Sri Lanka Part 10 – I am not my feet!
Lunch looks delicious! I get a glimpse of the offerings as I strain to see through the shoulders of the people in front of me. The sign appears to grow larger and pulsate in front of my eyes ‘He who knows his greed is a saint indeed’. Yeah I saw you yesterday. Today I’m not feeling saintly or quite as self-conscious. I need food and lots of it. Grabbing a bowl, I stand in line salivating, while I watch the others appear to float around the kitchen gracefully ladling the different foods onto their plates. ‘How long have they been here to have that amount of? What is it they’ve got? Peace? Or are they just acting?’ I’m feeling quite giddy in myself, I think it’s the talk Godwin gave. It was really nice to have some human sound. Something to focus on that isn’t the noise in my own head.
My mind drifts briefly back to a day when I was maybe 7. My mum and her 2 brothers are rehearsing round the dining room table. Each uncle had a guitar and my Mums singing. I’m sat under the table in my roller skates, singing along. (Much to my Mums annoyance) I liked making dens in and under anything and I love to sing. 2 of my cousins are play fighting nearby and my sisters playing shops with the toy till. A quiet, peaceful environment I did not grow up in! If somebody was to say to me ‘What do you remember about your childhood?’ My first response is ‘noise! It was always loud. We laughed loud and argued loud. I wonder if the people here had the same or did they grow up meditating? What about Miss perfect over there? I don’t reckon she’s slouched a day in her life let alone raised her voice. Every movement she makes is, well, perfect.’
Mmmmmm those curries smell amazing. My tummy lets me know with a loud growl that it’s done with being empty. I’m getting closer to the table. There appears to be rice, dahl, curry and fried vegetables. Dolloping a good ladle of each into my bowl, I head out onto the steps to find ‘my’ spot on the steps. Every mouthful is a taste sensation. The curry isn’t too spicy. Some of those curries I had in India blew my head off. My English palate felt like someone had set up a bonfire in my mouth and throat. This Sri Lankan food seems to be more flavoursome than hot. One of the guys I met in a cheap Indian food place said they use a lot of chilli in the poor places because it curbs appetite. People get fuller quicker with fiery dishes. I don’t know how true that is but it definitely worked on me. I only ate what I had to. I’ve definitely learnt on this journey that my appetite is a lot smaller than my western life has led me to believe. It’s almost like those big companies put addictive stuff in our processed foods to make us eat more. Keeps them getting richer I suppose. I definitely wouldn’t have filled my bowl so full if I thought it was going to be hot and fiery. I am so happy right now. What a difference a full stomach makes to my mood and thinking. I’ve not felt satiated for a few days, but right now, with this good meal travelling down inside of me, everything seems doable. We’ve been given this time for lunch and reflection. Don’t we do enough reflection in the meditation class? It means I’ve got 2 hours to eat and do….what?
Although full, I manage to eat the last few mouthfuls. Leaning back on the steps, resting the bowl on my knees, I stretch my belly out and enjoy feeling full. Breathing in the magnificent mountain view, although, not too deeply into my stomach as I’ve eaten too much. In fact, I try not to breathe into my stomach at all. I’ve clearly eaten way too much. I must take more notice of that sign. 5 minutes of sitting and already my body is preparing to move. What am I going to do for the next hour and 45 minutes? I know, I’m going to go and check out round the back of the centre where those guys were earlier, or was that yesterday? Who knows? 10 minutes here seems like 10 hours. It’s mad how time seems to last so much longer when you’re not doing anything. Or is it that it seems to last so much longer the slower we move? Ha, have we been marketed into thinking that the faster we move the more time we’ll have. ‘Buy a dishwasher it will save you time’ only you just end up busying over something else instead of being present at the sink. Buy this washing machine, it’ll save you hours of time spent scrubbing your clothes. Buy a hoover it’s so much quicker than brushing. Is this modern stuff better? Maybe it is. I don’t like hand washing my clothes! I did love being with those ladies I stayed with when I first got to India. Well, when I got used to the strict traditional roles within the house. All of the women in the neighbourhood came together to chat and do laundry out back together. Those posh houses had buckets and scrubbing boards. The poor ones washed theirs in the river. The result was the same. A real sense of community. This is when the ladies aired their dirty laundry in every sense. It wasn’t just the clothes that got cleaned. Those ladies’ minds seemed clearer too. No need for a gym membership either. Scrubbing and sweeping without mod cons is physical work. Every muscle in my body was worked. Bending down to wash the clothes gave me a good stretch, a bit of cardio and strength training when scrubbing and squeezing then a good stretch to hang the clothes up on a line or for the poorer class a bit of a downward dog pose to lay them all out on the ground to dry. It was interesting observing the difference in the wealthier Indians who had access to televisions. They appeared much more…. wanting somehow. They wanted ‘more’ stuff. It’s definitely got me thinking about whether it’s me that wants the stuff I want or whether it’s the adverts telling me I need and want that stuff. I’m going to turn the sound off all adverts when I get home. I’m not being brainwashed in my own home. (Note: I have done this to this day! And I don’t have the latest of anything and am perfectly happy with what I have).
