Thinking the unthinkable

The desire not to be left out left me having foolishly agreed to join some friends for a 7:30am meditation session. It had sounded interesting when I sat satisfied and sleepy after a large meal the night before, but the 7:30am start was markedly less enticing when my alarm went off at 7am, after a few short hours of dog-interrupted sleep.

My friends were all students of reiki, a type of healing that's very popular in India and also in the West. Their teacher who I'd met during the meal said I was welcome to join them. So 7:30am saw me sitting on a cool concrete rooftop, as the sun rose enchantingly over the misty palm trees and a field studded with two or three cows grazing peacefully on litter.

The reiki master was an Indian lady named Rittu. Well-known and respected in Arambol for her powerful teaching, she would be leading us in the meditation, guiding us towards the goals it hoped to achieve. In my case this would definitely be helpful. On the one or two occasions I'd tried meditation before it had resulted in a great deal of nothing much. To say I was skeptical was too strong but I was certainly doubtful that, with my abilities, I would be able to get much out of it.

We started off by sitting cross-legged on the hard concrete. I hadn't thought to bring anything to sit on so I took off the shirt I was wearing over my vest-top and sat on that. It didn't pad the concrete at all but it did stop the gritty bits digging into my ankles.

I have very tight hips and hamstrings (a month's worth of yoga had left me with no doubt about that!), so sitting cross-legged was about the most uncomfortable position it is possible for me to hold. Within seconds I was fidgeting and adjusting my posture. My lower ankle bone was pressed hard against the concrete but I had nothing to put under it. Looking futilely through my bag more in hope than expectation I searched for something soft to put under it. I knew for certain that I wouldn't manage even a minute if all I could feel was my bone digging into the ground.

Then I had a flash of inspiration: my camera case. It was made of a spongy, neoprene material that would be perfect, it was flat and just the right size to do duty as a makeshift ankle cushion. I took out my camera and slid the case gratefully under my ankle. Now I could settle down and listen to what Rittu was saying.

I straightened my back, clasped my hands together and placed them on my ankles, as this was more comfortable than placing them on my knees as everyone else had done. Grimly I thought how tight hips are the would-be meditator's worst enemy .

Finally I felt comfortable so I closed my eyes and started to listen. In a low voice with a soft Indian accent, Rittu explained that we were going to do a manifestation meditation - a powerful form in which whatever you asked for would be manifested - or given - to you by the power of your own energy connecting with a universal energy that was all around us. The others were familiar with all this from their reiki classes and I was the only novice, but somewhere in life, I seemed to have picked up a bit about reiki, chakras and energies from who knows where, so I was able to follow.

But there was a problem. Sitting in this straight-backed position for a few minutes was not to my weak back's liking. All down the right side of it, I could feel my muscles tensing and going into a familiar spasm that they seem to think is helpful when I'm tired. It's not. I shifted silently, experimenting with different variations of straight, hunched and slumped to try to find the least painful position. There wasn't one. However I sat, I could still feel this mild but shooting pain. I decided to ignore it - yogis and such can sit immoble like this for hours at a time, so I thought I could manage the 20 minutes this meditation was due to take.

Rittu was telling us that we could ask for anything to be manifested and it would be given to us instantly, with no time lag. Whatever we asked for would be manifested in the real world by the power of our energy. It could be anything - health, a new job, a promotion, happiness in a relationship, financial abundance or even the ability to sit properly during meditation (ok, she didn't say that last one, that's mine). The intention I wanted to manifest is not easy to do instantly (I'm not saying what it was, in case these things are supposed to be kept secret for the meditation to work, or something) so I was prepared not to see it appear after the session.

Now she told us we had to imagine and really visualise the details of our intention to make it clear within us. The more clearly we pictured it and coloured the picture with detail, the stronger the energy of it within us would be and the easier it would be to connect it to the universal energy that would make it come true.We were to picture this intention as part of our life and what effect it would have on our life.

So I started to visualise my own intention. I tried to picture what it would look like, see it being part of my life and feel as if I already had it. It wasn't easy. Up there on the roof the niggling pain still in my back; the sounds of the birds in the trees; the warmth of the sun bringing out a sweat on my forehead; and its light on my closed eyes beginning to make them water, it was difficult to concentrate. I couldn't quite bring a picture of it to mind. Every time my eyes caught a 'glimpse' of it and started moving around the 'scene' I had created, I was brought back to reality by suddenly noticing an annoying floater in my field of vision that squiggled across my sight every time I moved my eyes and was much more visble on the white screen of my closed eyes that my intention was. Maybe visualisation took time to master but I could at least make myself 'feel' the desire for my intention, even if I had trouble picturing it.

