Waiting for the morning star

About 2500 years ago, a young prince from an area just into present-day Nepal, northern India, left his comfortable palace life and went off into the forest in search of what life was all about. He met a number of teachers who taught him how to meditate, and through these methods he achieved amazing states of relaxation, bliss and joy. But still, he felt, something was missing – these states he achieved were very beautiful but they wore off when he came out of it. They were changes in state, not trait.

Bodhi tree much like what the Buddha sat under

So he tried some other things, including fasting. In fact he fasted to such an extreme that he became just a bag of bones and almost died. The legend says that one afternoon he met a milk maid who offered him milk rice sweetened with lumps of honey and he took it. It gave him a boost, and settling himself down comfortably in the shade of a big tree he made a vow: "if only my bones and sinews remain and all my skin and flesh wither away I will not leave this practice place until I have realised full enlightenment".

So he sat all through the night, and as he saw the dawn and the rising of the morning star he woke up completely and fully – not because he was snoozing(!) but in the sense that he realised everything and understood the true nature of the universe. After that he became known as the Buddha – meaning the awakened one.

In the Zen tradition they celebrate the Buddha's awakening on 8th December. In a monastery they would hold a 5-day retreat (called a sesshin) in the days preceding the 8th, and on the last night, sit all night until the dawn like the Buddha did. It's called the Rohatsu sesshin, and here in London we just did the last bit.

So we gathered at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell on Saturday night (7th) at 9pm, and after a short recap from our Zen teacher Daizan about why we were there, we all had a bowl of milk rice sweetened with lumps of honey (commonly known as rice pudding). Freshly lifted into the Ambrosia sugar high we began our night of celebration: 25 mins sitting meditation, 5 min break, 25 mins sitting, 10 mins walking meditation outside around the neighbouring tennis courts, all the way through to 7am.

At about an hour in I started calculating how many hours there were left! After about 2 hours I needed to open out my cross-legged posture. After 3 hours my back muscles which were holding me upright started getting quite uncomfortable. The hardest period for me was from 12-2am where my body was uncomfortable, I was restless, and it was difficult to stay concentrated. The discomfort in my legs started shouting "YOU MUST MOVE", but I knew the best thing to do was to just encourage it to soften and let it be. It took some effort to resist though. Surprisingly the pain gradually faded into the background – only to move into my left shoulder and the process repeated.

At about 2am I realised just how much I was resisting being in the moment. And somehow that realisation allowed something deep inside to give up its fight. The minutes start flying by. The sound of someone's breathing came into sharp focus for a moment or two and then disappeared. The sound of the second hand of the wall clock became incredibly loud. And that made me remember how physical time goes at a constant rate no matter how much you will it to go faster, or how much you get absorbed. Time is such a funny thing.

By 3am I had an impulse to work out how many sits we'd done, to congratulate myself on how far we'd got. But I had no idea. How many times had we walked around the tennis courts? No idea. But it was bracingly cold each time we went outside (no-one put on a coat or extra layers besides shoes) and so invigorating. I came back inside zinging each time! Sleepy sensations swirled around but never really took hold. My body seemed to stay quite upright without much problem (the back pain had faded), but by 5am the mind started going in and out of dull sleepiness like someone was slowly twiddling the focus knob.

Each time we sat back down, I noticed how the same muscles felt sore, then sorer. I was stretching and trying to relax those same muscles again and again. For a time I was fed up with doing these same movements – there's that resistance again. Then I was grateful for how relieving it felt, then there wasn't even that. There was just the movement, the sitting, the walking, and no me doing it.

At 6am with only one hour to go I got a second wind! Only one hour... well I'd better get down to it then. I'm not sure everyone felt like that though. Glancing around the dojo I saw at least 5 people slowly falling, nodding sideways with sleep!

At 7am we finished, stood up, bowed, and hugged each other. We shared a simple breakfast from what people had brought, and left into the morning sunshine to go home.

Offer the time,
offer the space,
offer our presence,
offer our effort,
offer the support,
offer our willing,
make the intention,
and the rest will take care of itself.