Sri Lanka Part 15 – I am not your guru

Sri Lanka – Part 15 – I am not your guru

‘I am not your guru. In Theravada Buddhism there is no place for Gurus. I am a teacher, yes.’

Godwin is stood at the front of the meditation hall. Arms by his side with his palms reaching each other around his tummy button. His right palm placed so softly into his left. Every movement this man makes, appears as delicate and gentle as a ballerina softly floating quietly onto a stage.

In Theravada Buddhism there is a beautiful word: Kalyana-mitta, a spiritual friend. It’s a different relationship altogether. Gurus tend to be a figure of authority. Sometimes they have a secret teaching that only they can transmit to the student. This can mean the student needs and relies upon the teacher.

That is not my way. I do not have secrets. All that I have I share openly with you. A teacher, as I see him, will explore with the student. A problem is raised, then there is a sharing together with the emphasis of that sharing being on experience. When we teach like this, there is much less dependence.

I think a good teacher is someone who is helping another to help his or herself. The teacher helps the student to discover whatever it is they need to discover about themselves. A teacher, in that sense, only provides a helpful atmosphere, perhaps offering some loose guidelines, and then leaves the student to make their own discoveries.

Spiritual friends learn from each other.’

Slumped against the wall, listening, I’m currently in a dark place. The idea of a spiritual friend somehow manages to invoke a welcome feeling of warmth around my heart.

‘A teacher can arrive in many forms, if we are open. If we have a beginner’s mind, we can learn from anyone, and from any experience. This is mentioned in one of the gospels. Generally speaking, my understanding of it is: It is important that we become like little children. Children do not have much of an image to impose on the world, a child is very natural, just being his or her self. Being as is. They have not yet learnt the model of how to express emotion. A child is angry and they allow the anger to rise and then it goes away. An adult can think ‘I shouldn’t be angry’ and repress it.

I would say an enlightened person also does not have an image about how he or she should behave, therefore there is no reason for that person to suffer, become victims of them. Normally we take things for granted, but a meditator should never take anything for granted – he starts from scratch, without assumptions. Then there is an element of joy in the experience, any experience can be a learning experience – we are not afraid, and we give up the idea of perfection.

Now let’s take a look at a reason for meditation. We have touched upon the enquiry into how our minds and bodies work and how they connect with each other. We have discussed about how useful it is to have a curious mind and wonder where and how the physical sensation in our bodies give rise.

Remember? What makes an itch and itch? Where does the itch start and travel to? Also our emotions are an important area to inquire into. Now normally when we are angry, for instance, we are just angry, with no consciousness of how that anger is affecting our bodies, or what psychological complexes it gives rise to. With someone who is not a meditator, if we ask them: Why are you getting angry? Invariably you get the response that the other person is responsible, that they have provoked the anger. So now it is a very important aspect of meditation when one learns to take responsibility for what is happening in one’s own mind, when you learn to no longer blame others – because that is the easy way out, if they are to blame you don’t have to do anything about it. It is valuable for us to recognise that we are responsible for our reactions. Now to conclude this lesson, I invite you to connect with your emotions. Eyes closed, breathe and simply observe any emotions that are present. Invite the curiosity of a child into your mind and notice where in your body these emotions might be. Notice how they move. Do not change them. Do not judge them. Be their friend and notice their journey within you.’

‘I’m feeling dead inside’ I think as I close my eyes and connect with my breath. O.K So with a child’s curiosity what does dead feel like inside of me? Heavy and dark. He said notice how it moves. I don’t think this feeling is moving. It’s a big heavy still feeling. I don’t like it. Oh, saying I don’t like it, is that a judgment? I guess it is. Just notice it. Well, if I’m just noticing it, it’s really dark. Is there any light? Nope. Well, maybe around it.’ I take a deep sigh and hear the tinkle of the bell signalling the end of the session. Heaving myself up, I make my way towards the door at the back of the room.

‘Lisa, please come to me’ Goodwins voice reaches into my dark abyss, he’s calling me to him just as I’m about to take the final step out of the room. It’s day 5 here and already it feels right to gently bow my head as I stand before him. I’d feel silly doing the prayer position as I’ve seen others do. Godwin greets me with prayer pose ‘I think it will be most useful for you to have Shravasti Dhammika as your spiritual friend whilst you are with us. You will meet with him every day at 4pm until 4.30pm to talk.’

It takes a minute for me to understand what he’s saying. The idea of having someone to talk to for 30 minutes every day feels overwhelming. Like a dam’s about to burst inside of me. I’ve no clue why but I’m terrified. My throat’s starting to swell like someone who’s lips might sweel when they’re allergic to peanuts. I feel like I’m once again going to burst into tears, right in front of Godwin. The last couple of long days here, I’m not even irritable. The silence is still loud. I’m exhausted. I feel like I’m wearing a lead blanket wrapped around my body. It’s like I’m sinking into a sea of syrup in complete darkness. I’ve stopped looking for the light. I hear the teachings, sometimes, but my brain isn’t computing them.  I’m inside myself. Deep inside myself and I’m not looking to come out. At least I wasn’t until Godwins recent suggestion. Not talking, not communicating, no physical contact at all for 5 days has taken its toll on me. I wasn’t prepared for this when I saw the poster on the wall of the library. I’ve sank into the depth of my depression. The diagnosis that was the start of this crazy few months I’ve been on.

