OYM Day 26: No Mal- Part 4
“We will tell you when to eat, when to sleep, when to pee, when to stand, when to sit. There is no speaking unless you are instructed to do so. No watches, no mirrors, no makeup, no perfumes, no jewelry. Do not make eye contact with any other participants, keep your head down when walking. This is a meditation at all times, even as you sleep.”
It was 6am. I sat there with a cloth sack holding the only things I was allowed to bring into the temple for my transformation — a toothbrush, natural toothpaste, a bar of soap, and a damp pillow. They would let us shower and change clothes at night after dinner. Our clothes were kept by the shower and water use was limited to 3 minutes. We would be sleeping in the open temple. The thought of the bugs the size of my face, the monkeys howling, and the electrifying nightly thunderstorms were one thing…but 30 other people sleeping in the same space as me was somehow worse. I snuck a pair of foam earplugs in my bra.
The woman running the workshop was just under 5 feet tall, with long gray hair down to her knees. She wore all white and a strand of taupe beads around her neck. She had a magenta flower in her hair, but that didn’t take away from her crystal gray eyes that seemed to reflect like pools of water. I had only made eye contact with her once since my arrival at the commune and it scared the shit of me.
She spoke with 4 other commune members on either side of her. They all wore white as well and they would be assisting throughout our transformations. They all had long flowing hair, the men included, and looked somehow…so fresh, and so happy. Not at all like me, already dripping in sweat from the jungle humidity and droopy eyed thanks to the half hour of sleep the night before. I had spent the night journaling and flicking beetles off of the mosquito net. They fell like nickels on the wood floor. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve but instead of presents in the morning, I would be receiving a soul gutting exercise in the quest of the human experience. Happy holidays!
There were twin size mattresses spread out on the temple floor. We were instructed to sit at one end of a mattress, two people per mattress. I took a seat on the opposite end of a mattress with a young looking woman, wearing all blue with an intricate braid in her hair. She also looked happy, even with her eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing. I’m glad she couldn’t see my worried eyes, scanning the room for empty spots next to people that didn’t look ultra intimidating.
We sat with our eyes closed, facing each other on these flimsy beds, and listened to our 5 foot teacher.
You are here alone. You are sitting across from a mirror. At the sound of the bell, you will open your eyes and look at yourself. Do not look away from yourself. You will show no emotion. You will only reflect. I am going to ask you a question and I want you to answer, into your mirror. When you hear the bell again, close your eyes and be silent.
I heard feet moving on the marble floor. I felt a hand touch my shoulder.
“If you have been tapped on the shoulder you will go first.”
Damnit. I didn’t want to mess it up and I hoped my mattress partner would speak first, so I could learn from her mistakes.
The bell chimed.
Tell me. Who is in?
I opened my eyes and looked at her. She stared straight into my eyes, expressionless, and the quiet temple started to fill with the hum of hesitant chatter. Direct eye contact, even with someone you love, is intense. I had to stare at this woman and not look away, for an entire day! Jesus. My body tensed and my teeth felt glued shut, but my mouth was opening. No words came, though . Just thoughts.
Who is in? What does that mean? Who is in the room? But I’m supposed to be the only one in the room, right? So, the answer is just me, right? Why are these other people talking so much then? Instead of just saying me?
Words started pouring out.
Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Why do I think this is going to solve my problems? Coming to this place in the middle of nowhere, scaring my husband, my mother, and myself? Why do I think I can be fixed? I’m such a fucking idiot.
I expected her to tell me that I came here for a reason and that I was not an idiot, but she just stared at me, her lips a tight line on her face.
I kept going.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want someone to tell me when to pee. I don’t want all these people to see me looking like this, with my acne and hair frizzy and my eyes swollen.
And I kept going.
I want to scream. I can’t believe I let one of my dumb wild ideas go this far. Why didn’t someone stop me? Why did I do this?! Why can’t — ”
The bell chimed and I closed my eyes, thankful to shut up. I noticed myself breathing heavy and fighting tears. I counted my breaths and focused on the scent of lavender and palo santo. I opened my eye a sliver to see one of the guides walking around with incense and a spray bottle, misting us.
The bell chimed.
“Tell me. Who is in?”
I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead into my partners eyes. It was her turn. She looked scared now and I hoped she wasn’t scared of me and my response. I looked calmly at her, determined not to react.
She said she was excited to be here and she felt ready to see who was inside of her, who was talking when they are talking, and ready to acknowledge the people inside of her that control most of her day to day. She also said she was afraid, because she had all but forgotten the bad things that happened in her past. She didn’t want to see those things, those people again, but she knew she had to.
The bell chimed. We closed our eyes. This went on, for hours. After about 2 hours with my partner, we were allowed water and a bathroom break. When we returned to the temple, we were told to sit with a new partner. The chimes and talking continued. For hours. We would be excused for lunch and dinner, and twice daily we would do an active meditation and yoga, but we talked and reflected, talked and reflected, until 10pm. For 7 days.
I spilled my whole being onto those beds and onto those shiny marble floors. I heard myself say thoughts that have lived in my head for over 30 years but had never been given the breath to become sound. I cried for hours and hours. For myself and for the stories I heard. I held my knees and rocked as I talked about how I hated myself, my body, my face, my hands, my feet, my very existence. How I would punish myself for taking up space in a world where I wasn’t wanted anyways. I wiped my eyes and looked at the man across from me. Tears fell down his cheeks. I wanted to tell him not to cry and not to feel bad, but I just didn’t care, because it was true. Even as an adult, I still felt the same as I did when I was a child. Unwanted and in the way.
When it was his turn, he spoke in a shaky voice, his pupils darting from side to side as he tried hard to keep eye contact. He spoke about his strict Filipino parents and an incident when he was 9. They had caught him masturbating and his father made him squeeze a hot pepper in his hands and try to masturbate again. He said it hurt so much and he felt so much shame. He said he hated himself and not his parents, though. Because he shouldn’t have those bad thoughts.
He must have been 25. He cried silently. I just wanted to hug him, but all I could do was stare.
The bell chimed and I closed my wet, tired eyes.
