Discovering Joy

I described how on day five in my first ten day silent retreat in July 2018, I discovered joy.   A joy such I had never experienced before.  It seemed childlike but not in the rebellious way.  It felt innocent, pure, undiluted and in my childlike understanding, I wanted everyone to feel like this and assumed they did.  I left the retreat in a golden bubble and resolved to continue the practice to preserve my newly discovered joy.

The following year, I signed up for the retreat again but this time as a server.  I drove up with Mary Coleman who is an old hand at retreats and had served in Canada.  She warned me that it can be stressful with so many egos in the kitchen all looking to be meaningful.  "But isn't Buddhism all about being in harmony and peace," I said.  "It is" she quickly assured me, "but people can get very territorial.  The good news is Darren will be there.  He's the nicest man you'll ever meet." 

Serving means taking care of all the needs of the one hundred people sitting the retreat i.e. preparing three meals a day in the kitchen, serving them buffet style in the dining room, cleaning up afterwards and prepping for the next day.  There were ten servers in all, four men and six women plus Caroline who looked after the welfare of the female meditators and her husband, Kenta who looked after the men.

We six women shared a dormitory and so we ate, slept, worked and rested together 24 hours a day. That in itself would seem a recipe for disaster.     One of the women, Maeve seemed to instantly dislike me.   Since I was in my fifties and everyone else in their twenties, I assumed her distrust stemmed from the age difference.  

Jason, the kitchen manager, did not assign tasks.  He let us take on those duties that we felt suited and oddly enough the system worked.    I'm not a cook - everything in my oven burns - so I drifted to the dining area.  I love eating, being around people and besides, mopping floors and cleaning tables doesn't require a brain.  Unfortunately, the dining area also appealed to Maeve.      She told us her mother worked in catering hence her expertise.  

At the end of the first day, as we were having our own supper, Caroline sat with us and asked if we had noticed any of the women fasting.    I scoffed, "Fasting? Fat chance! Those fatties are lining up and holding everyone up because they're piling their plates high."    Caroline laughed nervously.    Maeve immediately jumped in, “I knew it!  I can see you looking at their plates.     They're meant to be here free from all distractions and yet you're there judging them."  Then the hostility really kicked off.     She barked orders at me and was quick to tell me what didn't work.  

I wanted to leave.     

Rage and indignation swirled around my head as I sat in meditation that evening, 'I'm not even here 24 hours and already I've pissed someone off.    How stupid am I to travel all the way up here again, give up eight days of my precious leave, time I could be spending with my family, to work as an unpaid skivvy peeling 20 kilos spuds only to be bullied by someone half my age who, by the way, has no authority over me.'  As the familiar pit of self-pity slowly slid open to welcome me home, the words of Anne from HR floated in, "Look at this retreat as an opportunity to examine why it is you annoy people and, what it is about other people that annoy you?"

The next morning before the breakfast gong, I consulted Darren.   I asked him how he behaved in his section of the dining room and literally, "Where do I put my eyes when the meditators are present?"   "On the food," he said, "that way you are focussing on what you are doing and paying attention to what is needed."  From that moment I kept my eyes on the bowls of grated cheese, the cartons of Greek yoghurt, the stack of dinner plates, kept the tea urn topped up, wiped up spillages promptly and made sure the jug milk did not sit in the sun.  It made me a better server, I learned faster and even started to enjoy serving.  

Being a silent retreat, servers are required to observe noble silence except when working and only then to say, "pass the knife."  But being Irish and barely suppressed chatterboxes, Jason had to rein us in.  At the staff meeting on day three, he urged us to ‘hold our space.’

“What does that mean?” I asked him.   Jason explained.  I struggled to understand. Then Maeve had a go, “Remember, there are three gates in your head.  You should ask yourself, ‘Is it true? Is it nice? and ‘Is it necessary?  Remember that Geraldine the next time you want to open your mouth." 

‘Blithering hypocrite’ came to mind but I chose to ignore her.  

After the meeting we returned to the kitchen.   Ana and I stood side by side, slicing cucumbers when I could hear chatter and laughter from another part of the kitchen.  I waved my knife in the direction of the laughter and whispered to Ana, “Listen to them.”     Ana smiled her golden, Mona Lisa smile and said, “What they do is none of your business, just make sure you are doing the right thing.  Remember what Jason said, hold your space.”    I was still confused.

I read several articles on bullying in the previous twelve months and the one piece of advice that made the most sense in my present situation was this.     Bullies succeed when they convince you that you're alone and isolated.  Therefore, focus on the other people in your environment and build up allies.  That struck me as manipulative and shallow but under the circumstances it was the only tool I had.  Changing my viewpoint put things in perspective: I realised that, so far, the other four women seemed lovely and the men nice.  So rather than think everyone was against me, I should give them a chance.   For the next few days, I made a point when alongside Anne-Marie, Stephane, Emma and Ana to get to know them.  I asked about their lives: how they liked to spend their time; to understand their respective worldviews and be curious about their likes and dislikes.  You have no idea how difficult this is for an Aries.  My efforts yielded astonishing results:  I've four absolutely fabulous friends who I stay in touch with today.   

