Several times during my retreat at Maenllwyd I was reminded of the many weeks I have spent alone walking in the High Pyrenees. The aching legs, back neck and shoulders; the relentlessness of the load on my back; the near exhaustion and mental stupor; the gratitude for occasional breaks with their slow recovery of the determination to go on no matter what. The recurrent question in my mind "Why on earth am I putting myself through such an ordeal?"
I arrived very tired at the Maenllwyd because I had been travelling most of the night before. When asked about my reasons for coming I replied that I had come to find a place of stillness inside myself. I had been to two previous Western Zen Retreats over a five or six year period and so I had an idea of what to expect. They had both been important occasions. I was pleased to learn that I would be sleeping in the attic and doing a job which I had done before.
I got up the next morning feeling tired and heavy. Most of the zazen sessions were a test of endurance and pain control, as they were to remain throughout the next two and a half days. By the evening of the first day I became worried about whether I could last out. I could hardly keep my eyes open and frequently nodded off. My mind was fixated on issues and problems I had brought with me. All attempts to apply the method - to watch for the end of my breathing - failed. During the evening feedback session people talked of having an excellent day, of moments of bliss, of meditative achievements. I was the only person to raise my hand when John asked if the day had been awful for anyone. I felt alienated and isolated.
During this very gruelling first half of the retreat I was very conscious of existing on two levels; part of me felt very held and deeply meditative - very in touch with the tradition and structure of the retreat, the beauty of many of the words of both the Buddhist texts and John's teachings and the yet unseen but palpable beauty of the place. I was very aware of each person's presence and individuality and I felt an overall sense of wholeness and unity with all around me.
Another part of me suffered extreme physical discomfort during the sittings. It struggled to keep awake, was overtaken by feelings of anger alternating with tearfulness, and counted off the moments so that zazens became unbearably long. Just to get to the end - to hear the taps on the fish! My whole body became bruised and sore.
The turning point of the week came unexpectedly on day three. Some of the morning sessions had become a little more focused. I looked forward to my interview with John. I told him of my problems trying to apply the method, of my continuing physical discomfort, and of my feelings of existing on two levels. He suggested I use the koan "Who is dragging this old corpse along". There was something very special about my interview. I think it was a combination of its ceremony and John's understanding and affirmation of my experience. I was aware of the presence of something special and powerful. My three dokusans were very significant events.
I returned to my wall and started to meditate. An RAF plane screamed across the house and the noise seemed to take me over. I became very angry and then my koan came into my mind. Somehow it brought together the two levels of being I had been feeling up to this point in the retreat. The koan struck a deep chord inside me. My feelings changed dramatically and I laughed and laughed as I did every time I thought of it throughout the rest of the day.
My method began to work and several fascinating visualisations appeared in the space 'at the end of my breathing'. I saw a primeval landscape, vivid in its detail and familiarity. I felt I had been there many times before. I saw myself sitting on a rock at the centre of the landscape. Then in a later sitting a large red circle appeared and continued to do so each time I entered the space beyond my breathing. A sea change occurred in my meditation. Later several people commented on the change in my appearance that happened at this time - from looking washed out to looking radiant.
The rest of the retreat became more comfortable and enjoyable. I enjoyed the daily routine and there were many memorable moments. I particularly remember the bubble exercise and being taken into the landscape with which I felt at one; the name burning ceremony which felt deliciously naughty - shades of Merlin and wild, craggy ravines. As I attempt to list these moments I realise that every single moment of the week was important and it seems almost invidious to single any out.
The sittings put me in touch with how I fail to acknowledge, respect and give space to both my suffering and my happiness. I saw clearly the way in which I just hang on and grin and bear so many aspects of life and my negative karma. Every thought is a present moment and on many occasions it is as easy to be positive as it is to be negative. Every moment has in it the potential of a real rebirth. Each thought is a present moment which is NOW. I want to live this out more, but I do find it difficult.
I was put in touch with my projections and negative judgements in a way that I have not previously experienced. The absence of verbal interaction threw my projections into such clear relief, I felt I could almost touch them! So many of my negative patterns and karma were so available to me.
I am writing this report on the morning after the retreat and from this perspective it doesn't seem that I had any dramatic new experiences or insights. But so much of who I am was thrown into very sharp relief. The wall certainly did that! I feel full of content. I know the retreat has been very important and its effects will work through me over the coming weeks.
