There are thousands of people all around the world who have apparently gained significant benefits from the Vipassana …. but I’m not one of them!

My intention in writing this blog post is not deter anyone from attending the Vipassana, it is to present an alternative view to the pro-Vipassan zealots, and to caution anyone considering undertaking it not to do so lightly!

I’m not a novice to retreats. I did my yoga teacher training at a Sivananda ashram in India and have spent time alone in other ashrams and retreats in Asia. I’ve studied meditation and I have a deep commitment to my practice. So it was with some degree of experience that I approached the ten day silent meditation retreat in a camp on the picturesque banks of the Murray River in South Australia in late 2014.

As a regular meditator I was sincerely hoping to take my practice to a new level. I had also experienced some major upheavals in my life in the preceding few months and was looking upon the retreat as an opportunity to ‘reset’ my mind. A gift of time and space to deal with the impact of some significant life changes at a subtle level. With the benefit of hindsight, I would probably have got more out of the Vipassana had I been in a better place at the outset.

I never expected to find the retreat easy, but I really wasn’t prepared for every fibre of my being to revolt against the whole experience within three days! If I had to use one word to characterise my experience it would be ‘deprivation’. Unlike previous retreats that I’d found nourishing – physically, mentally and spiritually – the Vipassana was a test of my resilience at every level.

So what was it that I felt deprived of? My freedom, my privacy, my sleep, human contact, laughter, sufficient food, sufficient exercise and any outlet for my creativity. Contrary to creating an environment to cultivate peace of mind, the experience pushed pretty much every psychological button I have! Frankly, I felt as if I’d been jailed – without any of the perks!

So, here’s my recollection of the retreat:

After a slightly confusing registration process (where we handed over our car keys! as well as our mobile phones and valuables), we were given a light supper and a short induction. The group was divided into men and women (and would remain segregated for the rest of the retreat) and we were guided to the hall for the first time to take our vow of silence and commitment to the process of the Vipassana. (It is during this session that we first hear the disembodied voice of the late S. N. Goenka, the founder of the modern Vipassana movement. I come to realise later that ALL our instruction is given by audio and amateurish video recordings of the teacher from the 1980’s/90’s.)

Afterwards we make our way in silence to our shared accommodation. Four women in a tiny bunk room with no communication (not even eye contact!)…. thankfully the bunks are labelled with our names, but how do we negotiate when the lights go out? Fan on or fan off? Who has any mozzie spray?!

At 4am we’re woken by the sound of a gong (which I later come to resent as some sort of Pavlovian equivalent) and head to the hall for the first ‘informal’ meditation session of the day. I recall being surprised by the amount of comings-and-goings from the hall during our first session and doing my best to cultivate empathy towards a woman with a particularly persistent cough! Later on this first morning we’re introduced to the ‘sit of determination’ – a one hour meditation, practiced three times each day, where we are not supposed to move a muscle. (To be honest, this eventually became a highlight for me – giving me a goal and something to focus on!)

After a sumptuous breakfast (the food is mostly very good – albeit only two meals a day) we have some free time to shower….. and…… It is then that I realise the full implication of being confined (literally roped in) to a small area. While the view is gorgeous and the weather for the most part is very kind to us, we can do no more than walk back and forth along a 50m stretch of river bank. We are actively discouraged from practicing yoga or any other form of exercise. We cannot use a diary or sketch pad, we are not allowed books or music (even of a spiritual nature) and we cannot talk. So after a few laps of the yard, we sit and (initially) enjoy the view.

We return to the hall for more meditation and recorded audio instruction. While we are not privy to the overall structure of the approach at the outset, it becomes clear afterwards that the first three days of meditation focuses only on the breath.

We negotiate self-service and consumption of our delicious lunch in silence. I try to fit in a second cup of tea as it’s only during meal times that we can get hot drinks! It’s also during this time that we can seek one-on-one meetings with the ‘assistant teachers’ or the camp coordinator to discuss any concerns we might be having.

After our lunch we return for another couple of hours of informal meditation. We can choose to practice inside the darkened, airless hall, with our coughing and wandering co-participants, or in our somewhat-less-than-inviting bunk rooms. We are not permitted to meditate outside. We are not supposed to lie down on our beds. We cannot leave the site.

Our afternoon meditation, including our second ‘sit of determination’ is followed by a break for ‘dinner’ which consists of a cup of tea and a slice of watermelon. Our evening meditation is broken into two parts either side of a two hour video talk by Mr Goenka. While the production values are dreadful, the video talks are quite enjoyable and Mr Goeka presents the concepts of the Vipassana in an engaging and accessible way.

