When I discovered Dechen Choling through an internet search, I didn’t know what a meditation retreat would be, nor that I would discover a whole world. A world where for a week we let ourselves be, in the stretching of time, silence, tears and laughter. A world where one reconnects with something bigger than oneself and where meditation imprints in the flesh postcard wisdoms, long read but never understood. One feels welcome in these valleys of the Limousin, far from the coasts and the summits. All generations are quickly taught to live together, without hiding behind words that sound false. There are gongs and distant objects, furious tigers, snakes with hooked teeth, vengeful hens, a golden circle in the middle of a white canvas, a lime tree by the window and irises in the garden. The setting of our meditations invites calm and the days are punctuated by teaching, cushioning and walking. At Dechen Chöling, life seems to reveal some of its mystery.
I came here with many questions, should we accept this violent and unstable world or should we want to change it? What to do when you no longer love? Instead of building on this refusal, I learnt to look at it differently, to see suffering as an opportunity to read myself better, to no longer close myself off from those of others. To meditate is to stop and open up. Sitting on the cushion with my eyes in front of me. Breathing brings us back to the body and cuts off the chatter of thoughts. From this place one can become familiar with one’s euphoria, fantasies, shames, and looped speech, without trying to say anything about it. The mind often comes back, if you believe my clenched fists and clenched jaw. To look at a flame on the altar and then to leave in the river of one’s life which crosses other lives that are all part of the same life… and to accept that it passes without trying to hold back what the current has long since swept away. The heart makes room, becomes lighter, again, again, again… Then, little by little, comes the moment when we feel what it is to accept totally what we are, here and now. In a circle, the group dictates its rhythm. Happiness is this absence of struggle.
I remember sleeping mornings carrying the moon in a basket, spring flowers in the thick mist, cracking paint and the smell of burnt fir. There are meals eaten face to face and prayers recited over our steaming bowls. The gong sounds its radiating syllables and lozenges of sunlight sweep across the floor from east to west. On the paths, we let it all brew. I remember that under my feet in the tall grass, two pheasants escape. I lie down among the bells and buttercups. The rain wets my clothes but the sun is warm behind the clouds. Concert of frogs and birds. I think about what I see but mostly about what I don’t see. I see the faces of others light up again, reminding me that people are so many things at once. I remember an immense joy that leaves no room for solitude.
“In Dechen Choling, I have the feeling of having lived a strong social experience that has the power to change us to live better. Happiness is not so far away when the ego no longer stands between us. I found many answers that are not always answers. I learned that sometimes not looking for an answer is an answer and that we add a lot of suffering to our suffering like a cake with too much cream. Today I know that opening up my heart is the only way to live. In Vienna, I leave my fear of the other, my fear of being different from what I thought I was.
Thank you to our teacher Catherine who inspired me to write these few lines. Thank you for being such an infectious guide, for being vulnerable, for saying I’m afraid but I’m going anyway. Thank you to this magical place. I hope that it will live on for a long time and that many others will want to meet themselves there. Dechen Choling is a gift to oneself, the most beautiful of journeys.