knife cut on my thumb,
melon on the floor.
Even after she said “no, thank you,”
granola in her bowl.
Practicing mindfulness in the kitchen.
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Showing posts with label Meditation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meditation. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Good morning
Coffee grounds in the tea,
knife cut on my thumb,
melon on the floor.
Even after she said “no, thank you,”
granola in her bowl.
Practicing mindfulness in the kitchen.
knife cut on my thumb,
melon on the floor.
Even after she said “no, thank you,”
granola in her bowl.
Practicing mindfulness in the kitchen.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Pop
Further to this week's episode involving the fly and the hair, this morning while meditating I heard a faint pop. Every 15 to 20 seconds – pop – the sound of a water bubble. On the nightstand next to the bed is a thermos, an old fashioned thermos with a cork stopper. I used a bit of the water shortly after waking and now the trapped air was leaking out. Pop – pop – pop. A tiny sound, but magnified by the early silence at 05:30. My initial reaction was one of irritation; get up and fix this. But I waited. It was a small thing over which to move. Learn to sit with it. What if, I thought, this pop were the sound of a rain drop outside my window? Pop – pop – pop. Ah, that feels better. Same sound, different conception, different reaction. And as I sat further, my mind becoming more concentrated and no longer preoccupied with the pop, I began to feel the sound of the escaping air, tiny ripples of sound waves moving across the body.
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Saturday, January 17, 2009
So easy to fool
Each day after class all the students gather for prayers. Sometimes I chant along, but this morning I chose to sit with my eyes closed, listen to the voices around me, and focus on my breath.
There was a tickle on one of the fingers of my right hand. A fly. I wiggled my finger and it flew away. A minute later it was back. Wiggled again. Flew away. The third time I was irritated, opened my eyes, and found it wasn't a fly after all. The young girl sitting in front of me was rocking back and just a strand or two of her long hair was touching my finger. I closed my eyes. Her hair touched my finger and my initial reaction was - ahh, that's nice.
How foolish the mind. The feeling was irritating when I thought it was a fly, pleasant when connected with a pretty girl.
So easy to fool.
There was a tickle on one of the fingers of my right hand. A fly. I wiggled my finger and it flew away. A minute later it was back. Wiggled again. Flew away. The third time I was irritated, opened my eyes, and found it wasn't a fly after all. The young girl sitting in front of me was rocking back and just a strand or two of her long hair was touching my finger. I closed my eyes. Her hair touched my finger and my initial reaction was - ahh, that's nice.
How foolish the mind. The feeling was irritating when I thought it was a fly, pleasant when connected with a pretty girl.
So easy to fool.
#
Monday, January 12, 2009
Critical appraisals of Goenka's Vipassana
Below are three online resources for those that might be interested in reading critical appraisals of Vipassana meditation as taught at centers run by SN Goenka. I would greatly appreciate referrals to any more you might know of or run across.
Harmanjit Singh has written a thorough examination that should be of interest to any long-time follower of Goenka, particularly his analysis of religious aspects of the methodology. For all the assumptions he claims to uncover, though, he seems to bring a few of his own, most notably materialism (a philosophy in which all phenomenon are reducible to chemical reactions and all knowledge arrived at through the measurement of such), distrust in spiritual techniques for manipulating the mind (manipulation for other purposes, such as writing academic papers, are presumably acceptable), and a general disdain for the spiritual and in particular for spiritual teachers (he refers to the Buddha as Mr Siddharth Gautam, as if he referred to the Christ as Mr Jesus). For those that haven't yet taken a Goenka course but are seriously considering it, I would delay reading this until after you've done the course. It may negatively affect your experience, which you should first evaluate for yourself before letting Singh evaluate it for you. Signh's blog, with html and pdf versions can be found here.
