168. ...make our beds on the kitchen floor.

(Morning thinking)

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash .

This week I will set off to study and practice Vipassana over ten days of mostly silence and meditation.

I’m not new to the ideas of Vipassana meditation. I’ve taken meditation courses online and in person with monks, nuns and teachers. I’ve practiced meditation, in various forms and with varying commitment for six or seven years.

But ten days of focused practice will be quite a challenge.

I’m nervous and excited. More nervous than excited right now but it’ll film flam flip flop back the other way soon enough. My mood vacillates. The nervy nerves come from the impending disruption to the habits and routines I've come to rely on to keep my life in balance.

My life is built around routines these days. Didn't used to be. In the past my life was happenstance at best and chaos as standard. Whatever rules there were came from outside of me; work obligations and social pressures.

I had very little personal agency or control.

In the process of figuring myself out I took apart the old and broken Paul, disassemble him, laid out the parts, cleaning and examining each facet and component of my character, as it was, before rebuilding a version two (PRLv2.0). I was super eco friendly and mostly used the same parts - patch and repair. Best not to throw out or ignore the shadowy bits! Better to accept and incorporate them into the whole. Here and there I needed something new and that required that i lean into awkward experiences and daunting places.

I knew the discomfort would feed me and I know this retreat will be mega discomfortable and therefore super nourishing.

Now I’m more excited than nervous. Flim flam.

I’ve defragged and consolidated, erased all traces of the bad habits that defined the guy I'd struggled to love. I’ve installed new routines and practices and in the rebuilding I’ve coded a powerful daily operating system. This new version wakes, makes coffee, takes time to stretch and exercise, feeds his mind, reads philosophy and wisdom, writes down thoughts and feelings.

For the most part, I make plans and then stick to them, but even the best plans fall apart when they bump headlong into the unpredictable complexity of reality. So each day I set out my identity stall early doors, start my day right, so I’m stepping on a strong course toward whatever will unfold as the sun rises and goes about it's business. When inevitable chaos comes my way I know the preloaded activities have stood me in good stead to meet their challenges with attuned integrity.

I’ve come to rely on daily exercise of my body and mind as defining behaviours. Identity. That's who this guy is. I’m the kind of man who, come what may, stretches his mind and body at the start of each day so that he can make best sense of whatever uncertainty comes along as the day unfolds.

On the retreat there will be no books to read, no pen or paper, laptop or phone for writing. No cat. No family or friends to bounce ideas off. My routine will be profoundly disrupted. I will strip away the elements of my day that I use to define myself.

Big time disrupty.

Who will I be?

I've been intentionally reserved about finding out details. I don’t want to know too much going in. As I understand it my days will be very simple. We’ll wake at 4:30 and meditate. Pause for a light lunch in the middle of the day, walk in the garden. Meditate until tea time, meditate a little more in the evening, then bed at 9:30. At points throughout the day there will be teaching and instruction.

No gym, no books, no coffee with friends. No coffee or friends. No talking. No hugs on the couch - no family or purring cat.

Just me, in my head, for ten days.

I think we’re not even supposed to make eye contact with each other.

I am feeling a strong trepidation. “Fear” would be too strong a word and I'm not anxious. Nervous excitement. Excited nervousness.

I’ve run marathons, I've read my poetry at packed open mics, I've turned up at scary gyms ready to box, wrestle, throw and be thrown. I got myself into a top university and then left that university when I could see it wasn’t right for me. I know I can do difficult things.

All those difficult things were scaffolded and supported by my core morning habits of mental and physical stretching. Through all of my previous challenges I've had people who love and support me near by.

On this one it's just me. Stripped of my daily routine. Hundreds of miles away from the people who give me a sense of myself.

Marcus Aurelius, in describing his adoptive father, the emperor Antonius Pius, refers to this great man’s belief that we shouldn't be overly attached to those things which “conduce to the comfort of life” we should “enjoy them without pride or apology” but have “no routine acceptance of their presence or regret in their absence”.

Don't cling to, or be defined by, the things that bring us peace and solace.

The Stoics suggested we should, for one week each year, make our beds on the kitchen floor. In doing this we ensure that we understand (at least a little) what hardship feels like. We show ourselves that we can endure.

I’m trying to think like that.

The retreat isn't a hardship. I won't be beaten or shouted at. There won't be any uncertainty in whether I'll eat or have shelter from the elements. I wont be sleeping on a hard floor. Although it might be quite basic in the dorm. It wont be easy.

It will be difficult. These ten days will be stripped back and bare. Nothing but silent introspection.

Going into this experience with an open mind, an acceptance that it will be challenging and understanding that I can do difficult things, have successfully faced many difficult things in the past, will allow me to find contentment in the difficulties. And content is very close to happy.

As Marcus Aurelius says, ‘very little is needed to make a happy life’.

I’m nervous and excited. My tummy does little flips when I think ahead to the day of travel and the start of the retreat. I know I will learn a lot about myself. I know I will feel fulfilled and enriched.

I know I will be very happy to come home.

---

I expect I'll want to write something about my ten days of silence. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll learn something profound while I sit inside my own head and it won't be for sharing. Maybe everything will change. Who knows. I will certainly be changed by the experience and I wonder a bit about who the guy that returns will be.

Thanks for being part of my morning routine. Thanks for your love, support and kindness.

---

If I do write about my experience and you think that might be something you’d like to read you could hit subscribe…

That'll do it.

It might be helpful to hear about the difficulty things you’ve done. Maybe focus the stories that have a positive outcome. I’m nervous enough without your horror stories thank you very much.

What difficult things have you done? What challenges have you set yourself? How did you grow?

Thanks for reading.

I love that you do.

Paul.