If all of Bali were a golf course, Landeh Ashram would be a challenging green – a bald spot on a hill overlooking mountainous west – between the tallest peaks of Agung and Batukau. In April of 2013, twenty five very peculiar individuals gathered here to not talk, not party, not eat meat, not have sex, not write, not think, not be entertained in any way, not wake up after 4 a.m., not eat dinner, not kill mosquitoes, not do much but sit cross-legged and focus on internal sensations – not for less than ten days. That, in a paragraph, was my second experience of Vipassana meditation.
As a lowlander going jacket-less for months, I slipped one on as I approached the Ashram to discover a pocketed pamphlet gratuity from the funky clothing store of an expat, French-Thai designer. Below a tricolour portrait of the Dalai Lama
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