Goodbye Cambodia, Hello Vietnam

Just a quick note to let everyone know we're okay.

We arrived safely in Ho Chi Minh City (Siagon) this afternoon and are off to see the sights. Crossing over borders is an experiece in itself - sorry to be leaving a country you've really come to enjoy, but excited for all there is still left to be seen. After a rough few first days in Cambodia (which actually weren't bad, but just my tainted perception - all which I will have to explain later), we came to really enjoy ourselves and find Cambodians to be friendly and light-hearted people, always ready with a smile - amazing given their country's history. I would have like to stay longer, but we've only got four days in Vietnam before Steven heads back home, so we wanted to get in all we could.

I have never felt so guilty in my life...

...sitting in a restaurant on the street, eating a four dollar meal, while an 8 year old child holding a new born baby begs for money. And that is just a silver of the experience. Cambodia is definitely an eye opener to the realities of life in impoverished countries. I don't want to be one of those tourists that just goes from my hotel room to the bar and back again because ignoring reality doesn't make it go away. I've got to figure out how to strike some sort of balance.

Greetings from Cambodia

I write from an internet cafe in Siem Reap Cambodia and can say with absolute certainty that we are not in Thailand anymore. After returning from Phuket, we spent a relaxing two days in and around Kanchanaburi: tooling around on bikes, visiting Erawan Falls and Hell Fire Pass. On Tuesday morning, we left Kanchanaburi on the 8:00 bus bound for Bangkok beginning our longest day of travel yet. Two buses, one tuk tuk, one metered cab, one pick up truck, one shared taxi and countless miles of unbelievably bad roads later, we found ourselves at the Sydney Angkor Hotel, in our eight dollar luxury room complete with hot water, soft beds and cable tv. The hours between our lovely room in Kanchanaburi and our even more posh room in Siem Reap, were some of the most harrowing of my very sheltered - I now realize - life. We made it to the border easily enough, but once we crossed the border, we literally crossed into another world, one where my independent traveler confidence quickly spiraled into the advanced stages of culture shock. After a less than pleasant border crossing experience, I found myself in a country where I didn't speak the language or know the cultural norms, carrying a pack that in itself probably cost more than what the average Cambodian makes in a year, not to mention everything in it, and completely at the mercy of the local people. Luckily for me, I wasn't alone and Steven helped immensely, not only to calm me down, but also to get us to where we were going unscathed, if a bit shaken up.

After we got passed the initial shock, we have found Cambodia to be a beautiful country, filled with beautiful people, but also one that is very poor and undeveloped (at least in the rural areas - in the more urban areas, it is somewhat similar to Thailand except with less street venders and more people begging for money and selling things). Many of the homes we've seen are wooden homes on stilts without running water or electricity. Riding along the rural roads, you feel as if you've not only crossed into another country, but into another period of time entirely.

We've spent the past two days touring the temples of Angkor and have found them to be fascinating and awe inspiring. We've returned to the hotel each night not only physically exhausted from all of the steps and walks, but emotionally exhausted as well from our numerous encounters with the local children quite insistently peddling their wares. It has been hard to see so many children selling crafts or begging for money, often followed up with a plea of "dollar for my school?" It would be impossible to give all the money you wanted to these children as their are throngs of them pushing the same goods in front of you pleading you to buy from them. I have cold-heartedly resisted a lot of their overtures, but Steven has succumbed a few times and has taken some of the pressure off of me, making the kids happy in the process. A few times we've had more time with some of the kids and found them to be very sweet and talkative, once they cast off their hard sell facades.

Tomorrow, we are heading to Phnom Phen by luxury $6 bus and are looking forward to the change of scenery and the cushioned seats.

Life on the Road

Steven has been here with me for one week and in that time we have managed to tour the sites of Bangkok, have drinks at a bar in Pat Pong where the Thai girls out numbered the guests by about five to one (but actually seem to enjoy dancing with each other, which gave the whole sordid situation a more uplifting veneer of innocence); take a river taxi; see the lights of a Bangkok night from the world's highest open air bar, travel to Phuket; rent (and crash - that would be Steven) Honda Dreams for the day; volunteer on Koh Phi Phi tsunami relief for an afternoon (they still need volunteers!); spend a morning snorkeling; get covered in insect bites (me); ride a ferry through a storm causing 8 foot swells; ride a local bus - standing up or sitting on our packs - for four hours; have dinner in a hotel that might very well have been a brothel (given the Thai ladies - and ladyboy - in lingerie singing on stage); get victimized by our first (and subsequent 30) leeches; and spend a harrowing morning on a 50-year old local bus that seemed to stop every 50 feet and broke down on the side of the road an hour and a half into our last minute mad dash to the Phuket airport for our flight back to Bangkok, getting us there exactly five minutes before they closed boarding for our flight (thanks to the conveniently situated motor-taxi driver and his non-taxi-motor scooter driving friend). It has been quite an adventure!

Today we are off to Kanchanaburi and Erawan falls, and we'll be heading to Cambodia on Tuesday. The adventure continues...