American meditator Jeffrey S. Brooks writes of his experience at a California Goenka center in the early 00's. The behavior of the retreat manager appears a bit odd, as if he were not prepared to deal with the likes of Mr Brooks, a guy who's been around, who can talk the talk, who quotes scripture to best opponents in argument, who uses his knowledge to challenge authority. He raises some valid points about Goenka, particularly that in over 30 years of teaching he has not yet authorized any full disciples, only assistant teachers who work at his centers playing tapes of the master's lectures. His accusations of cult-like behavior seem off the mark, a petty accusation lobbed to repay the lack of respect he felt he should have been accorded for his extensive meditation experience. You can read his account here.
A more recent piece comes from an anonymous meditator in the Goenka tradition for more than 10 years who was expelled from the order for asking too many questions. Among the sensitive topics are Goenka's unproven historical claims to the “purity” of his method and the utter lack of textual and philosophical training for his assistant teachers. Unlike Brooks, who seems more intent on puffing up his own credentials through tearing down Goenka's, or like Singh, who has an allergic reaction to the spiritual, Anonymous inquires compassionately and seems genuinely concerned to reform the tradition to which he has given a large part of his life. His Inquiries can be read here. Clicking the Reply button at the end of each section will take you a bulletin board where you may discuss this particular issue with other meditators and interested parties.
Harmanjit Singh has written a thorough examination that should be of interest to any long-time follower of Goenka, particularly his analysis of religious aspects of the methodology. For all the assumptions he claims to uncover, though, he seems to bring a few of his own, most notably materialism (a philosophy in which all phenomenon are reducible to chemical reactions and all knowledge arrived at through the measurement of such), distrust in spiritual techniques for manipulating the mind (manipulation for other purposes, such as writing academic papers, are presumably acceptable), and a general disdain for the spiritual and in particular for spiritual teachers (he refers to the Buddha as Mr Siddharth Gautam, as if he referred to the Christ as Mr Jesus). For those that haven't yet taken a Goenka course but are seriously considering it, I would delay reading this until after you've done the course. It may negatively affect your experience, which you should first evaluate for yourself before letting Singh evaluate it for you. Signh's blog, with html and pdf versions can be found here.
American meditator Jeffrey S. Brooks writes of his experience at a California Goenka center in the early 00's. The behavior of the retreat manager appears a bit odd, as if he were not prepared to deal with the likes of Mr Brooks, a guy who's been around, who can talk the talk, who quotes scripture to best opponents in argument, who uses his knowledge to challenge authority. He raises some valid points about Goenka, particularly that in over 30 years of teaching he has not yet authorized any full disciples, only assistant teachers who work at his centers playing tapes of the master's lectures. His accusations of cult-like behavior seem off the mark, a petty accusation lobbed to repay the lack of respect he felt he should have been accorded for his extensive meditation experience. You can read his account here.
A more recent piece comes from an anonymous meditator in the Goenka tradition for more than 10 years who was expelled from the order for asking too many questions. Among the sensitive topics are Goenka's unproven historical claims to the “purity” of his method and the utter lack of textual and philosophical training for his assistant teachers. Unlike Brooks, who seems more intent on puffing up his own credentials through tearing down Goenka's, or like Singh, who has an allergic reaction to the spiritual, Anonymous inquires compassionately and seems genuinely concerned to reform the tradition to which he has given a large part of his life. His Inquiries can be read here. Clicking the Reply button at the end of each section will take you a bulletin board where you may discuss this particular issue with other meditators and interested parties.
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Sunday, January 11, 2009
Questions for Goenka-ji
My second 10-day Vipassana retreat in December 2008 was a less intense experience than the first a year previous, though it had more intense moments than the first. Perhaps because I was familiar with the retreat routine and because I had been practicing fairly regularly for the past year, the second retreat was more grounded, more down-to-earth. And as a result I was more attentive to Goenka-ji's nightly video-taped discourses, the same exact ones as delivered during the first retreat, and the same ones delivered at all his centers worldwide. What arose from my attention were a number of questions I would have liked to have put to the assistant teacher. Unfortunately, that is not allowed, on the grounds that meditators should be focused on practice and not on philosophy (in which case it might be better for Goenka-ji to cease philosophizing during his nightly discourses)..I offer up the questions here to Goenka-ji, or any one of his disciples willing to address them.
