A story about forgiveness. And getting rid of the sack altogether.

Arun, a workmate forwarded this story to me yesterday (thanks, Arun!) and I thought y'all would enjoy it, too...

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One day, the sage gave the disciple an empty sack and a basket of potatoes. 'Think of all the people who have done or said something against you in the recent past, especially those who you cannot forgive.

For each of them, inscribe the name on a potato and put it in the sack.'

The disciple came up quite a few names, and soon his sack was heavy with potatoes.

'Carry the sack with you wherever you go for a week,' said the sage. 'We'll talk after that.'

At first, the disciple thought nothing of it. Carrying the sack was not particularly difficult. But after a while, it became more of a burden. It sometimes got in the way, and it seemed to require more effort to carry as time went on, even though its weight remained the same.

After a few days, the sack began to smell. The carved potatoes gave off a ripe odor. Not only were they increasingly inconvenient to carry around, they were also becoming rather unpleasant.

Finally, the week was over. The sage summoned the disciple. 'Any thoughts about all this?'

'Yes, Master,' the disciple replied. 'When we are unable to forgive others, we carry negative feelings with us everywhere, much like these potatoes. That negativity becomes a burden to us and, after a while, it festers.'

'Yes, that is exactly what happens when one holds a grudge. So, how can we lighten the load?'

'We must strive to forgive.'

'Forgiving someone is the equivalent of removing the corresponding potato from the sack. How many of your transgressors are you able to forgive?'

'I've thought about it quite a bit, Master,' the disciple said. 'It required much effort, but I have decided to forgive all of them.'

'Very well, we can remove all the potatoes. Were there any more people who transgressed against you this last week?'

The disciple thought for a while and admitted there were. Then he felt panic when he realized his empty sack was about to get filled up again.

'Master,' he asked, 'if we continue like this, wouldn't there always be potatoes in the sack week after week?'

'Yes, as long as people speak or act against you in some way, you will always have potatoes.'

'But Master, we can never control what others do. So what good is the Tao in this case?'

'We're not at the realm of the Tao yet. Everything we have talked about so far is the conventional approach to forgiveness. It is the same thing that many philosophies and most religions preach - we must constantly strive to forgive, for it is an important virtue. This is not the Tao because there is no striving in the Tao.'

'Then what is the Tao, Master?'

'You can figure it out. If the potatoes are negative feelings, then what is the sack?'

'The sack is... That which allows me to hold on to the negativity. It is something within us that makes us dwell on feeling offended.... Ah, it is my inflated sense of self-importance. '

'And what will happen if you let go of it?'

'Then... The things that people do or say against me no longer seem like such a major issue.'

'In that case, you won't have any names to inscribe on potatoes. That means no more weight to carry around, and no more bad smells.

The Tao of forgiveness is a conscious decision to not just to remove some potatoes... but to relinquish the entire sack.

Insight #4: Cutting myself some more slack (part 2)

While still in India, I sincerely thought I would continue meditating and doing yoga back home. In my fantasy, I would get up an hour earlier than I used to to meditate and I used my nightly Sex and the City or Grey's Anatomy hour for yoga and meditation. In reality, I ended up not meditating at all. I wanted to, but there were many other things to keep me busy. I had a birthday party. I wanted to see my friends. I wasted countless hours online. I tried doing yoga, once, but my laptop wouldn't play the DVD I bought from the ashram.

Weeks of just talking about how great meditation was but not actually doing it felt cheap. For a while, I believed that that was it - I could not make mediation and yoga part of my daily routine, after all. However, to my surprise, the past few weeks have been different. All of a sudden, I've found time - I've been to yoga at least once a week and meditated at least a couple of times a week. And it feels amazing.

Again, cutting myself some slack - realizing that perhaps my expectations were a tad unrealistic - helped. Considering 10 minute meditation a success instead of thinking that it was 50 minutes short on what I was supposed to do has been a big win. Now I actually want to meditate. Maybe not quite 2 hours a day, but at least a little bit before going to bed. Sometimes that little bit doesn't even feel like enough and I end up sitting for much longer.

So what is meditation like, then? Sitting in a beautiful lotus pose with a slight smile on your face? Brad Warner, a Buddhist priest and punk rocker, describes meditation better than I ever could: "It's about facing who and what you really are, in every single goddamn moment. And you aren't bliss. I'll tell you that right now. You're a mess. We all are." There. It (usually) doesn't feel particularly good. Or bad, for that matter. It just feels that you're....right here. Present. And being present and facing the truth feels like something each of us should do once in a while. If not two hours a day, give it what you can. It's definitely worth it.

