I came back yesterday from a five-day silent meditation retreat at Insight Retreat Center, Santa Cruz. I reflected on the experience, during which my mind became more focused and stable (beginning in Day 3), and how it affected me. (Note: It’s a long read. Skip to paragraph three on Day 4 if you are interested in the question, “what’s the purpose of continuing to deepen my concentration?”)
Day 1, Wednesday
My mind was able to settle quickly on the first half-day of the retreat. I attributed this to meditating almost daily for 45 minutes for a couple of weeks before coming to the center. I have been also on summer break and do not have any urgent tasks at-hand. There was only one meditation sit on this day, and my mind was not jumpy or perturbed, as I normally would be, thinking about upcoming tasks and projects. Noble Silence began after an introduction meeting in the early evening. I went to bed at 9 pm and felt asleep quickly. My body must be confused by sleeping so early, because I woke up in the middle of the night, probably around 1 or 2 am, and could not fall back asleep.
Day 2, Thurs
First full-day of the retreat. I got up at 5:45 am, and I was worried about the difficulty of staying awake for the rest of the day. Fortunately my body did not experience any aches or pains, and I felt enough energy to get through the morning. I had been sleeping relatively well the last few weeks, so my body was likely tapping into the reservoir of rest that I have accumulated. As expected, I was dealing with a sleepy mind that was untamable. I experienced dream-like thoughts that did not make any sense, and they arose frequently. The fogginess and lack of alertness meant I was incapacitated to do much about these thoughts. Another retreatant later asked the teachers about how to be mindful of sleepiness, and I was reminded that this state of mind is called “hypnogogic,” which describes a state of consciousness that alternate between sleep and wakefulness. The thoughts and images were a form of hallucination. I am somewhat familiar with this state of mind, as I have experienced it many times in the past when I was sleep deprived, especially in business school. I have learned to go to sleep instead of meditating when this occurs and when possible. I had enough alertness to continue with the sitting meditation, so I just noted this state of mind whenever I became aware of it, which occurred about every few seconds.
I slept for two hours after lunch to catch up on sleep, skipping one sitting meditation and the start of the following walking meditation. After the long nap, I was able to attend to the rest of the day’s meditation feeling alert. Able to apply myself fully, I was aware of the patterns of thought that took me away from steadying my attention on the breath. These patterns are old friends whom I have become familiar with over the years. I caught my mind analyzing its own activities, and judging myself when my mind was pulled away by thoughts. The analytical mind was relatively easy to let go off because it is generally not laden with emotions. The judgment mind is more difficult to catch, because it is subtle and often does not appear as a thought. It is a feeling tone that occurs right after I caught my mind wandering. It is a heaviness. A feeling of disappointment. The expression, “oh no.”
I learned the acronym FIRE from Nikki Mirghafori, one of the retreat teachers, during today’s dharma talk. Friendly, Intention, Relax, and Enjoy. They served as useful reminders to my practice during the retreat. I love that three of the four words (F,R, and E) are related to attitudes towards the practice, as I am often so hard on myself.
Day 3, Friday
I went to bed at around 9:30 last night and slept straight through. I remember experiencing vivid dreams. Somewhat embarrassingly, I also had a wet dream. I was pleasantly surprised by this because I associate wet dreams with virility. I think my mind and body are more relaxed and aligned.
My mind was significantly more stable now. The stability was most noticeable during walking meditation. I could feel the sensations of my feet touching the ground with each step. The frequency of thoughts that pulled my mind away from the sensation was low, and when it occurred, the duration was brief. With each step, I could feel the heel touching the ground, the foot pressing forward, and the foot being fully in contact with the ground. As my weight shifted onto one foot, the awareness is so clear that I could notice my other foot lifting off the ground at the same time. Trying to feel the sensations of one foot on the ground while the other was lifting up felt so busy (or overwhelming) that I needed to slow down. The level of concentration, or samadhi, was especially apparent during the walking meditation before my Practice Discussion with Richard Shankman, the other retreat teacher, at 2:30 pm on this day.
I shared with Richard the difficulties that I was experiencing during the sitting meditation. Although my alertness and focus were good, I had difficulty feeling the breath. In sitting meditations, I placed my attention on the breath moving in and out of my nostrils, and this sensation felt too subtle. I noticed tension between my brows as a result of trying mightily to home in my attention on the nostrils. The tension was a tightness and pulsating sensation, and it sometimes expanded into facial areas around the nose. When it became too tensed, I opened my eyes, which helped relax them. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for long though, because I am not practiced in dealing with visual distractions during sitting meditation. Over time during a sit, my attention was starting to focus on my facial tension instead, and although I was still maintaining my ability to focus, the tension was uncomfortable.