Non-sectarian
You make repeated claims that what you teach, your method of meditation and personal investigation, is a means for uncovering the universal law of nature, a law that has nothing to do with any particular religion or philosophy, a law that operates irrespective of rites and rituals. In fact, you seem to express disdain for religious ritual, that it has no place in the search for truth.
And yet we listen to you chant in Pali, the ancient language of the Buddha, for 30 minutes in the morning, all through breakfast and lunch, and following each instance of meditation instruction. No one but perhaps the assistant teacher understands what is being said. To the rest of us it's just melody, and if played excessively loudly, as it is at your Indian centers, an annoying and irritating melody. Is this not ritualistic?
Meditators take only two meals a day, and may not eat after noon. This is a tradition among monks of certain schools of Buddhism, a tradition that began long ago because walking to town to beg food three times a day took too much time and was thus impractical. Granted, full-time meditators need less food than they otherwise might normally need. But the noon prohibition seems to be following tradition for the sake of tradition.
Self aggrandizement
You claim in your lectures that you are entirely uninterested in notoriety. In fact, you teach that the pursuit of fame, honor, and social acclaim is “madness,” a manifestation of ignorance of the law of Dhamma. It seems to me, however, that the erection of a one kilometer high, gold-plated pagoda outside Mumbai by your organization is not only a towering monument securing your reputation as a great Dhamma teacher, it is also a huge waste of money and human labor, and seems as well to have nothing to do with the pursuit or propagation of science.
Scientific method
The claim is repeatedly made in your taped discourses that Dhamma is a universal law of nature, a science of the mind, the science of liberation. Yet you refuse to reveal the method's complete philosophy and operational principles on the very unscientific grounds that by tradition such information is provided to the meditator on a need-to-know basis. Does this not violate the ethical foundation of science, which calls for full disclosure of all operating procedures and data? On what grounds is a scientist justified in withholding such information?
Knowledge through experience
You claim the only way to know something is through direct experience, that intellectual knowledge of impermanence is by itself not enough to lead to liberation, or at least a better quality of life, and that meditators must practice awareness of the body to feel impermanence. If you yourself do not claim to be enlightened, liberated, or otherwise no more than another aspirant walking the path, on what grounds other than an appeal to authority do you claim that your method will lead to complete liberation? Aren't you just passing on second-hand information? In what way is this claim unlike other unverifiable religious claims that certain practices will lead to an eternal afterlife based on the scriptural authority of a supernatural being?
Historical accuracy
You claim that the Buddha taught Vipassana and that he taught the same scanning method you teach at your centers. Yet there seems to be no textual evidence to support this claim. There is also an absence of evidence that thousands of people across northern India once practiced Vipassana. Where is the evidence?
Final liberation
You teach that the idea of “I” is a fiction, that human experience is composed of the fives khandhas – body, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness. What is it, then, that needs liberating? If all compounded things are conditioned, such as human beings and human experience, isn't my decision to follow the path (or not), to react (or not), likewise conditioned? If there is no “I,” but also no strict determinism, then where are such decisions made? By what? And for what purpose?
Non-sectarian
You make repeated claims that what you teach, your method of meditation and personal investigation, is a means for uncovering the universal law of nature, a law that has nothing to do with any particular religion or philosophy, a law that operates irrespective of rites and rituals. In fact, you seem to express disdain for religious ritual, that it has no place in the search for truth.
And yet we listen to you chant in Pali, the ancient language of the Buddha, for 30 minutes in the morning, all through breakfast and lunch, and following each instance of meditation instruction. No one but perhaps the assistant teacher understands what is being said. To the rest of us it's just melody, and if played excessively loudly, as it is at your Indian centers, an annoying and irritating melody. Is this not ritualistic?
