from the effort of thinking past the pain.

By the end of the course, students often report feeling full body flow of energy during meditation. I did not. I felt shelves of pain along the way, no fluidity between them. But by the last day I could scan fluidly through arms or my right leg. More importantly, I could refocus my mind away from the pain.

It was progress.
Lessons learned

I emerged from the course a calmer, temporarily less anxious version of myself. I started to sleep again. The relief of rest was palpable.

I wrote down the following takeaways once I was reunited with my pen and paper:
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1. Our collective obsession with finding happiness is not a reason to meditate.

Logic and neuroscience might ground the modern rationale for meditation, but to meditate in order to be happy is counterintuitive. The practice is a counterweight to the jagged peaks and valleys of the human experience. To remain stable when life goes awry is a happier result than grasping for whatever society tells you will make you happy.

2. So much of what complicates our lives comes from assumptions we make and our reactions to them.

In the quiet of those 10 days, you see how much your mind distorts the reality you perceive. You don’t know the background of the people taking the course with you, but you create lives for them in your mind. You project your fears on to their perception of you.

For me, this meant creating inaccurate stories about the other participants, as well as their reactions to me.

I kept falling asleep during morning session, keeling over into the person next to me. I heard the snickers of the group as I righted myself again, and vowed to apologize to that woman as soon as the course was over.

When I did say sorry, the woman looked at me askance. “What? Don’t apologize – it was the only thing that made me smile during the last 10 days!”

In the strangled silence, my brain had lost perspective.

Often, anger or fears are reactions to a reality we have created in our own minds. A reflection of the stories that we tell ourselves. We take sensory input as objective, but what we see, hear and feel is not objective. It is colored by what we have known, and the grudges we hold without even realizing them.

3. You have to do the work.

Shortcuts exist in life, but to train your brain you need put in a significant amount of effort. The first few days are devastating because the work is both mindless and extremely taxing. But you can see a change in a mere 10 days, with disciplined practice.

4. Perfectionism can be dangerous.

Believing that doing your best isn’t good enough is dangerous. There is no perfect, and there is no objective measure of what “right” can be. The course reminded me that if you have a value system that thrives on making decisions with integrity, for the right reasons, doing your best is good enough.

5. Training yourself to stop reacting can help in tolerating pain.

As someone with chronic pain, this lesson was important. I would not have come to this conclusion without the course either, because I’m far too stubborn. I can see with hindsight that by obsessing over the pain, I exacerbated it tremendously.

Sometimes we hold on to what we fear and hate. While I still ache, that ache has less power over me. The distinction sounds slight but it has been liberating.
One year later

The Vipassana did not cure me of insomnia or anxiety permanently. Instead, it provided me with a valuable tool: it showed me that I could manage my mind more than I realized. By doing so, I felt more in control of the catastrophizing, despite the fact that it is always there.

A full 10 days of constant meditation created a barrier between the worrying and me. It allowed me to observe the anxiety more objectively. The whole process calmed me at a deep and inexplicable level; I am still the same neurotic person I always was, but it imbued me with a sense of perspective I now maintain and am deeply grateful for.

Would I do the course again? Definitely. A yearly 10-day silent course is recommended for those who meditate, but given the way that this one tested my body and mind, I suspect I’ll wait a little longer.

Maybe 2017 is a good year to schedule my next brain defrag.

A longer version of the piece can be found at legalnomads.com


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