10 Days of Silence & Meditation
As I sit here, fresh from my 10-day silent meditation retreat, I'm compelled to share my journey. Not every minute detail or every perspective shift, but enough to satiate your curiosity and leave you feeling inspired.
My ask is that you read this with your full attention, minimizing distractions, and receiving these words with presence. Grant yourself one of the biggest gifts I received: tuning your awareness into this exact moment.
THE ANTICIPATION:
The week leading up to the retreat was a rollercoaster of emotions. Restlessness gripped me, and anxiety raced through my body and mind. So many doubts crept in…
"What have I gotten myself into? Can I really do this? How am I going to manage not speaking for 10 days? I don’t have a strong meditation practice, nor have I really ever meditated in complete silence. This is going to be brutal. My back is going to kill me sitting for that long."
These thought loops weren't just conscious thoughts; they infiltrated my dreams. One in particular was so vivid. Instead of the retreat taking place in a beautiful Northern California landscape (where I was going), it was held in a concrete basement in NYC, and as you can imagine I felt trapped, unable to speak, and miserable in my decision to follow through with this wild idea.
I share this because I know you have similar fears when hearing about an experience that entails 10 days of no speaking, meditation all day long, no technology, no exercising, no reading or writing, and no eye contact.
Now you really have to keep reading, because I promise the seemingly harsh conditions are the very ingredients that make this experience so profound.
The day finally came when I was scheduled to begin the retreat, one day before my birthday. After having my last "normal" lunch, I headed to my car to complete the last leg of my journey to the retreat center. As I approached my car, there was another driver asking to take my parking spot, so in typical fashion I rushed to organize my stuff in the trunk, slammed the door, and walked to the driver's seat, only to realize I'd locked my keys inside the car. With only 30-minutes until the retreat officially began, panic coursed through me as I remember reading the final logistics email saying: ‘you will be denied entry should you arrive late.’
As I frantically circled my car, searching for a way in, my mind berated me for my habitual rushing and multi-tasking nature. Disappointment washed over me, declaring that perhaps this transformative experience wasn't meant for me after all. But then, as if someone else came up to me and whispered in my ear, a thought emerged: "Check the Volkswagen Phone App."
With a nearly dead phone, I raced against the clock to download the app, reset my forgotten password, and attempt a digital break-in. There it was, the magical 'unlock' button.
Click. Open. Relief.
My heart flooded with ease, and gratitude swelled in every cell of my body.
A feeling that would soon be a regular occurrence.
As I drove the final stretch, I laughed the entire way at what had just happened. It felt like the perfect send-off into my retreat. The universe had orchestrated one last chaotic moment, highlighting our instinctual patterning to operate at breakneck speed. The antithesis of how I was about to experience life for the next 10 days.
I arrived with a deep sense of self-trust and an overwhelming readiness knowing that the universe had gifted me one last lesson from the outside world to prepare me for the inner exploration that awaited. I slapped a smile on my face and felt a sincere appreciation for the unexpected as I stepped into the silence, eager to embrace stillness as my greatest teacher.
THE EXPERIENCE:
Just as I embarked on retreat, so did my cell phone. We parted ways, and from there, I would be living only in my mind without any distractions for the next 10 days. I entered the retreat with specific intentions, but as a wise friend had cautioned, "It will not give you what you want; it will give you what you need." How right they were.
I went in unnecessarily striving, wanting to think about so many different topics, anxious that I wouldn’t get the answers I so desperately thought I needed. Soon my lofty goals became a laughable ideal, when I thought I’d have all this time to think, but instead the instructors teach you a very specific concentration practice that anchors your focus to disable scattered or preferential thinking.
I learned very quickly that the retreat would be a nonstop dance of letting go. Each attempt I made to grasp onto something was met with a forceful reminder that expectations and control only breed agitation.
Surrender became my best friend.
I knew I was burnt out before arriving, but I hadn't realized the extent to which I'd been ignoring my body's pleas for rest. The first few days hit me like a tidal wave of exhaustion. I felt like a zombie, each meditation session stretching out for what felt like an eternity. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my head from falling forward as sleep tried to consume me.
One teacher described the experience of starting the retreat as “driving 150 mph and suddenly hitting the brakes.” She couldn’t have been more spot on and TBH, that part was brutal. Going from nonstop movement, noise, stimulation, and productivity to absolute silence is not exactly a smooth transition.
At first, your mind rebels. Your body twitches. You wonder why the hell you’re there in the first place. I wouldn’t say that it ever got easier, but eventually something in you softens. You stop trying to outrun the moment, you stop resisting the slowness,
And somehow, doing absolutely nothing made me feel the most alive.
This is where the structure (i.e. silence, no reading, no writing, etc.) became unexpectedly brilliant.
When there’s nothing else to run toward, you eventually stop running. You have to be where your feet are. I remember sitting in meditation thinking, don’t forget this idea. The grip on it felt urgent, almost forceful. By the time meditation ended, I found myself so immersed in the next moment, walking to the dining hall, and in my presence, I didn’t have any thoughts that felt urgent, forceful, or anxiety provoking. For once, my mind wasn’t somewhere else trying to optimize, remember, or get ahead.
My mind and body were in the same place.
