Dhamma Slammer

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.

Day nine

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

getting lyrical

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.