"No pains, no gains."

My job is to fluff the cushions before meditation. My rambunctious monkey-mind enjoys fluffing cushions. Together my mind and I arrange the cushion pads in neat rows, and then fluff up the navy-blue sitting pillows to look like an orderly garden of blue mushrooms. This is nice. The problems begin when we start having to meditate; when my mind only gets the subtle whoosh of my breath for entertainment. Below is a transcript of what goes on between my rapscallion of a mind and me during meditation:

Breath. Pay attention to your nostrils.
Cars are going by outside. They are honking.
The birds are singing in cacophonous harmony with the horns.
Soundsoundsound... but nudge back to breath. Nostrils.
Sweat dripping. It was a dumb idea to cut bangs.
BREATH.
Do I have enough motivation for this?
When it comes down to it, I really do enjoy sensual pleasures. Like cheddar cheese. And hugs.
Ah! Lower back pain. Numbing toes.
Mind, please? There is breathing.
You must shuffle your thoughts away. Like cards. Hearts.
Fulfilling your potential?
Maybe I can focus simultaneously on my back pain and on my breath.
Nostrils. In... Out...
STABBING PAIN IN ANKLE.
I wonder if they will have french toast again for breakfast. I am passionate about french toast.
Come on brain! You're sitting at the place where the freaking Buddha was enlightened!
Settle down.
Listen to breath.
Be breath.
Air flowing through nostrils.
Oh wow I'm finally figuring this out!
Wait, that was a thought.
Damn.

...and so on and so forth for another 25-55 minutes, two times every day. As you might imagine, this is very challenging. It's only been a week since we started the practice, though. As our teacher (who incidentally bears an uncanny resemblance to a wise tree frog) pointed out, "no pains, no gains." So I will continue to make an effort, although I'm beginning to get the feeling that the sort of effort that meditation demands is much more subtle that the effort I would conjure for something like a frisbee workout. I really haven't figured it out.

When things get really hopeless, however, I console myself by thinking that the seventeen-thousand-million lifetimes it will surely take me to become enlightened will at least be adventurous.

There is SO much more to say about my life in Bodh Gaya... Like how the hindu pilgrims have come in fluorescent hoards to celebrate a festival that coincides with the waning moon, how yesterday the hindus in the monastery made a shrine under the Jeep's hood and performed puja over all the telephones because it was "machine day." Also, monastic life is way more strict than I originally anticipated--I can't wear any shirts above mid-thigh or pants above ankle, I must blow mosquitoes rather than swat, and I am expected to refrain from touching the opposite sex for the duration of the term. The food is spectacular (more YOGURT), the chai is an unending bounty, and the monsoon thunderstorms are everything I could dream of. There is not enough electricity in Bodh Gaya, so I can often be found doing reading by candlelight. The Buddhist pilgrims will start coming soon, in massive numbers.

So yes, it is a challenging environment, but I've been perfectly happy since I've gotten here, in a way that I can't fully explain. I have long conversations over tea, I think about life, and I learn about Buddhism. So, all "pains" aside, it's a good time to exist.