How to explain this.  Making friends has never been difficult for me.  I'm an extrovert and having move so often, I've learned that not everyone likes you and that's ok.  As long as you have at least one buddy; an ally who has your back, anything more is a bonus.  This approach however, made me complacent and lazy.     If someone asked me to go for coffee, I went but it never occurred to me to take the initiative.   

However, in this instance, I was drowning and clutching at straws.   I discovered, that with a little effort the rewards are astonishing.  Stephanie from Belfast is a human tornado.  Whether she’s grating kilos of carrots or peeling buckets of beetroot, she chats away happily while the air around her becomes alive with flying vegetable matter oblivious to her hands turning a cheerful purple red.  Emma, the youngest of us all, sweet, quiet and thoughtful.  Anne-Marie, sister to Caroline, was also super chatty and easy to be with.  Then there was Ana from Poland.  She terrified me at first with her frozen beauty and her grim smile.   Every day she went out to the garden foraging and brought back something to brew.   She was always experimenting with some potion in a simmering pot on the stove.  As the days wore on, she seemed to thaw and when she smiled, oh, how she glowed.        One evening, she brewed tea made from handfuls of purple clover she plucked from the wild grass grow alongside the playing fields.   She urged me to drink it as it was full of oestrogen.  It was delicious.  Another day, she stewed what looked like long blades of grass which she called plantain into a broth.   That tasted good too. 

This focussing on others took me out of my head and also gave me a little distance from Maeve.  In that space, I decided if I could just withstand the barbs, I might learn something.  She knew more than me - in this field - and so I should let her take the lead.  I observed her organisational skills in preparing the buffet, she used the trolley to carry the bowls of food from kitchen to dining room - this was quicker, less arduous and less prone to spillage, how she was quick to replenish the cheese and salads when they were running low, how she seemed to anticipate what people needed and cleared away used dishes before they piled up.  Those first helpless days evolved into cheerful efficiency on my part.     When she barked and it made sense, I thanked her.    If it did not, I ignored it.    As I slowly caught up to her skill level, and my friendships with the others grew stronger, she seemed to lose interest.  Life became sweet.  On day seven, the joy came back.  I wasn’t expecting or looking for it but its return prompted me to ask, "Where have you been all year?"

I was so happy joy was back.  I now needed to know whether this was the true me and why did it disappear between last year and this?  Disenchanted by the experience with the teacher the previous year, I was disinclined to trust the teacher again with my revelations even though it was a different person.  I overheard the others say good things about him; that he had a sense of humour and the ability to explain things well.   

On Day nine, I bit the bullet and decided to speak to the teacher but did not want to expose myself to ridicule by asking my question in front of others especially she who must not be named.  I asked Caroline for a private audience. My request was granted.   I told the teacher about the feelings of joy and he immediately affirmed I was on the right path.  He told me it is one of the four sublime states along with equanimity, compassion and love.  I felt so relieved.

“But then,” I said, “I have a problem.  When I'm joyful I seem to get on people's nerves.”

“You need to hold your space,” said the teacher.  That phrase again.  I must have looked doubtful because he continued, "Do you know the Happy Pear?"  It took me a second or two to remember.

"Do you mean the vegan people?" I said.

"Yes.  You know how positive and enthusiastic they are?  Yet, they attract criticism and negativity from certain people.  Continue to be joyful but be mindful that when you are around people, they might not be in the same mind frame as you.”

That made sense and I left the meeting satisfied.

In the last three days of the retreat, I noticed that instead of heading straight to bed after final meditation at 9.30 pm we all returned to the kitchen for a final cup of Barley Cup or one of Ana’s amazing potions and just chatted.    I told my jokes and stories even with Maeve present; I felt untouchable.  

Maeve left on day nine.  Maybe it was my imagination, but the atmosphere seemed instantly lighter.

Day 10 we were allowed to talk again.   As I sat in the dining hall, chatting freely with Steph, Emma and Anne-Marie, a few of the female meditators came to join our table.  Orla from Tipperary said to me, "Your smile kept me going." Another said, "I'll always remember two faces, yours and the teacher’s."  I was stunned.  Most days a thunderstorm was brewing inside me.  In fact, after the first day and Maeve's rebuke, I deliberately avoided eye contact and so, I wondered at what point was I smiling.      But they seemed to think so.   My body flooded with gratitude that they felt this and that they took the time to tell me.  Until they told me, I didn't realise I needed to hear it.  It's a pity Maeve wasn't around.  

But fuck Maeve...