'Now,' said Rittu, 'we have to chant audibly the word "Ah".' This is because this sound appears in the name of the Creators, Bram-ah, Shiv-ah, All-ah, and (slightly tenuously) G-ah-d (God) and is therefore the sound of creation. To manifest our intention we have to make the sound of creation within ourselves to enable it to be send out into the material world.' She went on. 'As you chant, feel the energy moving from your root chakra (a spot in your groin) up along your energy channel and leaving your body through your third eye chakra (in between your eyebrows). This will connect your energy and your consciousness with the universal energy, so the louder you chant, the stronger the connection.'

Chanting is embarrassing. There are no two ways about it. In the West we've long ago lost our familiarity with it as tribal chants, war cries, prayers, and general wailing are no longer part of everyday life. Today to 'moan' out loud in a public place, whatever the reason, whether out of happiness, sadness or madness is to attract attention, stares and a feeling of awkwardness. Even in Arambol where 'alternative' is the norm, we still have to overcome the initial fear of feeling silly and looking like an idiot. And someone also has to be brave enough to start off the chant, then the others will quickly join in, relieved that following a leader is considered less idiotic than being that leader. Luckily we had Rittu to do this and she was not embarrassed at all. Why should she be?

She began by breathing in deeply then let out on a low note a long 'Aaaaaah.' The four of us piped up timidly, our voiceboxes still slightly croaky after a night's rest. This was not enough to prod the universal energy awake, let alone connect with it.

'I can't hear you,' said Rittu, after the first chant. 'It needs to be as loud as you can to make a strong connection.' And she began again. I waited, lungs pounding with my held-in breath, not wanting to start before she did, until she began her 'Aaaah'. I breathed out mine too. This time it was a slightly more confident reedy tremor. But we soon got the hang of it, the embarrassment fell away and were soon 'ah-ing' unselfconsciously.

As we followed Rittu, I imagined my energy moving up from my root to my third eye and leaving my body into the world. I didn't feel anything physical or psychological happening as I chanted - I didn't know if I was supposed to or what it should feel like anyway - but I really thought about and believed in what I wanted to manifest.

Gradually I became aware of a wrm sensation on my forehead, just above my eyebrows. 'That must be my energy leaving my third eye!' I thought, somewhere deep in my mind, but as I thought it, my rational, conscious mind was also thinking, 'Nah, that's just the warmth of the sun on your forehead.' I couldn't feel this energy in the rest of my body and definitely not in my root chakra which was touching the cold concrete. 'Just go with it and don't try to second-guess your body,' I told myself.

With each exhalation Rittu changed the pitch of the 'ah' slightly, so the note rose gradually, imperceptibly. As I chanted with her and the others, I could feel the vibrations of the sound buzzing through my body. It was pleasant, relaxing feeling. My visualisation was still nothing more than a white canvas stretched across my field of vision, with floaters jumping up and down madly on it, trying to get my attention. I ignored them now. As the note rose higher, I felt the desire for my intention to be manifest growing stronger and stronger, without me treally thinking about it. With every 'ah' I was crying out my longing for it, sending it out and away from me into the ether. Calling out for it, over and over again, willing it to come true. I didn't really understand what I was feeling, nor could I put a name to this emotion but I definitely felt that the sound I was making was somehow the embodiment of the intention I wanted and that the physical sensation of the sound was the expression of my desire for it to happen.

After several minutes Rittu gradually brought the pitch back down again and as she did, getting lower and lower, softer and softer, I felt a peace and calmness come over me and I was no longer aware of anything, other than the sound of our voices.

We stopped chanting and Rittu's soft voice continued, 'Now feel the energy in your solar plexus chakra spreading out into your body. Feel the light of your clarity radiating out and reaching every part of you that is dark and hidden.' My solar plexus felt normal. The waistband of my elasticated trousers was digging in a bit, but I didn't think that was quite what she meant. Then my stomach growled quietly to itself, pondering the possibility of breakfast being imminent, but I was sure it wasn't that either.

