I think I can say with complete confidence that I am very likely to be the only person to have ever sat in a vipassana meditation hall dressed like Scary Spice.
Day eight and I decided to put on my leopard print jumpsuit to make myself feel fierce. And fierce I felt, until I found out it was the day Id be allocated a cell for solitary confinement and would look, quite literally, like a caged animal.
VIPASSANA DAY 8
We filtered into the beautiful cake-shaped pagoda and I shuffled across the perfectly polished brown tiles, along the curved corridor to cell number 46.
The walls of The Cake had square holes cut out top and bottom letting in chessboard patterns of afternoon light.
I walked into my cell wide-eyed and smiling like a kid on their first visit to a theme park. I’m not quite sure what made it all so fascinating or exciting – I guess I’ve never been locked in a prison before.
I sat down on my marine blue meditation cushion and looked around.
My cell was no more than six foot deep and three foot wide. It’s white walls were somehow absorbing the powdery blue reflections from outside giving it a warm, pastel shaded glow and the chessboard lighting was making parts of the wall sparkle.
The door had three square panels running down the centre. The bottom and top were a thin pane of glass covered in dribbles of the old autumn orange paint that coated the middle panel, sides, hinges and even the door handle.
I sat there for a few hours meditating and feeling like the main attraction at a zoo but by five o’clock I was starting to fidget, so I decided to get to work on my own rap.
lets draw a line under vanity
I’m thinking in rhyme, grime and profanity
it’s got to be a crime against humanity
to be locked in a cell
feeling mad as hell
on a quest to find some sanity
waiting for the bell to chime
so I know it’s time for chai
wondering why oh why
am I enduring this mundanity
“am I high?” I yell
thinking I might as well
forget the immanity
of my shoulda woulda coulda been a Buddha
then a miracle spell was cast
and at last I’m free
sat there bended knee
in the Dhamma Slammer
with a face of glee
in my cheetah glamour
blastin’ out satirical grammar
like I’m MC hammer
At least I think its a rap, maybe its a poem or maybe I just vomited up the contents of a thesaurus up with some vague reference to my situation.
Whatever it is, I think we can all agree it’s just written evidence that I am one step closer to being sectioned.
Drop the mic.