Meditation attempt, Burma, Pa-auk-taw-ya Kyaung
But behind me there are years of stress, a lot of work, few holidays. That’s why I’m also travelling, to change my lifestyle which, I feel good, will soon have my skin and above all my mind. I have embarked on this famous journey that will (really) change my life in search of metamorphosis and inspiration. So why not take advantage of it for a deeper introspection ?
Since I’ve been walking around Asia, I see many yoga centres, massages, philosophical and Buddhist works and meditation retreat monasteries
We finally arrive. The surprise is great: it’s immense
They take me to my „room“, the second surprise: it is a new building, dazzlingly clean, clear and simple
Fortunately, I have a neighbour: a fifty-year-old woman who looks like she’s barely forty years old
I rush to my neighbour’s house and follow her, chatting as best she can. You have to know that the monastery is not a tea room or even a neighbourhood bar, many people here take a course of silence
I can’t say why, I do have a little knot in my throat, a funny blues clouds my mind
I ask him where we’re going because, at this stage, I’m still waiting to meet up in the common room to make a few friends while enjoying the vegetarian menu so generously served
Fortunately, tonight I have a date. I have to meet the meditation master, somewhere in one of the buildings, but that’s good, it’s near the „office“ and I know exactly where it is. They call it „the interview“.
I get out of my cell to go there when the person in charge of the block catches up with me. I have to change my clothes. My T-shirt neck is too wide, it has to cover everything up to the neck and my trousers have to cover everything up to the feet. I go back to change.
The master is a nice young man. We are several women sitting on the floor in our suits. The others are all in sari and tell about their inner experiences, breathing, concentration. When it’s my turn, I hardly have time to talk, he explains how to do the meditation, but that I’ve already read in the booklet but he doesn’t tell me where or with whom. After these words, I feel that he wants to finish the interview. I persist and ask if I should always be alone…
Yes, but I have a funny look on my face, so he tells me that it is still possible to be alone, but in a group. Great programme.
I think it’s the rice, I have a lump in my throat. I go out, a little stunned, strangely hopeless, sad
And then the stupidest idea of the day comes to me, I ask the scarecrow in the „office“ where to find a group for me. It is difficult for me at this point to describe his answer. I think that if he had had a big enough broom he would have thrown me out with it like a piece of rubbish.
I meet the astonished gaze of two monks waiting outside on the bench. No, I’m not dreaming, he’s obnoxious.
I don’t know why I have a sudden and violent craving for screaming, studded and hairy rock ’n roll, bleeding steak and Kama sutra.
With death in my soul, I go back to my quarters, I now feel like I have a haystack in my gullet
I try meditation again, and above all, I tempt my neighbour. A little note on the door says „do not disturb, meditation“ but as it was already there this morning, I deduce that she must have forgotten to take it off.
I knock on the door with two bags of coffee, a packet of biscuits in my hand and a big smile on my face. I say, „Hello! Shall we have a cup of coffee?“. Oh la la, the look on her face!
I’m bothering her in the middle of introspection and no, this is not the time.
I go back to my cell. I feel that my condition is getting worse and that I’m ready to cry. But what’s going on? I was so happy before I got here!
The sun is fading, I decide to meet my neighbour in the tree-lined alley, but just like that, everyone is walking in their own steps, self-centred, in conversation with themselves. I go to drink a little coffee by myself in a small hut near the gate, I make some drawings while sniffing.
It’s five o’clock, it’s time for evening meditations, songs, circles
I go back to the room, I approach the red level of absolute distress. People here don’t eat at night. No meetings, no chatting, but hey, no chance to find myself in the „office“ again. And quickly, darkness falls on my grief like closing a coffin.
I would need more than one page to talk about the night in this monastery, alone, in silence, on my wooden plank, rolled up in my pareo which serves as a blankett. I am assailed by dark thoughts, sadness and anguish. There must be something in the air, or in the rice. I fight bravely like the little goat against the wolf so as not to give in to the blues and I cry in my big broth T-shirt.
The gong rings at four o’clock in the morning. I am already wide awake
What the hell, I don’t get up at the end to go and meditate. I stay on my wooden plank, tetanized, as if cast in lead.
If by misfortune I find myself once again, even if only one metre away from the other recluse, I commit suicide before the end of the morning. Smothering me with rice!
When at half past five my neighbour comes back to her room, I am in the corridor, bag on my back, ready to leave. IM-PO-SSI-BLE, IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO STAY HERE FOR ANOTHER HOUR.
I was waiting for her to say goodbye. She couldn’t believe it. She’s all annoyed and astonished and so am I. She warmly recommends me not to give up and to make sure that I find the Buddha’s path so wonderful. I nod as I look at my shoes because I don’t want her to read in my foggy eyes that the only path I want to find now is the one that will take me away from here.
They ask me why I’m leaving so quickly and I can’t even articulate a correct answer as I have to fight against the anguish that is wrenching my throat. The other residents are also sad to see me leave and greet me warmly.
I do my best not to come back to „the office“, especially not, it would finish me off. There now – allready – immediately – like an urgent pee I MUST escape, get away. I have to fly away.
Meditation, it’s too hard, even if I still don’t know what is too hard. It’s indefinable
Meditation, it’s sure it works, it’s had a bull effect on me, oops, sorry, a cow effect. I was joy incarnate, and I find myself ready to burst into tears at any moment!
I leave loosely, not confidente (it’s starting to get quite a few sleepless nights), in the rising sun in the mists of dawn, with the nose up in the air… and I feel like I’m leaving hell.
A moped passes me in the large alleyway bathed in golden light and offers me its taxi services. I don’t even negotiate the price, I don’t even look for a particular hotel, the first one will be fine and explodes my budget, great luxury. I need at least that to get back on my feet.
Morality, being surrounded by people resigned to die without a fight, who never cross my gaze, never argue, never laugh over a drink, a coffee with friends, never eat a steak and never fall madly in love, it has shaken me up a lot and brought me back to the harsh realities of my crazy life… which I love above all else.