I was thinking about what to write and this story came up: the beginning of my love affair with taking time off to be with myself.
When I first got back to Thailand for good (2003), I had a hard time adjusting to my home country as I had been away far too long. I made myself miserable and thus tried to find a cure for my self-imposed sufferings (of course, at the time, I blamed everything besides myself). I stumbled upon a magazine interview about a guy who kind of gained his balance in life after going to a ànàpànasati retreat at Suan Mok (ànàpànasati means mindfulness of in -and out-breathing: translation from a superb Dictionary of Buddhism by P.A. Payutto). I've heard about its founder, Luangpor Buddhadassa, and has read his works. So I went.
I flew to Suratthani and took a cab to Suan Mok Nana Chat (the retreat center, on the opposite side of the road from the monastery). When I arrived, I was asked to forgo my cell phone. And I was glad it was taken; otherwise, I would have left before the retreat ended. As is my habit, when I'm really keen in something, my heart is taking over my head. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
The very first lesson at Suan Mok was how to properly wash dishes so as to use the minimal amount of water to get the maximum amount of cleanliness. I am not kidding. My instructor was proudly telling me that this was intentional. Four basins with two soapy and two plain water. First, take out the leftover, rinse with a teeny tiny bit of water, then wash in each of these four basins consecutively and hang dry.
Suan Mok's retreat schedule was just like other places (my dad said that it was the first to introduce this kind of retreats to Thailand). Four-thirty AM morning chant followed by a dhamma talk. Yoga/tai-chi exercise. Breakfast. Private time + community service (depending on what we signed up for). Dhamma talk or group practice. Lunch + small break. Another practice session. Hot drinks (no dinner) + private time. Evening chant + dhamma talk. We were let out around 9.30 PM. No reading, no talking, no writing, and no snacking. The talks were sometimes given by lay people or monks and were occasionally recordings of Luangpor Buddhadassa's talks.
Each of us had a private room that was prison-cell spartan: bare cement platform to sleep on (over a mat, in a mosquito net, and a wood block for a pillow) and cement floor with two windows: one facing an inside, open-air courtyard and the other outside. We took a bath open air with our sarong on (common in the country side where people take baths from rivers, canals, or huge water jars). I wasn't so used to this method so I didn't get myself cleaned thoroughly. We also shared toilets.
In a way, Suan Mok was like a spa retreat that westerners pay a huge sum of money to go to. We ate bland vegetarian food that were locally grown. No extra sauces or spices (the lesson being that we eat to survive, not staying alive to eat). Lots of beans. No fancy desserts (every possible concoctions from bananas). No coffee or baked goods (I realized for the first time that they were my addictions). Because there was a hot spring close by, the hot water was piped to the retreat. And we had our open-air on-sen (Japanese-styled communal hot bath) in the morning. These luxuries on top of yoga and mindfulness practice sessions were free, subject to our own donations.
At the time, I was suffering from insomnia. I'd been having it on and off for about ten years because I stressed the hell out of myself. My vivid memory about this retreat was that, on my second night, I slept so soundly that the knocks on my door or the morning chant didn't wake me up. In my sleep, I heard it faintly in the distance but I didn't realize I was sleeping. I slept all the way till breakfast. I hadn't slept that soundly in many years. This gift of a really deep sleep was, in itself, made this trip worth it.
The above description would be misleading had I not confessed that I didn't like this retreat at all during the first few days. Our volunteered mentors were very strict. We were reprimanded if we made too much noise closing the doors or talking. And these group activites and a rigid schedule were suffocating. The worst part was having to sit still, close my eyes (we could have our eyes open but cast low; it was still sleep inducing nonetheless) and observe my breath; I felt really drowsy, and my back was killing me. I saw, for the first time, what it was like the moment when I was about to doze off, like I was about to fall off a cliff. Anyhow, my patience paid off. The last few days were rewarding: very relaxing and providing me with much better understanding of what Buddhism is all about.
After the retreat, I went to the Suan Mok monastery. I walked around and visited an art museum (the so-called โรงมหรสพทางวิญญาณ) that showcased art works related to Buddhism along with calligraphic works of Luangpor Buddhadassa's writings and poems. When I entered, a young monk who was on duty immediately approached me. Without my request, he gave me a private tour, explaining what each picture meant. Conversation with a monk was something that I wasn't used to back then. So I was really touched by his friendliness and generosity.
When I got out, I felt quite strange to use money (I hadn't touched it for 8 days) and to have freedom to choose my own food. Of course, a carb addict like me went straight to baked stuff. I made a resolution to go to these types of retreats once a year, the promise I sometimes keep and don't.
