Yoga Journal USA – May 2019

18 YOGA JOURNAL

AT A

GLANCE

WHERE YOU

CAN TRY IT

Vipassana

meditation

is commonly

taught during

10-day, silent

retreats with

instruction on

mindfulness

and alternating

periods of sitting

and walking

meditation.

FOR MORE ON

THE HISTORY

OF VIPASSANA

dhamma.org

3 U.S. RETREAT

CENTERS TO

CONSIDER

Spirit Rock

Woodacre,

California

Insight

Meditation

Society

Barre,

Massachusetts

Shambhala

Mountain Center

Red Feather

Lakes, Colorado

I’ve been meditating for a long time, but as I arrived in

North Fork, California, just outside of Yosemite National

Park, for my first 10-day vipassana retreat, I was terrified.

What have I gotten myself into? I wondered as I drove down

the dirt path to the California Vipassana Meditation Center.

What if we get dragged into another world war and no one can

reach me?

My nerves were running high. I was about to spend

a whopping 10 hours and 45 minutes a day in seated

meditation in complete silence—no phone, computer,

journal, books, exercise, yoga, or speaking.

Not talking seemed like it was going to be easy. As a yoga

and meditation teacher, I spend all day every day using my

voice. Silence felt like a welcome reprieve. But no journaling,

reading, or yoga? That felt downright cruel.

As I unpacked my bags and the many meditation cushions

and props I had indulgently dragged with me, I was aware

that despite my years of yoga practice, the most challenging

part of this retreat was likely going to be the physical

discomfort that would arise from all those hours of sitting. I

walked to the small pond on the women’s side of the center—

men and women are separated during the retreat—and

took a seat near a small stream. I could hear frogs ribbit as a

beautiful dragonfly buzzed near me. Nature was telling me it

would be OK. I began to settle in.

That evening, as 50 women entered the meditation hall,

I gazed around at the people I would be sitting with in silence

for the next 10 days. Eye contact is not allowed once you start

the retreat, so this was my only chance to get a good look at

my fellow meditators before we began.

The next morning, the wakeup bell rang at 4 a.m. I slipped

into my coziest sweatpants and stumbled in the dark toward

the meditation hall. As the morning practice began, I started

to feel anxious. My body temperature rose, and small beads of

sweat began to pour down my face. I slipped my sweater off.

When the heat continued, I tied my hair back. As my anxiety

lifted to a peak, I opened my eyes and fainted headfirst into

the meditation cushion of the woman perched in front of

me. I have no idea how long I was out. I opened my eyes, sat

back up, took a breath, and felt like I had left my body. This

vipassana retreat was starting out with a bang.

Though it’s called a “silent retreat,” it felt noisier than

playing the radio at full volume—not

because there was talking, but because

the voice inside my head incessantly

narrated everything. I listened to my

breath move in and out. I listened to

coughing, sniffling, throat-clearing,

and a bevy of other bodily noises come

and go. I was mindful of my judgments,

fears, and physical pains rising and

falling away again and again. It was

tedious. It felt like work.

Then, on day three, something

magical happened: My body—and

mind—became still. While my physical

discomfort from all of the sitting was

still there, it stopped defining my

moment-to-moment experience, and

my mental hall monitor faded away.

This retreat woke me up in ways my

yoga practice and training never have.

I awakened to a voice inside my head

that was self-critical and painful to

listen to, and I loved that part of myself

into healing. I heard the loving voices of

my teachers whispering, “May this serve

to open your heart; This too is practice;

You can do hard things; This too will

change; Nothing goes away until it

teaches you what you need to learn.”

And I kept sitting, ultimately having the

incredible experience of the pain not

being “mine” anymore. Sure, I felt it in

my body, but I learned to un-identify

with the pain. I fell into a space of trust

that I was OK; that the pain could be

there, and I could be separate from it.

In navigating the restlessness, fear,

self-criticism, and pain I experienced

on this retreat, I awakened to the true

meaning of yoga and a profound new

depth of presence, love, and acceptance

that will stay with me forever.

YJ TRIED IT

The Sound of Silence

What happens when a seasoned yoga teacher and meditation practitioner goes

on a 10-day silent vipassana meditation retreat? Lauren Eckstrom reports.

OPPOSITE: PATRICIA PENA PHOTOGRAPHY