No Itch is Eternal

It wasn’t until I was instructed to sit for an entire hour without moving or opening my eyes that I realized how much I want to fidget. How often I move my hands. Shift my weight forward, back, side to side. How often my eyes want to look for distraction. How often I looked for escape from whatever mental prison I'd created for myself in the present moment.

And I thought, he probably means try your best to not move, but it’s okay if it’s an emergency e.g. a break to the bathroom (a great way to stretch the legs and use up some of that time) or to change your position if it’s getting unbearably painful or even to scratch an itch. Surely it’s okay to scratch an itch?

No. He meant do not move. At all. For whatever reason. I tested this theory several times. The first time I got up to go to the bathroom during meditation, I came out and the women’s manager was there. I thought she was just waiting in line but she just followed me back to the hall. I thought, strange, maybe she just wanted to stretch her legs? (Silly, silly me.) The second time this happened she asked me if I was having stomach problems. “Yes?” I lied. Oh fuck, I thought, I just lied to Rose. I just broke a precept. Fuck. Is swearing breaking a precept? Probably. Fuck. Omg VERA STOP.

Okay. So no bathroom breaks. Switching leg positions must be okay, right? This was addressed that evening. “You must sit still without opening your legs, your eyes, or your hands. Yes, there will be pain. But use these sensations to help you observe the impermanence of the body.” He even addressed the itch situation. “No itch is eternal.” Fuck.

The next day I made sure to use the bathroom before formal meditation and then I tried really, really hard not to move. I did not succeed. We were called up to talk to the assistant teacher. “How are you doing with the Adhitanna (“seat of strong determination”)?” he asked each of us.

“Umm, I can usually go most of the hour without moving,” I replied, thinking, that’s pretty good, right?! “I move about two or three times?” Would I get some reassurance? A pat on the back for good effort?

“Alright well just notice how long you’re going without moving,” he said. “If you’re getting to 30 minutes without moving then try to get 31 minutes next time and so on.”

Sound advice.

The sixth day during the first formal sitting I moved twice. I realized it was because I was not picking a winning position. I glanced at the people around me and how over the course of six days we’d all gotten increasingly creative with our cushion and blanket arrangements to try to make the hour of not moving as bearable and possible as we could. I had to pick a position that would spread the pressure to each ass cheek as evenly as possible, the stretch to each knee as evenly as possible, and something that would keep my back as straight as possible.

I chose to stack a soft cushion on top of a meditation cushion for my seat, and then two more cushions on each side for under my knees. Soles of the feet together, knees wide, back against the wall.

And wouldn’t you believe it, during the second sitting of the sixth day I didn’t move for the entire hour. Oh the itches came. And I just said to myself, “no itch is eternal. No itch is eternal.” And gosh darn it, it’s true. The itch would actually go away a lot faster than I thought it would. I got such a kick out of it. Who knew?! As someone who gets super irritated about every disturbing sensation in the body, not being allowed to do anything about it for an hour really teaches one acceptance lol. And patience.

Ahh patience. I was further tested for the next few days as someone else also moved to the back wall from the men’s side. This person insisted on breathing REALLY loudly every time, I’m assuming, he felt anything uncomfortable. Which was, very often. How often, you might ask? Well because I had nothing better to do for the hour and because I didn’t want to break my Adhitanna or noble silence by screaming at him “For fuck’s sake STOP” (there might be some pent up frustration and hypersensitivity when one is meditating 11 hours a day in total silence) I decided to make it a game by counting how many minutes he could go without exhaling like he was trying to assert dominance. (Since I couldn't open my eyes, I timed with my breaths. Five breaths per minute. As a yin teacher, you get surprisingly accurate with this method.)

The longest he went was 17 minutes (I was so proud of him. I was literally cheering him on in my head). The shortest, 25 seconds.

All this to say, you just get really good at non-reactivity. Non-attachment to what you want things to be, or what you don’t want them to be. And non-judgment. Lol, this one remains the hardest, as was demonstrated with Loud-Breather. It’s a work in progress. However, what does end up happening is you start to see the other person as yourself. As much as I was annoyed with his “inconsiderate” way of breathing, I was annoyed with all the ways I knew I could be more considerate. I became a lot more curious about what was really bothering me about not just this situation, but all situations in life that provoked a reaction in me. Every itch that demanded to be scratched.

And how, if I didn’t scratch, if I didn’t react, I could time how long it would be until the feeling went away. Without me needing to do a thing about it.

This is ultimately how we get out of habit loops, harmful patterns, destructive thoughts and behaviours. This is the point of Vipassana, yoga, or any other teachings that lead us back to love, to peace, to connection.

This, as Goenka says, again and again, is the path to liberation.

There’s a reason why after ten days of what can be mental torture for many, people keep going back, year after year to Vipassana retreats. There’s a reason why sitting still can feel like the hardest thing in the world. And why after the ten days, so many of us felt 10,000 pounds lighter.

So much of what we have to confront is all within our own selves. That’s it. It’s got nothing to do with the world, with other people, with circumstances. When we can witness all that agitates us, provokes us, and pains us with equanimity, the strength and peace that we feel afterwards is incomparable to anything else. It’s better than anything else I’ve ever accomplished, physically or otherwise. There’s a sense of invincibility when you have control of your mind. When you have control over your focus. The peace comes from knowing I’m able to surrender to what is, without feeling like I have to “fix” it to what it should be. That no matter how annoying or intense the itch is, even without scratching, it will go away on its own. The joy of watching it come, the joy of watching it go.