This is the second part in 'What's Next?' - if you haven't read the first part, please find it here: What's Next ? - Part 1
Frieda
and I arrived at the Buddhist centre and were greeted by the sight of about 30
people with no shoes on. I decided to go comfortable and wear my trackies, but Frieda
decided on one of her ethnic suits; suitable for Glastonbury festival. We joined
the group and Frieda
looked at the bookcase. She read some of the titles ‘The Bodhisattva Way of
Life’, ‘Buddhism for Beginners’, ‘Meditation for All’ and I heard her mutter, ‘No
sex books then.’
I sat down,
wondering what to do with myself, no one spoke to me and everyone else seemed
to know each other. I wondered if we had missed the first part of the evening.
A man stood
up and rang a bell, he was balding slightly and his belly protruded from
his elastic waistband pants. He laughed lightly, ‘Er, hi to all of
those who have never attended one of these evenings before and hello to the
regulars.’ He waved at us all - Frieda and I glanced at each other.
‘This is
a regular drop in session we hold every Thursday night where we undertake a
meditation session, either a meditation on the breath or on loving kindness,
which in Pali is called Metta Bhavanna. After that we will have a talk and if
you want you can ask questions. Obviously we are all allowed a cup of tea in between.’ He laughed like he heard the funniest joke ever, everyone smiled as they shared the joke. This must be some Buddhist humour I hadn’t come
across. ‘So without any further ado, let’s enter the shrine room and start our
meditation.’
We got
up and entered another bright yellow room. On one side there was a shelf
stuffed full of pillows and blankets. We all took a couple, careful to make
sure everyone got something and sat on the floor. Some people made intricate
arrangements and others sat on hardly anything. Everyone covered themselves
with a blanket. I grabbed only a couple of pillows and sat down next to Frieda
who had made herself a tiny mountain. When she sat she towered above everyone.
The pot
bellied Buddhist started talking again, ‘Please make sure that when sitting
your knees are supported and that you are very stable. Your spine has to be
upright and straight.’ He sat down with the tiniest pillow and crossed his legs,
with his feet poking out beside his knees.
‘This is full lotus position - this is how
many of the Buddhas sat. Please do not try and sit like this if you are not
used to it because after a couple of minutes you will get cramp and not be able
to meditate, but have a go if you want.’ Some people tried and started
laughing. I had a go but thought better of it when searing pain attacked my
knee. I settled into a normal cross-legged position instead, pretending not
to have tried at all.
The Buddhist
man spoke again, ‘You can change position throughout the meditation but try and
do it with minimal disturbance to the other meditators.’ After a moment, we all
looked suitably Buddha-like, except Frieda, who just looked odd, and he asked
us to close our eyes throughout the meditation.
‘Tonight we are going to start mindfulness of
breathing. This will last 20 minutes and has four stages to it. For the first
stage, all I will ask you to do is focus on your breath, as it comes in, as it
goes out, just your natural breath. This breath is not to be forced in anyway.
There is nothing else to it.’ He rang the bell.
I closed
my eyes and focused on my breath and before I knew it my stomach made a little
noise and I thought about last night, watching Shoobs eat veggie korma, my
favourite meal. In my mind, I heard Shoobs asking me to get some Garam Masala as
we were running out on the way home from work. This made me think about work
and being in the office again tomorrow. The office reminded me it’s
Sandy’s birthday so there will probably be cakes... then I thought about those
lovely lemon cakes Sandy’s Mum makes and then my Mum appeared in my head, which
made me think I have to ring her tomorrow or she might start ringing hospitals
and police stations. I then wondered if her and dad will buy me that dress I want
for my birthday, which made me think of my favourite dress which I wore to the university ball, which made me think about Callum who picked me up that night,
which made me think of Callum’s when he saw me, which made me think about his
face, which mades me think about his body and then there were thoughts of him,
of him, of him, of him.....
The bell chimed.
‘Part two of the meditation - count before
you breathe. So, gently now, one, breathe in and out, two, breathe in and out,
three, breathe in and out. Remember to bring your mind back to your breath.’
And I am
back to my breath again. 'Ah, yes,' I thought, 'That’s what I am here for, to meditate.'
‘One,' breathe in and out.
'Two,' breathe in and out.
'Three,' breathe in, 'Wow I am doing great here,'
and out.