We just wanted to let everyone know that we are safe, and very happy to be together and alive :)

Just Be

It is 11:15 a.m. on Saturday morning (a.k.a "Day 11") and I cannot bring myself to do much more than sit and "be." Since my train is not until 9:00 p.m. tonight, I have the luxury of leisure and I will take full advantage, using some of this time to attempt to convey the journey that was the past 10 days. I have written many accounts in my mind during that time and vacillated between writing a moment-by-moment log of my thoughts to simply writing that "'words cannot express the experience, but that I will always be glad I that I was there." Fancying myself a writer, I will take the first path, summing it all up at the end, and hope that I can adequately convey my thoughts and experiences. Please forgive me; this one is going to be long.

Daily Schedule
4:00 a.m.: Wake
4:30 a.m.: Morning Reading
4:45 a.m.: Sitting Meditation
5:15 a.m.:Yoga
7:00 a.m.: Dharma Talk and Sitting Meditation.
8:00 a.m.: Breakfast and Chores
10:00 a.m.: Dharma Talk and Sitting Meditation.
11:00 a.m. Walking or Standing Meditation
11:45 a.m. Sitting Meditation
12:30 p.m. Lunch and Chores
2:30 p.m. Meditation Instruction and Sitting Meditation
3:30 p.m. Walking or Standing Meditation
4:15 p.m. Sitting Meditation
5:00 p.m. Chanting and Loving Kindness Meditation
6:00 p.m. Tea and Hot Spring
7:30 p.m. Dharma Talk or Sitting Meditation
8:00 p.m. Group Walking Meditation
8:30 p.m. Sitting Meditation
9:00 p.m. Bedtime
9:30 p.m. Lights Out

The first gong of the bell strikes at 4:00 a.m. and continues methodically for another 5 minutes, rousing all inhabitants of the retreat grounds from their slumber. It then gongs again twenty minutes later, a reminder of a remaining five minutes before commencement of morning events. The sound of the bell reverberates into our dorm, which consists of four rows of rooms joining at the corners to form a square, with an inner cement walkway surrounding a large center courtyard of grass. On each corner, and in the center of each row, just off the path, sit circular concrete pools of water for washing and bathing. At the far end of the dorm, the rows of toilet stalls are obscured by a concrete dividing wall, shielding the bathing pools from view. At 4:00 in the morning, the world is silent save for the chirping of the crickets, and the early morning sky over our courtyard is filled with more stars than I imagined in existence. I have never brushed my teeth with a more inspiring and intoxicating view.

After waking, rolling off the concrete slab, ducking out from under the mosquito net, dressing, brushing my teething, and applying the necessary layers of mosquito repellant, I head out of the dorm, around the corner and to the back, where the meditation hall is set up for the morning reading. Each of us quietly walks up to the hall, either removing our shoes or, others, like myself, using the "foot bath" (a square bath of water with a center step for you to remove sand and rocks from the bottom of your bare feet) and finding our respective pillows (women on the right, men on the left), settling in for the morning reading. Each morning reading was taken from a quote or a story, directed at our place in the retreat; most very inspiring, some just interesting enough to hold your interest. Individual mediators had signed up to read, so each morning, a new fellow mediator, would settled, cross-legged, on the stool behind the table with the microphone, bell ,and candle; ring the bell three times to indicate the start of a new activity, and slowly, mindfully, read us the day's food for thought. Because we were an international group, the readings were made even more flavorful coming through in English accented from England, Australia, the Netherlands and Thailand.

After the reading, we sat back on our pillows (or some, like me with bad backs and an inability to sit 'lotus style', on our meditation benches) for the morning meditation. This came to be the most peaceful time of the day for me.

After the first sitting meditation, the men walked off to another hall for yoga and the women walked over to a storage area where mats were kept to choose that morning's mat. Yoga was relaxing and enjoyable. The experience itself was made even more magical by the morning unfolding around us as we worked through our routine. In the beginning, it was dark and the air was filled with the sounds of crickets, frogs and the occasional gecko. As the morning, progressed, the increasingly lightening sky was greeted by the coos of doves and the diverse morning calls of a chorus of birds. The air would fill with bats, swiftly hunting their morning meal; only to be replaced, at the first glimpse of the sun, by clouds of butterflies fluttering over the bright green leaves of the trees surrounding our hall. It was a truly magical scene.

Yoga was followed by a Dharma talk, often by the Abbot, or head Monk, Ajun Poh. While he is obviously a wonderful and committed man, his English is slow and punctuated by pauses, often making him hard to follow. Unfortunately, I missed a lot of what he had to offer, as I found myself thinking more about how he spoke, rather than what he said. "Good morning. Every. Good friends. *pause* *pause* *pause* There are. Two. Types. *pause* Of. Med-I-TA-Tion. *pause* Med-I-TA-Tion of Con-cen-TRA-tion and Med-I-TA-Tion of Insight. *pause* *pause* *pause* "Med..."

