Away, Far Away

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. I'd never seen snow before, at least not in real life. Being from Honolulu made me an outsider here in more ways than one.

This would be my first winter on the mainland, and I thought about the clothing I'd packed as I leaned back and stared out the window. Maybe I could just wear everything at once. I did know that I wasn't looking forward to stepping out of the car. The cold would not be an easy adjustment for me.

The weekend had been planned months in advance, and I was paying a hefty price to attend. For several years I've been part of an online meditation group, and we were all very familiar with each other's faces, but only the leader ever spoke.

From day one, he laid down the rules. No greeting each other, just the pursuit of silence, in the body and the mind. He would introduce every session with just a few words, a reminder, and we'd spend the rest of the time trying to tap into the peace and oneness that resides within. It had been a quiet car ride, as you might imagine.

But thinking wasn't off-limits, at least not yet.

We'd been challenged to remain silent the whole time. Even at the airport, we only greeted each other with slight smiles as we gathered around a sign one of us held at baggage claim that read, "West Coast Silent Meditation Group." Some people were taller than I'd imagined. Only one was shorter.

My parents didn't understand my interest in this, and frequently seemed to resent the days when I didn't respond to them, at least not verbally. They admonished me for the amount I was spending on this trip, saying I would regret it later, and how would I ever afford my own place on the island if I was blowing my savings on silly things? I silently offered them loving-kindness, and forgave them for not seeing the positive changes this practice had made in my life.

If only they'd had the same access when they were young to something so transformational. I wonder how they might be. More patient? Less consumed by thoughts of money and other worries? Perhaps their words would be less violent, or they would find the same enjoyment in silence that I do. They would certainly see more, from the perspective of an observer with an open heart.

When the car was parked, our driver turned his head to look at each of us with a nod and a gentle smile. The four of us exited the car, and as I stepped out the snow beneath my feet made a surprising crunch. It felt like something I couldn't even describe, unlike any sensation I'd had before. I grinned and reminded myself not to remark on it to the others. They didn't seem to feel the same delight at the details of the snow underfoot, and were instead looking up to examine the cabin ahead.

We walked to the door and began to file in just as I was beginning to notice how cold I was. My nose had started to run after just a couple of minutes outside, and my hands trembled slightly. I noticed I was the only one without gloves, though one woman hadn't actually put hers on, and was instead holding them as we entered.

The heat was blasting, and the sound of the heater seemed to fill the entire room, thrumming somewhat unpleasantly. I decided then that, if I could, I would try to spend some of my time outside. Even if it was freezing, it wouldn't be artificial. I'd rather hear the wind.

All of a sudden, I felt a presence just behind me. Turning slowly, I lifted my eyes and there he was. The leader was baring his teeth with a wide-mouthed smile. His eyes glittered in a chilling way, and I wondered how he could have snuck around and suprised me. It had all been so quiet. He put his finger up to his lips, reminding me to stay quiet, and gave me wink, before walking over to the others in turn. Some he greeted with a gentle pat on the back. The moment happened too fast for me to fully process before he'd walked away.

It had been taken longer for me to attend an in-person get together than some of the group members, because the roundtrip cost was high for me. Maybe I wasn't giving the others enough credit, perhaps being ungenerous, but I felt used then. We'd never exchanged a word, only sharing a goal, and maybe even that I had projected.

They were gathered in a circle as I remained alone by the window, talking with their eyes, backs turned to me, and I knew that my tribe either wasn't in this cabin, or didn't exist at all.