On December 20th, I embarked on a Vipassana 10-day silence meditation retreat, a decision rooted in personal growth. This unconventional experience required surrendering valuables, maintaining silence, and adhering to a strict schedule—complete with early wake-ups, 10 hours of meditation, and limited meals. No contact with the outside world, even eye contact, was allowed, adding a unique layer of challenge. As someone who has explored various places, this marked the first time I was without my sketchbook, making it a particularly demanding undertaking.
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Founded by S.N. Goenka, the Vipassana group operates globally, relying on donations and volunteers. Although claiming to be secular, it predominantly aligns with Buddhism, as interpreted by Goenka through recorded sessions. The retreat segregates genders, employing DVDs and recordings for meditation guidance, with minimal verbal interaction permitted. My introduction to Vipassana came through a friend, Karla, and my interest in mindfulness led me to embrace this seemingly cultish experience.
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Here's a chronological account of my journey:
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Day 0-
Took an ATR from Singapore for the first time
I boarded a Firefly ATR prop plane from Singapore, bound for Malaysia's Dharma Centre. Having enrolled in the program, I arrived in Kuantan, where the center is graciously situated on land donated by a prosperous family managing a plantation and adjacent hotel. At the Kuantan airport, I encountered two volunteer servers who joined me in a cab to the center. Both Paul and the other lady had participated in Vipassana more than six times. In our conversation, they candidly forewarned me about the challenging nature of the retreat.
Upon arrival, we were greeted with the commencement of noble silence, marked by the signing of an agreement form. Emphasizing adherence to the rules, we surrendered our 'contrabands'—phones, passports, money, wallets, and the like—before being assigned to our modest rooms. The accommodations featured a small, basic space with a thin mattress, a pillow, and a bathroom equipped with a cold running shower. For hot water, a communal pail was available outside. Additionally, a meditation seat was provided in each room. Daily program outlines were posted outside the cafeteria, indicating whether students could remain in their rooms for self-meditation or gather in the hall for instructions.
The hall we meditated in
Rooms we slept in
Day 1 –
I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could sleep the night before, only to be abruptly awakened by a rather annoying siren at 4 am—an intense 'Gong' that resounded about 10 times with each activation. Its purpose was to signal the beginning of either a meditation or meal session, becoming increasingly hypnotic after repeated exposure throughout the day.
On the first day, our instruction centered on Anapana, a practice involving observing the sensation of breath in and out of our nostrils. The focus area for observing this sensation would gradually decrease over the next three days.
As I closed my eyes to meditate, my monkey mind kicked into high gear, leading me into a whirlwind of random thoughts, ideas, and fantasies. The sheer randomness made me question my sanity. By the end of day 1, I found myself mentally exhausted, plagued by a raging headache, and experiencing pain throughout my body.
Despite contemplating leaving, I decided to give the experience a bit more time. Each day, before the conclusion of our final meditation session, a discourse ensued, accompanied by a recorded video of S.N. Goenka teaching Dharma. Initially entertaining, these sessions evolved into subtle mockery of other religions and beliefs in the subsequent days. Goenka, a charming figure, seamlessly integrated humor into various Buddhist teachings, transforming the room of quiet attendees into a space filled with laughter. I couldn't help but wonder if laughter was considered a violation of noble silence.
Day 2 -
My sleep quality took a nosedive. I found myself back in the metaphorical boxing ring, and on this particular day, we honed in on our breathing sensations, focusing from the area around our nostrils to the upper lips. Strangely, my monkey mind decided to take a break. Instead, when I achieved moments of calmness and focus, my mind would seamlessly drift into a subconscious or light non-REM sleep state. Describing this transition proves challenging due to its smooth and elusive nature.
Frustrations mounted as I questioned why my willpower seemed incapable of aligning with my intentions. During one episode, I slipped into my subconscious, realizing I was in a dream state with vivid imagery of stirring a spoon in a cup. Upon waking, I discovered that my physical hand had mirrored the dream motion. The experience was undeniably trippy.
By day's end, a slight headache had set in, and I struggled to find rest at night. Even when it felt like I had drifted into sleep, my alertness persisted. It's akin to the sensation of experiencing super-long and slow breaths during sleep, with an added layer of vigilance to each inhalation. The roles of my conscious and subconscious mind seemed to have mysteriously flipped.