If writing were accessible, I’d constantly be caught up in the pressure to remember, then I’d run fiercely to my notebook to capture whatever I could. I would’ve spent the entire retreat trying to preserve the experience instead of actually having it. There’s a big difference between remembering life and actually living it.
Actually, now I want you to stop reading for a moment to pause and notice the reactions that have come up for you in reading this.
That is what you do in retreat, you constantly pause to bring yourself back into presence.
You collect data about your mind and simply notice every moment as it comes.
To continue, I’ve chosen not to dwell on the painful or hardest moments because, to be honest, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that it was hard. In that commitment, I kept my spirits high, knowing that the return of my efforts would be exponential.
It’s impossible to articulate the entire journey with words, so I’ll do the best I can. “The best I can” became a steady mantra throughout my retreat, so it feels fitting to carry that energy into this writing too.
Below, I outlined my tangible takeaways, pertinent observations, and nuggets of wisdom. Some I will elaborate on; others will speak for themselves.
All of this to say, this is just my perspective one day out. Just as the experience kept evolving while I was there, I have a feeling the integration process will evolve too.
The seemingly intense conditions and principles of the retreat appear to be constricting and limiting, but it’s these conditions that become the source of your liberation. All natural tendencies are stripped away and your only concern is yourself.
Many of us fear our own minds, but your mind is a gift, not your biggest enemy.
Learning to be your own friend is one of the most valuable skills you can develop.
Being a ‘good meditator’ doesn’t exist; when you start to think that way, you’re in the comparative mind and you’ve lost the practice.
Meditating isn't about not thinking; it's a data collection process, so you become more aware of what is going on, in your mind, your body, and around you. Keep your opinions out of it.
There's nothing more generous than a window with a view. Think about how often we take life's small, ordinary pleasures for granted. For example: drinking your morning beverage is only possible because of the mug that carries it.
We rarely think about the present moment, constantly focusing on our past or future, but life is only happening in the present. I've learned that true strength lies not in constant projecting or reflecting, but in the ability to be present with whatever you’re experiencing.
We're ruled by time, always wanting it to slow down or speed up. Time is objective; it's our preference about time (what it should or shouldn't be doing) that creates a reaction and response within you.
Others alter and influence our behavior (with or without words). Whether we are conscious of it or not, we are always categorizing ourselves as better or worse, but according to whose standards? It’s all made up by you.
We are always looking to ‘add value’ in relationships, but being present with another is the ultimate value. We don't always need to fix, help, change, or perform our best for them to feel our care or impact. I felt completely supported by a group of unidentified strangers for more than a week.
Comfort with silence around others will make you a powerful relationship builder.
There’s no such thing as a completely silent room. Everyone is thinking and talking to themselves, despite it not being vocalized.
We are the heirs to our actions; you own your happiness and your happiness is a result of your actions.
Our self-love is conditional. For example: I love the energized Chloe, but I don’t like the tired Chloe. Notice the versions of yourself you are deeming ‘okay’ or ‘not okay.’
We are never doing just one task at a time. We are always multitasking, whether it be eating + talking, walking + listening, going to the bathroom + on our cell phone. True single-tasking is rare in daily life, but maybe the secret to feeling more alive isn’t adding more to life, it’s actually being there for the life already happening. Next time you eat, notice if you hold on to your fork like it’s a life raft then see if you can put it down between bites.
We hate change, but we grossly underestimate how adaptable and flexible we are. The retreat highlighted how quickly we adjust to radical change.
We're always being seduced by the stories and narratives we craft in our heads.
Ideas have the power to change us, for better or worse. For example, the idea of someone having a crush on you changes how you feel and act around them.
We're on a continuous quest to impress others. The voyage of impressing yourself is far more rewarding and sustainable.
Judgment doesn't help us connect to ourselves or others, though we may think it does. More often than not judgment creates unpleasant feelings.
Jealousy is often a manifestation of internal fear or worry that you won’t receive what you desire. Jealousy can be viewed as inspiration instead.
Most "urgent" thoughts can be calmed with a few deep breaths.
Forcing meditation is like trying to force yourself to sleep, it’s counterproductive. Instead, approach it gently, focusing on the process of being with yourself rather than the outcome.
Expectations lead to frustration and suffering because inevitably expectations create a gap between where we are and where we think we should be.
Our bodies are our lifelong homes, yet we neglect rather than respect them.
We all possess an internal wisdom that becomes available when we cultivate a friendly, loyal relationship with our own mind.
Being perfect doesn’t make you a superhero. In fact, it only breeds anxiety and doubt.
Why are our careers only about numbers and external achievement? Your career should also be about getting to know yourself and your internal operating systems, not just a company's.
Learning how to befriend all versions of yourself and hold your own hand during the inevitable highs and lows is crucial.
We are most intelligent and fulfilled when our hearts and minds connect.
As I emerge from this transformative journey, I carry with me a profound sense of inner peace and a newfound appreciation for simplicity. The silence has deepened my connection to my heart, while the stillness has illuminated the mighty power of living mindfully.
Now, I step back into the rhythm of daily life with a steady confidence, knowing that within me lies an unshakeable friendliness towards myself and a heart more open to life's infinite possibilities.
**If someone you know would benefit from this reading please forward along and spread the love!
