Sri Lanka part 7 – Meditation can have movement?!

Sri Lanka Part 7 – Meditation can have movement?!

Blimey, It goes to show that our body can be in 1 place and our minds somewhere else entirely! Living in my head is like time travel. I’ve just been to Cornwall and the Andaman Islands and here I am sat in a meditation hall in Sri Lanka. Oh well, at least I made an effort with the posture. It’s amazing how much I use my mind to escape reality.

Looking at the fallen cushions surrounding me, I’ve clearly been fidgeting. The people sat either side of me must be really pissed off. Although, quickly scanning the serene look upon their faces, they don’t appear to even notice I’m here. I watch as Miss perfect walks out the hall slowly, placing each foot so gently to the ground I have to really focus to see if they actually touch the floor. Others bow before the Buddha before exiting the space while I drag my sorry, sulky ass out in search of a much needed, cup of tea. It’s still dark. It turns out tea, is the hot watery milky drink from the previous night. It’s warm, wet and better than nothing. The glasses haven’t grown over night. 3 gulps and it’s gone kinda size. Sitting back on the step I watch as the others disappear off in different directions. Wonder where they’re going? A couple of students disappear behind the centre. ‘I could kill for a fag right now’. My mouth tastes like an old ashtray. As if almost 24 hours without nicotine is releasing the stale tar out of my blood cells. It tastes disgusting. Could still kill for one though. Sat with my blanket wrapped around me, I’ve finished my mini tea and am rubbing my temples and head. The volume of my thinking has given me a pounding headache. I’m gonna have to talk to someone. I haven’t heard my own voice for maybe 16 hours but it feels like weeks. The lady in white floats by with her tea and gifts me a gentle smile. Contact! A smile feels almost like an actual conversation. Resting the weight of my head in the palm of my hands, elbows on knees, I’m desperate for some respite from this external silence.  Fuck this greed thing, I’m getting more tea.

I’m so irritated I want to tear my skin off. Like that might just help. The thoughts in my head are in such a jumble. There’s no order to them. They’re not all me either. My Mums voice ‘If you’re going to sit there doing nothing you can help me with this’. ‘Stop being lazy Lisa, get off your bum, and help your Mum’ shouts my Dad. Sitting around not only isn’t something that’s natural to me but is not something encouraged in our family. Unless it’s at night and the teles on.

I don’t even bother to sit back down with my 2^nd glass of tea. Knocking it back in the same way I might do a shot in a nightclub, I wash the glass and start walking up and down the curved path. Anything is better than sitting still. I start playing a game I played a lot as a kid. Mustn’t stand on the cracks in the path. Having the visual of the path and the cracks helps distract me from the incessant internal noise. I concentrate hard. Mustn’t stand on a single crack, if I do, I’m going right back to the beginning of the path. I’m on tip toes, walking sideways, stretching legs wide, all to avoid the cracks. At some point in this 20-minute game I remember I still haven’t washed or brushed my teeth. ‘So what? It’s not like I’m talking to anyone’. And I carry on. The gong goes. ‘For fuck sake, more sitting around’. Walking now, like a teenager who’s been told they’ve got to go tidy their bedroom, I petulantly make my way back into the hall. Again! Slumping myself down on the concrete bench. Again! A minute or so passes and I get the feeling I’m being stared at. ‘I bet everybody hates having me here, I don’t fit in at all. At least these lot chose to be here; I’ve just somehow landed here’. Raising, first my eyes, closely followed by a lift of the chin, I notice a couple of people starting to look at me. What I experience when I look into their eyes is not what I expect. Not one look of pissed offness or judgment. What is that look? It’s kindness. Each look is a look of ‘I get where you’re at’. ‘I’ve been where you are’. This makes me feel a bit calmer somehow. My body relaxes as if it’s just had a really good hug. It’d be so good to just have a conversation with some of you people. I wonder if the ones who are sharing a room talk to each other? When everyone’s settled Godwin invites us to sit and self-practice. ‘What the fuck is self-practice? How you supposed to know what to do? How does everybody know what he’s talking about? Did I miss day 1 or what?’ My skin starts to itch, I try not to scratch but that just makes me fidget, like I’m trying to shrug off the itches somehow. Before I’m aware of it, I’m alternating my shoulder shrugs whilst scratching my legs. ‘This is impossible!’ Sitting staring at the others does nothing to ease my ever-increasing stress levels. Eventually, my eye gaze drifts towards Godwin. He has a kind smile on his face and is watching me. Blinking and gesturing with his right arm, palm up toward the ceiling, he beckons for me to join him. Standing up while looking around to make sure he means me, I walk, self-consciously, up to the front of the class. Speaking quietly and quite shyly, he introduces me to moving meditation. ‘Lisa, any time being still is too painful for you, you can do this moving meditation’. ‘Thank god!!’ Not only has someone spoken directly to me for the first time in almost 20 hours but he’s telling me I can move.