Having washed my bowl and spoon in the big butler style sink, I place them in the large drying rack to the left, where they live full time. (How cool is that, they don’t get put away in a cupboard) They live here in the drying rack until they’re next needed. Wondering out of the kitchen, I head back to my ‘cell’ and put on the walking boots, I’m not sure what terrain I’m going to find. Moving around to the back of the centre I see a trail meandering up towards and into what appears to be a forest? The winding pathway created only by what appears to be many a foot stomp. Should have brought those fags, bet I could get away with having one up here. Damn, Oh well, I’ll check it out this time and bring them next time maybe. After perhaps 10 minutes of walking and breathing in the fresh crisp air, down on my right I pass what appears to be a deep bog. It’s about 10 feet in diameter. It looks like there’s something in there? Nah, must be my imagination playing tricks. I continue to walk as the trail guides me into a thicker area of trees. Hesitating slightly, I slow down. It’s as if I’m about to walk through a door and I’ve no idea what I’m going to find on the other side. I can’t see much further than a couple of feet inside the small forest. My eyes follow the length of the tree trunks up as a feeling of warm familiarity seeps into my body, I smile. The trees are extending high out of the ground. Reaching for the light of the sky then arching over the trodden trail to touch the limbs of their leafy neighbours. I love that it doesn’t matter where in the world I am, nature, grows out of the dark in search of the light. I love how trees lean over winding roads at home creating a natural tunnel. With a feeling of comfort, I step into the forest with ease. The light of the day now dampened as the dark leaves fill the gaps of potential light. I’m only about 10 footsteps in when I freeze. There’s an almighty screeching sound. With a heart rate that’s mimicking the pace of a galloping horse, I stand like a child determined to win the game of musical statues. Another alarming screech from further in the forest, this time to my right, another further down still, from way up high and on my left. It’s the monkeys! I breathe a long slow breath. Slowly moving my eyes around and upwards, with my head apprehensively following behind, I can see nothing. Amazing, they’re warning each other. I’ve stepped into their home without an invitation. I’d be making a bit of noise and alerting my family if a monkey just strolled into our house uninvited. They’re threatened by my intrusion. Ducking my head slightly, like that’s gonna help if they decide to attack, I start walking forward. How can I let them know I’m not a danger to them? I’ll beam out good energy. The Celestine Prophecy talks about energy and if anyone’s going to communicate energetically, I bet animals do. I begin to hum a tune that I find soothing. My breathing returns to its natural rhythm and my shoulders soften. I cannot believe I’m doing this. I’m going to try to invite calm in like Godwin said in the meditation. I’m walking along, scanning my body for tension with screaming monkeys around and inviting in calm to each body part I scan. I start to laugh. This is mental. The monkeys quieten. The screeching stops. I haven’t heard any major bouncing around of branches so I don’t think they’ve moved anywhere. I can’t see them but I know they can see me. Sounding like some crazy lady, I smile whilst saying out loud: Thank you for letting me walk through your home. I’ve calmed and so have they. Hang on a minute, I haven’t checked that I can see the path. Quickly glancing backwards I can see the trail I’ve walked so far. That’s good, I don’t fancy an overnighter with my new potential friends. I’ve been walking perhaps 20 minutes when I come across an opening on my left. The ground is wet and a bit muddy beneath my feet, I’m glad I thought to put my walking boots on, it’d all be squelching through my toes if I hadn’t. In front of me is a huge rock platform, standing on it I take in the view. Mountains cascading down to a winding valley below. Greens so vibrant they appear aluminous in colour. When I step away from the western world and the noise of the media, I can see that the world really is a magnificently beautiful place. I stand and welcome the experience of fresh perspective. For this brief moment, my mind is like the scent of fresh laundry. Clean and fresh…..There’s something else too, what is it? I think it’s hope. It is, it’s hope. A sense that underneath all the razzmataz of consumerism, underneath everything I think I should be, everything is alright. Beneath the cloak of anxiety and depression, maybe the true me, the real me, is O.K.
Checking my watch, I realise I need to head back. A sunrise from this platform would be pretty amazing. (If the sun rises in this direction, I’m rubbish at figuring that out) Maybe I can skip meditation 1 morning and come back here. Following the trail back the way I came, I step out into the bright light of the early afternoon. My eyes glance the bog once again, is that something moving in there? Nah, what would be in there this high up in the mountains? Breathing easily and lightly I smile as I think how much I’ve just enjoyed my mini adventure.
