My first silent meditation retreat

A practice for releasing fear after meeting a bear, and 3 ingredients for a successful silent retreat

Picture this: It’s a mild summer weekend in June and you find yourself at a meditation hall with 95 other people. The hall is spacious and airy with tidy rows of cushions and chairs. You gravitate towards your chosen seat, one that you’ve become intimate with as you sit and meditate for 30-45 minutes at a time. You haven’t spoken a single word in the last two days, or even made eye contact with anyone else.

You settle into your cushion, take a deep breath, and listen for the sound of the bell. Once it rings, you close your eyes and pay attention to your breath. In, out, in, out. Sometimes you feel air pass through the tip of your nose, other times deep in the base of your belly. You start thinking about things you have to do on Monday—that’s okay, back to the breath. You wonder why your neighbor is coughing so much—that’s okay, back to the breath. You eventually doze off, waking up to your head bopping forward—that’s okay, back to the breath. On and on it goes until the bell rings again.

Entrance to the meditation hall

I went to my first 3 day silent meditation/vipassana retreat last month at Insight Meditation Society’s retreat center in central Massachusetts. Going to a silent meditation retreat has been on my bucket list for some time. I was interested in deepening my meditation practice to sit for longer than 10-15 minutes at a time, but mostly I wanted to immerse in silence for days at a time.

As an introvert I have always romanticized silence: case in point my idyllic fantasy of having my own writer’s cabin. But going to a meditation retreat removes far much more than speaking—you’re not to partake in any reading, writing, journaling, and of course no phones or digital devices are allowed. The retreat is an invitation to go completely inward in an environment that prioritizes simplicity and quiet.

I worried about the jarring transition from city life to a monastic one. Thankfully these worries were shared by the three fellow NYC retreatants I carpooled with. We were all strangers to each other and newcomers to this kind of retreat, which allowed us to swap our hopes and curiosities during the four hour drive without any preconceived notions or expectations. Once our conversation dwindled, we looked out our windows, zoning out to the blurry masse of green trees and bright blue skies. I already felt relaxed around these strangers with our shared intention to accept silence as the norm, not something to combat with continued small talk.

Simple and clean single room—I was lucky to get two windows!

Once we arrived at IMS and checked into our single rooms, I texted notice of my safe arrival to my family and chucked my phone into the closet. Once noble silence began that evening after our first gathering in the meditation hall, I relished in the clear structure of our days. Every day we would wake up at 5:30 AM and sit to meditate by 6 AM. Meals were served at 6:30 AM, 12 PM, and 5 PM. Otherwise we alternated between sitting and walking meditation throughout the days and ended with a dharma talk from the meditation teacher in the evening.

I did not think about my phone (not even once!) I felt completely at peace with not being able to read or draw or write (though I did read the welcome guide packet and manual many times over). Three things made this complete break from communication possible:

1. No visual cues of distracting media: Nobody else was on their phones, watching TV, or reading any material. This was unlike all the times I’ve waited in a long Trader Joe’s line actively resisting the pull of my phone as I watched others in line scroll away to pass the time.

2. Presence of nature: The IMS grounds had plenty of space for us to spread out and roam. The lawns and gardens were beautifully maintained, and there were miles of private hiking trails that we could explore. I took many walks to a pond behind the parking lot where I delighted in spotting frogs and pond lilies.

3. Schedules and procedures for maintaining the environment. Our daily schedule was clearly outlined and posted on the board for us to see and keep time. The dining hall, bathrooms, walking rooms, and single rooms all had signs listing out clear procedures for eating, cleaning, and checking out. One of the carpool retreatants joked later that she cleaned her room before checkout more than she’d cleaned her own room in months. Having standard procedures helps eliminate questions and friction of what to do next, which often leads to feelings of overwhelm and desire to escape via phone/book/TV.

I hadn’t done much walking meditation before this retreat but found it to be a very enjoyable and needed practice after the stiffness of sitting cross-legged. Sometimes I’d walk in one of the many indoor walking rooms, focusing on feeling each bone and muscle of my foot as I slowly took each step forward. Other times I’d take a brisker walk outside in nature to wake myself up after a meal. Seeing other retreatants partake in walking meditation was a real treat, all of us ambling slowly in different directions across the lawn like snails.

During my second day I went on a recommended longer hike toward Gaston Pond, a larger pond in town that required a bit of walking on car roads. I felt a bit out of my comfort zone being far away from the retreat center without my phone or any identifying information. Lo and behold, the fear must have manifested outside of my body—as I arrived and turned toward a walking path next to some parked cars, I saw a bear approaching, only 150 feet away.

I quickly pivoted and kept walking down the main road until I could stand next to a kid calmly fishing and catch my breath. I kept feeling trepidation on the walk back to IMS, so I thought of metta, one of the meditation practices we had learned.

Metta, aka loving-kindness, is a practice of silently repeating phrases of love and goodwill. Some example phrases are “May you be happy”, “may you be healthy”, and “may you be at peace.” You can wish this upon yourself, your loved ones, your enemies, or even a bear, as I did on my walk. It’s not a panacea, but the practice did help me release the tight grip of fear I was feeling. It helped me remember the bear has every right to be here, just as I have a right to be here.

I had such a peaceful weekend at IMS and can’t wait to go back, though many warn that no two silent retreat experiences are alike and I may very well have a miserable (but good learning) experience next time! Since I’ve returned, I’ve taken care to multitask less, shedding my habit of reading while eating breakfast or trying to watch a video while drawing. Walks are now invitations to partake in longer meditations without my phone, and I’m enjoying the birdsong that can be heard throughout NYC.

If you are interested in trying out a weekend meditation retreat and are on the East Coast, I recommend Insight Meditation Society’s retreats for beginners and advanced practitioners alike. On the West Coast, I’ve heard good things about Spirit Rock.

💭 Do you have a meditation practice? Would you consider going on a silent retreat? How would you react if you saw a bear up close? Let me know in the comments, as I always appreciate hearing from you!