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In tents

A few months ago this intrepid journalist embarked on a journey of self-discovery and enlightenment, of sitting still for very long periods of time and sleeping in wet sleeping bags. It was a silent ten-day meditation camp, a kind of ‘Buddhist Boot Camp’ or ‘Karmic Kamping Trip’ at Dhamma Padipa, the Vipassana Meditation Centre in Brookton, Western Australia.

Months before the journey, when I sent in the application form, I imagined quaint little wooden huts with simple wooden futons and grass mats on the floor to sit cross-legged upon. I imagined floating from my private hut each morning in the cool still air of dawn to gather in the open hall with my fellow spiritual mountaineers. Herbal tea, soft chanting and floppy muslin pants.

Thwang! The gong sounds at 4am outside of my freezing wet tent as I try to figure out which part of my numb corpse is my head and which is my ass. The woman who was ranting in her sleep all night in the tent next to me is yawning so loudly it sounds like someone is pulling out her tonsils. It’s pitch black, it’s below zero degrees, it’s 4am and I’m supposed to go and meditate in a shed now.

Vipassana is one of India’s most ancient meditation techniques rediscovered by Gotama the Buddha more than 2500 years ago. Vipassana is a Pali term meaning “seeing things as they really are”. The technique involves first focusing on your natural breath in and out, in and out and then moves to observing sensations such as heat, numbness, nothingness or pain throughout the body. One must remain “equanimous” or unruffled by any of these sensations felt. To lose one’s sense of equanimity is to succumb, like becoming the victim of one’s own anger or jealousy. If you can remain detached and observe these sensations arising and passing then one can learn to master them.

The red puffy parker that my father wore in Antarctica is barely keeping me warm as I sit in the dark room listening to the teacher chant and the guy in the corner snore. I’ve got four pillows piled on my lap that I’m trying to rest my head on and sleep whilst sitting in a crossed leg position so as not to break the rule of “no lying down in the meditation hall”. My spinal column creaks and my knees and ankles reciprocate with straining and squeaking. I have to maintain this position for two hours…It’s 4am.

By day four I was learning to “observe” my physical pain rather than indulgently abhor it. Nonetheless at frequent moments of weakness I encountered extreme sensations of heat or cold in my nasal passage, a sinus pain that felt as if my head were in a vice grip being cranked by a smirking robed guru. Various indiscriminate burning and prickling sensations arose and passed away. An unbearable leg tingling became apparent in days seven through to nine, a sensation that was similar to the final stages of pins and needles where the delicate tickling borders an excruciating buzzing sensation.

But as the teacher said in his nightly video discourses, these sensations were impermanent and would arise and then pass away, arise and pass away…annica, annica (‘ah-neech-ah’) he would chant in the evening, impermanence, impermanence.

One of the promises participants must make is, for the period of the course, to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual activity, speaking falsely, and intoxicants. Further rules upheld in the centre are the segregation of sexes, complete “noble” silence for ten days, no physical contact nor eye contact or gestures, no physical exercise, no religious objects, no tobacco and no reading, writing or music. All of these activities could be a distraction to other meditators or to one’s own concentration.

In “noble silence” much can be heard. During group sittings in the hall, we communicated through hunger pains as our stomachs groaned out mournful melodious calls like whales of the deep unconscious. As meditators shifted silently about the camp, the sounds of farting and burping followed. It seemed this silence wasn’t so noble after all. To me it was strange that people felt the best way to achieve the encouraged sense of isolation and aloneness was to emit body gas as if no one were actually there to hear it. They let it rip like a classical wind orchestra. One woman showed an immaculate sense of timing as she coughed loudly every seventy-five seconds, every seventy-five seconds without fail…for ten days.

I must say though, hunger noises aside, the food was some of the tastiest vegetarian food I’d had in my life. The helpings were so big that at the end of the course I had trouble feeling the lightened in enlightened. 

From day five we were encouraged to maintain our seated position without movement for an hour, what they called “a sitting of strong determination”. I called it the “power hour” and it hurt real bad. It was all starting to get to me by then, I’d walk to the furthest corner of the property and sneak glimpses of my car in the bottom paddock. I felt like a puppy whining for it’s owner locked out at night- the real world, the real world, what were all my friends doing on a Friday night in the real world? I had to constantly reassure and remind myself that I chose to be there, it could be worse; I could be in a patchwork quilting group or a labour camp or some kind of Christian Campers Expedition. I put myself back together again each afternoon and shuffled to the hall to concentrate my brain out.

As I mentally ticked off the days in my head, Goenka’s nightly discourses soothed my anxieties as I fell asleep in my tent-temple or what I called the “tentple”. Heavy winds tugged at my pegging expertise and light rain tapped on the tarpaulin cover while I listened to the Blair Witch-like sounds of male foxes calling to lady foxes. Uncannily and most unfortunately this mating call sounded exactly like a woman screaming in terror.

For five days I didn’t shower- it was just too damn cold once you got out of the stall. Before I left, I figured the showering facilities would be minimal to non-existent and as noble silence prevailed no one could complain whether I stank or not… well, at least not verbally. Refreshingly though, the shower and toilet block provided warm water and clean loos. Previous to arriving, I’d pictured “long-drops” and dug out dirt holes so I’d prepared for the worst. In fact, I’d worked up some rock hard quads and a swift squatting action if the case need be. The truly enlightened ones though, emerged from the showers at 4 am, quickly towelling down before the water formed a thin layer of ice across their goose pimpled skin.

288 hours later (it was a ten day course but because the first and last days didn’t count we got twelve days in total- kinda like a buy one and get two you didn’t want for free deal) we emerged from within ourselves and experimented with the first few words of speech. It was like speaking for the first time, in fact my own voice reverberated in my head so loudly that I felt giddy and nauseous...for a while. Eventually the inner Woody Allen in me materialized and I crapped on inanely for hours and hours. Had I learnt so little?

Amber Spear, 26, has completed two 10-day courses this year and is heading off for her third next week. She has tried other forms of meditation but prefers Vipassana. “It’s a technique of meditation that’s not sectorial or paganistic or religious… it’s based on morality, purification of mind and wisdom.”

Amber is a yoga teacher and spends time meditating throughout the day in her classes. “Mediation brings you back into the present moment,” she explains, “ and it quietens the mind and helps you to deal with the everyday stresses that occur in normal-day life.”

In the end I survived it. I didn’t hate it and I didn’t love it. Perhaps I took a step closer to enlightenment but the true value of this spiritual journey to me was a sense of satisfaction, of achievement and self-discipline. For a ravenous socialite I’d learnt that I could enjoy the silence of my own company and that there was a way for me to get enlightened if I needed it. In a world where everything’s easy until you give it up, I’d tested myself and passed…stiff back, greasy hair, 4am and all.

Vipassana courses are entirely free of charge and the upkeep of the centres is supported by voluntary donations from old students wishing to help others experience the benefits of Vipassana meditation. Dhamma Padipa in Brookton has been designed and constructed almost entirely by volunteer workers.

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