by Andrew Topf

It was a typical Sunday afternoon, or so I thought. I got into my car around 5 pm to go grocery shopping. Halfway to the store, as I was turning left, I realized a man was crossing the street on the green light. Luckily, we saw each other in time, but I could see he was clearly annoyed that I had not yielded him the right-of-way. Suddenly he stopped walking, looked me straight in the eye, and then calmly, without effort, gave me the finger! This casual display of aggression took me by surprise and shocked me, at least temporarily.

It made me think of all the countless small, seemingly inconsequential ways that we diminish and browbeat our fellow human beings. When I walked into the grocery store, things only got worse. The store was buzzing with activity; people walked briskly through the aisles while cashiers beeped and bagged items through ceaseless conveyor belts. Yet I felt utterly alone. A typical Sunday afternoon shopping trip had turned into an existential nightmare. Who were these human beings mindlessly rushing around without care for each other? Was this really my world? It all seemed so foreign to me. As I lined up to pay, I received the final indignity from the cashier, a young man who looked about 20. Not once did he look at me as he robotically scanned each item. After I’d paid and received my change, he finally glanced up, and mumbled, to no one in particular, “Happy New Year.” Small, seemingly inconsequential acts of aggression.

This mundane chain of events could have happened on any day in my life, but the fact that it happened the day after the Winter Weekthun at the Vancouver Shambhala Centre held special significance for me. After sitting and meditating for a week, my world had changed. Actually, it wasn’t my world that had changed, but the way that I perceived it. The mindlessness and aggression displayed by the pedestrian and the people in the grocery store didn’t seem normal to me, even though we have been conditioned through our “setting sun” mentality to think so. Like the spaces between breaths that occur during shamatha practice, I was able to see the contrast between a world of human connection, experienced through the Weekthun, and our “real” world, which often seems like a world of disconnection.

As a beginning meditator, I approached the Weekthun with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. My own modest practice consists of 15 to 20 minutes a day, and here I was, agreeing to sit 12 hours a day for a week. Was I deluded? I told my friends I was either going to emerge from this an enlightened being or certifiably insane. As it turns out, I became neither crazy nor Buddha-esque; rather, I came away with a better understanding of my mind, of the incredible depth and profundity of the Shambhala teachings, and of the close bond that can develop between strangers while sitting together in silence in a room.

As Geoff Bannoff pointed out during one of his talks, it often takes long periods of sitting to dislodge the mind from the patterns it grows accustomed to during a normal daily-practice sit. It’s like always going for the same run along the same stretch of road during the same time of day, every day. The body appreciates the heart pumping and the legs and arms moving, but it soon gets comfortable. Sitting for a long time forces you out of your comfort zone, to a place where real changes and insights can occur.

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche talks of the “cocoon” of our daily existence, but the Weekthun offered another kind of cocoon that was both seductive and sweet. Never before have I felt so protected and treated so compassionately and humanely, by the staff at the centre, whose careful planning created a beautiful container from which to practice. Overseer Jan Russell imparted her wealth of experience to Jillyan Gift, who managed the day-to-day activities flawlessly and with humour and grace.

One of the best surprises for me, and I’m sure I speak for everyone, were the meals cooked for us by our generous sangha. Each day we were delighted by a home-cooked meal usually consisting of several courses – from fresh green salads brimming with goodness and nutrition, to hot savory casseroles and spicy Indian dishes, to decadent desserts that must have taken hours to produce. Thank you to all who provided these goodies. Your culinary expressions of love and kindness brought warmth and joy to us during mealtimes.

I can’t say enough about our revered teachers who guided us, especially as we laboured and stumbled, along this difficult seven-day road. Like a solid rock in a swift-flowing river, Geoff Bannoff was the epitome of strength and stability – something we all craved when our minds wandered and our bodies protested. Most of us were introduced to Noreen Morris for the first time. A former student of Trungpa Rinpoche, Noreen joined the retreat from Bellingham, where she has recently taken up residence, and it was a pleasure to have her in the shrine room with us. Sometimes during a sit, Noreen would get up and walk through the room, just observing the practitioners. Her walks were always without judgment or purpose. Reflecting on it later, it is these qualities that one should bring to a meditation practice. Many of us found our hearts and tear ducts opening during Noreen’s talk on the Three Prajnas, when she drew a delightful analogy between the teachings and “meeting your parents again” after a long absence. “The teachings are something like that,” she said in her soft Irish lilt. “You have to get used to them. You have to get used to sitting down with your mother and father. They treat you very well.” Susan Chapman, whose calm insights pierced like an arrow through the fog of confusion and discursiveness, was with us every step of the way. During a toast to Susan at the end of the retreat, practitioner Anne Thompson evoked a beautiful image to describe Susan’s strength and gentleness: a Monet painting of a bridge festooned with flowers. I couldn’t think of a more apt and touching metaphor.

If there is one thing I took away from this Weekthun, it’s the knowledge that I gave something of myself and am the better person for it. It has opened my heart and exposed the brilliant sun that shines within me. Thank you Vancouver Shambhala for creating the conditions to make it happen.