I’m just a council estate girl who works, parties with friends, sleeps and then does it all again. World travel, yoga, meditation, monks and spiritual teachers all belong on some parallel universe. You don’t see this stuff on Eastenders or Emmerdale farm.

Maybe the Dr was right, it could be good for me to talk to someone. But a monk? What’s a monk going to know about life?

‘Who’s Shravasti Dhammik?’ I ask shyly

‘He is the monk that welcomed you upon your arrival’

‘The Australian?’

He nods softly ‘I have instructed him to meet with you at 4pm today by the kitchen. You will talk with him then.’

Feeling extremely self-conscious, I walk away thinking I must be doing something wrong to be given my very own monk teacher, I quietly thank Godwin and head outside.

‘What is it with these monks and their kind eyes. There’s something about Goodwins eyes that feels like he can see right into the depth of my soul. He’s gotta be psychic right? He seems to talk about just what I need when I need it. I wonder if all monks are psychic?’

That thought triggers a memory of a book I read 6 weeks ago. I was on a train travelling down the east of coast of India. There were a couple of other Westerners on the train. One of them asked if I had any books to swap as he’d just finished his. I was close to finishing the story of Papillon (What a book!) Give me an hour I said and you can have this. The hour passes, I give him my book and in return he hands me his with the title ‘Surfing the Himalayas’. ‘Thanks I say and shove it in my backpack. A few days later, while on an epic 12-hour bus journey, which, praise the lord, I end up with a seat, I dig the book out. It’s about a 20 something snow boarder who heads on an adventure to the Himalayas.  He finds a mountain without a soul anywhere to be seen. Not a single track mark. This is what he came for. This is what this trip is all about. Snowboarding down this fresh powder mountain at some point he sees a figure stood in front of him. It makes no sense, he has no time to adjust his track and collides head on into the figure. The figure is a monk. Long story short, the monk tells the guy he’s been expecting him and that he must remain as the monks student so that he may teach him all he knows, he must teach him the path to enlightenment. The guy says ‘I’m not giving up my life because you tell me enlightenment is some amazing thing. Why should I believe you?’ The monk goes on to give the guy an actual experience of what it feels like to be enlightened’. I enjoyed the book and it left me wondering if monks had magic powers or was it all a made-up story?

The thought comes that maybe this is a question I can ask my soon to be monk teacher/friend.

I sit slouching against the kitchen wall outside.

It feels at the minute like smiling is too much effort. Like the corners of my mouth are so heavy they couldn’t turn upwards if I wanted them to. It’s working meditation time but I haven’t got the energy. I just sit, eyes down looking at the gaps in the stones on the ground. It takes a few minutes until I realise, I’m watching a colony of ants working away.

There’s a bite sized piece of what looks like a nice biscuit. You know the kind, with the tiny sugar particles on the top? There’s a steady stream of ants marching to and from the biscuit. I watch as each ant, marching in line, collects a sugar grain and joining the next line, carries it off on his back towards what appears to be a dark hole in the soil slightly further along. This has me entranced for the whole of working meditation. I have never been so focused on the life of an ant. They work consistently. Such order too. Not one of them pushing the other to get in front. One particular clump of sugar grain seems too heavy for 1 ant so other ants come along and assist in the carrying of the grain and off they march. I find myself wondering if it will fit down the tiny hole. Like a removal firm deciding on the best angle to enter through a door with a sofa, these ants, move back and forth and around once or twice and then carry the sugar grain down into the hole. I feel happy that they achieved it. Ants really are amazing! The gong goes for our next bout of meditation and I feel lighter. Like the lead has somehow been removed from the blanket.

Settling onto my pile of cushions, knees still up near my chin and cheating as I lean against the wall, I watch miss perfects knees and hips open effortlessly as they gracefully place themselves in the lotus position. Her shoulder blades look like they glide down her back as she settles effortlessly into the perfect posture. Even the monks don’t look as effortlessly poised as this girl. God she pisses me off! The bell rings and we’re off.

Eyes closed I can still see Miss perfect, god she annoys me. I start scanning my body for tension, I invite in calm from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and the tips of my toes. Starting in my scalp and imagining the skeleton of my body with all of the muscles placed around it. It’s a phenomenal design the human body isn’t it? I’ve never before appreciated it’s form quite so much. There’s a tightness in my right wrist, I start to circulate it slowly. By moving it super slow I’m ‘watching’ for the exact spot of tension. I find it. Ha, there it is. Relaxing my wrist down, I invite calm into the place of tightness. My body is no longer leaning against the wall. I’m sat upright but relaxed.

