Imagine six days alone with the cell phone turned off, no reading or writing, very limited online communication (except for online retreat modules), and maintaining noble silence. Initially it sounded idyllic, but as the date loomed closer to the start of the mindfulness retreat, I started to have a bit of trepidation. I would essentially have to spend almost a week by myself learning the art of presence with no tempting distractions, in preparation for the two-year mindfulness meditation teacher training certification I would be embarking on in February with Tara Brach and Jack Kornfield. I knew that challenges would arise, and sitting in meditation for several hours a day seemed daunting.
Because of COVID, it was virtually impossible to find an in-person retreat. However, I was able to cloister myself on a magnificent property nestled in the middle of a magical forest. On the nearly 60 acres were several ponds, miles of meandering trails, a grove of dawn redwoods, and best of all, a small apartment attached to the barn with internet access. I packed up my car with enough supplies for a month (yes, I overpack), including some items to place on the makeshift altar I planned to create to set the space.
After arriving and settling in, I placed a colorful silk scarf over a coffee table and arranged the incense, sage, and prayer beads I had purchased in Japan last year. Behind those, I placed statues of Quan Yin, Ganesha, and Fudo Myoo, the Buddha who burns down all impediments and paves the way to enlightenment. After placing my meditation bench and cushion directly behind the altar, I was ready for the opening ceremony to start.
The retreat covered the four foundations of mindfulness and included four two-hour online modules scheduled every two hours. In addition to the modules, each student was expected to do mindfulness practices throughout the day between sessions, such as mindful eating, walking, yoga, and meditation. After the first day, my body was in pain and my mind hadn’t quieted down at all. I began to question whether I could do this for another five days. I had a restless night’s sleep, but the next morning the teachers reviewed the five hindrances of mindfulness, which often impede our practice. Three of those are doubt, restlessness, and worry. I had definitely checked off all of those boxes on my first day. It was somewhat comforting to know that everyone struggles with these, and the teachers’ guidance helped me to start the next day from a more grounded and self-compassionate perspective.
They encouraged walking meditation, which I loved, as it helped me to be more cognizant of my body. As a hiker, slowing down my walking and concentrating on each step and being observant of the sensations in my legs and feet was initially a struggle. Typically, walking meditation is done in a small space, going about 30 paces and then turning around, and continuously and thoughtfully walking back and forth. It took me a few days to get used to this new way of ambulating, but after a while I found myself smiling joyfully during the whole walk, and I felt more open, yet fully grounded and whole.
The online portion of the retreat generally began with a guided body-awareness practice that lasted anywhere from 30 minutes to one hour. This was followed by a 10–15 walking meditation, then a short dharma talk, and ended with a thirty-minute silent meditation. The whole idea here, clearly, was to keep the mind quiet and find some space between thoughts. There were days that were arduous and there were days where I was finding bits and pieces of peace and wanted to keep meditating.
The sitting practice was difficult, at times both physically and emotionally excruciating. My lower back, pelvis, and hips would often be so painful it felt intolerable, but then something almost uncanny would happen. As I acknowledged the pain without judgment, worry, or tension, it would dissipate, and then I would be aware of perhaps a bit of tension in my left shoulder and then I would use this same technique over and over, just being the observer and watching things shift and change in my body. The same was true with my emotions. I would sit and be frustrated. I would sit and feel restless. I would sit and feel sleepy. I would sit and cry. All the while, I witnessed without self-criticism and offered myself loving kindness. This is one of the lessons of mindfulness practice: resting again and again in present-moment awareness, so we learn not to push against, but merely observe, what is. When we practice this repeatedly, we can retrain our minds to ease off the brakes of the constant conflict we often find ourselves in.
One of the foundations of mindfulness practice is in the knowing that everything is impermanent, imperfect, and impersonal. Being the quiet observer for six days and noticing where I was feeling my thoughts in my body was quite a wake-up call. I became aware of the numbing that has been my life-long pattern. Tucking things away and having them manifest in unhealthy ways, which created anxiety, stress, pain, and worry, and constantly being in over-achiever mode instead of just being. All of this was also quite emotionally challenging. However, on the fourth day there was a gentle lifting that occurred that’s hard to put into words. I felt more at peace with myself and the world; I had a deep and knowing sense of clarity; and my body and mind felt happy. When I ventured outside, I truly was able to see, hear, and smell things in a way I never had before and I was aware of an astounding state of blissfulness. I found myself smiling all the time, which frequently made me laugh out loud. It felt amazing.
On the last day of the retreat, I carefully and mindfully packed up my clothes and food supply and held the intention to remain in this balanced state of peace. I also made a commitment to enter each day with positive thoughts, actions, and speech. I thanked the beautiful little apartment that had sheltered me, the surrounding trees that helped me stay grounded, and the soaring hawk that gave me spiritual insight. I got in my car and drove ever so slowly home, knowing that I had experienced something incredibly life-changing and heart-opening. Would I do it again? Absolutely. I was able to conquer my fear of completely disconnecting and delving deeply inside. What I thought may have been a darkness within me was actually a heart of peace.