Life Unraveled

Getting used to silence is like getting used to anything else.  At first it seems shocking that there are forty people roaming around a farm, eyes focused downward and mouths tightly closed, but as time wears on it becomes almost a relief that no words need to be spoken.  You don't have to say 'thank you' when someone hands you the big wooden spoon to slop your oatmeal onto your plate every morning.  You don't have to say 'excuse me' when you accidentally walk in front of someone on the way out of the meditation hall.   In fact you never have to worry about saying anything at all, nor how to react to a joke or when to end a conversation.  You can't possibly put your foot in your mouth.  Not a chance.  You are completely off the hook. Best of all, you don't get to compare notes on what you are experiencing.  Without a doubt, this has to be the biggest benefit.   You see, there were times when I wanted answers but had to find them myself.  Like for ins

I've been here before. As I put together what will be my modest accommodations for the next ten days, I take a look around with a slight sense of deja vu.  Here I am again, on Tim and Annie's Sticks and Stones Organic Farm, surrounded by the beautiful nothingness and green spaciousness that constitutes this charming little slice of the Big Island.  It is rustic, to say the least.  And while the island itself may be big as far as these Hawaiian islands are concerned, my own world is about to get very, very small.  I set up my two-person tent, give silent thanks to my friend Joseph for gifting me this mini-Taj Mahal with the knowledge of my-- to put it nicely --inability to handle such projects with grace, and smile proudly to myself after it's all assembled.  A mere ten minutes is all it takes to create my new home sweet tent.  Relieved to have this important formality taken care of, my mind turns to other things, namely to revisiting my first experience on these hallowe

**In preparation for another meditation retreat this week, I went back and revisited what I had written on Facebook two years ago, in January 2010, after completing the first one. Figured posting it here would be a fun way to set the stage for what's to come. Enjoy!** ____________________________________________________________ I went into this experience with no expectations. I knew you had to agree to "Noble Silence" for the duration of the 10 days. This meant no talking, physical contact, or even eye contact with anyone. You cannot bring in books or even something to write with. No sexual activity (even with yourself). No killing, including bugs. You had to wear clothing that was not distracting in any way, and cover your body at all times. Men and women were separated the entire time. Oh, and you would only eat vegetarian food, twice a day. After your 11am lunch, the only nourishment you would get for the rest of the day was some tea and a piece of frui

It's New Year's Day, and I still don't have a resolution.  Not only that, but I also could not simply reflect upon the year gone by as I normally would have every December 31, just before it gets sent to the archives all wrapped up with a shiny bow.  I just couldn't do it.  Not this year at least.  And that feels fine, for one thing  is certain above all else.  Time will keep marching on no matter how I choose to honor its passage. Time is a funny concept. For something so made-up, it certainly seems to carry a whole lot of weight. Even more, it constantly marches to the beat of its own drummer.  We can hear that funky beat, and no matter what we may think of it, we can choose to dance to its always-perfect rhythm.  We may also wish we could slow it down or speed it up, yet none of that matters to time.  You see, time doesn't care how quickly it passes.  Only we do . We often say that time isn't kind, as if it were a person with feelings and the capability