Sri Lanka part 3 – Miss Perfect and shark infested waters!

Miss perfect and Shark infested waters!

The teacher’s name is Godwin. His voice floats through the room as gentle as a feather drifting down from the sky. “Meditation is the effort to understand how the mind and body work and thereby eliminate the suffering created by oneself.

Working meditation is an opportunity for you to practice meditation in motion. To practice being aware of your movements, your thoughts, your breath. To be fully present in the act you are partaking in. If you are lighting a match to start the fire, be with the match. Feel the match in your hand, watch as you strike the match, listen to the sound of the flame as it ignites. Connect with the journey of the match. Be thankful to the farmer for the trees, the tree chopper, the matchmaker. The match has taken a long journey to arrive in your hand to assist in making your fire. Connect with the whole of the match.”

I’m sat further back in the hall now. Just a little further than midway up from him, the same side of the room as the monks, and opposite the girl with the perfect posture.

“The seat you are in now will be your seat for the remainder of your stay. This will allow you to settle into the energy of your space.”

“Energy of my space? Oh well thank god I moved! Might be able to get away with bit more fidgeting up this end. Although perfect posture girl sat opposite is a bit annoying. Never mind, we’ve got our eyes closed most of the time anyway.” Trying to find a comfortable position is impossible. Sitting here for another 90 minutes is gonna be hell. My bodies aching like I’ve done a work out. How many meditations was it on that schedule? Right, I’m gonna copy Miss perfect over there. God I want a shower. I don’t remember seeing the showers? Oh please let there be showers!” I noticed that some of the westerners had more than 1 cushion earlier, so I’ve taken 2 this time in the hope of being more comfortable. Placing them nearer to the back of the bench in the hope of getting a sneaky lean on the wall. That’s better, at least I can rest my head.”

“Our seating posture is important,” continues Godwin. “Meditation is about being awake and alert. Being present. Imagine the skeleton of your body. You want your spine straight, head straight. Watch your chin, neither raised or dropped. Imagine you have an invisible piece of string in the centre of the crown, gently lifting your head, allowing your neck and spine to be completely erect. Soften the surrounding muscles. Relax the shoulders let them drop down.”

“Bugger, there goes my leaning against the wall idea. Mind you he’ll have his eyes closed in a bit.”

“Soften your tail bone, let your hips relax. If your knees do not rest on the seat, place cushions under each knee. Enough cushions so that they allow the knees to soften and be supported.”

“Blimey, I’m gonna need a stack of cushions.” Getting up, along with a couple of others, I grab 4 cushions. Sitting on the 2 cushions I already have; I place 2 under each knee. “Nope, knees still aren’t touching the cushions.” Feeling embarrassed as I walk past Miss perfect no cushions, I take another 2. “That’ll do, there’s no way I’m having 4, my knees will just have to reach down.  Hurry up and tell us to close our eyes so I can relax. Sitting like this is really uncomfortable. “

“You can also sit kneeling. Same principal. Allow the skeleton to be relaxed and alert in its posture. “

“I’m not kneeling, If crossed legged is good enough for Miss perfect over there, it’s good enough for me.”

“Now let’s begin bringing awareness to the journey of our breath”

“Oh my effing god, I can’t sit here, I can’t do this again this quick. I’ve never been able to sit still. I was born moving.” My Mum told me that when I was 2 years old, 1 of my aunts said she’d look after me for the day. On bringing me home at tea time, Mum asked her what we’d got up to. “Oh, we just walked around Leicester City Centre, window shopping.” A confused Mum responded “But you’ve been gone 7 hours without her pushchair, has she had a sleep?” “Erm no, she’s been fine haven’t you Lis?” Apparently, I slept really well that night but Aunty Lyn, years later, after having had my cousin Carl, said that she couldn’t believe I’d walked for 6 hours without crying or complaining. Moving suits me. Always has. I’m happier being physically active. Being still is a real challenge. I find it really uncomfortable.

As a young child, whilst my parents and sister would be watching T.V, I’d either be hanging upside down on the back of the sofa, or roller-skating behind it with my dad’s voice continuously gaining in irritability “Lisa for god’s sake sit properly, be still, stop messing around.” Truth is, for me, it’s boring sitting around. I can always think of other stuff I’d rather be doing. I don’t do being still. My body isn’t made for it. Hence this meditation place is categorically NOT for me. Hours upon hours of being still is my idea of hell. “If I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t be. I’d be gone. If I had enough bloody money I could leave now.  Me and my impulsive decisions. Mind you, I couldn’t stay in India any longer. I had to get out of there.  The noise, the smell. It’s pure crazy. After the harmony of the Andaman Islands, I couldn’t face 3 more months in India before flying home. Ahhhhh those Andaman Islands were heaven on earth. I’d never believe such exquisite beauty could exist if I hadn’t just experienced it for myself”

Godwins voice, once again, interrupts my flow of thought. “Settling into the journey of your breath. When you realise you’ve drifted off with those thoughts gently bring your awareness back to your breath.”

