In the city of Oaxaca, I was staying with my dear friend
Nikki. Before I left for the coast, she told me there was a good chance she
would venture to the beach for the weekend as well. She had wanted to go with
me, but with my commitment to the meditation retreat, she saw it as an
opportunity to go on a trip by herself, something she had never done. My first
step to retreat from the retreat was to see if she actually decided to come to
the beach. If she did, then I knew I would have a friend on the other side. If
she did not, the escape was going to be trickier.
So, after the man selling tattoos walked away, I pulled my
cell phone out of my bag. The fact that I brought the cell phone was an
indicator that I was fixin’ to break a rule. I hid the phone with one of my
hands for fear a fellow retreater would see me and I texted my SOS, “I am
totally breaking the rules, but I am ready to quit. Did you come to the beach?”
I laid back down and waited for a response. Nothing.
As I relaxed into the rhythm of the waves, I began to
experience anxiety about having to go back up. I envisioned how much fun Nikki
and I would have on the beach. So, before returning to the retreat center, I
texted, “I just want to be on the beach with ynu.” I am still getting used to
using my Mexican phone’s texting capabilities. I then walked back to the center
feeling sullen. No response either meant she was in the mountains on her way
here or that she had talked herself out of it. I decided it was probably the
former.
When I got back, I showered and prepared myself to go in for
the afternoon session. I debated whether I would still have the guts to leave
if I did not hear from Nikki. I stopped back into my tent to put on my flowy
pants and t-shirt and secretly checked my phone one more time. I had one new
message from Nikki, “I am on my way to Mazunte! Where should imeet u!?”
If there had been any doubt about following through on
leaving, the text wiped it away. I was determined. Still feeling tied to the
rules of the retreat, I could not bring myself to text her back. I hurried into
the meditation hall for the afternoon sitting as I tried to figure out what
approach I should take to actually leave. For some reason, I did not feel like
I could just tell them I had to go and walk out of there.
There was a pile of scrap paper in the back of the hall. If
we had any concerns or questions, we were to write them on the scrap paper and
give it to the retreat monitor, an experienced meditator who was guiding all of
us to stay on track. I had been watching her watch us over the past two days.
My fellow struggle buddies who had fallen asleep while meditating would return
to their mats with little notes that said, “Dear love, If you are feeling
sleepy, please stand up or open your eyes a little bit. I hope this helps.
Love, the monitor (signed with hearts).” A part of me felt accomplished that I
had not yet received a note, but a greater part of me knew it was not a
competition and I probably should not have read other people’s notes.
When I entered the hall, I grabbed a paper and wrote this,
“I am feeling an immense amount of pain in my back. Do you have any suggestions
to help that? It is definitely distracting my ability to meditate.” Just as I
was going to give that note to the monitor, another woman got to her first. She
had a long note, so their exchange took a bit and then it was time to meditate
again. So, I went back to mat number 26 and did my best to meditate.
At the first break, I decided to rewrite my note. The first
one was not empowered enough. It felt like I was letting her make the decision
for me. So in the next note I wrote something like this, “I have been
experiencing immense back pain. I had not been aware of the accommodations
prior to arriving, and am feeling like I will not be able to withstand this for
10 days. I think I might need to leave. I am at a bit of a loss.” I gave the
note to the monitor and waited for a reaction. She read it, looked up at me and
gave me the first eye contact I had had in 2 days. Then it was time to meditate
again. I watched her set the note aside and re-enter the zone. So, I decided I
would too.
The next meditation went better. I had started to take the
power into my hands to leave. But, why hadn’t she written me back? What was she
thinking? I knew the way that I wrote the note had given her the opportunity to
try and help me stay. Did she want me to stay? Did I want to stay? After about
30 min, I started to realize that if I was going to leave, I would have to just
say it. During the next break, I wrote another note, “I have decided that the
best thing for my body and soul is to leave. I feel only positivity [may have
been a slight lie] toward this place, but I have decided it is not the
healthiest thing for me.” I was ready to give it to her and pack up, but she
did not stop meditating during the whole break.
I went down to my tent to find several messages from Nikki
and realized that she must be wondering if I was coming. I snuck out another
text, “I am coming but it might take me a bit to escape. Tell me where to go.”
I then returned for my final meditation.
This meditation was one of my best. I had my note ready
containing my declarative statement that I would be leaving. I had told Nikki I
was going to meet her. I was free. And, I found myself becoming freer in the
mind as well. I really saw the embers of my heart. I thought about living with
an open heart. I took notes. I was present.
Finally, the afternoon session came to a close. The monitor
emerged, and I was ready with my note. She read it and shook her head. She
wrote me back a note encouraging me to stick with meditation and yoga. That if
I stayed, they could help heal me. At this point, I had made my decision, so
her response only made me feel defensive. I shook my head no. She took back the
note and wrote, “Of course if you want to leave, you are free to go.”
I wrote that I was sorry for the disruption to the retreat,
but I knew this was the right thing. I gathered my things from the meditation
hall and went to my tent to pack up. As, I was packing, one of the owners of
the center approached me. He was not in retreat, so we could exchange words. He
said that if it was a matter of accommodations, they had a dormitory I could
stay in. Had someone told me that 3 hours prior, I may have been convinced to
stick it out a little longer. But, now, I was done. He tried a bit to convince
me to stay. He related that he has led many retreats and that often people
struggle with the things coming up inside their heads in the first few days.
That it pushes people away. At that point, my survival mentality flared, and I
just stubbornly said I had to go. This was not a matter of being afraid of the
dark thoughts of my inner soul, no, this was something else. He understood. And
he graciously left me with this, “It’s ok to leave. I left on day 3 of my first
retreat.”
So, as the sunset, I loaded my stuff onto my back and
trudged down the driveway and onto the main street of Mazunte. My heart was
beating fast as I walked down the road, past the turtle center, past the
tiendas, not even sure where I was going. I was saying over and over to myself,
“Holy shit, I just quit. I really just quit.” There was a mixture of excitement
and fear and doubt and happiness overcoming me. I called my friend Ari in the states for a quick bout of emoting. I had made it 48 hours. I did not fail a 10-day retreat, I accomplished a 2-day one. I called Nikki who was on her
way toward me. I felt grateful I had a friend to help me know it was ok.
Together, we walked toward the beach and up a steep hill to
a place she knew about that overlooked the water. She had tried to come
earlier, but the owner was not there. Just as we were arriving, Emiliano, the
owner, was getting in a car to leave. He jumped out to greet us as if he had
been waiting for us to arrive. He was laughing and speaking quickly in Spanish.
He said he had seen me in Pochutla a few days ago, and at that time told his
friend that I would be coming to his place. As he walked us to our cabana, he
glowed with a sense of pride that he was right. I noticed the big sign that
said, “Paz y Amor.” We asked him how much it would cost and if I could possibly
stay the whole week even though Nikki would only stay a couple of nights, he
gave us a low price, but quickly told us not to talk about money at night. To
just settle in, relax and enjoy. Money was for the morning. He swung open the
doors to our cabaña, filled his face with an endearing smile, and said,
“Beinvenidos A Paradisio!”
No comments:
Post a Comment