Long Time, No See
Participants of the Zen retreat I attended in Tagaytay City in November included a former expat who has recently moved to Japan, a practitioner who flew in from Cagayan de Oro City, and, for the first time, a Ho Chi Minh resident who joined sessions online and then flew to Manila for this event. Rollie Roshi, wearing a striped shirt on the front row, is my teacher. On his left is Carmen Sensei, who organized the whole sesshin.
Ten years ago, about a month after I began my daily meditation routine, I woke up to the image of a cockroach on my bedroom window.
The insect was glued to the surface, seemingly unaware of the large parasite similarly glued to the bed.
Two seconds later, the creature disappeared. It didn't crawl off or fly away. It simply wasn't there anymore. (Did Gregor Samsa drop by from another dimension?) [See: Gregor Samsa]
The apparition looked like a flashback, an effect brought about by the use of psychedelic substances, considered illegal even in this country.
I quickly dismissed the experience. That is, until an older, long-time practitioner told me offhand that the apparition could have been one of several initial effects that regular meditation had on the workings of my mind and the functions of my body.
My fellow practitioner could have been more specific. This was because, at that time, I was preparing myself psychologically for the casual dinner I was to have with an attractive woman.
But my body — still reeling from the effects of meditation (or sits as we called them) — had other plans.
During that dinner, my stomach acted up and I shat three times in a row. Yes, I went to the toilet three times that evening. It was a record, especially for myself, a fairly regular person, in more ways than one.
On my third and final visit, I happened to occupy a stall that featured graffiti. In big, bold letters, it said: Fall down seven times, stand up eight.
Based on what I had gone through that evening, it was a message I wasn't likely to forget. (At that moment, I really did need to stand up.)
After thoroughly disinfecting myself — a process improved upon by prior experience — I ran back to the dinner table, apologized profusely, and offered my gracious companion the option to refuse a return engagement.
She promptly took the option and we then called it a night. (She is now happily married, living abroad, and raising a family.)
I was reminded of this toilet tale when I went to Tagaytay City in November to attend a four-day meditation retreat.
During the first day, I missed the non-denominational morning prayers and chants because — guess what? — someone spent an inordinate amount of time in the restroom (again).
Early that morning, I developed LBM after only sitting three times for 25 minutes each, broken only by a structured, five-minute walking meditation held in between sits.
In essence, these sets of rituals — performed correctly and practiced regularly — are powerful enough to result in tangible, real-world effects. (They're not designed to make you wealthier, younger, or more attractive. But I'm not waiving these options if they're making them available in the future. Of course, I’m joking.)
Of many varied effects that meditation brings, none is more profound than the breakthrough, also known as enlightenment, a supposed dramatic occurrence when the practitioner is awakened and is able to fully comprehend his/her True Self.
Fortunately and unfortunately, that is all I know about the subject.
To this day, I remain an amateur, unable to go past a koan first given to me by my teacher during dokusan in a retreat in Zamboanga City six years ago. [See: Dokusan]
Of my so-called milestones, being given a koan is just about the only one I'm truly proud of. I'm also grateful for the ability and the privilege of being able to sit still for 25 minutes at least once a day and contemplate the meaning of the koan "Mu."
Despite regular practice, I am not in a hurry to achieve a breakthrough.
After all, I'm still in the process of enjoying its fringe benefits. Meditation sharpens focus and strengthens thinking. It also helps you become a kinder, if more contemplative person.
I'm not there yet.
I still pick fights with friends (especially on Facebook Messenger), I still go back on Twitter (if only to amplify nasty stuff about people I don't like), and I still go on alcohol-fueled rantfests that last longer than Holy Week if things don't go my way.
But every morning, upon waking up, hangover or no, I return to my practice and discover once more what it is all about: to sit and try again. Fall down seven times, stand up eight. (No shit, Sherlock.)
FROM THE IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT MATTERS DEPT. If you liked what you just read, please consider sending me a token amount on GCash through the QR code below to show your appreciation. Any amount will do (even one peso), just to show that you appreciate what I've written. I need validation, even as an introvert. Thanks very much.
