Vipassana: Day One

The First Day we rise at an ungodly hour

or is a particularly godly hour?

and we sit:

listening to the echoes of the gong

awaiting the sun’s leisurely,

irreverent ascent

carefully shaking off her dusky shawl

brushing the residual stars

from her hair

There is sitting:

            and discomfort and

fidgeting and dozing

            and shocking awake when

gravity catches us off guard

The second bell tolls sustenance

oatmeal, stewed fruit, the comfort of hot tea

we eat to the sound of flatware on plates

because of the silence we are learning

to dance aside with deference to other

as if there was “other”

Then we sit:

            a massive organism

            each cell arranging its position

            crafting a cushion cocoon

           

We sit:

            first this way -   then that way

            searching for the best way

            bolstered into

snug shapes of semi-stillness

Breath creates the space and mind destroys it

breath creates, mind destroys –

creation, destruction

cycles of inspiration and expiration

endless and relentless and enduring and eternal

Then it is 9:00 a.m.

We sit:

            numb tingling feet

            aching spinning mind

            and finally

            breath

At the chime, the silent ones flutter apart

leaving tiny nests in their wake

each being gliding from the hall into midday

foraging for a meal,

a brief flight about the grounds,

to bask in sunlight or huddle in shelter

At noon there are nine full hours –

nine full days - to go

We sit:

            tormented by thought     

by discomfort

            by restlessness of body and mind

            by doubt and fear

by courage and cowardice

            by time’s refusal to pass -            time’s sudden departure

            time’s infuriating reluctance

to do its job

            tormented, at last, by breath itself

and its inability to remain compelling enough to warrant attention.

Two o’clock brings a cycle of stalwart resolve

followed by utter disbelief

that this is still The First Day

that someone has surely fucked with time

“I am resolute in this path,”

alternating with

“It is not possible…”

Time neither marches nor crawls

it stalls, seems to reverse, and laughs its impish laugh, skittering in the underbrush.

We sit:

            in the hall - in the dorm –

it no longer matters

            it has become impossible anywhere

            it is expected everywhere

There is no dinner, only tea,

only for new students

Then we sit

Then we sit

this unending First Day

Then we sit

It is always and ever

The First Day.

Andrine de la Rocha  1/11/11

posted 3/18/2011