Every morning when I awake,
I am reborn.
The self of yesterday is a memory that functions as a useful guide.
The habits and routines I have in place make a certain amount of automaticity evident.
Get up,
Meditate,
Walk,
Shower,
Coffee and breakfast,
Or not,
And so on.
If,
However,
I were to take a snapshot of my world at exactly the same time every day,
We would find differences at all levels from the gross to the minute.
The larger cycles of time,
Season,
And date are obviously in play,
But so too are the day-to-day,
Hour-by-hour,
Minute-by-minute,
And second-by-second swirls of energetic movement that ensures that we live precipitously balanced on the edge of an abyss of constant change,
In which absolutely nothing endures.
Even I appears to be a fiction.
We could say that the only reason we do not all go barking mad at once is that we are taught to believe that what we experience as reality is stable and reliable.
However,
When that belief is undermined through the myriad types of loss we face,
Through the simple fact of living and being alive,
Then fear and anxiety can send us into a tailspin.
We suffer because what we are emotionally attached to,
And invested in,
Is ephemeral.
A friend of mine once scoffed at the idea I gave voice to that all human endeavour is due to desire.
It is desire that propels us to seek comfort when we are uncomfortable,
To eat when we are hungry,
To socialise when we are lonely,
To create stability and order where chaos reigns.
The basic desire to fit in with our peers will work to modify our behaviours so that we become like them,
Rather than risk the chance of being outcast and susceptible to the vagaries of the environment.
The trouble is,
Though,
That as we expend efforts to fit in and fulfil our desires,
That we become thoroughly attached to the idea of a separate and individual self with unique personality traits,
Ideas,
Opinions and possessions.
There arises the idea of mine as opposed to yours,
Or further definitions that divide the us from the them,
With perceived differences in statehood and religious beliefs having expressed themselves in conflict and war.
The reality is that when we become aware of our propensity to attach to self,
Person,
Place and thing,
That we can release ourselves gradually from this bondage through the gentle art of non-engaged observation.
Oddly enough,
What emerges over time is not some callous and distance automaton,
But a compassion-filled nature that loves and nurtures the ephemeral even more.
A certain paradox.
Watch,
Observe,
And be.
The mind sets before us one distraction after another,
In a never-ending story about self that seeks to entertain.
It swiftly creates these trains of fantasy from snippets of fact,
Embroiders it further with fictions recalled from memory,
Adding senses and feelings to arrive at what we so erroneously call the present moment.
It all makes even less sense when we realise that the thoughts and feelings we are aware of are already done and dusted.
Even though a matter of milliseconds,
It simply is not possible to think of yourself in any present moment.
So,
Here we are then.
Mobaram,
Chiba,
Vipassana Centre.
For the sixth time.
Surprisingly good coffee.
Usually,
As more often than not,
Stepping out beyond the perimeters of the big city in Japan also means stepping back in time to supermarket shelves filled with dried fish and squid products,
White bread,
And cafes that sell lukewarm drip coffee that tastes like it's been standing in the same forgotten pot for over a month.
Not in this case.
I'm sitting in Cafe Adriano in Mobaram and working on my second double espresso macchiato.
I need to tank up on the coffee as I'm about to head out for yet another 12-day caffeine-free vegetarian retreat.
The proprietor of Adriano recognises me from my previous visits and I'm hoping he will also notice the bright shining halo about my angelic visage as my impending enlightenment bursts forth and advertises itself to the world and beyond.
But no,
He looks at me once and says,
まあ、ちょっと太ったね。 Which can be nicely translated to,
Dude,
You're getting fat.
I was about to point out that the dried-up looking cheesecake on the counter looked suspiciously like the one he had airing there the year before,
But I hold back,
Waft pleasant thoughts at him,
And contemplate another coffee.
I look at my watch and grudgingly have to put my third cup of coffee on hold as it is time to board the bus.
At the bus stop,
My head pleasantly aware with caffeine,
The coarse attendees start to appear from the station.
The usual range of products,
Packs,
Long skirts,
Scarves,
Bandanas,
Suitcases,
As well as the usual assorted range of people ranging from the relatively young to the old and cranky.
We pack ourselves onto the bus with the locals by now very much used to the odd assortment of people and baggage that signal the start of yet another retreat.
The trip out to the site takes us through the town of Mobara,
Past tiny rusty snack bars with no doubt their own generationally loyal patrons,
And further out through the rice fields,
Stands of tall bamboo,
Increasingly narrow footpath-like roads,
And eventually to what has now become my annual pilgrimage,
The Chiba Vipassana Centre.
Slowly the place is changing.
There are some additional dormitories for women.
The ablution areas are now more permanent.
There is a sense these folk are here to stay,
And the regular 60 or so people who attend every month around the year reinforce that.
I have helped out on retreat a number of times now.
I know firsthand the hard work it takes to prepare the daily meals,
Keep the place clean and comfortable for the meditators.
Yes,
It is free to attend,
But bills still have to be paid.
For a single person to attend a 12-day retreat,
The costs are around 5,
000 yen per day.
Bear in mind that you could easily attend,
Benefit from the experience,
And simply walk away from it,
But it does mean that someone else somewhere is paying for your experience.
It's called charity,
Or Dana.
These days my mind is not engaged in ceaseless chatter that it once was.
I know that there exists a peace beyond the noise.
I also know how to get there.
Is this due to Vipassana practice,
Or is it through inquiry and self-reflection over extended space of time?
When I sit to meditate,
There is a grounding that takes place.
As the mind clears,
It is not necessary to direct it to sensation or to follow the breath.
The taped discourses of Goenkar fade into the background and become part of the colour,
But not the essence.
A simple surrender to what is,
Is all that is necessary.
I let go and I sit.
Many thanks for the peace.
Many thanks for the opportunity.
