Seeking Transformation

Meditating at Esalen

I come to Esalen seeking transformation.

Pay attention, Nature counsels. This is a sacred place, where many come searching and delusions abound. I find my room, perched on a cliff, overlooking a creek flowing into the ocean. I unpack and hurry to the welcome meeting, then dinner. When it’s time for the first class, I walk down one side of a shadowy canyon and up another, breathing in air scented by eucalyptus.

I notice I am older than most walking this path and I am grateful to still be able to climb these hills. When I hesitate at a crossroads, my teacher, dressed in his robes, arrives behind me. He knows the way, so I walk beside him. The first time I speak to him, my Imposter arises. I counsel myself; “comparison destroys.” Commit simply to sincere effort.

Outside the pavilion I take off my shoes, silence my phone, and take one last sip of chai. I navigate a tent-full of strangers, worry about my back, arrange and rearrange my seating.

A bell rings three times.

I close my eyes, then breathe in and breathe out but can’t settle. My Rebel clamors against instruction. My expectations surge. Listening with half a heart, I watch bats cavort behind my teacher’s head.

We sit again. I breathe in and out, notice my resistance and this time, let it go.

After an evening of meditation and dharma talks, I go to the baths on a clear and moonless night. I sit in the pitch-black with half a dozen other bodies, luminous in the sulfurous waters. I look up at the celestial bowl of Heaven, letting the wind caress my cheeks. I feel the power of Nature and my place in it.

Drying off I meet Haru and notice the nourishment of human connection. How potent yet fleeting. I walk through the garden with my flashlight, all manner of flowers glow in its beam. I experience delight walking unafraid in the dark.

I sleep well. Wake early. From bed, I notice the sun move across the wall. I look at waves washing over a rock. Notice the pattern of foam change each time I pay attention. Framed by the window, I see a blue composition of ocean, horizon, and sky.

At breakfast, I observe my fellow humans. Sense what is unmet in each. Notice them seek out each other. I notice my solitude. Hear my heartbeat. Feel my yearning for a forever friend. I see tarnish under gilded surfaces. Beauty and truth in this reality.

I yearn for silence while my teacher talks through our meditation. “Don’t beat yourself up” he says again. And again. I feel a weary disbelief creep in as my teacher answers students’ questions. Finally, I marshal the courage to ask my own.

I wait as he finishes talking to another student. Without thinking I sit on his dais, and see a flash of his resistance. As the bell rings to start the next session, I ask “Why commit to daily practice?” Without answering, my teacher sends me back to my seat.

I understand. Don’t look to teachers for answers. The answer lies in your own question.

After the session, I spend the afternoon with Nature. I hear the ocean, engine of life, hum, and roar. I watch the sun move inexorably across the earth. The wind and grass dance with each other. People, sacred and profane, come and go. Even if the awakened live in this realm, there will always be suffering, chaos, and unfulfilled desire.

And there is also profound stillness. The eternal Now.

I wrestle with this paradox. Of these two truths co-existing. Like a sea bird skimming the waves, I dip and soar in my restless search. Just then, a sparrow grabs a branch. So close, I could touch him. I feel his urgent song ripple within me. He searches for food, marks territory, seeks a mate. He is a householder. Like me.

I close my eyes again. Between two breaths, I experience omnipresence. The ebb and flow of waves, tides, and breath. All is restless and eternal. All disappearing into Silence. All of this, all of this is the joyous imperfection of Life.