i accidentally signed up for a 5 day silent meditation retreat
I'm a dumb dumb and totally missed the part where it said "silent"....
It was one month before, and I was casually chatting with a fellow coach about my upcoming retreat plans.
“Oh cool I love meditation retreats! Is it a vipassana?”
“Sorry, a what?”
“Like a silent meditation retreat.”
“Silent?…I feel like if it was, they would have said that on the website somewhere.”
“Yeah. They would have said it was a vipassana”.
I checked the website the next day, and my heart dropped. Vipassana. There it was, clearly stated on the page.
I, Kelly Liu, had unwittingly signed myself up for a 5 day meditation retreat that was absolutely, completely silent.
my relationship with meditation
Now let’s be clear here, I am NOT someone who meditates. Sitting still is just not my forte. If you’ve ever gone out to dinner with me, at some point in the night, you’ve probably seen me doing this:
So then why did I sign up?
I wanted to see if I was missing something (Maybe in a week-long intensive, I’d finally be able to figure out the elusive magic of meditation.)
It was totally, completely free.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime. To be able to learn something new out in the beauty of the Santa Cruz mountains, and to be able to do it for free?
My frugal side simply couldn’t resist. The deal was too good.
What would be the harm in signing up?
two days before
Two days before the retreat, and I was in a complete state of panic.
I had started reading more about what vipassanas were — and it became so clear that I was NOT ready.
Silence didn’t just mean no talking. It also meant:
no reading
no writing
no intense exercise
generally no eye contact with others
All of this was meant to help you maintain your focus inward. But it also meant that all the ways I had hoped to use to stay sane were gone.
There were two big reasons I felt like I couldn’t bail:
The shame of backing out (what would people think?)
The fact that I’d have to pay $200 if I canceled (then I’d really be wasting money!!)
But those reasons didn’t feel good. They made me feel trapped.
What ultimately grounded me were some words from my partner.
“Kelly, if you don’t want to go, don’t go. Your time is more precious than that money. And….. I personally think you will be just fine. Actually, I bet you’ll come out the other side just loving it.”
He was right — I did have a choice in this. And — maybe I was stronger than I thought.
day one
With three chimes of the gong, the room fell silent, and we began to meditate.
For the next five days, I, alongside 30 other people of all ages and backgrounds, meditated from 6am to 9:30pm in the seclusion of the Santa Cruz mountains. We sat and meditated. We walked and meditated. We ate and meditated. We did chores and meditated. We listened to dharma talks and meditated. By lunch time on that first day, I had already meditated more than I’d ever had in my entire life.
Day 1 was tough. While the people next to me seemed totally calm and at peace, I just couldn’t do it right. My mind kept wandering to thoughts of frisbee, family, work. I’d shift back and forth in my seat, trying to make all of the goddamn cushions and blankets work for me. Sometimes, I’d have to will myself to sit still and stick out the last 15 minutes of a 45 minute meditation session, other times, I’d find myself nodding off, totally unable to stay present.
There were two moments where we got to speak out loud — and they were during our small group circles. These circles allowed us to share our instructor and our group how our practices were going. Which meant that..my noob struggles would be fully exposed.
It was terrifying. One person shared how she was struggling with others’ lack of understanding of retreat code of conduct (could that be me???). Two others talked about their processing of grief. Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and said:
“I keep falling asleep and I’m so so frustrated about it!”
I expected tips on how to improve, maybe a look that said “aww, look at this beginner”. But instead, the instructor said something else entirely.
“This is good. It’s good because you are aware of what’s happening during your practice. That awareness is very good.”
That was it. It wasn’t about achieving perfection. It was about resting, learning, and accepting that where we were in our own process was completely okay.
five days of silence
With that new framing, my experience entirely shifted. I was more curious, more gentle with myself. I felt more okay doing the things I wanted to do — even if that meant skipping a meditation session to wander the woods instead.
Slowly, my mind quieted, and I became so much more present. I began to notice the details of the forest — the ferns starting to unfurl, the birds tucked in the branches, the dew-covered cobwebs that laced the tree trunks. I reveled in the subtle changes of the forest through sun, rain, fog, and the falling of night.
And I cried. I cried as I felt the solid but gentle feeling of the forest ground beneath my feet. I cried at the overwhelming compassion I witnessed when one yogi gave a big hug to another who was going through a hard time. I cried as I meditated in a circle of other POCs and actually acknowledged my Chinese heritage for the first time in a long while.
Amidst that silence, life became simpler. Feelings became more pure. And I found a tiny corner of peace.
lessons learned
It’s experiences like this that really shake up my thought process and give me the space to look at my life on a more macro level. In the weeks that followed, I realized a few things:
1) So much of the way I live life comes from my fear of falling behind — and it doesn’t make me happy.
Before going on retreat, the thing I was most afraid of was stepping away from my business. With so much to do and so much further to go, even taking one week off felt threatening to my business’ success.
And this retreat was the most threatening form of all because truly I could do nothing except exist.
It felt scary to step away, but as time passed, my worries started to fade. Even though I had accomplished nothing for my business, I was still here. Still safe. Still live. Rather than focus on the future, I was finally able to notice the present. And the present was filled with agency, creativity, and beauty.
I had been so scared of failing, had felt so much pressure to make this business sustainable asap that I had completely forgotten to enjoy what I was giving myself the opportunity to experience today.
If I actually want to enjoy the life I was creating for myself, I can’t just think about where I need to be next. Instead, I need to let myself pause more so I truly can savor it all.
2) You don’t need to force your feelings to pass. Time will do that better than you ever could.
I had already been learning this concept through therapy, but the retreat made it even more clear. As my anxiety flooded back post-retreat, it became clear to me how I typically dealt with it — by pretending it didn’t exist and burying myself in a to-do list. And it also became clear that this didn’t actually work. Because as soon as I’d finish one task, the anxiety would all come rushing back.
But on retreat, any anxiety I ever felt always disappeared. And I think it’s precisely because I couldn’t do anything about it. There was nothing I could do to actively fight or ignore it. All I could do was sit with it, acknowledge it, and accept it. And it was by giving myself space and time that the emotion would eventually pass and allow me to move forward.
3) there is no perfect journey
For some reason, many of us have this belief that we have to do things perfectly. Make the right decisions, choose the right job, do the right form of meditation. And when we fall short, we judge ourselves hard.
The retreat reminded me that there really is no such thing as a perfect journey. It was only once I dropped that expectation that I was able to truly enjoy what the retreat had in store for me.
What might it look like if I continued to take that feeling of acceptance with me? If I accepted that part of starting a new business is being a beginner and messing up? If I accepted that perfection didn’t exist?
I certainly think I’d be a lot less stressed and have a whole lot more fun.
One thing I realized on this retreat is that I’ve come back to the importance of pausing and quiet multiple times in the past (see here here here and here). It’s just that each time, I eventually forget. But I’m going to accept that it’s part of the journey. I only hope that with each new experience, I can remember the importance of pausing just a little deeper.
Thank you Insight Retreat Center for this grounding experience. Would highly recommend to anyone needing some space to rest and exist.