Meditators take only two meals a day, and may not eat after noon. This is a tradition among monks of certain schools of Buddhism, a tradition that began long ago because walking to town to beg food three times a day took too much time and was thus impractical. Granted, full-time meditators need less food than they otherwise might normally need. But the noon prohibition seems to be following tradition for the sake of tradition.
Self aggrandizement
You claim in your lectures that you are entirely uninterested in notoriety. In fact, you teach that the pursuit of fame, honor, and social acclaim is “madness,” a manifestation of ignorance of the law of Dhamma. It seems to me, however, that the erection of a one kilometer high, gold-plated pagoda outside Mumbai by your organization is not only a towering monument securing your reputation as a great Dhamma teacher, it is also a huge waste of money and human labor, and seems as well to have nothing to do with the pursuit or propagation of science.
Scientific method
The claim is repeatedly made in your taped discourses that Dhamma is a universal law of nature, a science of the mind, the science of liberation. Yet you refuse to reveal the method's complete philosophy and operational principles on the very unscientific grounds that by tradition such information is provided to the meditator on a need-to-know basis. Does this not violate the ethical foundation of science, which calls for full disclosure of all operating procedures and data? On what grounds is a scientist justified in withholding such information?
Knowledge through experience
You claim the only way to know something is through direct experience, that intellectual knowledge of impermanence is by itself not enough to lead to liberation, or at least a better quality of life, and that meditators must practice awareness of the body to feel impermanence. If you yourself do not claim to be enlightened, liberated, or otherwise no more than another aspirant walking the path, on what grounds other than an appeal to authority do you claim that your method will lead to complete liberation? Aren't you just passing on second-hand information? In what way is this claim unlike other unverifiable religious claims that certain practices will lead to an eternal afterlife based on the scriptural authority of a supernatural being?
Historical accuracy
You claim that the Buddha taught Vipassana and that he taught the same scanning method you teach at your centers. Yet there seems to be no textual evidence to support this claim. There is also an absence of evidence that thousands of people across northern India once practiced Vipassana. Where is the evidence?
Final liberation
You teach that the idea of “I” is a fiction, that human experience is composed of the fives khandhas – body, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness. What is it, then, that needs liberating? If all compounded things are conditioned, such as human beings and human experience, isn't my decision to follow the path (or not), to react (or not), likewise conditioned? If there is no “I,” but also no strict determinism, then where are such decisions made? By what? And for what purpose?
#
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Review: Goenka Vipassana course, Sarnath, India
On the sixth night I went to the teacher.
I have a problem, I explained, and I need your advice.
The old man nodded for me to continue.
I find myself entering a state where I can feel sustained subtle sensations on the body, but almost as soon as I do there's a loud noise behind me and I loose that state and have to start again. It's like walking along a path from which I get knocked off every few minutes. I get back on the path, get knocked off, get back on, get knocked off. It's tiring and I'm beginning to develop aversion . . .
You musn't develop aversion, he interrupted.
I'd very much like not to . . .
You have to develop equanimity.
Do you understand I'm talking about the man behind me? The man who won't stop coughing?
Let him cough. What you have to understand is that his coughing will end. It is anicca, he said using the Pali word for impermanence.
Theoretically, he had a point, that it was my job to develop the ability to ignore distractions. On the other hand, the cougher - the barker, as I came to think of him - was more than just a minor annoyance.
But, sir, there is a reason why we are asked to sit absolutely still for one hour. There is a reason why this facility is built in the village and not in the city. There is a reason we've taken a vow of silence for 10 days . . .
Your job, he interrupted, is just to observe.
I appeared there was no reasoning with the Guru-ji, so I thanked him for his time before leaving.
