The vibes of Vipassana
Ever wondered what it would be like to sit for over 10 hours a day and meditate…
For 10 days straight…
In total silence…
With dozens of other students, all following the same rules and routines…
Day after day?
That’s the setup when you attend a 10 day Vipassana retreat.
You may be thinking it sounds harsh, restrictive and confronting…and it is!
When I was first introduced to the idea (by my partner who attended a few years ago) I thought there was NO WAY I would ever voluntarily subject myself to something so punishing. At the time I thought he was crazy. Why would anyone put themselves through that?
Obviously a seed was planted, because that’s exactly what I did a few weeks ago when I attended the Dhamma Bhumi Vipassana Meditation Centre in Blackheath, NSW.
“Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are...is a way of self-transformation through self-observation...
It focuses on the deep interconnection between mind and body, which can be experienced directly by disciplined attention to the physical sensations that form the life of the body. ”
What I thought would be hard
Noble silence
I had assumed that not being able to speak or interact with people would feel awkward and strange, but I quickly got used to it. In fact, it was a relief. I didn't have to deal with anyone else's 'stuff' except my own.
It was like a digital detox on steroids. Eliminating all distractions - speaking, reading, writing, exercising, etc - emphasised the practical nature of this style of meditation. It gave me the optimal environment and the space to quieten the body and mind and do the internal work.
Restricted food options
Every day was planned out. From 4:00am to 9:30pm our time was scheduled, including meal times and food choices. I wondered if I would become 'hangry' by missing dinner or the luxury of accessing snacks. Turns out, not really.
The vegetarian food on offer was really healthy, nourishing and filling. I came to enjoy the same choices for breakfast every day - the steaming bowl of porridge with prunes and seeds (so hearty) and toast with spreads, along with pieces of fruit. And tea. Lots of tea.
Lunch had more variety - rice, pasta, curries, salads and sometimes dessert. Really delicious and filling.
Dinner - just two pieces of fruit. If you were a returning or ‘old’ student, all you could have was hot water with lemon and ginger. That’s it!
(Tip: For the new students at the final meal, bananas were always the first option to go. Over time I learned to include an apple in my choices - it seemed to help keep the late evening hunger pangs at bay.)
Sleeping arrangements
I was really concerned about getting enough sleep. I’m a light sleeper at the best of times so the thought of sharing a dorm room with perfect strangers who might snore all night long really worried me. I also wasn’t looking forward to wearing thongs in the shared bathroom. As it turns out, worrying was a needless exercise (as it usually is!). I was lucky and so fortunate to be assigned a small single room with an ensuite, close to the meditation hall. I was really grateful to have that private, small space to unwind at the end of the evening.
“When there is a pleasant sensation, there is craving.
When there is an unpleasant sensation, there is aversion.
And whenever there is craving or aversion, there is misery.”
What really was hard
Sitting for hours on end
I had assumed the physical challenge of sitting for long periods would be somewhat manageable because I had a meditation and yoga practice. There were plenty of props like cushions, blankets and wooden stools to choose from in the meditation hall storage area.
(Tip: It’s a good idea to source your props early on. By day three the storage room was practically empty.)
Every meditation session would last for one hour, with short breaks in between. For the first few days I tried different sitting arrangements, hoping to find a comfortable position that would make it easier to stay still and not adjust myself. (Talk about craving!) But no matter how many cushions I would prop under my crossed legs, or the angle they were positioned in, I almost always experienced unpleasant or “gross solidified sensations”, usually in my right hip, left ankle, shoulders, lower back…actually, everywhere at some point. (Talk about aversion!)
I eventually found that kneeling on a tall pile of square cushions seemed to be the most comfortable and allowed me to experience pleasant “uniform, subtle sensations”, which set me up for the last few days of the retreat when things became increasingly challenging and a little wild.
‘Vipassana pain’ is really the doorway to healing and transformation. You learn to Invite it in and get to know it. And you don’t just bear the pain, you investigate it. The idea is, if you can successfully work with physical pain, then you are more likely to be able to work with mental pain.
Realisation: We can bear the unbearable.
[Note: during the final days when I was able to fully immerse into the experience, I felt incredible sensations - twitches, convulsions, a sense of being lifted off the ground, feeling my body fully dissolve into molecules or bubbles. I haven’t made complete sense of it all, and I am yet to fully understand the concept of ‘sankaras’, so perhaps I’ll leave that for another time!]
A wandering mind
It’s no surprise that one of the most challenging aspects was how to handle my wandering mind. With so little distraction, all I was left with was my thoughts (which was the point!). Thoughts would constantly arise and pass away, and often they were so distracting that I would follow them down, down, down into a deep hole. Thoughts about the past, the future, judgements, craving, aversion, inane musings, you name it.