At around 9.30pm we head back to our bunk room for our second night. I find it increasingly difficult to sleep as the nights pass. My body and mind simply aren’t tired, my bed is uncomfortable, and one of our group snores.
Each day follows the same pattern.

On day two I’m doing OK. There are certainly aspects of the retreat that I’m not keen on (including the shared toilet and shower facilities which have already blocked) but I can feel my thoughts beginning to slow and tension leave my body as I sit on the banks of the river watching the leaves of the big white gum shimmy in the breeze, and listening to the sounds of the river lapping and the galah’s screeching in the cloudless blue sky.

After a particularly bad third night (where I spent several hours pacing up and down the river front under the stars trying to wear myself out and avoid the snoring) the tide of my emotions begins to turn. I feel increasingly resentful of the restrictions and wonder where (if anywhere) this technique is leading. Instead of continuing to slow, my thoughts become obsessive. I focus on some of the unresolved issues in my life and create all sorts of possible scenarios in my mind. I begin to resent the sombre tone created by the lack of verbal communication and eye contact and imagine personalities for my co-participants imbued with all sorts of characteristics based only on their physical appearance. Nobody looks happy. Are they all suffering as much as me? Used to daily yoga, my body is craving exercise. My back is aching from the hours and hours of sitting. My stomach is rumbling. I’m probably experiencing caffeine withdrawal. (At least, I find out at the end of the retreat, I’m one of the lucky ones not to suffer constipation!)

At lunch time on day three I approach the camp coordinator for some reassurance. I’m not sure if I can do ten days of this. She is very understanding and tells me that almost everyone wants to quit at some stage – but she encourages me to stick with it and says that we will be ‘given the Vipassana’ on day four.

The interesting aspect of this is that I’m quite aware of the power of my thoughts. I’m ‘being the observer’. I’m watching the crazy games my mind is playing and trying to stay detached – but it’s not working!

I wake with renewed commitment on day four, looking forward to receiving the gift of the Vipassana. This lasts right up to the moment later that afternoon when all is revealed, and I think to myself “it’s bloody Yoga Nidra …. I teach this stuff!! Are you telling me that I’m putting myself through ten days of this to be ‘given’ a technique that I’m already familiar with!!!???” My mind goes into overdrive and I think I’m going to explode.

Again, I try to be the observer. I watch my thoughts and do my darndest to detach. I tell myself that there’s surely more to this. I try to reflect on Goenka’s lectures about craving and aversion, and intellectually I understand that everything I’m experiencing is about exactly that – craving and aversion! But to little avail.

Days five and six drag on and are an exercise in pure determination. I can overcome this. I can get through it. There are a few fleeting moments of relief during the meditations, I enjoy the food and find the video lectures quite interesting. I try to practice mindfulness during the breaks. I enjoy the sensation of the hot water on my skin in the shower, I take time over my cup of tea, savouring each sip, I notice each blade of grass beneath my feet as I pound up and down the riverfront. But by and large, I’m going slowly insane!

On day seven I approach the assistant teachers and share my concerns. I talk about how harsh I find the process. I’ve thought of EVERY reason I NEED to leave. I’ve completely rationalised why it’s OK for me to go. I don’t need to prove anything to anybody! They encourage me to work through it (and they have my car keys!)

I’d love to say that days eight and nine brought some sort of breakthrough – but sadly not. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the positives, be mindful and detach enough from my thoughts to appreciate the power of them. In fact, on the morning of day nine I announced to the camp coordinator that I was leaving! She told me that it would be crazy to leave at this point, when the silence would be lifted the next day. I went and sat on the banks of the river and tried to cry. It didn’t work – but I felt strangely better anyway.

So, I made it to day ten. Once the vow of silence was lifted it was fabulous to get to share with the other women in the group (and discover their real personalities). It seemed to me that while everyone struggled at some point, most had not found the experience as difficult as I had. (Either that, or they weren’t prepared to admit it!) I must say I have huge admiration for the young people who completed the retreat. I cannot imagine having the mental fortitude in my early twenties to even consider such a thing.

Perhaps I picked a bad time in my life to do it. Perhaps I had expectations based on other retreat experiences. Perhaps I’m many more lifetimes away from enlightenment than the other participants. Who knows? In the end, it was an experience…. but not one I want to repeat!