But it seems to me, and other participants I've since spoken to, that it is the teacher's job not just to advise students on how to meditate or on what qualities they should be striving to develop, but perhaps more importantly to manage the conditions under which they practice. And by most standards, this Guru-ji stumbled, both in his duties, and quite literally.
One morning as he shuffled from the meditation hall through the back room, his weight of age supported in his right hand by a walking cane, we heard him tumble and thump to the ground. For the remainder of the day and all of the next he was accompanied into the hall by one of the young volunteers, who opened and closed doors and made sure his path was clear. If only someone had been there to so conscientiously clear ours.
Behind me sat a young Indian man, probably in his mid-20's, who from the second day developed a rather serious hacking cough. There was no effort made to suppress or otherwise control these pulmonary convulsions; they erupted at full velocity every few minutes, a low barking rumble that for those of us seated in his immediate proximity reverberated through our by now very sensitive bodies.
Along with intermittent fits of sniffling and sucking snot down the back of his throat, it seemed reasonable to assume he had developed a cold. It also seems reasonable for the person managing the course to understand that his coughing was not a typical throat-clearing cough, but something more serious, and to understand his responsibilities: to protect the health of the other participants, to help relieve the suffering of the cougher, and to protect the carefully constructed meditation environment. So far as I know, nothing was done to provide the cougher with medication or medical consultation. Neither was he isolated to prevent possible infection of other students. Even the most stable meditators afterwards remarked on the continued disturbance caused by the cougher.
It was only on the ninth day, when our vow of silence ended and we could speak with the female meditators that we found how far the negligence extended. According to the two European female participants, there were language and cultural misunderstandings with the female Indian volunteer workers. The Europeans didn't speak Hindi, the Indians didn't speak English. The Europeans couldn't understand why they couldn't refuse not to take certain foods they didn't wish to or couldn't eat. They didn't understand why when fetching hot water from the communal cauldron they weren't allowed to help themselves, but had the water ladled out to them ration-like. More disturbingly, they couldn't understand how Vipassana meditators, particularly experienced ones, could erupt in displays of anger for small, unintended breaches of the rules, or what could lead them to petty acts of revenge, such as sprinkling water over someones's bedding. It wasn't just the Europeans, though, that were disturbed by this. Two Indian women, both experienced meditators, quit the course on the seventh day, along with one of the Europeans.
I don't hold any of this against the Guru-ji. Like all of the other teachers in the Vipassana tradition established by SN Goenka, he works free of charge, as a service to the human community. He has himself spent long years practicing and I'm confident of his pure intentions. But perhaps he has come to the point where he can no longer see the experience from the perspective of a new meditator, the person easily distracted, easy to rise to irritation and anger. Perhaps he has put too much faith in the method, and forgotten that the method is only as good as person using it.
For myself, I came away frustrated and rewarded. The former I've written about enough already. The reward came from doing exactly what the Guru-ji suggested, observing my irritation, and in spite of it experiencing moments of perfect stillness. This stillness, or absorption, I have heard best described as akin to being a smooth metal sphere resting on a smooth metal horizontal surface. Able to move in any direction, the sphere has no need or impetus to do anything but rest perfectly poised. I was sitting in just such a manner one day when the hour session was dismissed for a 5-minute break, but was so perfectly balanced I found myself unable to move, sitting through the break and into the next session.
Perhaps that level of concentration was possible only because the cougher was pushing me to redouble my efforts. So for that, I owe him and the Guru-ji my respect.
I have a problem, I explained, and I need your advice.
The old man nodded for me to continue.
I find myself entering a state where I can feel sustained subtle sensations on the body, but almost as soon as I do there's a loud noise behind me and I loose that state and have to start again. It's like walking along a path from which I get knocked off every few minutes. I get back on the path, get knocked off, get back on, get knocked off. It's tiring and I'm beginning to develop aversion . . .
You musn't develop aversion, he interrupted.
I'd very much like not to . . .
You have to develop equanimity.
Do you understand I'm talking about the man behind me? The man who won't stop coughing?
