Duncan Barford's "The Retreat"

Since I last read it quite a while ago, i will refresh my memory tomorrow and write a proper response.

So for example, right near the beginning (i don't have page numbers), I love the way he talks about how the rule of not looking at or talking to anyone reveals the extent to which ones mind then comes up with all sorts of ideas about what the person you just pretended not to see must be like. And how quickly one comes up with reasons they are probably not very likeable, and four paragraphs have just been spent thinking about someone who one passed in the corridor, without making eye contact or saying a word.

Insightful, and very funny.

And just endless observations, like the way people spend many minutes arranging just the perfect heap of meditation cushions... so many little things that are so inevitably true at any retreat or group gathering they just crack me up.

I think his comments on silence and lack of discussion resonate quite a bit for me, like the situation with the other worker Kemal, who was in a long dark night and had little understanding of it.

I rarely go on any kind of retreats, and when I have it's just been a couple days or a one day workshop. Recently I went to a one-day workshop where silence was mandated. The teacher did speak, which I appreciated. Because lord knows I don't see a lot of reason to go and meditate with a teacher whose work I admire and just sit there in the same room as him. Unless I'm just hoping to receive some kind of magical transmission. Because I do meditate alone and practice alone most of the time, and most of my "sangha" is a group of dispersed online friends I rarely see in person, when I do get together with others of like mind the main thing I'd like to do is sit around and talk about details of practice and practice together in an experimental/exploratory fashion.

The one longer retreat I did (a week) was an "unretreat" held by my teacher, in which (like an unconference) there was a mix of activities determined by the participants, and the meditation sessions were interspersed with a wide variety of creative practices (from walking blindfolded in the forest to theater training games in which one embodies emotions to making meditation benches). That's a format I can get into.

Just finished my re-read. Read the last third of it outloud to my husband, while he was washed dishes and paying bills. It's such a good tale, and was as much fun to read on second time around as first time.

Have you ever heard a talk and wanted to argue with the teacher? I haven't often. I once did go up to a teacher after a short talk and disagree with him about something. But he was a teacher I knew a bit, and he laughed and agreed with me, and said he'd oversimplified that bit on purpose.

(edited for appalling grammar)

I just finished this yesterday. It was hilarious! Especially the part about making up stories about other people. I projected all kinds of not-nice imaginings on one guy on my last retreat, became totally fascinated by a younger woman's beauty, and an extremely heavy woman's ungainliness. Felt foolish about it all.

I actually appreciate the silence, but I also appreciated the opportunities to talk to the teacher on my last retreat, and the discussions of the dharma talks were reminiscent of a seminar (a familiar setting for me). So the balance was just right. I also have to say I need to make sure my cushions are arranged "just so," but once I get them in place I can sit still for any length of time.

I'm another cushion arranger. A few months ago the leader of a local sitting group poked fun at me as I arranged the "bodhi seat" I need in order to be able to sit without excruciating pain. This didn't cause a strong reaction, but it's interesting that the memory of it arises nearly every time I'm about to sit down on the cushion.

Barford's book sounds interesting, I could use a fun read...and offhand, I'd have to say that I too find some of the etiquette at vipassana gatherings a little forced and silly at times.