It's been almost two years since I ran into the Brazilian guy, who told me about the Vipassana course with a glowing smile one breezy evening on the rooftop of this family hotel in Jaipur. I guess it's an acceptable interval from hearing about it to finally working up the courage and determination to undertake it. They (also another friend and a friend of his) told me it's great; they didn't tell me it's hard.
I arrived at the center after a few minutes' ride of Funiculaire. Mont Soleil was covered in snow; trees and houses were all covered in snow. It was a pure world of black and white, as we all wish it to be. After a brief registration and locking up my cellphone, book and wallet, I stood in the not too spacious dining hall and felt lost for a while. "You're not here to socialize", the rule says explicitly. Yet it's always overwhelmingly compelling for human beings to engage themselves in conversations of one kind or another, most times merely for the sake of it. After a simple dinner, people were summoned together and an opening speech was given. Then the managers read out some rules to abide by during the ten days. She mentioned, "please negotiate with your roommates such matters as when to open the window before the noble silence starts." The whole process didn't take too long; we were soon dismissed into our rooms. I was the first one to return. Then another girl came in. We gave each other an almost awkward smile. Just to break the ice, I said, "so, shall we negotiate when to open the window?" She suddenly burst into laughters. I laughed as well. Who cares, really? Then we started to talk as normal people. She's shorter than me, had long straight hair and wore a constant good-tempered smile on her face, always ready to laugh. I liked her instantaneously. I thought that we could be friends and stay in touch after this thing. The other two also came back in the meantime and joined the conversation. They came from Geneva, Basel and Zurich respectively. When the gong rang and we were supposed to congregate again and start the noble silence, someone suggested that we should exchange our names. "Let's see who still remembers in ten days." I repeated each name carefully in my head, including Sophie. It was not until the second day that I realized Sophie was gone. That was the most shaky day for me. I never thought I could not do it; getting up at four, keeping silence, sitting for one hour without changing posture and not having dinner, none of those was difficult. But it all became so unbearable when Sophie left. If Sophie can't do it, maybe I also can't. That thought occupied my mind for two days. As I later found out, she cried and left right after lunch on the first day. The first two days were grey. Sometimes it snowed; other times it was just dull. We were allowed to go for walks during the breaks. At the back of the house where we resided, there's a piece of open land. It was not too steep, but with the half-meter-deep snow one couldn't scurry. I soon began to love those walks. It was such a purifying experience. All my eyes could see was endless black and white, black and white. Then added to this picture were the silhouettes of my fellow meditators, each moving slowly and savoringly. There was nothing to be even remotely referred to as noise. There's the sound of my boots treading on the snow, the passing wind, the trembling tree branches, the occasional crows and two windmills nearby. Or maybe three. That was all. On day three, the sun came out. I never intentionally examined how much people love the sun. It's quite intuitive that most people love a sunny day, but one never stops to observe how. Well I had nothing else to do other than attentively observing, as everyone else. When there was the sun, people moved slowly as usual, but they would pause abruptly when they got a good angle. Sometimes above the rooftop; sometimes among tree branches. They would stand there for a few minutes, facing the sun. Just standing there. The times of sunset, and one morning fortunately also sunrise, were even better, as they were the only moments of colors. At some point, you'd see different people standing at different spots on the predefined circular routes, but facing the same direction, motionless and appreciative. It was such a beautiful and touching picture. What is a purer joy than enjoying the sun on a winter day? Aren't we all the same despite all the different camouflages of gender, race, religion, age, and whatever I cannot name now? I know my words cannot even depict half of it. I went back there today after I got my phone back, out of my mundane need to memorize something with visualized evidence or to share with others, to take a picture of the view. It did not even capture a quarter of it. Eyes are the best camera. Who said pictures are meant to last forever? There's nothing unheard of that I've learned there. But what the teacher was right about was that it's not enough to understand something at an intellectual level. It doesn't help. One must practice this understanding in the experience of daily life. Again, this is nothing new. But in any case, I thought it would not be harmful to summarize some bullet points that I find important here. - Karma. I guess in every language, there's a proverb conveying the same idea: the seed you plant determines the fruit you harvest. I'm still not so sure about my take on reincarnation, but I do believe in causal relationships. If not in the previous or next life, then in the present life. What goes around comes around. So one must do good deeds. - This is the reality. See things as they are, not as you would like them to be. And accept the reality, whether it's fabulous or horrendous. It is how it is. We ought to try to see it objectively and unbiasedly. Even so, the reality you see is still different from the reality I see. How can we talk properly if each of us has a different reality in mind? Most of the times we're just struggling with the images we create in our heads, of certain people, objects, events, etc. We beatify or uglify these images, and fight a losing battle within the dimension of our mind. Isn't it true? - This will also change. The nature of the present is its impermanence, transitoriness: it becomes the past, and it's no longer there. So in a way, whether it's good or bad at the present moment is not important. What's important is keep doing what's good and right, so that when next present moment comes, it's somewhat more desirable. - Renouncing the ego. It took me quite a long time to realize how egocentric and selfish I was (and maybe still am). One has to realize that he or she is not and cannot alway be right. One has to get rid of this perfect self image and admit his or her flaws. Maybe it's true that it'd be a mental relief to think of I, me and mine with less attachment. But it's funny, one research topic of a professor is psychological ownership, which tries to manipulate people into feeling ownership of things they don't actually own and therefore generating attachment and so on: this is my car, not just a car, so I have to purchase it. What I was trying to do during the ten days was kind of psychological dis-ownership: this is a pain, not my pain, so whatever. Then I almost laughed out loud. After the termination of the noble silence, I got to talk with this girl from Lausanne at tea break and breakfast. We shared some similarities and our conversations went deeper than what I had with many people I'd known for years. I had the urge to ask for her contact information at some point. Then I stared at the misty snow world outside and thought, isn't it how it's supposed to be? We meet there and then, having that conversation, and then we part. I hugged her goodbye on the platform of St. Imier train station. If our paths are meant to cross, we will meet again. Life is like a one-way train ride. You have no control over what you have passed by. You can preserve it in your memory in whichever way you'd like, good or bad, or you can simply let it go. But in reality, it makes no difference because it's gone. Period. You can create something new, or even replicate some past events, but you can never actually go back to that moment in time. Why cling onto it then? Maybe there was Sophie; maybe there was not. It has nothing to do with me now.
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