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Four o'clock in the morning has nothing to do with serenity. The gong that wakes you mingles with the rushing of blood to your ears. The confusion intensifies as you attempt your feet and your hair catches the mosquito net. Deep inside, you realize that the monks have it wrong. The middle path has nothing to do with starts as savage as this. The gong tolls again and you stumble to the showers. Swallowing hard as you think about the insects which are inseparable from Thai bathing.
But that's what I signed on for. And it's the flaws of my spirit which make me complain. Ten days in Wat Khao Tham, studying meditation under an Australian-American couple, may sound like inner-peace itself.
Unfortunately, it's not all lazing under the bodhi tree. In fact, eschewing worldly cravings is a hard task. Waking at four is only the first step.
In the shower I kneel on the cement and raise a scoop of chilled water to my head. A lizard shrills hello. I tickle the creature in reply. Ghhh, ghhh, blehh! It takes fright at my prodding, and regurgitates its breakfast. "Oh no, oh sorry, I'm sorry." My apologies are interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The cough is there to remind me. No one can utter a word for the next nine days. A condition necessary to achieve insight. One I have no trouble implementing with the strangers around me, but which slips from mind in my shower-room conversations.
"Remember, food is merely fuel for the body. Do not fixate on its taste.
Recall how lucky we are to be fed."
I repeat the lesson of the previous day as my bowl is filled. A nun handles the ladle. She looks kindly and tired. Taking my seat, I try not to gag as I eat the gruel-smeared pasta. Merely fuel, merely fuel, produces the taste of gasoline in my mouth. I cup my hand to expel the dreaded fuel. And find, to my surprise, that the idea of those less fortunate prevents me.
The next morning's gong produces a similar disassociation. I untangle myself from the net, stumble to the shower, and groan as the water shocks my body. The lizard is there. Waiting. I don't touch her, I am happy to gloat about the previous day. Sssshhhhhh!!! The cubicle next to me interrupts. I am in the wrong and bite my tongue.
"There once was a farmer who found a wild colt. Luck, his neighbor said.
He sent his son to break the horse in. The boy fell and smashed his arm.
The farmer's neighbor said this was unfortunate. The war came. The young men of town went away and were killed. The boy couldn’t go because of his injury. The neighbor said it was a lucky fall. Good luck, bad luck? Who knows?"
After dinner there is time to wash and contemplate the day's lessons. I use the darkness to explore Wat Khao Tham. My favorite hideaway is the pagoda housing the morning gong. There, I sit on a low bench and watch the moon shine high above. On the breeze I hear the merriment of Hat Rin's full moon party. I wish myself there, and promise that the first thing I'll do when I am free is get drunk.
All this I relate to the lizard over the following days. The mornings are becoming easier and the shushes louder. The disciples sit, stand, and walk in meditation. All in silence, eyes averted. Yoga becomes a favorite exercise. I use the exhalations to sneak words like, "oh man." Despite my complaints my body responds to the activity and regularity of schedule.
"Remember, the body is flesh, and flesh is ephemeral. Your body is a vehicle for the spirit. When you decay, your spirit survives, to be reborn until you attain full awareness."
The final morning I jump from the bamboo and am outside before the gong strikes. We will have an hour of talking time today, as a special treat. I make the shower and lean against the cubicle door. It's locked. Somebody's in there. I wait. Wd-goatee I've tagged all the weary disciples with nicknames (wd-roommate, wd-showercougher, wd-breasts) - emerges. I take his place and scan frantically for my lizard. She isn't there.
"Um," I corner goatee in the meditation room, "did you see a lizard this morning?" His eyebrows arch. "He lives in the shower, he was my friend and..." A blurry haze of tears fills my eyes. My face trembles and my nose scrunches. "It's just I..." The goateed man places his arm around me.
For the first time in my life I allow myself to cry. Bundles of emotion stream from the past. The mood catches the room and a few more breakdown.
I breathe deeply and try to reclaim myself.
"These ten days you have all worked hard. The effort you put in is reflected in the rewards you receive. Only you can know your soul. I am proud to see so many make a contribution. For me, you are my children, you will all be, forever, a part of me."
The nun ends our ten day retreat. I take leave of the disciples after exchanging names, and descend the dirt road separating Wat Khao Tham from reality. I return to my bungalow, Liberty, and hail a songthaew for Hat Rin. There, I find a bar and order one Pernod and a Singha. Calculated to transform the days of sobriety into an aberration.
"Jack? It’s me, Mike!" My ex-roommate finds me there. He also balances a spirit and a beer. We talk about the days spent on the mountain and the things we unintentionally learned. The conversation lasts most of the night and never once strays to the standard topics of beer, drugs and bargirls.
When the bar closes we head our separate ways. The drinks we leave behind are both warm and untouched.
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