Insight #3: Sometimes the recipe for success is to cut yourself some slack - part 1

My karma yoga duty at the yoga ashram was to serve lunch and clean the dining hall afterwards. Commonly, there were three of us trying to get everything ready for the service. Getting ready meant leaving the yoga asana class about 15 minutes early, and then placing mats, plates and cups for about 300 people. After that, we needed to serve about 6 different dishes going around the hall in an awkward position (since the plates were on the floor). When most of the people had eaten, we could grab lunch ourselves. After lunch, we needed to take the remaining food back to the kitchen and swipe and mop the floor. Although there were more people helping during the service, most of them somehow disappeared before it was time to mop the floor.

For a few days, I found my karma yoga duty almost fun. It was hard work and it really made the three of us bond. It was also a well-defined task and the time-pressure made us all focus only on the task at hand. It was almost meditative. It also reminded me of my job at Hesburger (a Finnish hamburger place). I guess this kind of work really is my karma.

After about 4 days, the fun-ness of my karma yoga started to decline when I realized that my elbow, neck and back were so sore that I couldn't do some of the yoga asanas anymore. I started hating it. The time-pressure that once felt good made me feel anxious. People asking me for tea when I was doing my round with rice drove me nuts. I detested people who only helped with serving but disappeared before it was time to clean up.

I knew it was time to do something about it when I felt like crying after a yoga class was somewhat ruined due to muscle spasms. I knew that I could have asked for another duty for my karma yoga. At the same time, I understood that our duty was one of the more demanding duties and it would be hard for anyone.

Instead of asking to change the duty, I decided to change the way I approached it. I decided to cut myself some slack. To relax. To accept that the goal wasn't to make the food serving the most efficient process in the world, but to teach us all patience and tolerance. If the serving wasn't ready on time, nobody would die. If my back would hurt carrying heavy buckets of sambar, I could let someone else do that and serve dosas instead. We also decided that those who helped setup the serving, didn't need to stay for mopping. Aaaah.

I think it's sometimes good to reach your limits and push yourself even a bit further. But the best moment of all is when you realize that you don't always need to do that.

Insight #2: There's no need to get irritated by the lady who always sneezes 7 times

The lady who always sneezed 7 times. Unbelievably uninhibited burping. Coughing. Farting. Snoring. Sighing.

At first, during the first 30 hours of meditation or so, all these things caused a strong physical reaction which was promptly followed by annoyance. The annoyance, in turn, was followed by thoughts alone the lines of "Damn it! Who does that in a situation like this - or anywhere, for that matter?", "That is so inconsiderate! Can't she just go out to sneeze?" or "Omg, here he goes again! No self-discipline! We're all tired, but he's the only one who snores like a freaking truck!" ...and these thoughts were not quite what I wanted to have my mind engaged in during the meditation session.

However, following the Vipassana principle of objectively observing the sensations without attaching emotions to them started to work after a while. I noticed that the physical sensation wasn't automatically linked to getting annoyed any more. I observed the sensation and let it pass away. And since I wasn't reacting to the physical sensation, I never experienced the negative emotions. It was so simple. Yet unbelievable. I learned to be less irritable in less than 10 days. I guess it wasn't about them at all. It was all about me.

Insight #1: I'm the most boring human being in the world.

During the Vipassana course, I would tell myself the same stories again and again for nine days straight. And those were stories that I had already been telling myself for months before traveling to India. There weren't even that many of them - actually, all were basically variations of the same story. No matter how hard I tried to think of something original, my mind would refuse. And when I got really tired of repeating the same story, I would think of how to tell this story about me being the world's most boring person to you, my dear audience. Dearest friends. I'm afraid that the entertainment value I can provide to you is minuscule. But I really need you to provide input to my uncreative mind. Please?

Part 4: From silence and peace to noise and chaos

After the meditation course, I flew from Hyderabad to Mumbai instead of taking the train. I wasn't sure how I would feel like after 10 days of silence and decided to play it safe.

In Mumbai, I stayed at Colaba - a touristy neighborhood with lots of restaurants and street vendors. I didn't plan on seeing anything in particular while in Mumbai; my plan was to simply eat well and get a feel of what life is like in a city with a population of 13,662,885. Somewhat surprisingly, I felt that Mumbai was less chaotic than Hyderabad which is a small city with less than 7 million people. ;)

Most of the time in Mumbai I simply walked around the city, did a little bit of shopping, ate fabulous meals and enjoyed the peaceful feeling that was still there as a result of the Vipassana course. I could easily see how my peaceful mind could deal with the buzz of the city much better than the old restless mind would have. In India, all the senses are stimulated to such an extent that it is easy to get overwhelmed: strong smells, bright colors, and loud noises are there all the time. The only place where it was possible to escape from most of these stimuli was the hotel room - or your own mind. In a true Vipassana way, it was surprisingly easy for me to observe the stimuli and the sensations that arose as a result of them - and not react. Not get irritated when someone tried to sell me a huge balloon for the 20th time that day and not get anxious in the crowds. My mind was in peace. I enjoyed being with myself. I didn't feel that I was missing something because I didn't have anyone there to share the experiences with me.

