Although I am trying not to be obnoxious about it, I did go on a 10-day silent meditation retreat earlier this month, and it was indeed a profound experience.
When I tell people about the experience, and the fact that yes, I willingly chose to go, many express surprise and confusion. No phone for 10 days? No internet for 10 days? Not talking for 10 days? Some people close to me were even somewhat resistant. Would I be brainwashed? Indoctrinated? Dragged through the cruel tutelage of S.N. Goenka?
On the winding path that led me to a 10-day silent meditation retreat in Rockford, Illinois, one of the key junctures was taking AP Literature ("AP Lit") with Hallie Karen Brinkerhoff, also known as "Brink," at West Jessamine High School -- just outside of Wilmore, Kentucky.
Brink was strict about graded participation, and I was shy about speaking in class. A month or so into the semester, my football coach pulled me aside during practice and said, "Did you know you're failing AP Lit? I was surprised to see you on 'the list.' Better get that figured out..."
I bandaged the situation and temporarily fixed my grade by doing copious amounts of extra research about class readings, and planning elaborate monologues that I could go through in class when Brink would ask open-ended questions: "Any other thoughts? Comments? Ideas? If you haven't shared yet, we would love to hear from you!"
My monologues did not really add to the class conversation, but it was enough to change my grade. And at the time, the grade was my main concern (although I also wanted Brinkerhoff to like me).
Brinkerhoff also taught writing courses at the University of Kentucky, and on her "rate my professors" page, one comment caught my eye: "Very hard grader, tough teacher. RUDE. but learn a lot."
But Learn a Lot
On the quest to improve my grade in Brinkerhoff's class, I discovered that one of my friends had earned hundreds of bonus points for his annotations of a book we read for class. Students had to turn in physical copies of our books, which Brinkerhoff would look through and grade based on our engagement with the text. (It's a good exercise, and one I might borrow for my classes to help mitigate AI usage, at least a bit...)
When I looked at my friend's book that had earned him extra points, every page had two or three written notes in the margins. I was desperate to get my grade up, so I resolved to do the same. It was daunting to consider how much time and effort it would take, but it was easier for me than speaking up in class.
One of the first books I annotated extensively was Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse.
Siddhartha came to mind a lot while I was sitting in silence for 10 days. And it's been interesting to think about this book/story at the same time The Odyssey is hitting theaters. The Odyssey is the classics hero's journey of "the west." I even saw an ad for a drink called "the hero's journey":
"Embark on an epic voyage with a tart, honey-spiced cocktail with a legendary finish. Order the Hero’s Journey mixed with Maker’s Mark when you see THE ODYSSEY, now playing. Available at MacGuffins Bar."
Man, I love when a drink description includes three advertisements! And you're telling me it's only $18?
I digress, but... this comical product description actually kind of captures the whole phenomenon. The "Hellenistic" tradition of Homer's Odyssey (aka "the west") is desperately attached to materials: the honey-spice, the b0urb0n, the tart lemon.
The heroic aspects of Odysseus' journey are material victories: conquest, survival, return. And while he does face some challenges and temptations through inward clarity ("tie me to the mast"), his victories are decidedly material. He strings the bow, slaughters the suitors, reunites with his dog, etc. You know the story.
But "the east" and "the west" have very different kinds of heroics. This is not a simple binary, of course, and ordinal directions are relative. So instead of eastern/western, let's compare "Hellenistic" heroics with "Dharmic" heroics. There are probably better terms. If you are one of the three people (or bots) who read this blog, and you know the better terms, please share!
Dharmic Heroics
The journey of Siddhartha, and the journey described by S.N. Goenka at 10-day meditation retreats, is an inward journey. The "wheel of Dhamma" turns toward no destination in particular. There is no material arrival, no literal pilgrimage, no final stop.
Siddhartha did observe that "he had to go into the world" (page 53 in my copy) to learn about the insufficiency of that world - to learn that "worldly pleasures and wealth are not good things." But that discovery could be made almost anywhere.
It's the classic aphorism that another one of my great high school teachers, Wayne Stevens, used to talk about a lot: "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." (Stevens used to say something like, "well, you can also pull the horse's head really close to the water, or even into the water...").
You can give a student a failing grade because he doesn't participate in class, but you can't make him participate in class, or grasp the importance of participation. You can reward students lots of points for annotation, but you can't make them appreciate the significance of really engaging with a text.
And you can require students to read Siddhartha, but you cannot force them to go on their own inward journey.
Reading Siddhartha 13 years ago softened my mind. As I read, re-read, and annotated the book in high school, I found myself learning a lot. At the time, I thought other traditions had a monopoly on truth -- I had been told of only one hero who renounced the material world and taught of a kingdom within. And yet here was Siddhartha, echoing many of the parables I knew, sometimes with greater clarity.
I still have my copy of Siddhartha from high school, with all my annotations therein (e.g. "not going to lie, this is the most cheesy part of the book.") I used a black pen for most of my annotations, and a red pen to highlight parts about the Ferryman. We performed parts of the story as a play in class, and Brinkerhoff assigned the role of the Ferryman to yours truly.
One of my favorite lines (page 27 in my copy):
"You can learn a lot from a river"