Post from Michelle:
It's six in the morning and I am awake to watch the sunrise. We are on a train, heading south to Chaiya. There, we will participate in a ten-day silent meditation retreat at a Buddhist monastery. I listen to the calm rumble of the train, the sound of passengers slowly rising from their sleeping compartments and the attendants softly treading down the aisle, selling coffee and tea.
As the Thai countryside flashes by out the window, I contemplate what awaits us at our destination. I am nervous, not knowing what to expect. I have never been silent for so long. Not only will my voice be silent, but the things I usually depend on to distract me from myself will not be available either - television, radio, books, and writing. So it will just be my thoughts and me. I wonder if I will enjoy my company or drive myself crazy. I realize that in my 30 years I have rarely been alone for long periods of time. So as the train pulls into the Chaiya station I am filled with some apprehension, but mostly curiosity, of what the next ten days will offer.
It is 8 a.m. and we are some of the first participants to arrive and register at the International Dhamma Hermitage. It is part of the Suanmok Buddhist monastery but this center is set aside for foreigners. The main monastery is a couple kilometers down the road. The center grounds used to be a coconut plantation so the grounds are covered with row after row of palm trees, as well as banana, papaya and Banyan trees. I am immediately struck at the peacefulness of the place.
Before we register I am handed a list of guidelines to read and agree upon. They include: we will rise every morning at 4 a.m. and go to sleep at 9 p.m.; men and women will sleep in separate dorms and eat on different sides of the dining hall; we will only eat twice a day (first at 8 in the morning and then at 12:30 noon); when bathing, we must stay covered. Women should wear a sarong and men should wear shorts. We are asked to dress modestly, making sure our shoulders and knees are covered. We are asked to watch out for poisonous snakes, scorpions, and centipedes (especially in our beds). And of course, no talking, not writing, not reading, and no note passing.
I register and then go to explore my living quarters. A large, enclosed brick building, resembling a fort greets me. The inside of the building has a large communal courtyard with a grassy field. Rooms open into the courtyard and wells for bathing and laundry are spaced in the four corners and 3 sides. I do as I am instructed and take one wooden pillow, one mosquito net, a bamboo mat and a blanket. My room is nothing but a concrete square with a concrete bed, but it is actually much cleaner than many of the guesthouses we have been staying in on this trip.
After situating ourselves, we head back into town to do last minute errands. Upon returning we talk to a few others as they arrive. There is an excited giddiness in the air. People are nervous, curious, and wary. It feels like we are entering a grown-up summer camp.
In our final moments before the retreat starts, Tim and I sit together trying to use words we will silence in the next hour. But not much comes. Already our hearts and minds are becoming more still, preparing for solitude. We wonder what it will be like to be separated after spending 8 months constantly together.
One hundred and forty people have arrived from all over the world. We sit in a large open hall, surrounded by palm trees, sand, and three ponds. People sit on their own square cushion on the cement floor, where we will sit for the next ten days. A bell is rung. The silence begins.
As the Thai countryside flashes by out the window, I contemplate what awaits us at our destination. I am nervous, not knowing what to expect. I have never been silent for so long. Not only will my voice be silent, but the things I usually depend on to distract me from myself will not be available either - television, radio, books, and writing. So it will just be my thoughts and me. I wonder if I will enjoy my company or drive myself crazy. I realize that in my 30 years I have rarely been alone for long periods of time. So as the train pulls into the Chaiya station I am filled with some apprehension, but mostly curiosity, of what the next ten days will offer.
It is 8 a.m. and we are some of the first participants to arrive and register at the International Dhamma Hermitage. It is part of the Suanmok Buddhist monastery but this center is set aside for foreigners. The main monastery is a couple kilometers down the road. The center grounds used to be a coconut plantation so the grounds are covered with row after row of palm trees, as well as banana, papaya and Banyan trees. I am immediately struck at the peacefulness of the place.
Before we register I am handed a list of guidelines to read and agree upon. They include: we will rise every morning at 4 a.m. and go to sleep at 9 p.m.; men and women will sleep in separate dorms and eat on different sides of the dining hall; we will only eat twice a day (first at 8 in the morning and then at 12:30 noon); when bathing, we must stay covered. Women should wear a sarong and men should wear shorts. We are asked to dress modestly, making sure our shoulders and knees are covered. We are asked to watch out for poisonous snakes, scorpions, and centipedes (especially in our beds). And of course, no talking, not writing, not reading, and no note passing.
I register and then go to explore my living quarters. A large, enclosed brick building, resembling a fort greets me. The inside of the building has a large communal courtyard with a grassy field. Rooms open into the courtyard and wells for bathing and laundry are spaced in the four corners and 3 sides. I do as I am instructed and take one wooden pillow, one mosquito net, a bamboo mat and a blanket. My room is nothing but a concrete square with a concrete bed, but it is actually much cleaner than many of the guesthouses we have been staying in on this trip.
After situating ourselves, we head back into town to do last minute errands. Upon returning we talk to a few others as they arrive. There is an excited giddiness in the air. People are nervous, curious, and wary. It feels like we are entering a grown-up summer camp.
In our final moments before the retreat starts, Tim and I sit together trying to use words we will silence in the next hour. But not much comes. Already our hearts and minds are becoming more still, preparing for solitude. We wonder what it will be like to be separated after spending 8 months constantly together.
One hundred and forty people have arrived from all over the world. We sit in a large open hall, surrounded by palm trees, sand, and three ponds. People sit on their own square cushion on the cement floor, where we will sit for the next ten days. A bell is rung. The silence begins.