‘Now Lisa, be curious as to how your body moves. When you lift your foot to move it forward, what other parts of your body engage? Other body parts must engage to enable your foot to be lifted.  Which parts are they? Which muscles or joint moves first? Which part moves next? A lot happens in your body just for you to lift your foot before you even move it forward and place it onto the ground. Does lifting your foot just affect your lower body or does your upper body move too? If so, how? Which parts of your upper body engage for you to be able to move a foot forward?

Which part of your foot touches the floor first? Is it your toes? Your heel? The centre of your heel? The left side of your heel, the right side? Then does the centre of your foot touch the floor in equal parts or is there more weight placed on one part than the other?

You can use the full length of the hall for this mindful movement and when you reach the top, turn around and come back down. You can do this for some or all of the meditation practices. Just be mindful of your movements Lisa, the slower you move the more you will be aware of which body parts are engaging and how and where.

I can breathe! It’s like Godwin’s shone sunlight into my mind. It has a job! My mind has something to focus on other than breathing.

I begin my first lap of the hall. Fascinating. I have never wondered how my joints move to enable me to walk. This is amazing! Standing still and straight. Feet parallel to each other, I take a breath in, feeling it enter through my nose, down into my lungs then ‘watch’ as it leaves my lungs and back out through my nose. I can’t feel the out breath through the nose as much as the in breath. Ha, I wonder why that is? Then, as if I’m in competition with a snail, I super slowly begin to lift my right foot, off the floor.

O.K so, for me to lift my right foot the knee bends first. Is it my knee first or my hip? Let me try again, it’s my knee. This adds extra weight onto my other leg. Ha, I’ve never noticed this! Pressure travels into the toes of the moving foot as my heel begins to lift from the floor. There’s also pressure in the left toes as if they’re gripping the floor to keep me steady. My upper body begins to tilt ever so slightly forward. The tip of my big toe is the last part to leave the ground and by then there’s quite a lot of weight felt in my left leg. The knee stays bent as the lower right leg kicks out the foot, ready to be placed on the floor, heel first. Between the heel and the centre of my foot I don’t actually feel a connection with the floor at all. Wonder if that’s because I’ve got quite a high arch or does that happen when everybody’s feet touch the floor? It’s amazing how much pressure is in the standing leg. As soon as the right foot is on the floor the left foot begins to lift. This is amazing! How have I never spent time wondering how my body moves? I feel so much better. Ok, this might just be doable for the next 13 days.

All I need now is to find someone who wants a conversation. 13 more days of silence is impossible! I can’t be the only one who wants to talk surely? Looking around at the peace filled faces I conclude that I may be the only one in need of a good ole conversation. The bell tinkles to mark the end of the session. It’s taken me an hour to walk 2 lengths of the hall which ordinarily may take me 30 seconds! Check me out being all mindful! Feeling light and upbeat I head out towards the kitchen and feast my eyes upon the biggest metal pot of porridge I’ve ever seen. Sat next to it in a large metal bowl are a mound of dates. Perfect. This breakfast I can do. Carrying my greedy bowl of breaky out onto the steps along with a glass of milky water, my heart starts to pound a little faster when I hear the squawk of monkeys waking up in the trees. It’s both amazing and frightening!! A bit of a different experience to the squawking seagulls that’d be hovering like predators back at home. My experience of monkeys in Indian train stations is that they’ll take what they want from you. They’ve zero fear. In my mind that squawk is one monkey shouting across to another ‘ere, them humans have got our breakfast ready. Blondie down there looks like a new un, I’ll take hers.’ My mind reminds me of a time back home when a huge seagull flew over and nicked my fresh pasty. 1 bite I’d had! These monkeys remind me of those Cornish seagulls. ‘I’ve had practice’ I tell them in my mind. I’ve trained for this moment. Like at school, when my neighbour didn’t want me to copy her work, she would sit with her head down and 1 arm wrapped around her book. This is exactly how I shall eat my porridge. It worked for her it’ll work for me. I’m absolutely ravenous after yesterday’s measly food intake. I am not in the mood for sharing.

The familiarity on my tastebuds of porridge and dates brings with it such a soothing comfort. In the short time it takes me to eat I feel at home. I’m no longer living out of a backpack in some foreign land. It’s just me and my porridge.

Breakfast is over quicker than I would like but it feels really good to have some food in my stomach. Rubbing my tongue along my teeth, I reckon I can go brush them now. Taking in the mountainous views on my way to collecting my wash bag, a small part of my awareness is tuned into how my body is moving along the path. This busy head of mine likes having something to concentrate on. It’s a phenomenal view overlooking the rolling mountains. It may be basic but imagine what a 5 star hotel would charge for an en-suite bathroom with a view like this. Ha…The view may be 5 star, the accommodation is a minus 5! Now and again, my awareness feels the bristles of the tooth brush against my teeth. Occasionally I wonder about how far away the source of the water is that’s coming out of the tap.