Let him cough. What you have to understand is that his coughing will end. It is anicca, he said using the Pali word for impermanence.
Theoretically, he had a point, that it was my job to develop the ability to ignore distractions. On the other hand, the cougher - the barker, as I came to think of him - was more than just a minor annoyance.
But, sir, there is a reason why we are asked to sit absolutely still for one hour. There is a reason why this facility is built in the village and not in the city. There is a reason we've taken a vow of silence for 10 days . . .
Your job, he interrupted, is just to observe.
I appeared there was no reasoning with the Guru-ji, so I thanked him for his time before leaving.
But it seems to me, and other participants I've since spoken to, that it is the teacher's job not just to advise students on how to meditate or on what qualities they should be striving to develop, but perhaps more importantly to manage the conditions under which they practice. And by most standards, this Guru-ji stumbled, both in his duties, and quite literally.
One morning as he shuffled from the meditation hall through the back room, his weight of age supported in his right hand by a walking cane, we heard him tumble and thump to the ground. For the remainder of the day and all of the next he was accompanied into the hall by one of the young volunteers, who opened and closed doors and made sure his path was clear. If only someone had been there to so conscientiously clear ours.
Behind me sat a young Indian man, probably in his mid-20's, who from the second day developed a rather serious hacking cough. There was no effort made to suppress or otherwise control these pulmonary convulsions; they erupted at full velocity every few minutes, a low barking rumble that for those of us seated in his immediate proximity reverberated through our by now very sensitive bodies.
Along with intermittent fits of sniffling and sucking snot down the back of his throat, it seemed reasonable to assume he had developed a cold. It also seems reasonable for the person managing the course to understand that his coughing was not a typical throat-clearing cough, but something more serious, and to understand his responsibilities: to protect the health of the other participants, to help relieve the suffering of the cougher, and to protect the carefully constructed meditation environment. So far as I know, nothing was done to provide the cougher with medication or medical consultation. Neither was he isolated to prevent possible infection of other students. Even the most stable meditators afterwards remarked on the continued disturbance caused by the cougher.
It was only on the ninth day, when our vow of silence ended and we could speak with the female meditators that we found how far the negligence extended. According to the two European female participants, there were language and cultural misunderstandings with the female Indian volunteer workers. The Europeans didn't speak Hindi, the Indians didn't speak English. The Europeans couldn't understand why they couldn't refuse not to take certain foods they didn't wish to or couldn't eat. They didn't understand why when fetching hot water from the communal cauldron they weren't allowed to help themselves, but had the water ladled out to them ration-like. More disturbingly, they couldn't understand how Vipassana meditators, particularly experienced ones, could erupt in displays of anger for small, unintended breaches of the rules, or what could lead them to petty acts of revenge, such as sprinkling water over someones's bedding. It wasn't just the Europeans, though, that were disturbed by this. Two Indian women, both experienced meditators, quit the course on the seventh day, along with one of the Europeans.
I don't hold any of this against the Guru-ji. Like all of the other teachers in the Vipassana tradition established by SN Goenka, he works free of charge, as a service to the human community. He has himself spent long years practicing and I'm confident of his pure intentions. But perhaps he has come to the point where he can no longer see the experience from the perspective of a new meditator, the person easily distracted, easy to rise to irritation and anger. Perhaps he has put too much faith in the method, and forgotten that the method is only as good as person using it.
For myself, I came away frustrated and rewarded. The former I've written about enough already. The reward came from doing exactly what the Guru-ji suggested, observing my irritation, and in spite of it experiencing moments of perfect stillness. This stillness, or absorption, I have heard best described as akin to being a smooth metal sphere resting on a smooth metal horizontal surface. Able to move in any direction, the sphere has no need or impetus to do anything but rest perfectly poised. I was sitting in just such a manner one day when the hour session was dismissed for a 5-minute break, but was so perfectly balanced I found myself unable to move, sitting through the break and into the next session.
