4 Days in the Jungle and 12 Years in a Wave
My dirty little very public secret about meditating for 7 days is that I only went for four. I went long enough to know that I didn’t want to leave because it was uncomfortable. I wanted to leave because monastic life just isn’t what I want and now I know it for sure. I got used to the schedule, the food, the sleeping, the showering, the jungle, the silence. I loved the silence. It’s not really silence, it’s just not talking; the jungle is never silent. One quiet night we walked as a group in meditation around a statue of Buddha under the full moon, a frog had made its home in the water pooled between Buddha’s legs and its rhythmic croaking inevitably set our pace like a fife and drum. Ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak, toe, heel, toe, heal. In the distance a man sang with full abandon into the sky. Maybe it was a chant, or a prayer, or maybe just a love song. Longing always sounds the same. We paused there for a minute to listen as his song stretched upward to r...