My mind drifts as I think about how sofas and armchairs aren’t designed for the human body to be in its rightful posture. I remember seeing the Indian people sat at train stations. A kind of crouching position. It keeps their bum off the ground, their spine straight, shoulder blades on their back. Us westerners were trying to sit on our bags to keep our bums from getting filthy and we fidgeted about a lot as we tried to get a comfy position. We’ve come to rely on manmade furniture, that as far as I can see at the minute, is guiding us away from what is natural for us. Far away from the form our amazing bodies naturally fold into. I wonder if this is part of the reason we get stiff. I recall an old lady, she must have been in her 80s, sat on the platform comfortably in a crouched position. Not like a lot of the Western people I know of that age. Needing a hand getting out of a chair or standing up from kneeling. Some not even able to kneel. Does yoga help us to return to our natural state? Is it helping my body to remember how it was always meant to move? All of this external stuff, sofas, sinks at the perfect height so we don’t have to bend down. Is it really helping us or does it, in the long term, hinder us and maybe even cause harm?

Breathe in 1 breathe out 1 breathe in 2 breathe out 2 breathe in 3 breathe out 3 breathe in 4 breathe out 4 breathe in 5 breathe out 5.

‘Let go of counting the breath’ I hear Godwins voice interrupting my counting.

I’ve been starting to feel good about how much higher I can count.

For a moment I wonder if I’ve been counting out loud?

‘Do not become attached to the counting of the breath’, he continues. ‘Be aware of your breath. Perhaps now you can simply notice ‘I breathe in, I breathe out, I breathe in, I breathe out’ connecting your mind and body through breath. Noticing the whole of your in breath noticing the whole of your outbreath. Do not change it. Accept it, where it is. Accept it, how it is without judgment.

He’s silent again.

‘No counting!? Mmm ok let’s give this a try, breathe in, hang on a minute, what did he say?’

‘I don’t like this Alfred’

‘Nor I Lisa daaarling’

Alfred stops the bike about 20 metres from the person.

It’s pitch black. The only light being the faint headlight of the bike

‘What you thinking Alfred, I’m dying for a wee’

Alfred’s booming laugh permeates the jungle sounds, ‘oh Lisa dearest, you are the best. Hop off into those trees, I shall sort this gentleman’

Sliding off the side of the bike, I’m hopping on my right leg as I wait for my left leg to glide across the seat and find the ground. I’m still drunk and wobble back onto my bum which I find thoroughly hilarious.

I hear the man saying something to us. I’ve no clue what it is or what language he’s speaking in.

Alfred is climbing off the bike.

‘I can’t let you go on your own Alfred, what if he wants to kill you?’

‘Then I think it would be a very good idea for you to run Lisa’

His response sobers me. The idea of running blindly through a jungle with no idea of what direction I’m heading is terrifying.

‘I’m serious Alfred, I’ll come with you’ by now I’m doubled over with knees tightly clenched.

Alfred picks up a 10 litre container of the magic wine. ‘Bribery dear Lisa will work a treat’

With that he starts walking towards the chap, holding the container in both hands whilst shouting

‘Hello ole chap, would you care to partake in a tipple?’

I’m laughing again listening to his joviality.

‘Sod it, I’ve got to pee’

When my business is done and I’m back on the road Alfred shouts up the road

‘Dear Lisa do join us we’re having a jolly time’

I see him guzzle straight out of the container

‘Oh my god, you don’t need anymore of that, we need to get back’

I join the 2 of them. The tiny man has clearly been guzzling as he has the magic rice wine look about him. He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. Alfreds talking English the other man is laughing and talking another language. The scene is hilarious. I eventually drag Alfred away; he gifts the man the rest of the of wine. The man is incredibly happy and hugs Alfred.

We set off deeper into the jungle. The bulb on the headlight fading.

‘How do you know we’re going the right way Alfred?’

‘I don’t Lisa dear, I’m trusting the universe to guide us directly onto our heavenly beach. What fortunate souls we are to land in such a heavenly place’

‘So you don’t know where we’re going?’

‘Of course not daaarling’ he bellows laughingly ‘Have faith, we are being guided’

We drive for a while longer, me singing random tunes and enjoying the feeling of freedom.

‘I think I can hear the sea Alfred!’

‘Yes, I told you Lisa, the universe is guiding us!’

‘Wooohoooo’

Seconds later the track ends and we fly over the handle bars as the bike slumps onto the sand.

NB: For those of you that have been enjoying this mindful adventure story, I’m sorry to say that it’s coming to an end next week. There is a good reason for this. I’ve decided to turn it into a book!

I’ve had an idea that may or may not appeal to you. My plan is to be ready with the first version of the completed book by the end of May. How would you like to be the first to read it prior to it being published?

If you answer yes, then you would become a part of the books making. I will be requesting that I be able to ask for your feedback throughout you reading it. How does that appeal to you? If you’re interested in this, please either email me with your name, email and phone number at [email protected] or comment on the post via facebook or the website or whassap me on 07561269917.

Looking forward to next weeks final post and to hopefully, at least a few of you, joining me in the pre published read of my first ever book. Love Lisa 🙂