Following the talk and sitting meditation, we walked to the dining hall for breakfast. We were encouraged to walk mindfully and in the moment and these walks were often enjoyable in themselves, although I was more often lost in thought than concentrating on my steps.

Breakfast consisted of rice soup, lettuce and cucumbers and bananas. While my willingness to eat more of a variety of foods has greatly improved since my childhood staple diet of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and Kraft macaroni and cheese, there are still some things I cannot stomach. Our breakfast of gluey rice soup was one of them. The soup consisted of puffed rice in a viscous substance, peppered with a variety of foul tasting 'vegetables.' I forced it down for the first three days and afterward, resigned myself to a morning diet of bananas and cucumbers.

After breakfast, we were free to rest and perform our chores. I had signed up to sweep around the dining hall, a task I found to be enjoyable not only because it allowed me to practice being mindful, but also because it gave me a little interaction with the other mediators, stopping and smiling as I allowed them to pass as they walked by me on the path.

I found that the schedule not too difficult to follow if I managed to squeeze in two extra "lying meditations" (o.k. naps) during the free times; so my post-chore routine was to head back to the dorms for the first of my morning "lying meditations."

The second talk of the day was another Dharma talk. The monk who delivered these talks was a British Buddhist monk and from the very beginning, I had my suspicions about him. He is bald, as all monks, but with a very muscled arm protruding from his monk’s robes, he appears more like a prisoner doing hard time, than a monk in the throes of serenity. His halting sarcastic, matter-of-fact manner of speech oozed malevolent arrogance and he seemed to revel in making us feel low and unworthy, much like a villain straight out of a Disney film or as I came to see him, a cross between Skeletor and Hannibal Lector. His down cast gaze as he spoke, made his already sinister demeanor even more so, as it looked as if his closed eyes were mere flesh covered holes, boring into your soul. While I grew to enjoy his talks, so often peppered with amusing anecdotes and musings (often concerning pizza, which was just cruel) I also learned more about him, which only to give more credence to my initial suspicions that he was really merely a well versed escapee from some high security prison somewhere.

He talked with us twice a day; once about the Dharma and once about the techniques of Annapanasiti Meditation, the goal of which is to reach Nirvana - or the state of mind of complete unattachment to the "idea of self" and the realization of the impermanence of all things, leading one to a complete freedom from suffering or "dukkha" - through mindfulness with breathing.

The ideas of Buddhism, or my simplified version, seem to be thus: There is no such thing as "self" or "I" or "my;" we are all just made up of five aggregates that are simply processes of nature. All of our suffering arises because we think that we exist as unique individuals and we take everything that comes along in life, personally. It outlines the process of "dependant origination" whereby which the mind perceives an object, which is recognized by the conscious, which then causes a feeling to arise, leading to a desire - either to obtain or the reject, followed by an action based on the feeling. The idea is to realize that all suffering is caused by the thoughts, speech, or actions based on the reactions to these feelings; and that to reduce suffering, one must simply get to know the mind enough so that one can identify when a feeling arises, be conscious enough to realize it as a conditioned response to stimuli, and let it go, not allowing oneself to react, blindly, to the stimuli.

Easy enough to understand; not so hard to do.

It also teaches the idea of 'impermanence' in all things, including the self. At Suan Mokkh, they do not believe, necessarily in re-incarnation, but in the re-birth of the 'ego-self' in response to stimuli. So each time you respond to a new sight, sound or taste, your ego is reborn. You can have hundreds of these re-births throughout the course of a single day. They also use the idea of impermanence in the path to Nirvana as a teaching tool to help people realize that everything - happiness, sadness, pleasure, pain - are impermanent and that it is foolish to hold on to anything, good or bad.

And of course there are the five precepts that Buddhists must follow: 1) do not kill any sentient being, 2) do not take anything that is not yours, 3) do not engage in sexual misconduct, 4) do not engage in false or unkind speech, and 5) do not imbibe intoxicating substances; the Eightfold Path to Enlightment; and the Four Noble Truths (the realization of suffering, the cause of suffering, the realization of the possibility of the cessation of suffering and the path to realize this cessation). All which give Buddhists the simple, peaceful, benevolent reputation that is known by much of the world.

A lot of these ideas did not mesh with my ideas of the world and after contemplating them, I filed them away under 'interesting, but not in-line with how I want to see the world.' Others such as our constant striving for temporary happiness merely bringing on suffering and the idea of impermanence, I not only accepted, but experienced, throughout the 10 day retreat.

After the talk and sitting meditation, we were excused for "walking meditation," which consists of either a three-step or five-step method of walking v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-ly to practice mindfulness. You are supposed to feel the movement of your body with each "step" of the step and to be constantly aware of your actions. After walking around in the sand on the first day, I found myself a quiet place in a neighboring meditation hall, where I could practice my walking meditation on the cool, smooth cement floor. I found that I enjoyed the five-step method of raise, lift, forward, lower, down; because it was immeasurably slower than the three-step method and helped me to concentrate more easily. Even so, I spent many a walking meditation session deep in thought, only returning to my feet when I realized that I was far from where I was supposed to be.