One night, I was heading back to my hotel after a fantastic dinner. As I was walking down the street, an Indian man approached me and asked if I was interested in being an extra in a Bollywood film the next day. I had read about the fact that they often need western extras in Bollywood films and that they recruit people from the street, so the offer didn't sound quite as strange as it might have. After chatting with the guy for a couple of minutes, I decided that he sounded ok and trustworthy enough, so I said yes. At the hotel room, I couldn't stop laughing. After all I'd experienced, the fact that I was going to be in a Bollywood movie sounded too weird to be true.

Weird or not, the next day a bus picked me up and drove me and the other 30 extras to the "studios" about 2 hours from our hotel. As the photos show, the "studio" ended up being a shaky construction in the middle of nowhere with tent-like changing and make-up rooms. After we were done with make-up and dresses, we were shown our positions in the fancy hall where the shooting took place. And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more.

The film was in Hindi, and although they sometimes gave some instructions in English, too, we didn't really understand what was going on. Apparently, there was a princess who was getting married and... that's about it. During the shootings, she walked up the aisle and then she read aloud something for about 30 seconds, then we all cheered. In the final film, I think this scene will be about 1.5 minutes, at max. And it took 14 hours to film it. We were finally back in the hotel at about 4am. And yes, we were paid for our time: we got 500 Rs (~$10), meals and chai tea. It was a great experience - but I don't think I'll consider acting as a future career. It's super boring: about 5% of acting and 95% waiting for others to do their job...

The night after our extra duty, I went out with a bunch of other extras. We had drinks and went to a club to see a French band called Masala Dosa. It was fun to hang out with people for a change. And the next day was my last day in India. After getting tired of shopping, I went to see Slumdog Millionaire, picked up my bags from the hotel and took a cab to the airport. After around 30 hours of traveling, I was home. Tired and happy? Not really. Just happy. :)

So, did I find myself during my month of self-discovery? Maybe. At least I learned more than I have ever learned in just one month. Stay tuned for more about what I learned. :)

Part 3: Vipassana meditation course

Vipassana meditation is a technique rediscovered by the Buddha more than 2500 years ago. The technique is based on self-observation, through which one gets a deep understanding on how the body and mind interact. As a result of practicing Vipassana meditation, "Life becomes characterized by increased awareness, non-delusion, self-control and peace" (from the ashram's website). To facilitate self-observation and to minimize distractions, the participants promise to follow a simple moral conduct during the course. They promise to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual activity, speaking falsely, and intoxicants.

In addition to following the moral conduct and a few other rules (such as staying for the entire duration of the course), the participants promise to observe noble silence. Although people often seem to think that not talking for over a week would be practically impossible for them, I don't think restraining from talking is that hard (and I think that holds true for non-Finnish people, too). However, the fact the noble silence means more than just not talking, but "silence of body, speech, and mind" - and it forbids any communication with the fellow students makes the experience extraordinary. I think if you could gesture, smile or frown, write notes or hug the other participants, the experience of isolation would be much less. MUCH less.

The schedule was the same every day up until the 10th day when the noble silence (and pretty much all the meditation) ended:

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room--Lights out

10 hours of meditation a day may sound like a lot. And it is. The fact that we weren't allowed to communicate with the other participants meant that the breaks didn't really feel that different from meditation, either. In practice, it meant being with yourself surrounded by your thoughts for about 17 hours a day. For 9 days straight. Naturally, during meditation, you're supposed to have a break from your thoughts as the goal is just to observe your sensations, but as it turns out, that's not an easy task to do.

10 hours of meditation a day is physically challenging, too. After desperate attempts to try and alleviate the hip, leg, back, and neck pain by a careful placement of several cushions, I had to face it. No matter how hard you try, sitting for 10 hours is uncomfortable. The trick is to learn to deal with the pain.

In Vipassana meditation, one is supposed to objectively observe the sensations in one's body; sensations, that are caused by an object encountered by the six senses of the body (typical five senses + the mind). Typically, when one feels pleasant sensations, it is easy to start craving to prolong those sensations. According to the Buddha, this causes suffering. Similarly, craving to get rid of an unpleasant sensation causes suffering. When we can get rid of the craving itself, we are free of the suffering. When one realizes that all the sensations, both pleasant and unpleasant are impermanent, it is easier to remain unattached. Additionally, when one learns to observe the sensations instead of reacting to them, one attains control of the mind and an inner peace.