'Four,' breathe in, 'I wonder how Freeds is
doing…' and out.
'Five,' breathe in, 'My knees are starting to
hurt,' and out.
'Six,' breathe in...’
‘Please try and bring your awareness to your
breath. If any thoughts arise, let them pass and come back to your breath.’
‘Oh man, I have lost my place...right, back
to the beginning. One.' Breathe in and out.
'Two,' breathe in and out.
'Three,' breathe in and out.
'Four,' breathe in, 'My knees are tingling,' and
out.
'Five,' breathe in, 'My knees hurt,' and out.
'Six, my knees are really not comfortable.'
'Seven,' breathe in and out.
'Eight,' breathe in, 'Aaoow my knees,' out.
'Nine, aaoow my knees…'
'Ten. Okay I am going to have to move my legs.'
'Eleven, okay which knee should I move?'
'Twelve,
right knee.'
'Thirteen... Hey, wait a minute, thirteen?’
I moved my
right leg straight out ahead of me, aahhh, sweet blessed relief.I started to straddle the pillow.
One,
breathe in and out, two, breathe in and out.
‘Okay now we move into the third stage of the
meditation...this time you breathe in and out and then count. So breathe in,
out, one, breathe in, out, two and so on.’
Already?
I was just getting used to the other counting.
Breathe
in and out, 'One.'
Breathe
in out, 'Two.'
Breathe
in out, 'Three'
Breathe
in out, ‘What’s that smell? Four’
Breathe
in, 'I don’t want to breathe in that’s disgusting, five.'
Breathe
in, 'Is that Frieda? Six.'
Breathe
in slightly, 'That’s really sick, seven.'
Breathe
in slightly less, 'I hope no one thinks that was one of mine, eight.'
Breathe
in a tiny amount, 'I hope this is will pass.'
Breathe
in, 'It seems to be fading...'
'What number am I at? I wonder if anyone else can smell this fart
or if they are actually deep in meditation. I don’t think I’m doing this
meditation thing right. What’s the point of focusing on your breath anyway?
What a waste of time, I shouldn’t have bothered coming, I could be at home
watching TV.’
‘Please come back to the breath.’
'Right, okay.' Breathe
in, out, one, in, out, two, in, out, three, in out, four, in, out, five. ‘I
wonder if Shoobs has invited any of his friends home tonight? How did the
Buddha put up with the pins and needles in his feet? Surely the lotus position
must have given him cramp?'
Breathe
in, out, one, in, out, two, in, out, three...
‘And now we enter the last part of the
meditation, just focus upon the breath as it is, but also focus upon the area
where the breath touches the skin as it goes in, as it goes out, naturally.’
Okay, my
nose... I feel a little tickling around the edge of my nose, breathing in,
breathing out, breathing in, breathing out. I can feel my breath touching my
nose, I can feel it touching my skin. Breathing in, breathing out.
‘If you are sensitive enough, try and feel
the different temperatures of your breath. As your breath goes into your body
it is at a cool temperature. As it comes out of your body it is much warmer.
Just notice this. Always focus upon your breath.’
Oh
yeah... so it is warmer. Does that make me sensitive then? Breathing in, out,
in, out, in, out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in......... out.......
in....... out....... in out in out iiiinnnnnnn
ooooooooouuuuuuutttttttttt
My head
jerks up.
The bell
rings.
‘Okay, in your own time I want you to slowly
move your fingers, then your toes and then your limbs. Once you have done this,
you can open your eyes.’
I opened
my eyes and found myself surrounded by mini Buddhas in candlelight, I looked
around to see Frieda and she looked like she had just had a session with Bob Marley. She smiled at me, blissfully sleepy eyed. ‘Damn. Frieda just
meditated. Frieda looked like the last twenty minutes were the most chilled of
her life. Why am I not like that? Why can’t I meditate? I want to look blissed
out and cool. Why can Frieda do it and not me?’
‘Before we go outside for a cup of tea, I
want you to talk to whoever is beside you and share your experiences.’
I couldn’t
face Frieda so I looked the other way and there was a young blonde lady sitting
beside me with her head in her hands. I coughed to signal my presence and
she looked up at me, long light blonde hair falling around her face.
‘Well... do you want to share?’ I asked
hesitantly.
‘That was one of the most deepest meditations
of my life,’ she told me. ‘I feel like I have been on another planet,’ she took
a deep breath in and smiled.