Lunch consisted of rice and two or three vegetarian dishes, which luckily always contained something that was somewhat enjoyable, because this had become my sole daily meal. Before each meal, we were to read a food reflection, another way to practice mindfulness. The food was served in large pots which were set up in a row on two tables on either side of the middle of the dining hall; one for men, one for women. We were also to sit on our respective sides of the hall. Once you had filled your bowl, you retired to a seat where you wanted for the reading of the food reflection, which did not begin until the last of us was served and seated. At first, I was impatient to eat, but after a few days when I grew used to the routine and tired of the food, this ritual became just another accepted part of the daily routine. After you finished eating, you were to take your bowl, spoon and cup to the gender separated washing areas and mindfully wash your dishes, placing them to dry on the awaiting racks.

After another nap, and another round of sitting and walking meditation, we sat for Buddhist chanting and Loving Kindness Meditation at 5:00. The British monk led the chanted during the first few days, and I found the practice enjoyable and his voice very melodious. On the fourth day, the monk who apparently normally led the chanting returned, and my pleasant experience turned into one of dread, due to his insistence on speed at the expense of melody and perfect repetition without use of the books. Luckily, it was followed by Loving Kindness Meditation, where we summoned up love for ourselves and then willed it out to our families, friends, neighbors and ultimately every living and non-living thing. It sounds a bit sappy and hippie-esque, but it was actually a really nice experience and it made me feel that I was actually doing something positive.

This was followed by "tea," which was some sort of hot chocolate concoction - liquid heaven in a plastic cup. It was obvious that everyone came to look forward to tea time where we rapturously sipped our tea and sat quietly taking in the stillness of the late afternoon.

Tea time was followed by a dip in the hot springs (again separated by gender), which were utterly boiling when you stepped in, but soon became a soothing bath once under the water making for a great way to ease your knees and back, sore from hours of meditation.

Baths were taken from a communal concrete 'tub' from which you ladled water out with plastic bowls to douse your body before and after soaping up. Our bathing tubs were a favorite watering hole for the local bat population and each evening after the hot springs, as I bathed, I would watch as the bats darted in for a drink and disappeared just as quickly. Bathing and 'bathing' in a sarong became a skill.

Evening was filled with more meditating, including group walking meditation, in which we all followed a leader around a lake and walked mindfully so as not to bump into the person in front. Again, I often marveled in the expanse and magnificence of the night sky and reminded myself that I do not sit and contemplate the stars quite as much as I should.

After the final meditation, we walked back to our dorms, got ready for bed and retired to our respective rooms only to repeat the same routine the following day.

But, even given the events and surroundings that I have just described, my inner landscape was not so picturesque. We were asked not to journal, but I found, after the fourth day, that if I did not, I would drive myself insane and quite possibly miss out on all this experience had to offer - my insight drowned by a constant diatribe of misery and self-pity. I found that I needed the perspective that I can only find on the page and I believe that it was integral to my experience. I know not what the experience would have reveled had I refrained from written self-expression, but in the end, I gained enough to be glad I have a recording of those 10 days.

I share my thoughts, here, for those of you who are interested, to give you a more true picture of my experience. Beware - much of this is raw and uncensored (for comedic value of course :).

Day One: This is hard. I've found that the majority of my thoughts are egotistic and judgmental. I am an awful person. I also have thoughts in my head that are not even my own. Some times I will think about the safety of my son or the health of my mother (who is a woman not my mother), but these are the thoughts of someone else and I realize that when I "come back to my breath." I think I may be insane.

Day 2: Sweeping mindfully has made me realize that one's sense of responsibility towards a task increases when it is tied to a group effort. I'm glad that I did not sign up to clean the toilets. I've also come to realize that so much of what we do in life is to escape the present moment, even if not intentionally so. How often do we do something while actually thinking about what we are doing and not planning what we will do next or thinking about what we should have done before? How much of life is really not about chasing the next pleasurable moment? I've found that I've begun to look forward to tea time and the hot springs and to want to rush through the rest of the day. My perspective needs to change if I am going to do this. I keep thinking in terms of 10 days and counting down. I also keep looking forward to the things I enjoy and isn't that defeating the purpose? Maybe you aren't supposed to enjoy anything... If I get nothing else out of this, I will at least lose weight, gain flexibility and have more calloused feet (I've found that my inability to sit "Indian style" is directly related to my bad knees. If I can run for more than 30 minutes without pain after this, I will be thrilled!)

My judgmental and egotistical thoughts have all but ceased; taking their place are thoughts of food and the future. I have picked Steven up at the airport about 20 times and eaten an imaginary piece of fried chicken about 30. I've found that it is hard to eat mindfully when you would rather be doing anything than eating the food you are eating. My fried chicken fantasy has grown to mythical proportions. I would revel in the experience.

