The Satipatthana Sutta course I attended in May 2024 follows a structured format similar to a ten-day course. The main difference is that the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, a foundational text in Vipassana meditation, is thoroughly discussed during the evening discourses. Each meditator has a textbook of the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, an empty notepad, and a pencil for personal reflections. The evening discourses systematically explain the Vipassana meditation technique, offering a deeper understanding of how and why we practice this technique in this way.
This course is designed for experienced meditators who have completed at least three ten-day courses. This prerequisite ensures that Vipassana meditators are ready to delve deeper into their practice. During the course, I felt the difference. The students were quieter, and the atmosphere was serene and spacious.
When I initially signed up for the course, I set out to enhance my concentration and mindfulness during meditation and cultivate a kinder attitude towards myself and others. Looking back, I successfully achieved both of these goals, which fills me with a profound sense of accomplishment and inspires me to continue my personal growth and self-discovery journey.
One of the reasons it's challenging to convey the experience of the Satipatthana Course is that it's a personal journey, a solitary experience. I met with my teacher a few times during the course to seek clarification on certain aspects, such as whether I could write about insights that were not directly from the Sutta or influenced by it. The entire course was conducted in silence, and my insights revolved around my personality and the obstacles I faced on the path, including my cravings and aversions. The personal reflections aspect of the course, facilitated by the empty notepad and pencil provided, was instrumental in my self-discovery and growth.
In a meditation session, I briefly dozed off and was asked by the course manager to wake up and meditate. Feeling embarrassed, I used the experience to learn and started taking more breaks to rest. This incident made me realize the importance of incorporating regular breaks into my day. As a result, I was able to sit through the three mandatory meditation sessions without difficulty.
I spent a lot of time in my cell in the pagoda. A cell is a minimal space, bare, lit with a night light, with a mat to sit on and room to bring in a chair if the meditator, like me, needed one. In my particular cell, there was another door in front of me that would not open. My teacher told me that when Goenkaji was alive and present in the Center, he would be on the other side of the door and sometimes open the door to give particular instructions to the meditator sitting there. What a treat it must have been! I felt his presence and the presence of many beings beyond the veil. They were my mentors, teachers, and those who were there before me. I felt taken care of and nourished by them, and time passed more slowly in the cell. Once, I was sure the servers forgot to ring the lunch gong. I had to leave the cell, watch the clock outside the cell, and see there were ten more minutes until lunch. I felt embarrassed by my lack of trust in the system.
On the fourth day, I longed for my husband so intensely that I had to remind myself how fortunate I was to be married to him and feel such deep longing for someone. I couldn't recall my life before I met him, and I couldn't imagine it without him. Then, I had to remind myself that I was always alone. Even if he took the course with me, he would be in the Men's section. Anything or anyone not in the present is in my thoughts. The babbling brook along the walking path, the chirping of birds, and the leaves rustling in the wind all served as reminders of who and what was present. I returned to the practice of noticing how everything changes. My longing for my husband was no longer as intense or all-consuming. The sound of the brook, the pagoda bells, the pebbles under my feet, and the blooming magnolia all enveloped me in love and care.
As the course progressed and my awareness grew, the colors of nature intensified. Every leaf had a particular shade of green. Each flower was unique and vibrant. Every day was an invitation for an introduction to insights and visions. I stood in front of a tree and admired its bark. Each segment was different and perfect. I focused on my sensations. The tree seemed to have had infinite eyes looking at me. After a little while, I noticed small insects walking on it the way I walked on the ground. I felt one with all beings, human and non-human.
When I returned to my room, I saw an ant on the dresser crawling on my book. She became my roommate. I was pleased to break my aloneness by having a new companion in my room. The next day, I saw three more ants in my room. They were my roomies. Each time I came in, I was careful not to step on them, always mindful of where my next step would land. Two mornings later, I found one ant dead in the shower. I took her out and put her on the ground. The next day, three ants were dead on the floor. Maybe they don't live that long. My whole view toward ants changed. Size didn't determine importance. I started seeing them as beings with the same right to live as humans.
After the retreat, I remain careful not to step on little creatures like ants, snails, and worms. It makes sense and doesn’t seem extraordinary. I continue to reflect on the interconnectedness of all life. Before the retreat, stories about monks who carefully swept the path to avoid stepping in critters amused me. Since the retreat, the monks' ways seem humane and considerate.
Every evening, we listened to a talk based on the Mahasatipatthana Sutta. Goenkaji would highlight specific aspects of the practice, and I would compare the Pali text on the left side of the book with the English translation on the right. I have been studying Pali for a few months, and it has helped me gain a deeper understanding of the Buddha's words. I felt grateful to my Pali teacher for helping me see how one word in Pali translates into three in English. Pali is a vibrant language. It wasn't just about verbal translation; the sentence's rhythm and the words' sounds engaged all my senses. Similar to how the Buddha discussed different sense doors in each paragraph, I felt all my senses played a role. My heart beat like a drum with the reading as if the sutta was a musical piece. The words tasted sweet, something I never experienced before. I felt close to the Buddha as if he was teaching me the path to enlightenment.
Our last meal was lunch at eleven, and we only had tea at five. Usually, I would get hungry at seven, but my hunger would be gone by eight. This restraint highlighted one of the fundamental experiences of the course—everything changes. One doesn't remain forever hungry; it's a sensation that passes away.
On the sixth day, while walking on the path outside, I caught sight of a woman meditator looking out her window. When she saw me, she started crying and asked, "What's wrong with you?" I immediately looked away, continued walking, and stopped before a blooming bush, admiring its purple flowers. I practiced anapana, aware of my breath, and calmed down from the emotional storm. This approach helped prevent misunderstandings from escalating and made relationships gentler and more loving. My strategy became to contain and restrain, observe my sensations, notice how they changed, and allow my breath and mind to slow down to a place where my reaction was not impulsive but helpful. When I returned home, it became part of my practice. The next time my coworker told me I had a disturbing attitude, I listened to their words instead of reacting to their tone; listening became a tool for communication and connecting. I thank them for their feedback. The whole interaction transformed from being problematic to being instructional.
Throughout the course, I experienced a profound sense of growth akin to a plant receiving consistent watering and nourishment with the finest nutrients. It's challenging to precisely identify what contributed to this growth, like a plant needing help to discern the specific nutrients in the soil that foster its development. I started tasting the flavor of vegetables without adding any dressing to them. I would eat organic lettuce from top to bottom, chewing each leaf with gusto, evoking my saliva glands. I slept better, without turning so much in my sleep. If I didn’t fall asleep immediately, I lay feeling my sensations in different parts of my body, recognizing that my mind and body were getting the attention they needed after a long day on my feet, like a car getting service. When my husband, Alex, touched me, I felt the area intensely, as if it were alive. He said I had become gentler and more patient. He also wanted to work his way to the Satipatthana course. I whispered, "Thank you, Alex, thank you, Dhamma." We meditated for an hour in the morning and an hour at night with greater determination and diligence.
I am deeply grateful to the staff and servers of Dhamma Dhara for their selfless service and dedication, which made my journey even more meaningful. I also look forward to serving on other courses to benefit participants.
The Satipatthana Course is enriching and revelatory, and I wholeheartedly recommend it. It's mighty and has made a significant impact on my life.
Aviva Derenowski