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I thought we just had to
meditate on the breath.’ I felt confused - another planet? The Buddhist guy
didn’t say anything about other planets. I knew I had missed a bit of the
evening, trust me to miss the science fiction part.
‘Yeah, well, I was focusing on my breath and
then all of a sudden it was the end of the meditation. It was amazing!’
I shifted
on my pillow, glad to let blood rush to my feet. ‘I thought we were just
supposed to meditate on the breath,’ repeating myself again, feeling like a
failure because I was crap at meditation. I couldn’t even sit down properly for
twenty minutes.
‘Focusing on the breath is a vehicle to help
you attain a certain type of Samadhi,’ blonde girl said, her eyes misting over.
‘Oh right, samadhi, right, yes,’ I was
uncomfortable now as I was way out of my depth. Samadhi? What’s that?
‘So what about you?’ she turned to me.
‘Well this is my first time,’ I said.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ the blonde girl said
confidently. ‘Sometimes it takes a while to settle the mind.’
A while?
It was going to take a whole lifetime just to count to ten! ‘Yeah, I expect a
few sessions will do it,’ I said.
Frieda
tapped me on the shoulder and grinned, ‘Time for tea, let’s see if there are
any biscuits.’
We had
our tea and a custard cream each and the whole room came to life. Everyone,
joined together by the shared experience of sitting in the same room in silence
for twenty minutes, suddenly felt at ease with each other. I sat on the chair
in a depressed state whilst Frieda scouted for cute boys. I couldn’t
bear to look at anyone in case they asked me how my meditation went, so I stood
up and looked at the posters on the wall, my back determinedly facing the
people around me. I saw a board specifically for retreats. A list underneath
the next retreat in Scotland was nearly full, the deadline was in two week’s
time. I stared at the rest of advertisements and events and pretended I was
interested.
The bell
rang. Pot belly started to talk, ‘Please could you place your cups in the tea trays
in the corner as that would be most helpful for the volunteers and make your
way back to the shrine room for the talk.’
Someone came
up to him and whispered in his ear, ‘Oh yes, that’s right. This centre is run
solely on donations and volunteers. Our suggested donation for tonight is ₤5
but if you are unemployed, a student or anything like that, it’s ₤3. Please
give as much as you can.’ We put our cups on the trays, gave ₤3 reasoning that
being broke entered under the heading of ‘anything like that’ and went back to
our places in the other room.
Another
man sat at the front of the room and he watched and smiled at us all as we got
comfortable. He was really small with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His
hands looked soft and graceful, sitting on his lap. He didn’t move, was totally
at peace, yet his eyes seemed alive, like two sparklers being played with a
week after bonfire night. Automatically I liked this man. I had never seen him
before, he hadn’t yet spoken but it just made me happy to look at him. We sat
down expectantly to hear what he had to say.
He looked
around and said, ‘Who are you angry with in your life at the moment? Who do you
hate?’ He looked at all of us, ‘Who are you not talking to? Who have you had a
cross word with today? Who are you blaming for the events that are causing you
misery in your life? These are big questions. Just sit and think about this for
a moment.’
After a
while, the Buddhist started speaking again, ‘These questions and answers are
your first step towards finding peace in your life. When you are not angry,
when you do not hate, when you feel comfortable and free to talk with everyone
and anyone in a harmonious manner and when you stop blaming yourself and others
for the events that happen to you, suddenly you will find you will become a great
deal more peaceful. You will become more of a human BE-ing.’
At the
end of the talk Frieda and I walked down Gloucester Road arm in arm, and Frieda
started to sing James Brown’s, ‘I Feel Good.’ I started laughing at her, at her insistence on having a good time, even if she did receive a few
perplexed looks from those sharing the pavement.
She
looked at me, saw my pained expression, and then gave me the biggest hug.
‘Beth, it’s only one night in many. Don’t worry so much. You don’t have to go
back,’ she released me and smiled.
‘Do you want to?’ I asked her. Please say no.
Please say no. Please say no.
‘Yeah, I think I will. It’s a bit different
to the pub and there was a really lovely guy there. And... I don’t know. I
liked the whole not thinking bit, don’t do it often enough...what about you?’
Say no,
come on Beth, you felt out of place and uncomfortable, it was hellish. ‘Yeah, I
think I might.’
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘We can be Buddhist
buddies.’