I've also found that the enforced silence creates quite a unique atmosphere. Without personality and posturing to influence relations, there has become a strange common bond between the women here. I didn't expect for this to be anything more than a personal experience and was actually really looking forward to the silence, but I find I am craving human companionship, something I crave second only to edible food. Unfortunately, there are some to whom the silence is not sacred and there is an obvious breaking of rules by many of the younger girls. Cliques are forming; whispering in the dorms, stolen glances and shared spaces at lunch. I don't mind what others do, but I've come here to get something real out of this and, although I am writing in my journal, I otherwise intend to keep the "noble silence". While we are not allowed to talk, we have grown familiar to one another ,and kind gestures abound with ladies holding doors, sharing umbrellas and flashlights and helping to rid each other's rooms of uninvited "guests" (spiders, frogs, lizards, centipedes and various other many legged creatures).

I am really enjoying the talks. There is a little bald nun (as all Buddhist nuns) is too cute. I love how she makes herself laugh, although I don't know if I would go to her for advice after a story she shared. A woman came to her to try to get over her anger at another woman who kept "stealing" "her" parking space at work. The nun's response was that she and the other woman must have had the same husband in a previous life and the other woman just couldn't help it - she was drawn to her spot. She then told us that the woman was relieved and let go of her anger at hearing this "natural truth." The British monk is growing on me, if only because his stories and dry humor break up the monotony of the day.

As for the meditation, yesterday, I felt a surge of some sort of energy, coupled with a physical paralysis. Is that what I'm supposed to be seeking to attain? I've definitely progressed with my meditation, but regressed monumentally in positive thinking.

Day 3: This bed amounts to cruel and unusual punishment.

The yoga instructor's voice has begun to grate on my nerves as she chants "eeeeeeeeeeenhhh, oooooooouuuuhhhhttt" with each breath. She talks so softly, that often, you cannot understand a word she is saying, only catching the piercing upswings of intonation ending every other word: "Forehead dowUUUNH, place your hands on the groUOOND, now raise your buTOCKS. Eeeeeeeeeeenhhhh. Ooooooooouuuuuuhhtt." I began to come to yoga with toilet tissue stuffed in my ears.

Today I waged a war against myself; pulling out all the stops. I don't want to be here and my mind was filled with thoughts of the selfishness of my being here - what if someone got hurt and could not get the news to me!? Mom would never call to break my 'silence' with bad news. What if there was a nuclear war and I didn't know about it?!? - I was consumed with worry and guilt. The only way I pulled myself out of it was by rationalizing that perhaps there is only a finite amount of suffering in the world and be being here I am taking up some of that suffering, leaving less for the rest of the world. The talks help as well - sending myself loving kindness and being reminded that we are here to learn patience.

Day 4: *&#^ this! This is absolute insanity! What the @$%# was I thinking?? Meditation non-stop is one thing, but total sensory deprivation is another. I understand that by writing, I am giving into desire, but hell if I wouldn't give into desire if I had a snickers bar. I am wasting away to nothing because the food is barely edible. This poor excuse for a bed is unimaginably painful. I know that there are many people in this world whose lives are miserable and I shouldn't complain, but if they had the choice not to be miserable, I'm sure they would take it without a second thought. And it is only getting worse. Today during yoga, I was consumed by hatred, frustration and self pity. I wanted to strangle the yoga instructor because her high-pitched, sing-songy voice was grating on my last nerve. This ISN'T why I came here - to prove I can starve and sleep on a rock. I came to learn to be more mindful in my thinking and my actions - NOT to learn to be a Buddha. I think another stumbling block is that the more I learn about Buddhism, the more I realize I want nothing to do with it. The whole concept of there being no self is just ridiculous, and the ultimate goal of feeling nothing sounds awful. I know I will suffer in life, but if I am able to experience joy as well, bring it on. I am happy to be human with all the thoughts and emotions that come with it. Creativity is emotional. The best songs, art, books and movies are infused with, and often born out of, emotion. If everyone were enlightened - life would suck! So, what I need to do here is re-group if I am going to make it through the next 7 days. I need to remember why I am here and get back to a place where I am consciously working towards that goal and not spewing hateful thoughts and dwelling in the infinite depths of self pity where I now reside. I want to learn and to gain new perspectives, but being miserable for 10 days is not going to accomplish that. I need to at least journal, since I can't run, two things that keep me sane in daily life. I am going to make these 10 days, but I will have to do so on my terms, not theirs. I need to find my own "middle way."

...later. That was just what I needed. A little re-grouping. Instead of walking meditation this morning, I spent the time watching the butterflies and just letting my mind wander. I thought a lot about my parents, about how I would like to be in my mother's kitchen at home, talking with her over a bowl of brownie batter, laughing, telling stories and enjoying the taste of fresh chocolate batter on a wooden mixing spoon ;and how I need to go bowling with my Dad when I get home. I tried to recall my childhood and reveled in memories of family and friends and realized just how lucky I truly am.

