Modern Meditation现代沉思

I received an email from my friend, who is a 34-year-old monk from Thailand, inviting me to join him for meditation on Sunday afternoon. It’s a free activity open to anyone interested, so I email back that I’d love to. He texts me the address using his iPhone. I use my prehistoric cellphone that has no Internet capability to thank him again.

I enter his home, slip off my shoes and seat myself upon a mat on the floor. The monk uses his laptop to play some soothing Thai music. I hear the click of the television, and the forty-inch flat screen comes to life. The sound of melodious Buddhist incantations commences. I close my eyes and adjust my legs into a lotus position, sitting crossed legged and placing my right ankle upon my upper left thigh. I straighten my spine and fold one hand over the other. I fidget at first, unaccustomed to sitting so still. I inhale and exhale deeply, my chest rising and falling slowly. Two monks, adorned in blazing orange garb, are seated behind me and begin to chant in ancient Hindu. The words are foreign, but my body relaxes to the powerful, esoteric mantra. Meditating is going to be easy, I foolishly think to myself. Then the television powers off, and silence consumes the room – an hour of complete silence. Tranquil meditation turns into a civil war on the inside. I struggle to keep my eyes closed, and I fight to keep my body properly erect.

Expecting to find inner peace, I am surprised when I am met with chaos instead. I battle to block the barrage of nonsensical, random waves of thoughts that continuously flood my mind. What do I have for homework tonight? I need a haircut. White Pillowcase. Mascara. Abalone. A fierce wind blows, and the waves surge. My stream of thought transforms into a roaring sea. Thoughts rise, crash and break loudly against the shore of my inner consciousness. New ones form to take their place. I can’t make the waters ebb – the high tide and the current are too strong to control. I yield to its force and let my thoughts run wild. The hour ends, and I leave perplexed at my utter inability to calm my mind.

I email the monk and tell him that I want to come again. My inbox lights up with a new message in bold. I click to read his response. “See you next Sunday – sent via my iPad.”

我对学会怎么沉思非常有兴趣，可是总是找不到时间来学学，也没得到机会来学。可是我在北大开学时，坐在我前面的是一位从泰国来的和尚；机会来了。如果要我想到和尚，我死都不回想到他。说到使用网际网络，他比我行；天气冷时他会用个Nike的头盖。可是虽然他是个二十一世界的和尚，他所教的佛教概念还是很传统。

因此，收到他的电邮邀请时，我兴奋得很。沉思，星期天下午，免费，公开给所有的北京居民。地址呢？他用他的iPhone短讯给我。我用我的手机打电话给他表达谢意。我的手机比他的二得很，不能上网，可是至少可以打电话

星期天，我进入他的公寓，脱了鞋，找了个毯子坐下了。他用了他的手提电脑来播一些抚慰的泰音乐。我听到电视开关的声音；四十寸平面电视。抚慰的佛教呗声音。我闭上了眼睛，盘腿而坐在莲花位置里。一支手在另外一支手上，胫骨直地坐着：开始是有点不舒服，因为不习惯！我呼，我吸，呼，吸•••不习惯。坐在我后面的的两个穿着鲜艳橙色长袍的和尚开始用古老的印度语呗。字我听不懂，可是我的身体了解它的音律。沉思会很容易，我对自己想。很容易！

突然间电视机把自己关了。整个房间一声也听不到，完全的安静 – 一个小时连续不停的安静。

平静的沉思变成了体内的内战。眼睛我闭不上，身体我坐不直。本来期待着找到和平，但是糟了，找到的其实是胡乱。我不停的胡思乱想，不能停止自己。今晚有什么功课？头发长了，得剪。白色枕套。化妆。鲍鱼。强风暴雨；我的脑海变成了高潮，一个又一个地闯进我的思想。我控制不了它们 ，水太高了，我只能被沉没。

一个小时过了，而我还是搞不通为什么自己不能控制自己的脑海。我给和尚发出个电邮，说我想再试一次。我的电邮信箱立刻收到个回答：＂那就下个星次天见吧 – 从我的iPad而寄。＂