A Week of Silence
On the morning of Friday October 2nd, I hopped in my car, shut down my phone, and drove south. Listening to music with a smile on my face. I passed through the red rocks of Moab, Dead Horse State Park, Arches, and the Canyonlands. I took a left in Monticello and an hour later I was cruising through the ranchlands of Colorado’s western slope. Bushy cottonwood trees lined the hayfields, weaving swaths of bright yellow leaves into the green landscape. When I reached Cortez, I turned down a county road. At just a few minutes after five o’clock I found my cabin: my silent retreat center.
In preparation for the Mindful Meditation Teacher certification program, I am required to attend a six day silent retreat. I had originally planned to go to a retreat center in Estes Park, but, like so many other 2020 events, it was cancelled due to the Coronavirus. Fortunately, some meditation teachers have used technology to create virtual retreats. I chose one based on the dates, subject, and teachers. Since the instruction was over Zoom, I could be anywhere. I wanted to experience silence, so I rented a cabin and left my family, phone and to-do list behind.
I didn’t care much about the cabin location. I just needed two things: seclusion and reliable Internet access. I had booked another place, but two days before the start of the retreat, the Airbnb that I rented in Dolores, Colorado cancelled. I scrambled to develop plan B. I found a cabin named “Rustic Getaway” on Airbnb which turned out to be perfect. There was a creek, a porch swing, ample outdoor deck space, and good Internet.
First order of business was unpacking the car. I carried my bags in and got organized. I brought all my food for the week, and a stack of journals and books. I looked forward to reading fiction, one of my spiritual books and planned to start reading a book about writing a book. I thought I’d have time to knock out a few pages of the novel that I am writing in my mind.
At six o’clock, I logged into the welcome Zoom call. I learned there were 150 participants from all over the world participating in the The Four Foundations of Mindfulness retreat. The four teachers introduced themselves. I loved them immediately. They were all smart, compassionate, present and funny.
About an hour into this first Zoom call, I heard a housekeeping detail which took me by surprise. Along with keeping noble silence, the teachers recommended not reading or writing during the week. My heart quickened. I felt slight panic as I processed those words. My teacher Howie explained that the practice of the retreat is to be in the present moment. Reading takes us to another world. Writing takes us to the past. I sat in silence, pondering the week ahead.
When I shared this detail with my daughter after returning home, she asked, “Mom, if you didn’t read, write, talk or watch TV what did you do?”
“Exactly Sadie. I didn’t DO much. I learned how to just BE”.
She looked at me for a minute with a confused look and then glanced back at her phone.
Lesson number one. It is a lot easier to do than be. I’m good at organizing. I like to plan. I was most comfortable when it was time to log on to Zoom, cook, practice yoga, or take a walk. The in between time felt long and lonely - and surprisingly loud. Loud with my thoughts. There were times during the week I wanted to bolt - hop back in the car and bail. I learned a second lesson which was very powerful:
Stay.
It’s hard to stay. When I want to leave, I stay. I’d have an itch in meditation and was instructed to not scratch. Instead, I’d use it as a practice to stay. My teacher said, “no one has ever died from not being able to scratch”. Stay, stay, stay.
On the third day, I called in for the first of two small-group sessions. It was one of the few times I spoke. When it was my turn, I shared with my teacher Bonnie that my leg constantly fell asleep. The tingling was very uncomfortable and as a result, I was focused solely on the sensation. She told me to move it. Confused, I asked her about the message to stay. She said, “Notice the moment when your foot is not asleep and then the moment when it starts to tingle. Watch your intention to move it. Then pause. Take a breath and move it.” Bonnie continued, “there will be times in your life when you are in pain and you can’t fix it by simply readjusting. This is not that moment.”
Lesson three: have self compassion.
Over the six-day course of the retreat, I attended more than 50 hours of instruction over Zoom. I attended four two-hour Zoom classes and meditated for almost five hours each day. I studied the four foundations of mindfulness, taught by the Buddha:
Awareness of the body.
Attention to feeling-tones.
Attention thoughts, emotions and mind-states: everything is impersonal, imperfect, and impermanent.
Ways that we get caught and practices to free ourselves from suffering.
The insights gained that week were life-changing. Most profound was noticing my thoughts and emotions in a frame of mindfulness. I watched loneliness, fear and joy rise, exist, and then dissipate. Without attaching a story, my feelings didn’t linger. I was able to say “this too shall pass” and notice that they did pass. Every single time.
Being with my thoughts for a week was very intimate. I noticed what type of thoughts fill my mind. I’m a forward thinker – a planner. I rehearse. When I ate a piece of chocolate, instead of enjoying it fully in the moment, I went inside my mind and silently retold the experience to a phantom audience. I did that all day long. I realized it is not bad, but it is a habit. Part of my personal mindfulness journey is unlearning my unconscious behavior.
By the end of the retreat, I experienced stronger concentration. That’s the point of a retreat. When I had a continuous practice of mindfulness on and off my meditation mat, I experienced longer periods of the present moment without interruption.
I drove home on Thursday, October 8th without music. I listened to Pema Chödrön and drove in silence. I watched the landscape more closely than I had on the drive down. What a beautiful world we live in.
I walked into my house, My husband and daughter were sitting at the kitchen counter. They looked at me and put their finger to their lips. “Shhhhh.” We were all silent for a moment.
It was a funny moment which ended with joyful tears and a group hug. I was filled with a full heart of joy and sense of accomplishment. It took me a few days to readjust to our fast-paced world. I don’t think I have fully returned. Life seems a little slower to me, and I try to notice my thoughts every day. I have continued with my meditation practice and I am, somewhat surprisingly, looking forward to my next silent retreat.