I am gaining a little insight, using experience coupled with the information gained in the talks. If we are actually able to learn to put a pause between our thoughts and our actions, and to discern why we do the things we do, it would be amazing. For example, today there was a large toad in my room and after I chased it out into the yard, I motioned to my neighbor to look at the toad, rationalizing to myself that this wasn't talking, but that I just wanted her to see it so that she would not be startled if it subsequently hopped under her door into her room. We had a brief moment of connection and I was elated. I realized later that my concern for her was really dwarfed by my need to connect for whatever reason. Had I stopped to realize that before, I might not have "broken my noble silence;" but then again, I would not have learned the lesson either.

Lunch was not bad today. I am much more serene than I was this morning; blissfully so.

Day 5: This morning, I wasn't very focused, but I've already had two really good sittings, one in which I wasn't ready to come back at the ring of the bell. It’s pretty cool. I am enjoying to unhurried pace of life here and the backdrop of nature at every turn.

Day 6: Started out a bit poorly, but morphed into a pleasant calm mixed with a little anticipation, even if only for the talks, showers and hot chocolates. I realized that I am exactly the opposite of a Buddhist, living my life seeking pleasure in everything I do. I rather enjoy my life, but I know that there is much that I can gain from this experience. If I can manage to stick with this, I will hopefully be able to be more gentle and patient and more aware of why I do what I do, allowing me to be a kinder person and to make better choices (and maybe even remember where I put my keys!) That would be enough. It's funny that what is keeping me here is not just pride, but I also want to have the chance to talk to everyone on the 11th day. Before I came I thought I'd relish the silence and separation, but I've found myself craving human contact. Even the smiles and polite gestures are a boon. I wish I could suspend disbelief over the whole lack of self, but I just can't. Maybe it’s also that I don't want to. I love my life and I like who I am, regardless of past and future mistakes.

Day 7: Serious malnutrition is becoming a very real possibility. The only thing between my hip bone and the woven-mat-over-concrete-slab that is my bed is a thin piece of skin. When I sleep, there are few positions that don't find concrete meeting bone, therefore few options for comfort. Comfort not being an option, I settle for least discomfort and fall back into a sound sleep. Blissfully, sleep is sound, for if it were fitful, it would be most unbearable.

I found enjoyment in walking up and down the ramp today. Interesting how your mind latches on to things it enjoys even when there are so few to be found. We're down another today. I don't know how many guys have left, but we've lost at least 3 girls. I guess that’s pretty good considering. Since we don't talk, you never know when or if someone is going to leave, a familiar face just simply disappears from the scene. It is a little disheartening, but I've committed to not leaving, so I am spared wrestling with that decision.

Tomorrow is Day 8. I am almost... I was going to write "giddy with anticipation," but this lifestyle has sucked the ability to experience "giddiness" out of me. Today is just another day and tomorrow will be yet another. They seem to follow quite regularly that way.

I've had a few creative inspirations today: one for a piece of jewelry I'd like to design and the other for a short story piece.

It's difficult to awaken from a fantasy and find yourself here. My Saturday at the SWAMP was indescribably more enticing. It is easy to see how one's fantasies, so far from their realities, can cause much suffering. If only this were day 10 and not day 8. I will not be doing this again, benefits or no.

Later... I think I may crack. This is crazy. What am I going to prove by doing this? That I can withstand deprivation? That I have will power (although a terrible attitude)? The truth is that I am making myself miserable. I am clinging to anything that is remotely pleasing and running from everything that irks me. I am happy while I am eating my rambutan and drinking my hot chocolate, but once they are gone, I'm miserable again. I am the living embodiment of the Buddha's teachings. I should offer myself up for study. The problem is, sleeping on a concrete slab does suck; eating barely edible slop does suck; not being able to read or talk does suck. No amount of breathing or concentration in the world is going to make those things suck any less. Could I possibly walk thought my day not being turned on and off by such things? I wish I knew how other people were feeling. I wonder if they have food. I wonder if talking to others is helping them get through this. I need to make a list of what I have learned so far: 1) human companionship is important to survival; 2) chasing temporary happiness to temporary happiness is no way to live life; 3) so much of what causes our own "suffering" is our perceptions of tings/people/events; 4) I have a bad attitude. I should work on that. The problem is, all I want to do is get the #^&@ out of here! Garden of Liberation, my ass; more like Garden of Starvation, Frustration and Irritation. Ok. Let’s think about what I do like.. Oh, but damn, that is irrelevant. Damn it. Everything is neutral. At least until Saturday. Oh wonderful, joyful, delectable Saturday. There is an end to suffering after all...

Day 8: This morning I awoke with all the obvious signs of severe depression: rapid weight loss, loss of appetite, excessive sleeping, lack of interest in daily activities, social withdrawal and lack of concern for personal appearance. Mind you, most of these things have been imposed, but it was still a sobering thought. If I don't perk up so, I might well go insane. Thankfully after yoga and breakfast, I was back to my newly acquired state of self-resignation, if only sporadically. Thinking about my childhood and my future and the family I'd like to have someday helped. It doesn't help any more to think about how many days are left because the fact remains that days are left and that is the sole source of the problem. I will try my damndest to get through the next three days with a better attitude. Today before yoga, it began to rain and the first few girls who went out in the rain to get their mats, came back with armloads of mats for everyone so that we all did not have to go out in the rain. It was wonderful to see such acts of unselfish kindness between strangers. I am learning, by experience, every moment, the truth to the state of impermanence. My horrible mood from this morning has vanished, replaced by one of quiet appreciation.

