The Retreat - Pt. 2

I stepped cautiously into the room, at the same time feeling very excited.  It was a huge room and resembled a grand ballroom with its velvet drapes and beautiful chandeliers, and what was even more amazing was the number of musical instruments inside. There must have been well over 100 and to my astonishment, they were all playing by themselves - violins, pianos, flutes, harps, saxophones, trumpets, guitars - it was incredible!  I sat there mesmerized by the music, I felt like I was floating on a cloud way above the earth.  I could have stayed there listening forever but then the music became louder and louder and soon it reached a deafening crescendo, so loud that my ears could not take it.  I ran to the door to get out but I couldn't open it.  I pushed and pulled but it refused to budge.

"OMG", I screamed.  "This music is going to drive me crazy!  I've got to do something!"  

I had never expected this to happen.  What could I do?  The only thing I could think of was to chant something.  With my paws over my ears, I started to chant Kuan Yin's Great Compassion Mantra.  I was trembling with fear and I could hardly hear my own voice.

After I had chanted for a while, I found to my great relief that the music slowed down, became softer and suddenly the door opened by itself.  I dashed through and ran all the way to my room, hardly daring to look back.  

Then I saw to my horror that Ajahn C. was standing outside the room.  His face was inscrutable. He simply said, "I hope you have learnt your lesson from disobeying orders" and walked away.

I crept into my basket and pulled the blanket around my shaking body.  As I lay there, I knew I had discovered a terrible, dark secret of the monastery and Ajahn C. was probably the only person who knew about it.  Even if the other monks had known, they would not have dared breathe a word.  A haunted room in the monastery! No wonder we were not allowed to wander around the place!  

Thank God we're leaving tomorrow, I thought to myself and gratefully offered a prayer of thanks to Goddess Kuan Yin for saving me.  

I had never felt more relieved when we boarded the bus to return to our respective temples after a round of early morning meditation and a light lunch.  Again, Ajahn C. made no mention of the previous night's happening.  He simply gave me a long, hard stare which shook me to the roots.  I felt like I was a prey in the claws of an eagle which was about to devour me. 

As Head Nun's temple was the last stop, I had the opportunity to say goodbye to all the monks.  I was surprised when CC came over to my seat,  slapped me on my back and said, "Hey, you're not such a bad guy after all!  Sorry if I was rather rough on you!"  He grinned and gave me a bar of chocolate from his bag.  "See you, cat!" he said and hopped off the bus.  I wondered whether I would see him again.

I was bursting to tell Head Nun all that happened - our meditation sessions and discourses, our vegetable planting, the food we had - and there was something else I wanted to tell her but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was.  I knew it had something to do with music, yet I could not put my finger on it.  It was like a chip from my memory bank had been removed.

I was puzzled when I went to bed that night.  I thought of Ajahn C. and the hard stare he had given me before I left the monastery, and suddenly I realized he had something to do with my "memory loss".  

He wanted me to forget what I wanted to remember - and he had succeeded.