April 28, 2025
Have you ever wondered what would happen if you completely unplugged? No phone, no talking, no eye contact, just you and your thoughts for ten days straight? I recently embarked on such a journey – a Vipassana meditation retreat – and it was one of the most challenging and ultimately unique experiences of my life.
The Plunge into Silence
I arrived in Kaufmann, Texas, ready (or so I thought) for ten days dedicated to the ancient Indian technique of Vipassana, which means “to see things as they really are.” The premise is simple: through silent observation of your own breath and bodily sensations, you cultivate awareness and equanimity, learning to observe reality without craving or aversion. Simple, but far from easy.
The silence began immediately, and my mind raced. Did I send that text? What am I missing? I managed to let those initial thoughts go, but the quiet felt vast and unfamiliar.
Wrestling with Time and Discomfort
The first few days were a blur of adjusting. Thoughts constantly pulled me away – thinking about everything else I could be doing, even daydreaming about a family vacation (ironically, a no-phone one!). Day 1 felt incredibly long, a tough realization that I was only 10% through. Time warped; hours crawled by. At home, 5 PM to 9 PM flies by; here, it felt like an eternity.
Sitting for hours on end was physically demanding. My neck started hurting. Group meditations brought unexpected moments, like stifled laughter bubbling up internally. I even realized I’d been sitting in the wrong assigned spot for days, but in the noble silence, no one could correct me 😂By the evening of Day 3, the thought “Holy shit, it’s still Day 3?” echoed loudly in my mind.
The “Real” Start and Shifting Perspectives
Just when I thought I was getting the hang of something, the teacher, S.N. Goenka (via audio recordings), announced that Vipassana actually started on Day 4. The first three days were just preparation – focusing on Anapana (breath awareness) to calm and concentrate the mind. “WTF?” I thought. “Did I really need three days of warmup?”
This was particularly frustrating because on Day 1, I had already felt the natural inclination to scan my body for other sensations beyond the breath. But trying to be a good student, I restrained myself and followed the instructions precisely. Now I realized I could have been 2½ days ahead if they’d introduced the technique earlier. It reminded me of a familiar feeling from my educational experiences – systems that move too slowly, catering to the median or even the lowest denominator, while those ready to advance must wait patiently.
Despite my skepticism, I decided to trust the process. The morning offered a beautiful sunrise, a small moment of peace amidst the internal struggle. Four nights down, seven to go. “Day at a time. You can do this,” I told myself. That afternoon, we were finally taught the Vipassana technique: systematically scanning the body, observing sensations without reaction. I felt a little perturbed they waited nearly four full days (91 hours!) to introduce it. Could I have gotten here sooner? Probably. But again, I had to let it go and move past the thought.
Deepening the Practice (and the Struggle)
The quiet was profound. Sitting in my room, the only sounds were the heater blowing or occasional footsteps in the hall – a stark contrast to the noisy world outside, or the closest parallel of this style of living I could think of… the shared living of a hostel. Yet, the meditation itself remained incredibly challenging. Holding the posture for more than 15 minutes felt arduous, and keeping my mind focused was a constant battle.
Frustration mounted. Eight hours of meditation per day felt intense, the closest intensive I could compare to was 5 hours per day of Spanish back in 2012 which I did for 4 weeks straight; this was even more demanding. Doubts crept in. Would this really be beneficial? I remained open, but uncertain. Still, small signs of progress emerged. The hour-long sittings started feeling slightly easier, even if my focus wasn’t perfect. It felt like something was shifting.
The Dark Night (and a Glimmer of Breakthrough)
Day 7 was tough. Sleep was elusive, and lying in bed, all I could think about was leaving. My mind churned, justifying reasons to escape, craving distractions – my phone, an audiobook, anything. I felt trapped, having intentionally put myself in a position to confront this discomfort head-on. Was pushing through going to lead to a breakthrough, or would I just be glad when it was over?
Later that day, during a sit, I felt a strange wooziness, like rocking side-to-side. I tried to observe it, but it didn’t grow much. My mind drifted to cravings – the desire to be somewhere else, doing something else. This connected to broader life patterns. I thought about wanting to live in a quiet beach town – analyzing the craving itself. Morning swims, bikeable surroundings, novelty, timelessness, the calming ocean. Yet, Goenka’s discourses about constantly wanting more resonated. I just bought a mountain house, and now I want the beach? Clearly, understanding and working with craving was key.
Then, a turning point. Thinking about my girlfriend, wanting to be home, playing games. I realized this feeling – the longing, the attachment – was the very source of the misery I was experiencing when I didn’t have what I wanted. That was the whole point! To observe these feelings without letting them dictate my state of being. I decided then and there to really commit to the technique. Despite the discomfort in my knee and back, despite wanting to check my watch, I kept refocusing: “It’s impermanent. One more round.” I felt the sensations more deeply, stayed present, again and again. When my watch finally vibrated, signaling the end of the hour, I had done it. I walked out feeling accomplished, and more importantly, equanimous.
The Decision: To Stay or To Go?
This breakthrough shifted my perspective. During an interview with an assistant teacher, I asked how to connect the practice to daily life. He used the example of applying for a job and not getting it – observe the feeling of attachment to the outcome without reacting. This was both freeing and slightly disappointing. Freeing, because it helped me process my own desire to leave the retreat. Disappointing, because I realized I’d already cultivated a degree of this non-attachment in my professional life through years of dealing with wins and losses. Was Vipassana just refining a skill I already possessed?
