I've gotten a few texts from people confused by Tamara addressing me as Dallas, not Houston. To clear that one up, I adopted my yoga persona during the tour--when in Rome...
Day one of the 10 day course began with the arrival of the guests. Vipassana rules require loose fitting, cloaking garb. Despite this being Panama--a land known for a crazy or two--women hoping to spot a Borat man-sling were out of luck. What's more, the hosts made the guests deposit all communication and amusement devices in the resort vault for the duration. No Angry Birds or sexting? How much harder could this get??
With all assembled, we were bade to take out our mediation pillows and have a seat on the wooden floor. Thereupon followed some introductory patter. I wasn't paying attention, being distracted by the wind patterns on their Sponge Bob curtains. I prematurely meditated, dwelling at length on their decorative motives. Were we supposed to absorb all the teachings? Or was Sponge Bob there to soak up all our bad energy? And where did Patrick fit into things? What good is a mindless fool? Then it struck me--he's just what we're aiming to be--an empty vessel. Patrick is a pink Bodhisattva. I could feel that I was making great progress already. 5 minutes and I was into the swing of it. 10 days? No problem! I could do this in 3. I figured to have an unspoken word with an instructor about getting placed into the advanced class because of my natural talents. I made a note to meditate on Squidward when I had more time.
The breakup of the introduction roused me from this reverie. Having paid zero attention, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So I closed my eyes and looked inside myself for the answer. I did this because I had a hazy recollection of someone saying "all the answers lie inside" during my premeditation. Well, it's not easy finding things inside me--my insides are messier than my apartment. So it was taking a while. A pall of self-consciousness began to descend as my frustration grew. When I opened my eyes for a second to collect a mental breath I saw one of the instructors waving furiously at me. Silence is good for some things. Communication isn't one of them. From his litany of hand gestures I came to understand that all the students were to dine inside, now. And this was to be the big meal of the day. Having pounded a travel pack of oreos in a last fling of debauchery I foresaw extreme hunger later.
After what my 80-pound grandma Lou would call a light lunch, we retired to our rooms for rest. But, with a raging sugar rush, rest wasn't in the cards. I wondered with a sigh what the afternoon meditation would bring. And that got me wondering how loud a sigh was allowed. Is an energetic sigh "speaking"? When you get right down to it, how do they define speaking? Did they cover that in the introduction? Damn the communications blackout. No google to cover my ass. All the answers lie inside Google. And I was cut off. I suddenly felt tired. I did need rest.
I fell into a most wonderful dream...
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