Perhaps that level of concentration was possible only because the cougher was pushing me to redouble my efforts. So for that, I owe him and the Guru-ji my respect.
#
Review: Sarnath Vipassana Centre
I suppose I was expecting something different. I remember being surprised to find the Sarnath Vipassana Center almost identical in construction style to the Bodhgaya center - unremarkable institutional buildings separated by gardens and surrounded by barbed-wire topped walls (to keep out the unwanted, not to prevent meditators from escaping). The only difference is that instead of a pagoda with individual mediation cells, the Sarnath facility had instead a large vegetable garden.
Last year at this time I attended my first course in Vipassana meditation as taught by Burmese-Indian guru S.N. Goenka. Like then, I was in India principally because I had to leave Nepal for a few weeks between visas. Having benefited from last year's 10-day, I decided to do another in Sarnath, sight of the Buddha's first teaching.
FACILITY
Overall the center is adequate to the needs of meditators, who sitting for 10 of their waking hours require only the most basic necessities. The two male dormitories are square concrete buildings with rooms lining a central courtyard. One courtyard was planted with a small flower garden, the other was concrete and used principally for hanging laundry. Rooms are sparse - concrete floors, iron-legged beds supporting comfortably stuffed mattresses, a mosquito net and one iron shelf (slightly rusted) for personal items. Bedding includes a mattress, pillow, sheet, pillow case, and in winter wool blanket. Additional blankets are available on request. Windows are screened to keep out India's teeming population of mosquitoes. A few rooms have attached bathrooms that include toilets and a bathing space (and seem to be the areas throughout the facility most in need of thorough cleansing). Hot water is provided in the winter season through a communal cauldron (over a fire pit) from which meditators may fill their bathing buckets. Laundry is done by hand in the same buckets.
The dining hall is similarly functional, outfitted with plastic stools on which meditators sit facing the walls, eating meals from their stainless steel trays, bowls, plates and cutlery, which they wash afterwards in a long sink just next to the dining area.
The Dhamma Hall, where meditators spend most their waking hours, is a circular concrete structure with plenty of windows to take in natural light, a thin carpet, two sets of two seats for teachers, and two televisions for presentation of taped discourses on meditation techniques and philosophy.
A smaller Dhamma Hall similar in appointment but square in construction was used during my retreat by the non-Indian participants for viewing English versions of the evening video discourses. I made private use of this room for meditation when the main Dhamma Hall or the residence became too distracting, about which you can read more here.
A large vegetable garden, from which we were fed during our stay, makes up the central courtyard of the center, which also includes a lovely rose garden in front of the Dhamma Hall. Many meditators spent free hours circumambulating the paved walkway circling the vegetable garden and linking the male residences with the dining hall and Dhamma hall.
MEALS
The first couple of days didn't impress, but the quality of the meals seemed to improve during the length of the course (or I simply started getting used to the cooking). Food was typical Indian fare and most often consisted at lunches of dahl, curried vegetables, slices of raw vegetable (mostly carrot and radish), white rice and rotti. On occasion curd was available. Breakfasts were usually porridge of some type plus a curried vegetable; masala chai and hot milk were served on alternate days. Evening snacks for new students was a bowl of puffed, curried rice and masala tea; older students were served hot lemon water.
ENVIRONMENT
The center is located several kilometers from Sarnath proper in an agricultural village. The nearest home seems to be some hundred meters distant. Still, Indians like things loud, and so it was possible on more than one occasion to hear televisions, stereos, and parties, though hardly at the level where they disturbed sleep. There were no foul odors or air pollutants.
MANAGEMENT
Apart from issues related to the teacher's handling of the students, I had no problems with the staff. Most of them seemed to have only rudimentary English skills and so to avoid confusion meditators were asked to write requests on a pad kept outside the dining hall. I later learned that things were not as comfortable on the female side. For more about both these issues, see here.
