Retreat (2009)

Friday afternoon
we arrive, meet
our fellow meditators,
talk for hours
about the prospect
of not talking
for the next ten days

*

every morning
the gong waking us
into 4:30am darkness

*

for the first three days
we watch the breath

*

feel the breath entering
& leaving the nostrils,
channels of breath
gently brushing
the upper lip

*

stripped of speech
& gesture
how we still keep
a polite distance,
how I am careful
not to slurp at my tea
in the dining hall

*

writing is not allowed;
‘there is no need
to take notes’

*

no reading either
except signs & notices;
a makeshift sign
on the border of the property reads
‘do not go beyond this point’

*

every day after breakfast
taking a walk around the field;
around its perimeter
the long grass has been trampled
into a narrow path;
my toes,
exposed through sandals,
sprayed with dew;
grasshoppers leaping
away from each step

*

perhaps a sleepmurmur
is all that has exited
my mouth for days –
other than a cough
or froth of toothpaste

*

three times a day
a ‘sitting of determination’:
to stay still
for an hour,
observing the pain
in my shoulders and back
as it arises

*

towards the end
of each arduous hour
the coughing starts up
amongst the men
meditating around me
(this being their subtle way
of expressing discomfort)

*

remembered songs drop by,
wash uninvited through
the meditating mind

*

what is that sound?
two percussive blocks
knocked together
or a restless frog
in the dawn?

*

4:30am
New Year’s Day:
close to forty degrees;
moths, mosquitoes & others
drunken in the heat
party around the nightlight
outside our dorm,
& the thought arrives:
any other year,
I’d be joining them

*

some afternoons
it must be 45 degrees
in the meditation hall;
I leave a pool of sweat
on the mat

*

I break my vow of silence
to inform the ‘male manager’
that the first toilet on the left
has a blockage

*

men & women are segregated,
have separate facilities,
though we all meditate
in the same hall –
men on the left,
women on the right

*

everyone is asked to dress ‘modestly’
to minimise distractions

*

meditating in the hall
at dusk,
intermittent mooing
of a distant cow

*

a spider on the door
of our dorm room...
is it? – yes, it is
on the inside of the glass

*

without communication
it's difficult
to come to an agreement
about whether the dorm door
should be open or closed
during sleeping hours

*

on white porcelain sinks
in the male washroom,
mosquitoes & beetles:
a growing collection of corpses

*

anicca:
everything arises,
passes away


Note: This poem is based on my experiences during a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat in December/January 2007-08.