Day 3 -
I awoke with barely any sleep, feeling incredibly fatigued but oddly not sleepy. The day's meditation instruction directed us to focus on the sensation around our upper lips. However, my experience took an unexpected turn as I found myself repeatedly drifting into my subconscious, feeling like things had gone haywire. Seeking guidance, I approached the teacher, who advised taking breaks, washing up, and resisting these mental intrusions. Despite my willpower being on full throttle, exercising control proved elusive.
When I inquired about my sleep deprivation, the teacher nonchalantly mentioned that meditators don't need much sleep and urged me not to worry. Frustration mounted as I struggled to stay awake during meditation, often dozing off within minutes. In one instance, I found myself walking a dog in a dream, only to realize upon awakening that my subconscious was steering the ship. Behind me, another participant displayed equal frustration, resorting to repeatedly hitting his head when nodding off. I yearned to connect with him, but later discovered he had left the retreat, discreetly facilitated by the management to avoid influencing others to quit. This observation hinted at manipulative and psychological factors embedded in the design of the retreat.
Day 4 -
We concluded the Anapana phase, marking the official commencement of Vipassana meditation. According to Goenka, the initial three days served as preparation for our 'mental surgery.' The core concepts were straightforward:
We had lost touch with the subtle vibrations occurring within our changing form, referred to as Chi, chakra, or sensations in the context of Vipassana. Goenka asserted that Buddha traced suffering back to our attachments to pleasures and aversions, prescribing equanimity as the solution.
Through meditation, we sought to recondition ourselves to feel these sensations.
Avoiding labels for these sensations was crucial, as attaching labels equated to fully developed concepts, fostering attachment.
Once we could feel these sensations throughout our body, the directive was to observe them without labeling as good or bad—an analogy to accepting our ever-changing realities.
A pivotal moment unfolded in my meditation today. We were tasked with three sittings, maintaining a pose without movement for an hour. This ritual aimed to awaken our senses and cleanse past misdeeds. Skeptical of my ability to sit still, I continued to grapple with my subconscious. Before lunch, a revelation struck—I had been projecting my breathing onto an imaginary self. This realization, that our self-image is revealed laterally inverted through a mirror, prompted contemplation on how harshly I treated my subconscious. It dawned on me that it was time to be kind to myself.
Returning to the meditation seat in the afternoon, I finally succeeded in meditating without falling asleep. Despite persistent pain throughout my body, my subconscious began cooperating. Later, we were guided to shift our focus to the top of our head, and though initially challenging to catch the accent, I mistakenly thought we were instructed to focus on the top of our hip. To my surprise, this adjustment induced a cooling sensation sweeping down to my hip, intensifying the experience. The day concluded on a positive note, with a sense of accomplishment, and I enjoyed a better night's sleep.
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Day 5 -
Today's practice involved sweeping the focus from the top of our head to the bottom of our feet, observing without reacting to the rising and dissipating sensations. Remarkably, I successfully felt these sensations, maintaining equanimity and not moving an inch during the three lock-down sessions, each lasting an hour. It marked my inaugural experience of mind over matter. The excruciating pain in my legs and back transformed into mere sensations that rose and passed away.
During one session, a mosquito landed on my finger, extracting a bunch of blood, yet all I perceived with closed eyes was a robust sensation. Without categorizing these sensations as pain or pleasure, I remained oblivious to what was happening until the session concluded. However, that night, I developed a severe headache. As I lay down to sleep, an intense pressure on my face persisted. Surrendering to the stretching pain, I somehow managed to fall asleep for a few hours. Unfortunately, these discomforting sensations during sleep continued and intensified over the subsequent days.
Day 6 -
The meditation continued smoothly, yet a lingering sense of unease pervaded my experience, and I couldn't identify the source. Was I inadvertently projecting my imagination into my practice, causing issues? Despite this uncertainty, I persevered with the meditation, following the escalating instructions to channel focus on the body.
At night, the persistent stretching sensation on my face returned, disrupting my ability to sleep. I could only manage a few hours of rest by lying on my back. The increasing asymmetry of this sensation alarmed me, and concerns about it being a potential warning sign of a stroke started to intensify.
Day 7 -
I came to the realization that, while scanning my body parts, I was still projecting imagery in my mind. Doubts about whether this was imagination crept in, prompting me to seek clarification from my teacher. He advised me not to look for sensations but to sense them. Expressing my confusion, I asked how one could know the location of the arm without imagining it first. In response, my teacher emphasized that if the eyeballs were moving during the practice, it was not the correct approach and might be contributing to my headache and stretching pain.