When I first got back to Thailand for good (2003), I had a hard time adjusting to my home country as I had been away far too long. I made myself miserable and thus tried to find a cure for my self-imposed sufferings (of course, at the time, I blamed everything besides myself). I stumbled upon a magazine interview about a guy who kind of gained his balance in life after going to a ànàpànasati retreat at Suan Mok (ànàpànasati means mindfulness of in -and out-breathing: translation from a superb Dictionary of Buddhism by P.A. Payutto). I've heard about its founder, Luangpor Buddhadassa, and has read his works. So I went.
I flew to Suratthani and took a cab to Suan Mok Nana Chat (the retreat center, on the opposite side of the road from the monastery). When I arrived, I was asked to forgo my cell phone. And I was glad it was taken; otherwise, I would have left before the retreat ended. As is my habit, when I'm really keen in something, my heart is taking over my head. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
The very first lesson at Suan Mok was how to properly wash dishes so as to use the minimal amount of water to get the maximum amount of cleanliness. I am not kidding. My instructor was proudly telling me that this was intentional. Four basins with two soapy and two plain water. First, take out the leftover, rinse with a teeny tiny bit of water, then wash in each of these four basins consecutively and hang dry.
Suan Mok's retreat schedule was just like other places (my dad said that it was the first to introduce this kind of retreats to Thailand). Four-thirty AM morning chant followed by a dhamma talk. Yoga/tai-chi exercise. Breakfast. Private time + community service (depending on what we signed up for). Dhamma talk or group practice. Lunch + small break. Another practice session. Hot drinks (no dinner) + private time. Evening chant + dhamma talk. We were let out around 9.30 PM. No reading, no talking, no writing, and no snacking. The talks were sometimes given by lay people or monks and were occasionally recordings of Luangpor Buddhadassa's talks.
Each of us had a private room that was prison-cell spartan: bare cement platform to sleep on (over a mat, in a mosquito net, and a wood block for a pillow) and cement floor with two windows: one facing an inside, open-air courtyard and the other outside. We took a bath open air with our sarong on (common in the country side where people take baths from rivers, canals, or huge water jars). I wasn't so used to this method so I didn't get myself cleaned thoroughly. We also shared toilets.
In a way, Suan Mok was like a spa retreat that westerners pay a huge sum of money to go to. We ate bland vegetarian food that were locally grown. No extra sauces or spices (the lesson being that we eat to survive, not staying alive to eat). Lots of beans. No fancy desserts (every possible concoctions from bananas). No coffee or baked goods (I realized for the first time that they were my addictions). Because there was a hot spring close by, the hot water was piped to the retreat. And we had our open-air on-sen (Japanese-styled communal hot bath) in the morning. These luxuries on top of yoga and mindfulness practice sessions were free, subject to our own donations.
At the time, I was suffering from insomnia. I'd been having it on and off for about ten years because I stressed the hell out of myself. My vivid memory about this retreat was that, on my second night, I slept so soundly that the knocks on my door or the morning chant didn't wake me up. In my sleep, I heard it faintly in the distance but I didn't realize I was sleeping. I slept all the way till breakfast. I hadn't slept that soundly in many years. This gift of a really deep sleep was, in itself, made this trip worth it.
The above description would be misleading had I not confessed that I didn't like this retreat at all during the first few days. Our volunteered mentors were very strict. We were reprimanded if we made too much noise closing the doors or talking. And these group activites and a rigid schedule were suffocating. The worst part was having to sit still, close my eyes (we could have our eyes open but cast low; it was still sleep inducing nonetheless) and observe my breath; I felt really drowsy, and my back was killing me. I saw, for the first time, what it was like the moment when I was about to doze off, like I was about to fall off a cliff. Anyhow, my patience paid off. The last few days were rewarding: very relaxing and providing me with much better understanding of what Buddhism is all about.
After the retreat, I went to the Suan Mok monastery. I walked around and visited an art museum (the so-called โรงมหรสพทางวิญญาณ) that showcased art works related to Buddhism along with calligraphic works of Luangpor Buddhadassa's writings and poems. When I entered, a young monk who was on duty immediately approached me. Without my request, he gave me a private tour, explaining what each picture meant. Conversation with a monk was something that I wasn't used to back then. So I was really touched by his friendliness and generosity.
When I got out, I felt quite strange to use money (I hadn't touched it for 8 days) and to have freedom to choose my own food. Of course, a carb addict like me went straight to baked stuff. I made a resolution to go to these types of retreats once a year, the promise I sometimes keep and don't.
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