I broke down today and read a little bit of my novel. I didn't think it would be a big deal; just a little indulgence to wean myself off of complete positive sensory deprivation. So I read. Just a chapter. But when I went to the next sitting, I realized that it was much more. I felt disconnected from the group, like we were no longer on the same plain. I had this dirty little secret; I had opened a window to the outside world and had a stockpile of mental opium waiting for me in my room to take me out of this world and transport my willingly, far, far away. But I rationalized that maybe this is just what I needed; to infuse my practice with a little distraction so that I can see how my mind handles the change while I’m still in a safe environment. Sure I can meditate easily enough now in this environment, completely cut off from the outside world, but will it be so easy once I have all the stimulants of everyday life lulling me from my concentrated mind? This will be the test.

...later. I meditated well enough; the only perceptible change, my mind being a little more active and harder to settle down. Test passed! ...but that was not to be the end. Yesterday, I had decided that I would skip chanting for the day. The new monk was much like a Thai drill sergeant, spouting out chants at speeds that corresponded neither with our previous practices or his own rules on the subject (for one he said we mustn't breathe between words or lines because any pause allows "dukkah" in and in the next, he chastised us for not stopping to take a breath between lines because "how can you appropriately praise the Buddha if you have no breath left to chant!?") and I was feeling a bit blasphemous chanting about 'the one true supreme enlightened one' even if the words were in a language, I didn't understand (above English translations). So I decided to skip one day. There is nothing in the rules that says than we have to attend every session, so I didn't really think I was doing anything wrong. My journal writing, having now become mental refer - the gateway drug to my rebellion. So while the others chanted, I holed up in my room and read, feeling every second like a disobedient child about to be caught and reprimanded while staring guiltily down at the floor. Not that I didn't enjoy every minute of it. It is a great book. But the price had yet to be paid.

As I waked out at 5:30 to join the ranks of my peers filing to an afternoon tea, I now felt I didn't deserve, I felt awful. I felt like I had let down the group and myself. My anguish was palpable. I realized that even after 8 days of meditating, trying to be mindful and learning the Buddha's dhamma of the path to suffering being mindless acquiesce to cravings, I had done just that. Thinking only of myself and my desire to be freed from the drudgery of yet another afternoon chant, I gave into desire without a single opposing thought, and for my actions, I was rewarded with a lot of self-induced guilt. I have always been one to learn more form my mistakes than anything (if, of course, I learn at all) so maybe, again this was a good thing - something I needed to see - just how far I still have to go before I get to the point where I really think before I act. As I mulled this over in my head on the way back to my room, a fellow mediator, possibly alarmed by the rapidly dwindling size of our group, stopped me and whispered, "You're staying, right?" Before I could blink, my answer was out. "Unfortunately." Boy do I have a long way to go.

Tomorrow is Day 9 and I thought it would be a breeze, but it appears things get worse before they get better. There are no more talks or readings, only straight meditation. My first thoughts were of dread and of how lucky those were who got out before now, but I realized that this is just something else I have to do and to give up now would only set similar precedents for the future and lord knows I haven't been doing so well up to this point. When the going gets though...

Day 10: Hallelujah! (Or Praise Buddha!!) I made it to day 10 relatively unscathed. Yesterday we were specifically asked not to write (I guess he's noticed some of the less subtle journalers). It was actually a nice day. The "practice at your own rhythm" is nice and I managed to get in a few good sittings and walks. I was trying to contemplate happiness and what I came up with was that if happiness is just a feeling created inside yourself, with no outside stimuli necessary; then feelings in general must simply be conditioned responses to stimuli. In every day life we're conditioned to respond to certain things with happiness and to other things with aversion. If you can manage to recondition your mind, you might not be so easily swayed by every little thing. At least that is what I came up with.


Another thing I noticed today is that our group of 60ish has become a group of 30ish almost literally overnight. I guess the new rigid schedule pushed the few remaining doubters over the edge and back to civilization. It is sad because many of them were so kind to me and I had looked foreword to speaking with them. All of the younger girls who cliqued at the beginning are gone, leaving only about 14 or us 20 and 30 somethings. The men have fared better and have retained more of their numbers.

Tonight we hare "celebrating." I wonder if we'll have cake...