The lady in white is walking past the entrance as I stroll in. Her smile clearly recognises my more relaxed demeanour. Her head tilts towards the area I’ve just come from and I nod to confirm where I’ve been. Following her gaze, I watch as it drifts from my face, down my body, where it finally settles on my boots. I jump, ‘Oh what’s that? What the hell has hitched a ride back with me? Eugh, there’s more than 1! The whole bloody families slithered aboard!’ I watch as one continues to slither in through a shoe lace hole! How the hell? The shoelace is in the hole! How is that even possible? What are they? It’s a like a small slug! With the usual sign language conversation, she gestures for me to follow her. I don’t want to move. I’m stood, frozen, staring at my feet. I’ve got to get these boots off. Heart beating faster, using the very tips of my forefinger and thumb, I try to untie the laces on my right foot. The lady in white, begins once again to play charades. I work out pretty quickly that she thinks I should sit on the benches but the 2nd part of her act I would score no points for. Maybe she’s holding something? With the laces undone on the right foot, I hobble as quickly as possible to the seating area. Trying to walk without bending my feet isn’t that easy. Lady in white has headed to the kitchen. I’ve drawn attention to myself. A couple of the others are coming closer to see what’s going on. I send a look of ‘What the hell are they?’ as I steadily lift off each boot. One of the fellow meditators whispers ‘Leeches, you got leeches’. Eyes wide and staring, I too whisper, what are leeches? Are they dangerous? Whilst praying they’re not because they’re suckered on all over my feet. I haven’t felt a bloomin thing. These lot have been crawling in through the tiniest gaps in my boots throughout the entire walk. Ewwww! I bend down to squeamishly pull one off. ‘Don’t pull it off, whispers the silence rule breaker, their mouth can stay inside you if you pull them off.’ With this the Australian monk walks past. The fellow meditators step aside. Taking 1 glance he looks at me and smiles the biggest smile. It’s like this guy, like Godwin, is walking around with a secret joke running through his mind. ‘Lisa, you are not your foot. That there is your foot but you are not your foot.’ Huh? The confused look on my face more than conveys the words I might use. ‘You are not your body. This is a great time to practice being curious. I wonder what sensation you can feel in that foot’. He points to my right foot. I take a breath and close my eyes. What can I feel? Erm, I can feel the air stroking the skin, I can’t actually feel the leeches. Erm, maybe the skin feels a bit wet where each leech is. I open my eyes, my tummy tightens as I see the leeches on my foot. Bizzarre though, it’s how they look not how they feel. Lady in white appears with a bucket filled with water and a bar of soap. As he turns to leave the monk says smiling ‘It is much simpler to walk in the forest in sandals and rub soap over your feet. The leeches slide off before they can grip on.’ I thank him as lady in white is creating soapy bubbles in the water she then whispers ‘Put each foot in, wait a few minutes and wipe your foot. They will come off in the water. It’s the safest way.’ I ask if we are allowed to do this? Are we allowed to cause harm to leeches even if they’re attached to our body parts. It’s the most humane way here without you risking infection.
Wiping the leeches off in the warm water, I get the same shivery feeling as this morning when shaking the clothes in case of cockroaches. The shiver that makes me want to shake every part of my body off. Feet clean, I head to the mountain to watch as the Lisa made waterfall of leeches spills down the side. Sighing, my thought is ‘England is an easy country to live in’. I am the kind of person that jumps on a chair when a small spider crosses the lounge floor. I don’t think spiders will ever scare me again.
The gong sounds. Meditators from all corners of the centre appear like daffodils popping up on a spring day. I’m greeted with smiles and some eye contact from perhaps 4 people. It’s good to have that contact. Settling into crossed leg position with my piles of cushions under each knee, I prepare for another 90 minute silent meditation. I scan my body for any tension from my head, down through my forehead, down through my cheeks and jaw line. OOO eyebrows, must remember to check the eyebrows. Carrying my awareness through my neck, I invite calm into the neck muscles and on my inbreath I lift my shoulders up to my ears and drop them down on an outbreath. I repeat this 3 times. I had no idea how much tension my shoulders carried until I did this. I continue to scan through the rest of my body. At some point the bell chimes to signal the beginning of our 90 minutes. I breathe in 1 breathe out 1 breathe in 2 breathe out 2 breathe in 3 breathe out 3 breathe in 4 breathe out 4….
Clives stood, backpack on the ground beside him, close to where the sea strokes the sand. He’s determined to climb aboard the boat. 3 of the people aboard are smiling. The other 2 appear too mesmerised by the environment to acknowledge the 3 of us, staring at these new arrivals. Stu and I smile at them and say Hi when they’re close enough to hear. Their smiles seem to have something contained within them. They’re clearly happy but…..what is that look? I think it’s disappointment! Aagh, they weren’t expecting company either I don’t think.
One by one they step onto the island, Stu and I step back and give them space. Not wanting to encroach too much on their experience. The guy up front sees our camp and without speaking picks up his back and gestures for the others to follow him. Stu and I watch the boatman’s face take on the shadow of confusion as Clive immediately chucks his luggage aboard the rickety wooden boat. I can’t believe the guy has done that trip again?! Clearly the money is enticing! Clive speaks to the boatman as the new group, stroll past our camp, not a word said, and hike off up the beach. The person at the back, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of communication, shouts back in a thick accent, maybe Russian, ‘We have come from an island with pre made tents, we wanted a deserted Island, we did not want people.’ and that’s it. It’s at this moment that Debbie and Russel return form their morning chore, looking exhausted and utterly confused as they take in the scene surrounding them. Stu and I just stare at each other, the group continue walking by and Clive’s ready to go, fully seated aboard the boat. Debbie’s the first to speak ‘How long have we been gone?’