Overall, the Sarnath facility meets the basic requirements for meditators; except for its gardens it doesn't go out of its way to make visitors comfortable. Should you believe in energy emanations of sacred sites, the location may be an added incentive to attend a course here. Otherwise, you might like to look to more well appointed centers where you share a language and cultural assumptions with the volunteer workers.
Last year at this time I attended my first course in Vipassana meditation as taught by Burmese-Indian guru S.N. Goenka. Like then, I was in India principally because I had to leave Nepal for a few weeks between visas. Having benefited from last year's 10-day, I decided to do another in Sarnath, sight of the Buddha's first teaching.
FACILITY
Overall the center is adequate to the needs of meditators, who sitting for 10 of their waking hours require only the most basic necessities. The two male dormitories are square concrete buildings with rooms lining a central courtyard. One courtyard was planted with a small flower garden, the other was concrete and used principally for hanging laundry. Rooms are sparse - concrete floors, iron-legged beds supporting comfortably stuffed mattresses, a mosquito net and one iron shelf (slightly rusted) for personal items. Bedding includes a mattress, pillow, sheet, pillow case, and in winter wool blanket. Additional blankets are available on request. Windows are screened to keep out India's teeming population of mosquitoes. A few rooms have attached bathrooms that include toilets and a bathing space (and seem to be the areas throughout the facility most in need of thorough cleansing). Hot water is provided in the winter season through a communal cauldron (over a fire pit) from which meditators may fill their bathing buckets. Laundry is done by hand in the same buckets.
The dining hall is similarly functional, outfitted with plastic stools on which meditators sit facing the walls, eating meals from their stainless steel trays, bowls, plates and cutlery, which they wash afterwards in a long sink just next to the dining area.
The Dhamma Hall, where meditators spend most their waking hours, is a circular concrete structure with plenty of windows to take in natural light, a thin carpet, two sets of two seats for teachers, and two televisions for presentation of taped discourses on meditation techniques and philosophy.
A smaller Dhamma Hall similar in appointment but square in construction was used during my retreat by the non-Indian participants for viewing English versions of the evening video discourses. I made private use of this room for meditation when the main Dhamma Hall or the residence became too distracting, about which you can read more here.
A large vegetable garden, from which we were fed during our stay, makes up the central courtyard of the center, which also includes a lovely rose garden in front of the Dhamma Hall. Many meditators spent free hours circumambulating the paved walkway circling the vegetable garden and linking the male residences with the dining hall and Dhamma hall.
MEALS
The first couple of days didn't impress, but the quality of the meals seemed to improve during the length of the course (or I simply started getting used to the cooking). Food was typical Indian fare and most often consisted at lunches of dahl, curried vegetables, slices of raw vegetable (mostly carrot and radish), white rice and rotti. On occasion curd was available. Breakfasts were usually porridge of some type plus a curried vegetable; masala chai and hot milk were served on alternate days. Evening snacks for new students was a bowl of puffed, curried rice and masala tea; older students were served hot lemon water.
ENVIRONMENT
The center is located several kilometers from Sarnath proper in an agricultural village. The nearest home seems to be some hundred meters distant. Still, Indians like things loud, and so it was possible on more than one occasion to hear televisions, stereos, and parties, though hardly at the level where they disturbed sleep. There were no foul odors or air pollutants.
MANAGEMENT
Apart from issues related to the teacher's handling of the students, I had no problems with the staff. Most of them seemed to have only rudimentary English skills and so to avoid confusion meditators were asked to write requests on a pad kept outside the dining hall. I later learned that things were not as comfortable on the female side. For more about both these issues, see here.
Overall, the Sarnath facility meets the basic requirements for meditators; except for its gardens it doesn't go out of its way to make visitors comfortable. Should you believe in energy emanations of sacred sites, the location may be an added incentive to attend a course here. Otherwise, you might like to look to more well appointed centers where you share a language and cultural assumptions with the volunteer workers.
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