Day 4, Saturday
I went to bed at around 9:30 last night, and I woke up several times, although I was able to fall back asleep quickly. I also experienced vivid dreams. One dream I remembered was frightening. I dreamt that a black man being threatened by another black man, then I saw the second black man and several white men attacking the first black man from behind while he was falling on the ground unconscious. The content of the dream was puzzling, and I related it to reading Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates a few days before the retreat. Making the connection between the dream and the book made me feel better, as I worried if the nature and vividness of the dream signified or portended anything.
The stability of my mind was still strong throughout the morning and afternoon, even though I continued to struggle with finding my breath in sitting meditation. An indicator of the strength of my concentration was the continuity of my focus during a body scan. I guided my attention to different parts of the body from head to feet, and the scan occurred without any interruption by thoughts. When I stretched and rotated my head, I could also feel the sensations around my neck and shoulders clearly and continuously.
Perhaps triggered by my conversation with Richard the day before, during a walking meditation, I was consumed by a question about the purpose of attaining jhana, or a concentrated state of mind. It was unlikely that I would enter into any jhana mind state during this retreat, since this is the last full-day. So what’s the purpose of continuing to deepen my concentration? I was already sufficient skilled at taming my mind, isn’t that enough? Even though I was able to identify these thoughts as doubt, which is one of the five hindrances of developing calmness, I couldn’t shake off these questions. They gnawed at me and entangled me.
Fortunately the question of what fruit my effort would bear was partially revealed in the evening. During a Q&A session, a woman asked how she could wish that she be free from suffering, while genuinely accept her suffering at the same time. She had told us that she was suffering from a life-threatening illness during her introduction on the first day, and she indicated that her focus of her practice on this retreat was self-compassion, which is a form of metta practice. The teachers gave her the best answers they could, along the line of accepting the pain that we cannot control (the proverbial first arrow), while not inflicting additional pain by wallowing in misery (the second arrow). Somehow the answer didn’t feel satisfactory to me, and I wondered if it was to the questioner. The answers seemed too rational to offer any comfort. An image arose in my mind. I experienced a desire to have the woman sit in the center of the room, and for all the participants to send her our compassion, our wish for her to be healthy, safe, and well. To touch her, and to hold her in our circle.
The Q&A was followed by a brief walking meditation, and my mind kept returning to the woman. I could feel something was welling up in me, but I didn’t know what it was. As soon as I transitioned into sitting meditation, I teared up. The feeling of compassion overwhelmed me, catching me off-guard. I had not anticipated it because her question only hinted at the depth of her pain. I allowed the tenderness to flow through my body. I also thought about her suffering in relation to those of my loved ones, then my own, and I experienced a heart-felt appreciation for all of our struggles.
What made the powerful experience possible, I believe, was the sensitive state of my mind. It was like a land had been softened and broken opened by days of ploughing. A ground that had become fertile and rid of weeds and pollutants. What sprouted forth was from a seed of compassion. A seed planted by the question from the woman about her suffering.
The feeling of compassion lasted for minutes, or a little longer. When it faded, for the rest of the sit, I was overtaken by grandiose notions about writing a book or treatise on life and various professional endeavors. All of these stemmed from congratulating myself on cultivating and experiencing this wonderful positive feeling. Vanity is always around the corner.
Day 5, Sunday
I had difficulty falling asleep that night, which was likely due to the energizing effect of the various strong emotions. I might have woken up once or twice, though I do not recall any vivid dreams.
Due to the stimulation from the night before, my mind mostly returned to typical daily consciousness by the morning. I could no longer stay present with my breath without frequent and long train of thoughts. Later I read in an article by Gil Fronsdal that this loss of concentration was normal, and retreatants are expected to be perturbed by thoughts of returning to daily life during the last seventh of the retreat.
During the retreat closing circle, I shared briefly with the group my experience last night. I had rehearsed in my mind several times about what I wanted to say, and I was afraid that my words towards the woman would come across as pity rather than empathy. I felt compelled to express my feelings, however, because I wanted her to know that the brief sharing of a most intimate part of her life left an impact on me. Its poignancy rippled like a stone that fell into a lake. Her pain and struggle demanded to be acknowledged. I felt nervous as my turn to speak approached, and I tried my best to not crack my voice. I connected with her briefly after the closing circle and Noble Silence ended, and she thanked me for what I said.
The retreat ended with an hour of snack time. My anxiety about socializing in a large group arose momentarily, though it subsided as soon as I began conversing with the various retreatants that I had gotten to know, though we had barely exchanged a word with them up to that point. I felt vibrant as I moved from one person to another, feeding off their warmth and friendliness. I looked forward to returning home and sharing my experience with my love.