Working meditation today is brushing the pathway for me. No chance am I doing the toilets again, they can sod off. While I sweep, I feel which muscles and joints of my body are moving and in which order. Ha, this is why it’s called working meditation. Does this mean meditation isn’t just about sitting still? Does that mean we can do it anywhere? My eyes sweep the length of the path with all of her curves. This is a lot of path, have I got to sweep the whole thing? The further along I get the more leaves have fallen down onto the parts I’ve already done. What’s the point? I sweep it then you can’t tell I’ve swept it.  Mind numbing work this path sweeping lark! As quick as a flash of lightening, my mind leaves the path and time travels back to…. The sound of what?? What the hell is that?

I’m ducking and running now, the others are crouching down by the fire, hands over their heads, eyes upwards. Stu and Russel are laughing at me as I dive into the space between them. ‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Its bats Lisa.’ ‘Bats?’ ‘Yeah, it’s a cloud of bats.’ ‘That’s deafening, how big are they?’ They’ll be pretty big out here I reckon, that was a lot of them!’

I’m unsettled.

‘You’re gonna wanna move your hammock Lis, the seas coming in underneath it quite high now, look’ ‘OOOO bloody hell.’

This romantic idea of swinging in my hammock on this idyllic island as I drift into a bliss filled sleep has flown away with those giants bats. ‘Where shall I put it? I ask the others. ‘Just put it further into the trees.’ ‘Guys I’m really not sure I can sleep out of sight of you guys. Those bats have made me nervous.’ ‘There just bats Lisa’ Stu says. ‘Yeah but what else is out here? I’ve never slept in a hammock, I’ve never slept in a forest, I’ve never been around wild life. I’m scared of spiders for gods sake!’ I’m stood now, biting my nails as well as the skin around them. My gaze firmly entranced by the flames of the fire. ‘What the hell was I thinking coming here? What the hell brought me here? Those books. It’s cause I read those books that Jon dropped off to me. The dream as well. That dream was insane! ‘Just move your hammock somewhere you can see one of us.’ Russels voice breaks the spell of the fire.  Apprehensively I paddle into the sea, climb the tree and untie my hammock. ‘Right, where’s mountain man Stu’s hammock? I reckon he’s the safest bet. He might seem irritated by me most of the time but he’s definitely the most knowledgeable in this camping stuff. ‘Which ones yours Stu? I’m staying near you.’ He points without speaking. ‘I really don’t care if he’s not happy about the situation, I’m not dying out here.’  I tie up in the trees about 2 arm distances from him. He doesn’t make comment on the close proximity. Knots tried and tested, it’s time for ‘bed’. Sleeping bag chucked in, that’s my bed made. ‘How am I gonna get inside the sleeping bag while I’m in the hammock? Whenever I sit in the fabric, the silk curls up around me. This is a right mission.’ Elbows and knees out wide, pushing the silk outwards, I try to get my feet in. Damn this isn’t gonna happen. After numerous attempts I give up and lay the sleeping bag over me. It’s one of those mummy ones though, so stays skinny. Lying flat on my back in this hammock with a sleeping bag barely covering me, I’m cold and uncomfortable. This isn’t going to work. I can’t sleep like this. I’ve never been good when I’m tired. As a child I had plenty of nap times. I’m full speed and crash. Mum learnt in my early years to enforce a power nap before I crash. ‘The others managed to sleep on the boat in their hammocks, this has got to be doable. Of course!’ Suddenly it’s obvious. Get in the sleeping bag then into the hammock.’ Stu starts laughing ‘Figured it out have you Lis?’ ‘You arse, why didn’t you tell me?’ I say lightheartedly. ‘Wouldn’t have been any fun in that would there?’ ‘I hope I don’t need a wee in the night’ I say chuckling.

Relaxing into the relief of feeling warmer, my mind takes this opportunity to remind me that I’m pretty vulnerable lying here. I get a view of myself as those bats might see me now. A mummy ready for her tomb. I start to giggle. That’s the other thing with me. Just as I’m getting over tired, I can find the smallest, silliest things really funny. The build-up of laughter begins and in seconds I’m gone. I’m now imagining that I look like a giant caterpillar that’s spun its silky cocoon and am lying here waiting to transform into a beautiful butterfly. Before the transformation can take place, I’m eaten by a humongous multi coloured lizard. I’m finding my imaginings a balanced mix of fear and fun. One of the gifts of laughter is how contagious it can be. Like a yawn I suppose, but so much more fun. I love to laugh. I don’t come from a family of ‘cover your mouths and have a little chuckle’.  My Mum, Dad, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins are full-on belly laughers. There’s nothing dainty about it. Our laugh carries shall we say. The others, who have no idea what I’m laughing at are now also laughing away in their hammocks. ‘God knows what the wild life make of their new island mates?’ I’m on the cusp of hysteria. The tears of laughter could soon turn to sobs of panic if I don’t start to calm down. Slowing the laughter, I settle into sleep and remember the dream that was a part of what led me here. What if it was a premonition and not a dream?