In A Pickle

I recently got home from Japan, where I went to take part in a meditation retreat called a seshin. A seshin has a fairly hardcore schedule from 4.30am to 9pm daily, designed to enable participants to achieve samadhi - total focus. The accommodation was basic, and we slept and ate on the floor. It was odd to sit on a chair at the end! Daizan, my teacher, wanted us to experience a little of the monastic lifestyle, and there was only one thing for it- throw myself into it wholeheartedly. To mark the start of the retreat we went a little way down the mountain to a temple where we lit incense and chanted the Heart Sutra: a chant that is regularly used in Rinzai Zen as part of the practice. After that we were in silence, and the 1km walk back up the mountain was done as mindfully as possible.

So much seemed to happen during that five days. I was sent to cut down bamboo taller that a two story house during working meditation (equipment: serrated machete, flip flops and a pair of gloves); I witnessed sunrises and sunsets over the valley that were awe inspiring; we ate food that was made with love by an incredible local man Ken-san who was a mountain practitioner but also a rather good cook!; we took part in rituals that were as intriguing as they were practical; and we sat. And we sat. And we sat. Hours of meditation carved into 25 minute segments and interspersed with walking meditation around the meditation hall. I managed to clock up 10 000 steps a day doing that alone! 

One of the monastic rituals we took part in every day was the cleaning of the porridge bowls after breakfast. We sat at a long table and there was a lot of chanting and bowing before you actually got any rice porridge into your bowl. It was then necessary to navigate eating the said porridge with chopsticks. Sometimes this involved drinking it, and according to tradition the louder the slurps the better! The curious thing was that the monks ate at record speed. And I really do mean fast. And we had to keep up, with varying degrees of success. When the meal was finished a pair of wooden blocks were struck against each other. At that point you had to put your chopsticks down (in a certain way) regardless of how much you'd eaten. Two teapots were then passed down the rows. You filled your porridge bowl with green tea, and used half a pickle (that you'd saved from the meal) to clean the sides of your bowl. You then drank the lot and ate the pickle. So you see, it was an advantage to have finished your porridge before the tea arrived! Thankfully the bowls did then get washed up properly in the kitchen by whoever had volunteered to wash up at that mealtime. 

After the retreat I asked about the speed of the eating as it wasn't just breakfast, it was every meal. I had assumed that perhaps if a monk in a training temple finished last he got the worst job during working meditation, or was tasked with all the washing up. But no. The reason was that when they were eating they were meditating and were aiming to only be eating the porridge. Not looking around, not being distracted, and it seems not really tasting either! I was glad when we could finally savour and enjoy the food after the silence was broken on day five.

Experiencing new rituals was all part of the seshin, and I found that they were a great reminder to be mindful, but also very comforting to have something familiar to do when everything really was so foreign. It has made me think about the rituals that I have at home, whether that be making my tea in a certain cup or sitting in the same place for certain. I’ll let you know if any of them start to incorporate pickles!