Maybe I hadn't chanted loudly enough and my energy was still stuck in my root chakra. Maybe I hadn't wanted my intention to manifest itself enough. Either way my solar plexus remained cold and uncaring.

Then Rittu went on to guide us to our heart chakra, asking us to spread the light of forgiveness and love to everyone who had hurt us in the past. At the time I couldn't really think of anyone who'd wronged me significantly in my life, I supposed that was a good thing and my heart chakra was sufficiently open. So I decided to just sit and listen and do the best I could at 'feeling' what she asked and trying to imagine it happening to me.

Now though, I gradually became aware of the the pain in my back again and realised with surprise that I'd not felt it at all during the chanting.

Next it was time to 'ground' ourselves.

'Now focus on your root chakra. Imagine it opening up and the roots of a tree growing down and pushing through the concrete, through the rooms below and into the ground, into Mother Earth. Feel it's roots going all the way to the centre of the Earth, connecting you and anchoring you strongly to the world.'

My moment had passed. Now the chanting had stopped reality crowded back in, distracting my attention and my imagination. My back spasm was getting stronger and I could feel my tight right hip seizing up and joining the party.

'Now feel the branches of the tree opening and growing up from your crown chakra and spreading up and out into the sky.' My branches remained stubbornly closed. However much I tried to visualise them, all I could see were the stupid floaters ricocheting round my eyeballs like some crazy pinball machine. Strangely I didn't feel frustrated by this. I know meditation takes a while to get the hang of, so I just tried my best with my stunted lump of vegetation with its stumpy, misshapen roots.

Finally we had to focus back on our breathing and feel the breath in our body and become aware of our surroundings again.

'Now rub the palms of your hands together until they become warm, then place them in front of your eyes for a while, then, when you're ready, open your eyes.' I did this and as I covered my closed eyes, the white canvas I'd seen all along burst into a blaze of red and purple. There was no definable shapes or patterns, just a sheet of colour that seemed to undulate and slip back and forth between shades of red and purple. It was so beautiful, I couldn't take my hands away! The floaters had vanished and this wash of colour was all I could see. I felt as if I was in the middle of it and it was all around me.

After some time, probably about 20 seconds, it started to fade to black. I felt a sadness like a loss as it subsided but at the same time I was energised by its brightness and beauty. Was it my energy swirling inside and around me? Or was it simply a colourful after-image, the effect of putting my hands over my eyes and shutting off the light after looking at the bright sun through my eyelids for 20 minutes? At that moment, in that place it didn't really matter and I didn't really care either way. The meditation had made me feel something - I wasn't quite sure what - on some level and left me with a feeling of deep cleansing peace that was enough for me.

Rittu asked us all in turn how we'd felt and what we'd seen. She came to me first. 'Well,' I said, wanting to be honest, 'I didn't really manage to visualise anything much and just saw white, but when we were chanting I felt as if I was really sending what I wanted to manifest out into the world. Then, when I put my hands over my eyes, I saw all this red and purple.' Suddenly, thinking about that feeling during the chanting, reliving that moment, my lip started to tremble and I found myself struggling to hold back tears in front of these near-strangers. I don't know why I was crying. Was it the thought of the intention I wanted or the disappointment that I couldn't really 'see' it properly or that I couldn't visualise the tree during the grounding? I didn't know and it didn't seem logical but I couldn't stop myself, as tears rolled down my cheeks.

Rittu placed a caring hand on my knee. 'It's all right,' she said comfortingly. 'It's all right to let your emotions out. It's all part of it.' The others all nodded and seemed to understand. They'd probably been through it many times.

When she asked them, they had all seen various colours and patterns, but one girl had seem Bambi(!) standing next to her and had felt as though people were walking round behind her. I was envious of her Bambi and her imaginary people. Why hadn't I seen anything like this? Why was my imagination, from one who is supposed to be creative, so stubbornly closed to this opportunity of creation?

Rittu ended by saying that in order to make our intention manifest in the real world we had to perform this meditation every day, preferably between 7 and 9am when the energy was strongest, making connection easier. I wasn't sure I could manage that but I'd be willing to give it a go again, to see if my experience was a one-off or if I was capable of visualising my desires better and giving myself a better chance of making them come true. If I could conjure up my own personal 'Bambi' by myself, or even just a little Thumper, I'd be happy with that.