I can't seem to bring myself to concentrate enough to meditate today, so I’ve been rehashing my life. Previously when I've done this, I've come away at peace and gracious for the wonderful life that I’ve had, but today had me re-hashing mistakes and I realized that a lot of the regrets that I have all boil down to one thing - selfishness. I've unintentionally hurt friends and strangers alike, along the way, by feeling that I am entitled to my privacy and space, and coming across as aloof and uncaring, when I want to be the exact opposite. This morning's talk included the advice that 'the most important person in the world is the person you are dealing with at that moment.' I really need to take that to heart. So many times I just 'haven't had time' for people or have simply given myself the excuse that I am introverted, which while true, is no excuse for making anyone feel less than important. I have all these lofty morals of equality and yet I treat others differently based on my mood. I am a hypocrite. Luckily I have no real amends to be made; just a lot of work to be done from this point forward. I also realized that I hope that people who knew me in the past will learn to see me as the person I have become, not the person I was, and look upon my misdeeds with more compassion, understanding that I've changed and yet there are those for whom I still hold ill will because of wrongs committed 10 years ago. That is something of which I also need to be more aware.

Later... Tonight was absolutely amazing. It made this whole crazy rollercoaster of an experience worthwhile. It even made me think that I might do this again some day.

We had an "evening of sharing," by candlelight in the meditation hall and we finally were able to learn a little bit about each other and our respective experiences. Some people spoke of their reasons for coming: to alleviate a lifetime of suffering from loss; to get over a disastrous relationship; to come to terms with one's anger at his father; to find more stability in life; to find centeredness and connectedness with one's own mind. They talked of their experiences: of sublime joy at nature and moments of inspiration (such as the guy who saw his reflection in the lake once when he was feeling really down and his image was surrounded by raindrops that he saw as dukkha and, who later, when he was feeling much better, sat at the lack and looked back at his reflection and it smiled back up at him clear and undistorted by the rain or his own bitterness). They also shared insight, such as the man, grappling with a failed relationship, who realized that we are in this world alone and even though there is nothing to grasp on to that will be permanent, at times this can be exhilarating ("look no hands!") and another time when he was waiting in line for his second cup of tea, he became obsessed with the thought that once he got there that there wouldn't be any more, but how when he got there, the man in line in front of him tipped the can over toward him to allow him to get a full scoop and he realized that so many times there is often enough, enough tea, enough pillows, and even enough "love in the world if people would just look inside themselves." I almost cried. Another girl cried through her whole talk (a girl I had dubbed as happy and carefree) and confessed that she hadn't found similar successes and insights and that she was still as confused and miserable as she was when she came. I hadn't planned to talk, but found myself wanting to share and made my way up to the seat. Sitting, looking out at the candle-lit audience of my peers, I shared my realization halfway through this expereince, that all this suffering, in the whole scheme of things, really isn't suffering at all and there are so many others in the world that are truly suffering, a thought that helped to give me more perspective on my current situation. I also confessed to skipping chanting and talked about how I learned about dukkha first hand by coveting the coconut custard that we had one day for breakfast and looking forward to it every day just to be disappointed, when, had I been mindful enough to simply enjoy it when it was there and not attach my daily morning mood to its existence or lack there of, I would not have 'suffered.' I got a few laughs and felt good about my contribution.

Through the silent appreciation and respect, came few tears and much laughter. We found that we all had similar roller coasters from elation to despair and back again. We all coveted our 'tea,' lived for our dips in the hot springs and dreaded the long stretches of unintelligible talks. Everyone had witnessed with amazement, how our groups had formed bonds of kindness, familiarity and understanding without even knowing each others names. It was amazing to see how we were all here together, on the exact some schedule and yet all had very unique and personal experiences.

After our group love-in, we again took up our noble silence and walked silently back to the dorms for our last night at Suan Mokkh.

Saturday Morning I rolled out of bed with a smile. After the morning reading and silent meditation, we went back to the dorms to pack our bags and then to the kitchen where we could finally greet each other out loud.

We spent the morning chatting and taking photos. It was interesting to put voices and names with faces and to talk a little more in-depth about our experiences. One Australian man said something to me that stuck with me for the rest of the day. He said that once people were able to speak, he began to shy away and wanted to sit with the silence a little longer. He said that he didn't feel quite ready to launch into conversations about what he did and where he'd been and who he was. He said that he'd realized over the past 10 days that we are called 'human beings' but yet we are more often 'doing' than 'being' and that he would like to simply 'be' for a while. I felt similarly and the feeling stayed with me for the rest of the day. I moved slower, talked slower, thought slower and just was slower. It was a nice feeling and I wanted to maintain it for as long as I could.

Overall, even with the obvious 'suffering' as evidenced by my journaling, I am extremely glad that I had this experience. I had flirted with Buddhism and meditation for years, but had never really done much about it besides read a few books and attend the occasional sitting. Now, after 10 days of intimacy, while Buddhism and I will respectfully be going our separate ways, I hope to retain a lot of the practices and lessons that I learned during our short time together. I feel extremely privileged to have shared this experience with all the others and to have been let into their lives and their hearts and minds for a time; to have learned more about a religion that I still greatly respect and admire, even if I would not practice; and to have gained a little bit of peace that I can hopefully carry with me for the rest of my life.