Toward the start of the awakening period of early summer in the 12th year of training at the Monastic Academy, I climbed a mountain on the outskirts of the MAPLE land during the self practice period. On my way back down the steep trail, going quickly in an effort to time my descent and ascertain whether it would be possible to make my way up and back during the hour-long exercise period each morning, and with one leg still partially numb from sitting on a rock at the summit, I slipped and fell, twisting my ankle and letting out a sharp cry of pain. I picked myself up and carefully made the rest of the way down the mountain. It was clear that I had injured the ankle and put a cold compress on it, which I kept on throughout the evening sitting periods.
During that evening’s dharma discussion, I limped through the door with a chair and sat down in an unusual, uncomfortable posture. After bowing to the teacher with the rest of the group, I was the first to offer my goal—to answer, “What is power?”, technique, attention on the breath in the core, and experience, demonstrating my breath without comment. Forall responded by asking me how my body was. I replied that there was tension in my shoulders, which had been foremost in my awareness. He asked if I was injured. I explained that I rolled my ankle that afternoon. With a look of concern, he reminded me to reflect upon the impermanence of the body and to take care of it. He encouraged me that my body was strong and would be restored to health breath by breath as the retreat continued.
After the others in my group had had their interactions, we stood up to leave. Forall called my name as I made my way out the door. I put down the chair and returned into the room. He then asked me why I had injured myself. I told him I fell while descending the mountain. He said that he had a sense of that but that it wasn’t what he was asking. I then told him more of the story I recounted above, including details about my pace and my reasons. He then asked, “Are you deliberately avoiding the question, or is the question just too difficult at this time?” This gave me pause, and I felt the tension in my shoulders increase. I offered that perhaps I was deliberately avoiding the question. He repeated it, and I answered that I wanted to prevent myself from getting enlightened during this awakening period. He seemed taken aback. “Is that true?” he asked. I replied, “There’s a lot of ambivalence.” “Of course,” he said, but was that really my intention? I told him that I didn’t really know after all. He then cautioned me not to bring forth a self around an intention that’s not true and reminded me once more to take care of myself. I made my way slowly back to the lower Zendo.