Mahasi

I must say that on my first day at Mahasi I was scared. For some reason I thought that this meditation thing would turn into some sort of brain washing cult experience. Nonetheless, I stepped into the administrative hall of the centre looking for U Tin Soe who was waiting for me after our brief phone conversation from my hotel. U Tin turned out to be a bespectacled elderly man with a somewhat confused smile. His English is bare bones and he quickly informed me that his son lives in the USA. He seemed a bit perplexed and amused by my application but then pulled a large folder off the pile of clutter on his desk and showed me another application. Sandra, from Switzerland, was the only other westener at the centre. He pointed at her picture and said: "You look same-same."

International yogis are hosted in seperate quaters from local Burmese meditators. My hostel room cost US$5 a night and is guarded by a near deaf 80 year old woman. The building is always locked with a padlock and rooms are bare bones but comfy. The bed consists of a wooden board and a bamboo mat complete with mosquito net. Daw Khin Khin Htay, the deaf warden, decked me out with two brown longyis, two white shirts and a brown shall to be worn over my left shoulder. The uniform is mandatory for breakfast, lunch and any meetings with the master yogi at the centre. Bathrooms are shared and bath times, like meal times, are scheduled.


The alarm clock I've been travelling with is a useless item here. At 3am a five minute gong session wakes the compounds inhabitants. On my first morning here the Swiss girl in the room next door somehow slept through the continuous gonging. By 4am we are in the hall. Silent except for the whir of the fans. Three Buddhist nuns and a Korean woman are already meditating. The room has a wooden floor and several large floor to ceiling windows. There are mosquito nets hanging from lines strung across the room. Underneath each net is a square bamboo mat, some pillows and four or five rocks to secure the nets on the ground. Two standing fans whir their heads from side to side, gently moving the loose cloth worn by the nuns. After one hour of walking meditation the women loosen the knots of their mosquito nets and drape them around their sitting bodies atop the mats. Now begins the one hour sitting meditation.

At 5am it is time for breakfast. We join the end of the queu of red clothed monks in the darkness outside. My traditional Burmese longyi is held up with a green piece of string that I've tied around hips. The line-up has a hierarchy that goes like this: monks, nuns, foreigners. A slow, low drum beat accompanied by the howling of stray dogs that live on the 33 acres of the complex propels the line into the dining hall. Again the Burmese eat in a seperate hall. Foreigners join the monks in their hall. Breakfast is ready on the low round tables. We sit on the floor and eat in silence. After the meal it's time to meditate again until 9am. At 10am we are served our last meal of the day, lunch. The food is prepared by volunteers and consists of several vegie dishes, two meat dishes, rice and noodles. Ice cream is served for dessert along with some bananas.

The remaining day is spent alternating between sitting and slowly walking whilst meditating. The alternation between the sitting and the walking makes it easier to focus the mind and distract it from the screaming stiffness and pain of prolonged sessions of immobility. Fifteen minutes is the best I can do without moving. After that my left foot is usually asleep and the attached limb is tingling.

At 3pm there's an hour break for washing. Yogis are advised to meditate in their own rooms for another 2 hours before sleeping at 11pm. Meditating while lying down is extremely difficult especially if you have been woken by a gong outside your window at 3am. Regardless, I gave it my best shot and fell asleep atop my wooden plank as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Curiously enough Daw Khin Khin has been chatting with me all day....