‘As long as I don’t have to shave my head.’
‘Nah, but I might buy some robes though... I
am sure I could incorporate them into my wardrobe somehow.’
....
‘So how did it go?’ Shoobs looked up from his
medical text book which showed pictures of arms and what they look like
inside. Dilbert sat on the table next to the book, brushing his head on the
hard back corners. I sat down on the couch and leaned back, ‘I can’t do it.’ I
looked up at him, ‘I am not very good at doing nothing for twenty minutes and I was forced to smell someone's fart.’
Shoobs
smiled whilst patting Dilbert, carefully making sure he didn’t lose his
page, ‘Did they have you chanting?’
‘Chanting? No, there was just a meditation
and a talk afterwards. Frieda really got into it. She wants to go again.’
‘Are you going to go again?’
‘I don’t know,’ I shrugged my shoulders
despondently.
‘You can’t give up on the first hurdle,
Bettine. I remember my Mum used to say to me that it’s harder to stop the
passing wind then it is to stop the wanderings of your mind.’
‘Is your Mum a Buddhist?’
‘No, a Hindu, but Hindus still think of the
Buddha as a God. There are many aspects of God,’ Shoobs drained a cup of tea,
looked inside the cup and back up at me. ‘Are you making one?’
‘Er..’
‘Go on, help a struggling student...’ he held
his mug in the air.
‘Yarrow, peppermint, green or dandelion?’
‘Normal’
...
I took Dilbert
upstairs with me and laid on my bed for a while. Dilbert started to walk about
the room, checking out the smells and rubbing his scent glands on my mp3 player.
I thought about the night I had just experienced and the questions the Buddhist
asked us. I wondered at my own inability to answer the questions, how I would
much rather not answer the questions. I would prefer to already have
the answers and be someone who is at peace in their
lives. Dilbert finished his round, sat on my legs and started to paw my
trousers, digging his claws into my skin. I moved him off my legs, got up and
put some music on.
I sat
back on my chair and listened to the music, it was a uni mix and I was
transported back. Back to a time when this feeling inside me was only a nagging
inkling that could be drowned by a quick trip to the pub for a pint or failing
that, smoked out by the contents of a white and gold packet with light sticks
inside. Sometimes if the nagging became a full scale shouting match I would
just up the volume on my stereo and blast it out. It seemed enough to get rid
of this thought at the time, this feeling that is affecting me now, this feeling of endless
emptiness, with no way to fill it up.
When I
was young, my Mum and Dad said to me, ‘Follow your dreams, be independent, do
what is right for you.’ Now I am at a crossroad where I just don’t know what to
do. Not really. Nothing. What is it all for?
People have asked me, ‘What are your plans? If you follow these you will be happy.’ But what plans do I have? None except to get rid of
this feeling that I am wasting my life, my breath, on these made up goals I have created. What’s the point in having dreams? If I complete them, more will
arrive and take their place and then I will start the process again. It has
started to feel like I am filling in time until I die.
When I
meet my old friends, I scour their faces to see if they are feeling this too,
to see if they can see that something is missing from their lives. There seemed to be meaning when we were at school because the goal then was to
become an adult. But school doesn’t teach you about the meaning of an adult’s
life, or the purpose of it, they just show you how to fill it up. Learn to read
and write. Learn to add up. When I meet them they talk like proper adults; about
children or mortgages and are quite happy with their filled up lives. And when
I say that I am still living in rented accommodation with my best friend,
working in an office with no career in mind, usually they sympathise
with me because it must be just awful to have no husband, kids or
mortgage. Even my Mum and Dad, the ones who told me to follow my own path, want
to know when they will have grandchildren and when I will stop wasting my life
and get a proper job.
Then a
song came on that transported me back to university proper and in my mind I saw Callum
waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking up at me with my coat in
his hand, saying, ‘Are you ready?’ We walked out of the house towards
the brink of this adult life that awaited us. A place where Cal cared, where Cal
thought nothing of calling me, of knocking on my door, of talking to me, of
reading with me, of lying beside me, of letting his skin melt, and his skin
would just melt. We would just melt...
Continued Part 3: What's Next? - Part 3
Other long stories can be found here: Gracie's long
stories
Follow me here...
Twitter: Gracie's Twitter Page
Facebook: Gracie's
FB page
Google +: Gracie's
Google + page