I decided to press the teacher further on this concept of desire and attachment. “I desire spending time with my girlfriend,” I explained. “Based on what you’re teaching, shouldn’t I avoid desiring things? Should I never want to spend time with her? If that’s the case, should I just break up with her and have nothing?” I continued along the same line of reasoning: “If I desire to leave here, and I shouldn’t desire things, then shouldn’t I just stay here forever and become a monk?”
His response was nuanced – it’s okay to aspire toward things, but not to be attached to the outcome. I immediately translated this to my situation: I could express my aspiration to leave without being attached to that outcome. If he had told me we were on an island with no boats coming for three days, making it impossible to leave, I could accept that reality equanimously. But in our actual scenario, my car was just 200 feet away. Why wouldn’t I follow my desire to leave if I could do so without attachment to either outcome?
Ultimately, the teacher didn’t offer a compelling explanation for why I shouldn’t leave, beyond his personal encouragement that I should stay. I remained open: “I’ll stay if you can convince me why I should.” But based on his own teachings about non-attachment, leaving seemed perfectly aligned with the philosophy he was promoting. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I started weighing the pros and cons of staying versus leaving three days early. Had I achieved my initial goals?
- Increase meditation capacity? Yes, massively. 50 hours in 7 days versus maybe 1 hour a day prior. Check.
- Disconnect? Yes. 7 days without a phone was a significant achievement. Check.
- Think things through? Yes, 7 days provided ample time to run through every thought multiple times. Check.
- Get bored (a sabbatical goal)? Yes, definitely achieved that! Check.
What could I gain by staying? Potential new insights, meeting others on Day 10, a sense of accomplishment. What could I gain by leaving? Three enjoyable days with loved ones, sleeping in my own bed, getting back to my routine, potentially a bike ride with my dad and uncle which felt more meaningful than three more days of silent struggle.
Leaving early was a tough decision because I typically like to complete things and push through challenges. But I analyzed it carefully: Was there something magical about 10 days? If it had been a 13-day retreat and I left on day 10, would I have gotten less out of it? The fear of missing out (FOMO) seemed the main reason to stay. On the final day they allow you to speak to the other participants, and I was very curious about people’s stories who I had seen at every meal and passed on my walks along the trails. Ultimately, feeling I had gained what I came for and recognizing the value of returning to my life, I decided to leave after the evening discourse on Day 7.
The Unexpected Gift of Leaving Early
Leaving three days early offered an unexpected perspective. Nobody was expecting to hear from me during those days. When I turned on my phone and saw the accumulated text messages, I had this profound realization: “Wow, this is crazy. I wasn’t going to be able to respond to these for three more days, and everything would have been just fine.”
This simple insight shifted my relationship with digital communication. The constant urgency we feel around texts and emails is largely self-imposed. The world continues turning even when we’re not immediately available. This lesson about patience and perspective might have been worth the entire retreat.
Life After Silence: Integrating the Experience
Returning home felt surreal. It was hard to believe I would still have been in silence had I stayed. The processing continues, but the retreat offered tangible takeaways:
- Awareness of Impermanence: The constant instruction to observe sensations knowing they will arise and pass away (anicca) is a powerful life tool. Discomfort, craving, joy – it all changes. Observing this reality reduces reactivity.
- Understanding Craving and Aversion: So much of our suffering comes from wanting things we don’t have (craving) or pushing away things we don’t like (aversion). Vipassana provides a method to observe these urges without being controlled by them.
- The Power of Equanimity: Cultivating a balanced mind, even amidst discomfort or distraction, is a skill. It doesn’t mean not feeling; it means not being overwhelmed by feelings.
- Appreciation for Connection (and Noise!): While the silence was profound, the experience heightened my appreciation for connection and the simple act of communication. My girlfriend even mentioned she didn’t realize how often she asked me questions until she couldn’t for a week!
- Increased Capacity for Presence: Even if challenging, sitting for hours trains the “muscle” of attention and presence.
Final Thoughts and Advice for Others
In hindsight, if I had done more research beforehand, I might have realized what I was actually looking for was a 7-10 day no-technology retreat with several hours of daily meditation complemented by yoga or surfing in a place like Bali or Hawaii. The strict Vipassana format was more extreme than what I needed for my personal growth journey.
For anyone considering a Vipassana retreat, I encourage you to evaluate your other options and truly understand what you’re getting yourself into. This particular format is intense and may not be necessary for everyone. Ask yourself what you’re hoping to gain – is it the digital detox? The meditation practice? The silent contemplation? There are various retreats that offer these elements in different combinations and intensities.
My Vipassana retreat wasn’t the blissful escape some might imagine. It was often uncomfortable, frustrating, and profoundly challenging. It involved confronting mental patterns, physical discomfort, and the raw nature of existence stripped bare of distractions. Yet, through that struggle came moments of clarity, resilience, and a deeper understanding of my own mind. It wasn’t about becoming a monk, but about finding practical tools to navigate life with more awareness and balance.
While I felt complete after seven days, feeling I had integrated the core lessons for myself at that time, the experience remains a significant marker. It reinforced the idea that growth often lies just outside our comfort zone, in the spaces where we choose to sit with difficulty rather than run from it. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most profound journeys happen in stillness.