Waiting for the morning star

[westmoquette]

In the Zen tradition I follow, we celebrate the Buddha's great awakening 2600 years ago each year on the 8th December. It's kind of like Buddhist Christmas! In a monastery they would hold a 5-day retreat in the days preceding the 8th, and on the last night, sit all night until the dawn. The idea is by sitting all night we remember how the Buddha sat all night until he realised the true nature of the Universe just as he saw the rising of the morning star.

So at 9pm on Saturday night (7th Dec) we gathered at our meditation centre in London to "celebrate" – i.e. sit in meditation all night. After a short recap from our Zen teacher Daizan about why we were there, we all ate a bowl of rice pudding to remember the food the Buddha ate – milk rice sweetened with lumps of honey – before he began his night of sitting.

Freshly lifted into the Ambrosia sugar high we began our night of meditation at about 9:30pm. The schedule was 25 mins sitting meditation, 5 min break, 25 mins sitting, 10 mins walking meditation outside around the neighbouring tennis courts, all the way through to 7am. It was a tough night, with moments of difficulty, moments of beauty, and moments of beautiful difficulty!

At about an hour in I started calculating how many hours there were left! After about 2 hours I needed to open out my cross-legged posture. After 3 hours my back muscles started getting quite painful. The hardest period for me was from 12-2am where my whole body was uncomfortable, I felt restless, and it was impossible to stay concentrated for more than about 30 secs. The discomfort in my legs started shouting "YOU MUST MOVE", but I knew the best thing to do was to just encourage it to soften and let it be. It took some effort to resist though. Surprisingly the pain gradually faded into the background – only to move into my left shoulder and the process repeated.

At about 2am I realised just how much I was resisting being in the moment. And somehow that realisation allowed something deep inside to give up its fight. The minutes start flying by. The sound of someone's breathing came into sharp focus for a moment or two and then disappeared. The sound of the second hand of the wall clock became incredibly loud. And that made me remember how physical time goes at a constant rate no matter how much you will it to go faster, or how absorbed you get. Time is such a funny thing.

By 3am I had an impulse to work out how many sits we'd done, to congratulate myself on how far we'd got. But I had no idea. How many times had we walked around the tennis courts? No idea. But it was bracingly cold each time we went outside (no-one put on a coat or extra layers besides shoes) and so invigorating. I came back inside zinging each time! Sleepy sensations swirled around but never really took hold. My body seemed to stay quite upright without much problem (the back pain had faded), but by 5am the mind started going in and out of dull sleepiness like someone was slowly twiddling the focus knob.

Each time we sat back down, I noticed how the same muscles felt sore, then sorer. I was stretching in the breaks and trying to relax those same muscles again and again. For a time I was fed up with doing these same movements – there's that resistance again. Then I was grateful for how relieving it felt, then there wasn't even that. There was just the movement, the sitting, the walking, and no me doing it.

At 6am with only one hour to go I got a second wind! Only one hour... well I'd better get down to it then. I'm not sure everyone felt like that though. Glancing around the room I saw at least 5 people slowly falling, nodding sideways with sleep!

At 7am we finished, stood up, bowed, and hugged each other. We shared a simple breakfast from what people had brought, and left into the morning sunshine to go home.

Offer the time,
offer the space,
offer our presence,
offer our effort,
offer the support,
offer our willing,
make the intention,
and the rest will take care of itself.

This is an excerpt from an article originally published on my blog here.

[Gareth]

Fascinating to read what it's like to sit for that amount of time.

The most I have ever done is 50 minutes.

[Cheesus]

Really interesting. Thanks!

[JonW]

What Gareth and Cheesus said.
Thanks for sharing that experience, feller. And beautifully put.
All good things, Jon

[larorra]

Good for you! thats amazing to have sat all night in the cold. well done!

[Enigma]

I too observe Rohatsu, the December 8th commemoration of the Buddha's enlightenment. Sitting sesshin for greater lengths of time is extremely beneficial for strengthening mindfulness by "stretching" it out, as one might do with a tight muscle. Even as the muscles in the body become sore from sitting in silent illumination (shikantaza) for hours and hours on end, the muscles of mindfulness grow stronger.

This most recent December, I facilitated sesshin for the local Zen sangha. I tend to see retreats like this as mindfulness "marathons," considering their length and depth. These marathons are definitely worthwhile for those who are prepared for them, whose mindfulness practice is ready for intensive training.

I recall one retreat where we didn't even put on shoes to do walking meditation outside in the middle of winter! The stinging sensation on the soles of the feet was truly a reminder to be mindful of every single step. Returning to the warmth of the meditation hall makes one increasingly mindful of often unexpressed appreciation and gratitude, thawing the ice that tends to obscure these sentiments.

[westmoquette]

Great! Lovely to hear from a fellow zen person! Where abouts are you based? Mindfulness marathons - like it!

[Enigma]

West Coast USA. Currently in warm and sunny southern California.