Jimmy

      IT WIS DAURK when ah got there and ma heid wis wasted drivin on they wee twisty roads. Ah parked the van and went intae the hoose. It wis a huge buildin, used tae be a hotel or sumpn afore the lamas took it ower. In the hall wis this big skinny guy, blue robes an a shaved heid. Wisnae Tibetan though, sounded dead posh.

      ‘Excuse me,’ he says. ‘Could you leave your shoes in the porch please?’

      ‘Sure thing, pal,’ ah says, feelin a bit stupit when ah turnt round and seen rows a boots and shoes and a big sign: ‘Please leave all outer footwear in the porch. Slippers only to be worn inside the house.’

      Course ah’d nae slippers so ah hud tae go aboot in ma stockin soles, and did ah no huv a big hole comin in the toe ae the right yin? Just as well Liz wisnae here – she’d huv been mortified. The big guy stauns waitin while ah take aff ma boots.

      ‘Hope yous’ve got air freshener in here,’ ah says, but he just looks at me.

      ‘My name is Vishanadanashonta.’ (Well, it wis sumpn like that. Ah didnae like tae ask him tae repeat it.)

      ‘Jimmy McKenna,’ ah says, puttin oot ma haund, but he just bows.

      ‘I think everyone else has arrived. We’re about to eat.’

      ‘Thank God. Ah could murder a plate a mince and tatties.’

      Ah wis jokin, ah knew the food wis aw vegetarian, but he just looks at me as if ah’m daft.

      ‘Only jokin, Rinpoche.’

      ‘I’m not actually called Rinpoche,’ he says. ‘I’m a trainee. I haven’t taken my final vows.’

      ‘Sorty apprentice, ur ye?’

      ‘You could say that.’

      He opens the door on tae the main room. At the far end was a log fire wi cushions and bean bags piled roond, and in the middle were three wooden tables. Aboot thirty folk sittin at them. The caundles on the tables and the firelight made it look kinda welcomin, but ah wis feelin definitely ooty place.

      ‘There’s a chair here,’ says Vishanawhitsisface.

      Ah sits doon at the endy the table next tae a young guy wi a shaved heid and aboot twenty-five earrings on the wan ear. Vishana pits a bowl a soup in fronty me and the wee guy passes doon a plate wi big dauds a breid cut up rough on it. Ah get wired intae the soup. It wis good, dead thick wi loads a different veggies in it. ‘Pass us the butter, pal,’ ah says tae the wee guy.

      ‘It’s soya margarine,’ he says. ‘There’s a lot of vegans here.’

      ‘Aw well, it’s good tae mix wi folk fae another planet, intit?’

      He doesnae answer, so ah try again.

      ‘Didnae know they hud Buddhists on Vega, but. Thought they were aw Mormons there.’

      The wee guy nods and cairries on eatin his soup, and the auld guy opposite just looks at me as if ah’m the wan that’s come fae another planet. Ah’m beginnin tae panic a bit. Ah wis really lookin forward tae this retreat but so far it’s hard gaun. Then ah catch the eye of a wumman on the other side ae the table, coupla seats doon. She’s smilin at me and ah’m no sure but ah think she actually winked.

      Anyway at this point Vishana comes back and asks if anybody wants mair soup, and ah says, ‘Thanks a lot but ah’ll hang on fur the next course.’

      ‘There’s fruit for the next course,’ he says.

      The wumman across saves me.

      ‘Have some more soup,’ she says. Her voice is quite posh but no English, mair Edinburgh or sumpn. ‘You’ve just arrived, haven’t you? You must be hungry.’

      ‘Aye,’ ah says, and Vishana ladles oot mair soup.

      ‘Thanks, pal, it’s great soup.’

      ‘Thank you,’ says he, ‘I made it myself.’

      Efter we’ve finished we get a cuppa tea and sit roond the fire while Vishana tells us aboot the weekend. Meditation three times a day and teachin every mornin. Efternoons free. We’ve got chores as well; makin meals, washin up and that. Ma job is choppin the veggies the morra efternoon. And then there’s the boy scout bit – nae bevvy, nae fags, boays on wan sidey the hoose, lassies on the ither. Ah didnae expect a Buddhist retreat tae be an orgy but there wis a couple there, merriet and all, and they wouldnae even be sleepin in the same room. Ah thought that wis a bit weird.

      ‘Any other questions?’ asks Vishana. Naebdy says anythin. He smiles. ‘All we ask of you this weekend, is that you stay mindful. Pay attention.’

      Surely that couldnae be too difficult, no for a weekend.

      The first meditation session started at nine o’clock that night. The meditation room wis separate fae the main part of the buildin, a big shed wi high windaes and cushions and blankets on the flair just like the wan in the centre. At the far end wis a statue of the Buddha, sittin in the lotus position wi his eyes shut.

      We filed in, efter takin aff wer shoes in the cloakroom, and took up wer places. Ah thought ah wis gettin a loat better wi this sittin cross-legged but at the Centre it was only fur twenty minutes at a time. And ah don’t know if it wis bein tired efter a day’s work, or the drivin or whit, but ah couldnae sit still. Vishana talked us through the mindfulness a breathin meditation but ah couldnae settle. Ah kept fidgetin, and every time ah made the slightest wee movement ah felt as if everybuddy could hear it, cos it wis dead quiet except fur some guy ower tae ma right somewhere who sounded as if he wis on a life-support system.

      And as fur ma mind. Mindfulness aye, but no the way Vishana meant. Ma mind wis full aw right – thoughts fleein aboot lik motors on a racin track. Vroom, vroom, wan efter anither. And the main wan that kept comin up wis, whit the fuck are you daein here? Ah couldnae stop thinkin aboot the look on Liz’s face when ah went oot this mornin.

      ‘See you on Sunday night, hen.’

      ‘So you’re gaun, are you?’

      ‘Ah’ve said …’

      ‘Aye, ah know. Well, have a nice time.’

      Ah’d went tae kiss her but she turnt her face away and that wis whit kept comin back tae me as ah tried tae focus on ma breathin. That picture ae her staundin in the kitchen, butterin toast, wi her back tae me and just the line of her neck, tense, held in. If she’d only shouted at me, chucked the toast at me, that’d have been OK; ah can haundle that, blow up, blow doon, but ah hate this no sayin.

      Then the next thing ah know, the meditation’s ower and we’re back in the big room. Ah thought we’d sit roond the fire, get tae know each ither a bit but Vishana mair or less tells us tae get tae wer beds.

      ‘Early start tomorrow morning. Meditation at six a.m. in the prayer room. See you all there.’

      Turnt oot ah wis sharin wi the wee guy wi the earrings and another tall, skinny bloke wi straggly grey hair tied back in a pony tail. Ex-hippy lookin. The room had three mattresses on the flair and ah chucked ma sleepin bag and rucksack on the wan unner the windae.

      ‘Ah’m Jimmy McKenna,’ ah says, stickin oot ma haund. The tall guy takes it and gies it a squeeze.

      ‘Jed,’ he says. ‘Glad to meet you.’ Sounded a bit American.

      ‘Gary,’ says the young guy, and turns his back, takin stuff oot his rucksack.

      ‘Have yous been here afore, then?’

      ‘I’ve been a few times, yeah,’ says Jed. ‘I go to other workshops too, though, not just Buddhist ones, go round them all, get a taste of everything, you know.’

      ‘Aye,