“Wow, don’t think I’ve followed a single breath yet. It’s amazing how much I think. I don’t think I ever actually stop thinking. I wonder if the monks stop thinking? I wonder what’s happening in their minds?”

“Remember counting can help the mind connect with the breath. Breathe in 1 breathe out 1 breathe in 2 breathe out 2 breathe in 3 breathe out 3. When your mind drifts off and you become aware that your mind has drifted off with those thoughts, simply begin again, breathe in 1 breathe out 1 breathe in 2 breathe out 2.”

“Mmmm Counting does help. Be better if I didn’t have these bloody mosquito bites though. They’re driving me insane. Scratching silently isn’t easy, wonder if the guy next to me is pissed off with my scratching. I’m pissed off with scratching. What if I stop scratching around it and just rub over the top of it with the skin of my fingers, oooo that feels good.  I’ll just rub a bit harder, ooooo that feels so good, what if I just lightly use my nail, probably not the best idea, I could just do it really lightly, I haven’t got long nails it’ll be alright. F##k! I’ve taken the top of the bite off, shit that hurts. That’s it, I’ve gotta move.” With gritted teeth, I start to move my legs out, “God they hurt. How can being still hurt so much. I’ve just got to sit against that wall, I can’t bare this.”  Leaning against the wall, legs out, the middle of my calves and feet dangling off the edge of the bench, I breathe my first easy breath in a while. “That’s better. I’ll just sit like this for a minute. Breathe in 1, breathe out 1, breathe in 2, breathe out 2. Ha, who’d have thought this time 3 months ago, I’d be in Sri Lanka, having got mosquito bites from staying in a rain forest. Me?! In a rainforest. God that journey to the Island was insane! I hope that fisherman got back O.K. That guy rowed for 5 hours. Mind you, we could have done with more litre jugs to bail out the water.”

I’m gone. I am fully away with my thoughts. No awareness whatsoever of where I currently am let alone where my breath is. I’m as tangled up in my memory as a necklace chain found screwed up in the corner of a jewellery box. I’m going to need help getting out and it’s going to take a bit of time. The memories of 7 weeks ago are as vivid as if they’re happening now.

“Keep your arms in the boat, there’s sharks in the water.”

“Sharks?!” The fisherman looks at me like I’m totally stupid. “Yes Madam, sharks. This is Indian Ocean. keep arms in. keep bailing water out.” “Oh my god, sharks, actual sharks. I hadn’t even considered there’d be sharks. What a stupid idea this was. How naïve am I?”. Barely above the surface of the water, our boat’s carrying too much weight for its size. 3 beefy western guys, 2 women, 5 huge backpacks and 1 tiny fisherman. We’re going to be lucky to make it. If a shark wants us for dinner, then humans on boat he shall have.  There’s bugger all we can do to stop it. My surroundings immediately feel ridiculously dangerous. The sea, to me, has always been a place of fun and freedom. Suddenly, these miles upon miles of ocean feel like I’m walking through Death Valley with no control over what happens to me. Whether I live or die is down to what? The ocean? Nature? God? I don’t even know if I believe in God. All that’s between us and the depth of this 5-mile-deep ocean, are a few bits of wood nailed together. There’s not even an engine, just 2 wooden ores. “What the hell was I thinking?” I hear my dad’s voice respond “That’s just it Lisa, you weren’t thinking. You never think things through.” “He’s right! Now I might die before I have a chance to learn to think things through. I don’t even know how to think things through. If anything happens to this fisherman we’re done for. I’ve no clue which way we’re travelling. Every direction looks the same. Water, water and more water.” I feel sick as the fear in my stomach bounces around, imitating the movement of the waves. My thoughts have moved in and set up house in the blanket of thick dark clouds above. In fact, those clouds are so heavy and low in the sky I fear if the sharks don’t dine on us, we’ll be swallowed up and lost forever somewhere between the Indian Ocean and the sky.  There’s no land in sight. “This is the stuff horror movies are made of. If I die here, my family won’t know what’s happened to me. They won’t even know where to start looking. How would anyone guess I’d hired a fisherman to row me across the ocean. Will I die straight away or will I be eaten in pieces? How big is a sharks mouth? Maybe there’ll be more than 1 shark and I’ll be torn to pieces. Mum won’t cope, I don’t know what Dad and Shelly will do. I wonder how long it’ll take for them to realise they haven’t heard from me. I’m really bad at keeping in touch. Longer the better I guess, less suffering for them. They’ll probably never know I’ve been eaten by a shark, I’ll just have disappeared. Shit, we have to make it to the island, we just have to.” Bailing the water out as fast as my arms will allow, I read the same thoughts on the faces of the others, including the fisherman. The reality of the decision we’ve made sinking into every cell of our being. No-one is speaking. The waves smacking against the side of the boat a constant reminder of just how insignificant we are.  Every heavy thump of water smashing into the sole of our vessel threatens to beat a hole straight through to the ocean bed below. The excitement has gone and all around us appears dark. Drenched in sweat and sea salt, I can find nothing to appease the building terror. The feeling of vulnerability magnifying with each moment passing. I am totally insignificant. The faces on 2 of the guys has taken on a grey tinge and the girl isn’t moving, just looking straight down at her feet, hands clenched together to make a fist.