I was really surprised by the constant musical playlist that would run through my mind, not only during the meditation sessions but also during the walking breaks, where we could wander around the grounds for about an hour every day. Songs were constantly playing in my mind - favourite songs from my playlists, songs from long ago, songs that I didn’t even like. “I get knocked down, but I get up again…” - I mean seriously?
The only time we could speak was during the consultation sessions with the assistant teacher for women. I had three sessions with Rita, and in one of them I shared that I was concerned about this constant intrusion of music. Was it a hindrance to the technique? She asked me if I was a musician. No, I’m just musical I guess. She smiled, shook her head and said it was OK, just allow the music to play in the background (“like when you're at home working around the house and the radio is on in the background”).
Realisation: You can soften your focus on thoughts (or songs!) that distract you and allow your mind to 'play them out'. Eventually, those distractions will fade away.
The judge and jury
As my thoughts wandered, I realised with a jolt of awareness and clarity that I spend an inordinate amount of time making sense of the world by narrating, commenting, presenting a case, arguing and creating stories. I get lost in a trail of elaborate, imaginary conversations in my mind, which leave me feeling either tired, energised, or tightly wound up, depending on the topic I’m unravelling.
It suddenly occurred to me during a walking session that I needed to ask myself, “Who or what is this imaginary entity that I was reporting to, offering my observations to, or sharing my critique with?” The answer? No one and nothing!
Realisation: It’s easier and less stressful to make sense of the world by focusing on my breath and connecting with sensations in my physical body—to just be in my body! Otherwise, if I’m disconnected, I tend to focus purely on the logical mind, which creates elaborate narratives for an imaginary judge and jury.
Dealing with a lot of ‘stuff’
This is where it gets a little personal, but by sharing this example I hope to more fully make sense of things and perhaps help someone else who is dealing with a similar situation…
One of the big bags of ‘stuff’ I knew would arise was to deal with feelings of guilt.
Over the past few years I have been navigating the challenge of helping my aging parents. I’ve been dealing with emotions like grief, sadness and confusion (particularly while working through the complexities of the aged care system). Mingled with these emotions was a low, heavy hum of guilt, particularly regarding my mum who has Alzheimer’s and is now in a dementia unit. Logically I understood that this feeling of guilt was misguided. My parents receive great care and live in an environment that supports their needs in a way that I couldn't possibly offer them.
I logically knew that the guilt was unhelpful and unnecessary. I just didn’t know how to reduce or remove it. It was always there.
On the retreat I made a conscious effort to let any thoughts and emotions about my parents flow freely. I didn't try to force anything or figure out what was going on. Instead I allowed a free flow of emotions and physical sensations. I stayed open and curious. From day four, I could really focus on the sensations in my body - tightness in the throat, butterflies in the belly, tension in the shoulders - and know that those sensations would come and go. I was able to be with the sensations and not attach a story.
By day six (a very challenging day), the felt sense of dealing with my parents and experiencing both guilt and grief started to unwind. What had been like a hard rock now seemed to split in two. On one side, there was guilt, which dissolved like sand and disappeared. All I was left with was sadness. Grief. Loss. Mourning.
During some meditation sessions, our teacher SN Goenka sometimes reminded us to focus on our respiration as a starting point.
“Breath. Pure breath. Nothing but breath.”
This technique showed me that I could be with all the emotions. And I was able to experience grief without ANY guilt.
Grief. Pure grief. Nothing but grief.
I was able to experience grief that was gentle and soft and sad and loving and beautiful. Without the heaviness of guilt I could simply be with my emotions and feel love and compassion for my parents.
I also realised that the guilt was a pernicious way of inserting myself into a story, putting the focus on me rather than dealing with life ‘as it is’.
So simple. And so beautiful. This was perhaps one of the most profound self-discoveries I experienced from the retreat.
Back in the real world
Since returning back into my everyday life, I have had many realisations:
People and situations around me may not have changed, but I have.
I can quickly and easily soften and relax into many more aspects of my life ‘as it is’.
When I make it about me, I suffer.
Equanimity is the goal.
I have an acute awareness of time passing, and that change is the only constant.
Now, as thoughts and feelings arise and present themselves as sensations in my body, I fully appreciate their impermanence. They won't last. This realisation has come at an experiential level. It’s embedded. It’s real. It’s true.
Anicca. Anicca. Anicca. (Impermanence.)
Now, it takes less time for me to sort out what’s really going on (craving, aversion, ignorance). If I have to act, I feel centred and calm because I know I am listening to my own inner voice.
Final realisation: Follow your heart. When your heart speaks, listen. Then do. Or not. No matter.
There were many more ah-ha moments from the retreat, which I am yet to make sense of, but for now…thanks for being here and sharing a few moments with me about this amazing journey!