As an artist, I explained that it was challenging for me to prevent my eyeballs from moving in my mind while scanning from head to toe. This realization led me to understand that, no matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to stop my eyeballs from searching for a placement. Surprisingly, I wasn't frustrated; instead, I welcomed this insight, though I wished for relief from my persistent headache. The stretching sensation on my face intensified during the night when I relaxed my facial muscles, and I struggled with difficulty breathing.
Day 8 –
I made the decision to leave the retreat that day. Despite the teacher's insistence that the sensations I experienced were positive signs of past bad deeds being eradicated through Vipassana meditation, I couldn't shake the feeling of being in a cult. Another theory suggested by the teacher was that heightened sensitivity during Vipassana practice might reveal underlying medical issues, potentially signaling a stroke. Concerned about my health, I questioned whether completing the retreat was worth the risk.
Expressing my understanding of equanimity, I stood firm in my decision to leave. The teacher continued to insist that I was giving up, solidifying my belief that this environment had cult-like qualities. They reluctantly allowed me to pack up discreetly, instructing me to wait in my room until the other students were in the meditation hall to avoid drawing attention to my departure. I left with a cab at 1 pm, with Hiroshi, a fellow participant, joining me in breaking the noble silence.
We shared our experiences, laughed, and discussed the surreal nature of the retreat. Hiroshi, a scientist from Singapore, revealed that he had been silently suffering from bug stings, which I had mistaken for an air freshener. After parting ways, the cab took me to Kuantan Sentra Terminal, where I found my way to Kuantan city, checked into a hotel, and took a warm shower. Despite checking in, sleep eluded me that night.
The next morning, I decided to return to Singapore earlier than planned, enduring an unpleasant bus trip that took over 8 hours. The peculiar stretching sensation on my face persisted, prompting me to see a doctor upon reaching home. After checking my blood pressure and heart rate, the doctor prescribed sleeping pills, providing some relief as I finally managed to fall asleep at 11 pm after a restless night.
My only sketch done in Kuantan
8 hours of bus ride back to Singapore !
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What did I learn from this experience?
Danger of Unsupervised Mind Activities:
Prolonged engagement in intense mental activities without proper guidance can be riskyComplexity of the Mind:
Our minds are delicate and intricate, influencing thoughts, perceptions, emotions, and sensations.Nuances of Breathing:
Breathing is a nuanced process, involving movement, rhythm, speed, and factors like food, thoughts, and ideas, impacting our well-being.Power of Silence:
Silence allows us to hear ourselves and reveals our judgments and assumptions about others, emphasizing the importance of positive self-dialogue.Addiction Awareness:
The retreat highlighted the addictive nature of activities like checking news and social media, prompting reflection on time lost to such habits.Equanimity Beyond Beliefs:
While not subscribing to religious or pseudoscientific claims, I appreciated the concept of equanimity in S.N. Goenka's teachings.Creativity in Religion:
Religion is seen as the pinnacle of human creativity and art, being conceptual, intangible, and capable of uniting or dividing.Economic Perspective:
In the absence of entertainment, clothing became my economy, emphasizing the importance of resource management and planning.Shower as Purification:
The shower became a source of joy and relief in the restrictive environment, symbolizing the cleansing and non-judgmental nature of water.Kindness to Oneself:
Treating oneself well, both mentally and physically, contributes to a more tolerable and positive perception of the world.Acceptance of Change:
Embracing the inevitability of change in oneself and others can lead to a more positive and adaptable life.Perspective on Reality:
Different perspectives on a spilled milk bottle reflect the subjectivity of life circumstances and choices.Vipassana Techniques Variation:
S.N. Goenka's Vipassana technique differs from others, and caution is advised due to injected personal theories that may impact participants.Commitment vs. Attachment:
Distinguishing between commitment and attachment is crucial; one can commit to an endeavor without being attached to specific outcomes.
In summary, the experience emphasized the need for balance, self-kindness, and a nuanced understanding of the mind and its activities. It also highlighted the potential risks associated with intensive practices without proper guidance.
The whole experience felt a little like watching Black Mirror on netflix without a super horrifying ending.
The song I unconsciously been whistling to when I was alone in my room.
Maybe its time to try some hypnosis ?