We’d all arrived on the main Island of Port Blair about 5pm last night. A mini-India. It would be another 5 days before a ‘proper’ boat left for 1 of the 333 Andaman Islands. One of the guys shouts out from the port ‘I’m not staying here 3 days, we’ve only got 28 day visas, there’s got to be another way, anyone want to join me in asking a fisherman to take us to the closest Island?’ Without any hesitation or thought my arm is waving wildly in the air, I’m pushing through the crowds and shouting: ‘Me, I’m in, count me in!’ and here we are, 9am the following day. Supplies bought and 3 hours into a row boat journey wondering if we’re going to make it across shark infested waters alive. All this terror and fear because I don’t think before I react.

Remembering to breathe in 1, breathe out 1, breathe in 2, breathe out 2, breathe in 3, breathe out 3, scan your posture, kindly invite your awareness onto your breath.

“Awww Godwins voice, Blimey, It’s like I’m out of breath.” Doing a body scan, I notice how much tension I’m holding. Shoulders are high and tight.  Breathing into my lungs but not filling them. I’m counting quickly as the pace of my breath mimics the fear I felt in the memory. Wonder how long I drifted off for? Wonder how Miss perfect over there is doing? Opening my eyes just enough to be able to sneak a peak through my lashes, I see her sat in exactly the same position as when we started out. Seriously?! She hasn’t moved a bloody millimetre. Not a foot, a finger or even a single hair out of place! I on the other hand, am surrounded by the tumbling 6 cushions that were meant to support my now outstretched knees. Uuuggghhhh!

Sulkily slamming down my eyes: “breathing in 1, breathing out 1, breathing in 2, breathing out 2, breathing in 3, breathing out: That 3-day journey from India on a ship to get to Port Blair was insane. One hell of a ride. Heading below deck when we first boarded I could only dream that I’d been stitched up and was on some kind of ’You’ve been framed’ sketch. There were a mix of westerners wearing huge backpacks. Indians carrying massive white sacks on their heads (how their heads weren’t squashed deep down into their shoulders is beyond me) and they dragged more gigantic sacks behind them. These people are so skinny they look like a light breeze would knock them over but their strength is mind blowing. The ‘dorm’ had at least 80 ‘beds’ in it. All bunk beds separated by just a beige painted metal mesh. This meant you were pretty much sharing the bed with the stranger beside you. It was filthy. Cockroaches more than outnumbered the humans. I stood staring in shock as the Indian man ‘sharing my bed’ smiled. 1 by 1 the westerners made their way up onto the deck of the ship. Talk about East and West divide. I hear my voice say “I’m not staying in here, absolutely no chance.” I’d already experienced numerous train journeys where Indian men thought it appropriate to grab my bum or boobs whilst I was sleeping. “No way am I sleeping in here to be stroked by humans and cockroaches!” Following the others onto the deck I watched as many of them attached their hammocks to the metal poles around. “Damn, I wish I had a hammock.” Placing my beach mat down and laying my sleeping bag on top of it, I had marked my spot amongst the swinging-coloured fabrics. This would be home for 2 long nights and 3 very long days.

It wasn’t all bad, the flying fish that created mini rainbows alongside the ship on a daily basis was a magical sight to see. Dolphins playing out the front and alongside us at times carried with them moments of much needed joy throughout the journey. Their playful beauty hypnotically mesmerizing.

A well-travelled friend of my Mums, Colin, gave me some words of wisdom before I set off on this crazy, impulsive, adventure. He said: Remember Lisa, for every down or dark time you experience, you will experience a moment of pure joy, that will far outweigh it. Watching these dolphins and flying fish whilst on a cockroach infested ship, I know he’s right.

“Breathe in 1, breathe out 1, breathe in 2, breathe out 2, breathe in 3, breathe out 3. Gently bring your awareness into this space. Into the here and now, remembering our code of silence. “

After a few minutes, Godwin spoke again: “You have 30 minutes for personal practice until we meet for our evening snack.”

“Huh? I didn’t think we ate after 12pm. Bonus!”

“You are welcome to continue your practice here in this space if you choose.”

“No thank you!” Manoeuvring out of there as fast as an ant on a mission I fly off in search of a shower. Following the winding path back down towards the toilets, I’m well aware that compared to the snail-paced others I’m moving as fast as a road runner chasing the coyote. Coming to a screeching halt, I look around, opening and closing the only 4 ‘bathroom’ doors. This doesn’t make sense, surely the showers would be here. Eventually someone appears, she clearly doesn’t want to make eye contact and I’m not allowed to speak but come on, I need some help. Waving my arms widely in front of her whilst attempting an apologetic look in my eyes, I charade out the action for shower. She opens a door and points. You’ve got to be kidding me? Seriously? Seeing the look on my face, she half smiles, shrugs her shoulders and leaves me standing in the open doorway, mouth agape……….