Day 6
20 December 2025
The day moved slowly, almost as if time itself had taken a deep breath and paused.
I could barely remember what day it was, or even the hours, except for the gongs: wake-up, assembly, breakfast, lunch, tea and the continuous rhythm of meditation.
The hours of sitting left fingers and legs numb. Some days, I could not even feel my legs; a consequence of the rule we were told from day one: once seated, no movement. 😬
This morning, in my usual rush to fill my water bottle and get to the Dhamma Hall, darkness played a trick on me. I missed a step on the stairs. My knees hit hard, my water bottle tumbled down after me. Layers of clothes softened the blow, but there was still pain and a bruise forming. I quickly brushed myself off, whispered to my left knee to “behave”and carried on to breakfast. 🤣
Food remained the same and I ate less. My bowel movements had become a worry; difficult and painful at times. I even imagined being taken to a hospital in an ambulance, my Vipassana ending abruptly. Fear gripped me. I realized this was partly my own doing: drinking less water each day, avoiding the washroom at nights.
During one session, severe pain forced me to ask to be excused. Denied. Tears rolled again, seemingly endless.
My God, if all the tears I shed over these days were collected, they could flood the entire Himalayas. 😂😭
Eventually, my discomfort was addressed. I was told to move to the back of the hall, sit on the floor and lean against the wall. Relief came immediately, subtle but real. I stayed there, mindful of every breath. When it was time to return to the dorm, I gulped water, felt my bloating ease, and reminded myself to take care. A few days prior, I had skipped rice and Nepalese chapati entirely, sticking strictly to vegetables. Slowly, my system regained balance.
My left knee, tender from the fall, required gentle nurturing; two more days of care before it truly felt whole again.
Day 6 was a profound teacher. Every challenge…the pain, the discomfort, the bodily rebellion, reminded me of lessons I had taken lightly back home. My mother’s voice echoed through my mind: “Don’t rush. Walk slow. Look where you’re going.” Her guidance, her wisdom, her love; all of it felt alive here.
Despite the pain, the fear, the tears, I ended the day a happy child. Smiling, grateful and learning… slowly, deliberately, tenderly. 😊
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