As we weren't allowed to have anything to write on during the course, it is hard to remember exactly what happened during those 10 days. However, I do remember that the emotions ranged from an overwhelming frustration and sadness to joy and peacefulness.

The first three of days were hell. There was part of me that secretly hoped that my mind would just quiet down after a couple of hours (or at least after 20 hours) of meditation and I would all of a sudden experience something extraordinary. I didn't. Instead, I experienced overwhelming physical discomfort, pain, and the worst case of monkey mind. My mind was all over the place. My thoughts ranged from childhood memories to work-related worries to thinking about this Christmas to re-living unpleasant situations from last year. The mind just would not focus on the breath, as instructed. And I wasn't patient and kind for myself when I realized my mind was wondering, although I was supposed to be. Instead, I was blaming myself. Feeling sad that I was failing. And anxious knowing that the course would last for 10 days. 10 days of misery.

Every night, we saw a video by Goenka (the principal teacher of Vipassana). For me, the video was the favorite part of the day. It meant that there was only one 30-minute meditation to go and being an intellectual person, I loved hearing him explain the philosophy behind the meditation and him making us understand that the misery we all were experiencing with our unbearable back or leg pain was all part of the process. Process of learning through experience.

After the first 3 days, things improved dramatically. My mind would actually focus on the sensations for minutes at a time and my body didn't ache as much as it used to. I was happy to be meditating - at least most of the time.

Unfortunately, the improvement turned out to be impermanent (which should have not been a surprise for me, since the impermanent nature of everything was repeated to us tens of times a day). After day 5, we were supposed to use "strong determination" and sit completely still for 1 hour three times a day not opening our eyes, hands, or legs. Interestingly, about 40 minutes would have been fine with me, but 60 minutes was pure torture. During the last 20 minutes, I experienced such intense pain that made it impossible to stay still. There were times when I could objectively observe the intense unpleasant sensations and they actually weren't that bad. But other times, the sensations were simply too much. All of a sudden on day 8, I realized that my mind was back in square one. I couldn't focus on my sensations anymore but instead, my mind was back focusing on mostly unpleasant things that had happened to me in the past. The frustration made me want to cry - I thought I was crazy for wasting my time in India trying to learn meditation when apparently, I was not capable of learning it, and that I should have gone to Goa instead to at least enjoy myself.

An interesting thing about the silent meditation is that you have no idea what the other participants are going through. As far as I could tell, everyone else seemed peaceful and didn't seem to suffer the way I did -- and as I learned after the course, everyone else seemed to think that I was this perfect meditator who was always sitting still in a perfect cross-legged position looking content.

Not surprisingly, the agony and suffering turned out to be impermanent, as well. After spending a lot of time feeling depressed and pitying myself, I realized that I had started to dread the meditation sessions; I didn't want to meditate and I craved to be somewhere else instead. I wanted to show myself that I had "strong determination". I didn't want to give up. That's why I would sometimes push myself too far - to the point where the pain would just overwhelm me. I didn't know how to balance the pain and the determination. I realized that if I could find myself out of this dilemma, things would improve. After I consciously gave myself the permission to give up - to have determination but not to the extent where I have to be afraid of hurting myself, things started to improve again. The pain wasn't usually overwhelming and most of the time, I could actually sit still for 1 hour, and when the pain seemed to be too much too soon, I simply adjusted my legs and could sit still for another 15 minutes or so. The main lesson was to be a bit less demanding towards myself. To understand that there are limits to how far I can push myself and if I actually listen to the signs that tell me that I'm approaching the limits, I can maybe go even a bit further.

Goenka, the principal teacher, described the course being like a deep mental operation. He kept telling us that the operation will be unpleasant at times, but it is necessary to go through it once it's started. In addition to the problems I had with meditating, my mental operation caused me to have problems sleeping, especially during the last three nights. It seemed clear that so much was going on in my mind that I needed the hours reserved for sleeping to process the changes, too. Oddly enough, although I had problems sleeping, I wasn't tired during the day and could easily stay awake in silent meditation.

When the 10th day finally arrived and we could start talking, the first thing I said to my roommate was: "We survived." That was pretty much the only thing I wanted to say - that it had been hard, but we pushed through it. During the 9 days of silence, I had found peace that I hadn't experienced in such a long time - if ever. I really didn't want or need to hear about other participants' thoughts or experiences. Of course, I didn't lock myself in my room to meditate as I could have done, but I ended up sharing my experiences and insights with other people. I learned that the experience had been similar to most of us; harder for some, slightly easier for others. But the best way to describe the joy and feeling of togetherness was that we all survived a truly extraordinary - maybe even a life-changing experience.