Extracts from a report on the Silent Illumination retreat of February 2015.
Thursday
Simon gives another amazing, and uncannily accurate, Dharma talk. It is a huge relief to hear about compassion in Chan. Simon says, “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re all on a solitary retreat” – that would explain it! If this is a solitary retreat, albeit with supportive conditions, no wonder I’ve been feeling lonely.
I need to drop the words, the concepts.
Going to see Simon for my second interview is like going to see Father Christmas: I wait my turn; draw back the curtain on my approach; and there is a man with a white beard, a gentle demeanour, and kind eyes. But it’s not a matter of exchanging pleasantries and getting a present, although that’s what I’d like… I trip over my words, glad to be talking, trying to cover everything from the last couple of days, wanting to present a nice, ordered summary.
And then, BLAM! Simon is too good at this, dammit. “Are you here, now?” “I think so, yes…” “Who are you?” I start to squirm. “I am a small knot of anxiety in my stomach.” “Is that because we are going off script?” No – and that’s true. The problem is that I’ve been here before, on retreat with Ken Jones, and I know what’s coming next. And I don’t think I’m going to like it. I talk about expectations, my need to control, not feeling good enough, etc. etc. I tell him about the poster I like; Relax – Nothing Is Under Control. I should get a copy for my noticeboard. Simon points out that he doesn’t have any expectations – and nor is it likely that anyone else here has any, given that we’re in silence. He continues to probe; “Why can’t you let go? Why is it so hard to let go? Would you miss it?” “No…” (OF COURSE NOT, YOU IDIOT, I scream silently – what a relief it would be to just let go of all this old crap! I’m sick of peeling back the layers of the onion, and always getting to this same place.) “Do you want to keep hold of it? Do you identify with it? What is it attached to?”
I just about manage to stumble back to my cushion before the floodgates open. The tears spill onto my cheeks as the rain runs down the window panes. I wipe my nose on my sleeve. The trails of snot look like a snail has crawled over my arm.
At the lunch table, I think about vulnerability. And then it hits me. What I’m attached to is a self-view of a tough exterior, and a vulnerable, gentle interior, which needs to be protected and nurtured like a flower. That is a LIE. Even if it was ever true, it’s not the case any more; I’m not who I was.
There is no central core to the onion.
The earth tilts on its axis. It’s like having a rug pulled from under my feet. I feel like I have been cracked open.
I remember the line from the contract for the retreat – we are each here with our own “peculiar koan”. How can I break this habit? I need to question how I see myself, and notice how others see me. I need to be open; not being protective of an imaginary characteristic.
My internal radio plays Marc Almond:
Something’s gotten hold of my heart
Keeping my soul and my senses apart
Something’s gotten into my life
Cutting its way through my dreams like a knife
Turning me up, turning me down
Making me smile, making me frown.
Before the afternoon meditation, Dave makes an announcement about the toilets. He can’t resist a joke – “Make Your Minds Shite” – and we all fall about laughing. It’s a good release of energy. Mark catches something in his hands, and I get up to open the door of the Chan Hall, breaking the rule of going clockwise round the room to get to him in time. I look at him questioningly; “A butterfly”, he responds. “Go well”, I whisper, as he releases it.
I go out for the afternoon walk, despite the rain, and decide to walk down to the crow skeleton. Perhaps that memento mori will help me reflect on impermanence. When I get there, it doesn’t make me feel any better. I stand and look at it for a while as the rain soaks me to the skin, then turn back again.
Bright orange brick dust. Rows of raindrops hang from the gate and thorny hedge.
My internal radio plays a whole list of songs:
Burt Bacharach:
Make it easy on yourself
’cause breaking up
is so very hard to do
Clannad:
Why must I worry? Try not to hurry like other people
Why must I hurry?
’Cause you know yourself
That’s not the way
Morcheeba:
It’s all part of the process
We all love looking down
All we want is some success
But the chance is never around.
I am in a foul mood. Suddenly, I realise I am feeling very sorry for my SELF.
This is the charnel ground. I think of the horse from Ren and Stimpy; “No Sir, I didn’t like it”.
At the end of the day, Simon gives us some wise words – we need to keep going; this is not the time for a summing up; don’t coast along until the end; keep practising. Dammit, he’s right again! It’s like he’s some sort of telepathic genius.
Friday
I dream about a Christian Union party in Paris, where we all play Scrabble.
I have the beginnings of a cold, and get carried away with thoughts of frustration (Who gave me this cold? The rest of the week is ruined!) before remembering to investigate what’s actually going on, not what I imagine is happening. It turns out to be a slight sore throat, and nothing more; a couple of paracetamol and a scarf, and I feel okay.
Simon talks about The Method of No Method.
And then in meditation, when I think It will elude me, because of tiredness, or circular thoughts, or a cold, It arises; clear and bright, energy flowing.
Saturday
Simon has some sage words for us about the past and future. Memories and planning are natural and helpful; obsessing about them is not. What can we change with our minds during our sitting? Not much…
You are not the same person you were when you arrived.
Instead of having a cup of tea, I grab a pear, and sneak in to the Chan Hall. In the silence, alone, I make my offerings to the Buddha. I feel immense gratitude for all those who have helped me along the path so far.
After the final meditations, Simon announces that there are three people taking refuge for the first time. Not strictly true, I think; I’ve been going for refuge for many years now. And yet, it is the first time that THIS me is going for refuge, in THIS context. It is a beautiful ceremony, with lots to process. We are given our Dharma names: Maria is Always Radiant, Mark is Always Caring, and I am Always Investigating. They feel very fitting.
Afterwards…
The thing I am most struck by in writing up my notes is that there was nothing I didn’t already “know” at an intellectual level – impermanence, non-self etc. etc. – but it is the physical experience of understanding the Dharma that has such a profound effect. It is impossible to describe what goes on in, and as a result of, hours upon hours of meditation over a short space of time. Words can only get me so far.
I am hugely grateful for the experience of the retreat – particularly Ken for putting me on to the Western Chan Fellowship in the first place, and Simon for leading the retreat.
I’m looking forward to connecting more with the WCF, and to continuing my practice.
