The retreat day one.

Up in the morning at the sound of the bells at 4:00 am is like being jerked by a chain. I get up but don't wake up until sometime along the dark path to the meditation hall, which is an open barn with a sand covered floor. I have already taken a seat so I arrange my cushions and initially sit. Then I decide to stand before the session starts to save my sitting muscles for the time when someone is talking. I am the only one standing however, but I suspect that later others will discover the advantage of doing so. Ajan Po, the local Abbot was the first to come to give us a welcome. His English is barely decipherable for me, a native speaker, and I imagine the others in the audience who are ESL are having even a more difficult time. But possibly hearing the words is just as important as hearing the message which is standard fare. About this I wrote:
The monk Ajhan Po
sits as a golden bronze lotus
and earnestly tries in his broken English
to make us whole.
We sit watching our breathing, in and out, long breaths, short breaths, chasing or following from the nose to the abdomen and back, etc. Mindfulness is just about initially following the breath, and later we presumably put that technique to more esoteric use.
We are after a short while sent to our Yoga session. I endeavor to follow the leader carefully, which, in spite of how cautious and careful I am, will prove to be fateful.
After Yoga we return to the meditation hall and listen to someone say something and sit in silence, a lot of silence, until 8:00, time for our breakfast gruel (which is probably labeled con-gee'.)
After breakfast we are to take up our one work task, but mine is to be done after lunch, so I troop to my room for a nap which is very welcome.
Back in the hall at 10:00 for more meditation laced with discussions of how to watch your breath, and how to live a better life. It turns out that the content of the lectures are of less importance and less memorable than the actual practice of simply breathing. We are discouraged from writing anything during the retreat because this might create distractions, and this process is all about minimizing distractions, so that our minds can mindfully follow our breath without more immediate thoughts challenging our attention, so I didn't keep a diary, as directed.
We are given a lesson in three part walking meditation, and then five part walking meditation, which practice is designed to help us learn to see reality as it is in each grueling detail -- elsewhere called "direct awareness". We are eventually sent off to practice this walking meditation until the lunchtime at 12:30. Lunch is rice with a topping and a few bananas and is the same every day. Our schedule is more or less the same each day, all the better to reduce distractions.
After lunch I return to my room and take out the garbage to burn it, not much of a fire but I do my job in silence. I return to my concrete slab for a nap. Then wake up in a jerk and in a sweat of course, since it is 30 C even in my cool room. I still have a half hour, "what to do", I meditate and half/sleep meditate until the bells ring. Then back to the meditation hall at 2:30 to hear the English man who has been a monk here for the last twenty years. Of course he is coherent, and humorous, interesting to listen to, but strangely dismissive of the impact of the retreat, and the potential for any significant happening in such a short time.
He indicates that the first four steps of Anapanasati are the most important and dismisses the impact or usefulness of the others (12). This is a surprise to me, and leads eventually to my conclusion that this meditation scheme is little more than a different "brand" of the mindfulness meditation that is taught in numerous other retreats across the world, and is therefore nothing particularly special and I needn't have gone to all the trouble to come here.
After his one hour session we go out to practice walking meditation, then back to the meditation hall for a short lecture by one of the nuns that run the place, apparently mostly as volunteers. Her English, again is challenging, and leads me to write later: "If you repeat the same phrase often enough, the most profound meaning is bound to break loose; or will it?" This nun leads an optional chanting session in another building which I attend and follow along in the back of the hall, wondering what is happening if anything: Do these chants make my Heart more pliable and amenable to development?
At 6:00 we go to the mess hall for tea or hot chocolate. Then a break until 7:30, no dinner, that's the Buddhist monk way, no eating after lunch. I don't seem to be hungry, perhaps thinking about the rice and gruel keeps my thoughts of the physical pleasure of eating at bay. It's dark by 7:30 and we sit in silence: "Staggering in the dark is who I am." I notice that because of the affect of my atrial fibrillation my inner ear has a diffcult time keeping me balanced, and in the dark this affect is even worse. We listen and meditate and brush away the mosquitoes on suicide missions.
Mindfulness of breathing is what unlocks all other considerations.
Bedtime by 9:30 with lights out and electricity off.