The path of least resistance: my first silent retreat experience

Dear Reader,

This time two weeks ago I was beginning my first silent retreat from home. I had mentally prepared myself, you know, told myself “don't hold any expectations, what will be will be, enjoy the experience.” So on, so on.

Here's the kicker. The most physical preparation I'd done, was make sure my laptop was fully charged! I worked a 12 hour shift the day before, only arriving home at 10.45pm. To add to the lack of preparedness, we had no food in the fridge and an overflowing basket of washing. And I forgot to put an 'out of office' on my email. This might not sound like much but I had intended to be more prepared than this.

And so the first day was underway. We alternated between 1.5-2 hours of formal (live online) practice and 1-1.5 hours of informal practice (doing your usual routine minus social media, TV, music, outings and talking).

And I must say I thought I did reasonably well, all minor setbacks considered. I surfed urges to check my phone or turn the TV on in the informal time. I found myself often mentally noting what the facilitators would say because “Wow that's so helpful, I could bring that to my teaching.” I noticed fluctuations in my mood (particularly when smashing through 3 cycles of laundry) but nothing that out of the ordinary.

It's safe to say I felt I was transitioning from a human doing to a human being well.

Until nightfall came…

Most people don't know this about me but last year I experienced a period where sleep was not a restorative time for me. It would take me until 2, 3 or even 4am to fall asleep. There was no cause for it, it was put down to the effects of shift work. Eventually after implementing a strict pre-sleep routine I returned back to my head-hitting-the-pillow-fast-asleep self.

However, from time to time the wakefulness rears its ugly head and of course, the universe decided to test my resilience on night one of the silent retreat. So here I was, 2.30am… awake and thinking “you have got to be kidding me.” Naturally I began thinking, I'm going to have to sit out of the morning practice to sleep in, or wait, maybe I'll sit out of the midday practice because that's when I'll likely crash. I was immediately going into problem-solving mode. And this thought stream was on repeat. The mind can easily become fixated on trying to avoid suffering. Eventually I drifted off after some breath work and just, tiring out.

To my surprise I woke up on day two, feeling fresh and participated in the first half of the day alert, relaxed and eager.

Then as mid afternoon came, so did the foggy mind, the droopy eyes. I was having difficulty concentrating and my mind felt chaotic, bouncing between dreams and distractions. And I was starting to get ticked off (to put it politely). I could feel myself becoming contracted and my thought stream became a hot soup consisting of frustration, criticism, but more so there was this reluctance to let go of how I wished this experience to be different for me. And I could see it. The unrealistic desire for that moment to be a calm meditation practice that I seemed to be holding on to, was adding fuel to the criticism fire. And in that 30 minute silent meditation it felt like too much. Right there and then, I wanted to pack it in (for the day). My usual soothing breath work and inner kind voice supported me through to the end of that silent sit, but I was rattled. And this was foreign to me.

I teach mindfulness and meditation week in week out, throughout the year. I encourage people to get curious about what comes up for them in this time, to stay present and hold themselves lightly when feelings of agitation or discomfort arise. I teach people that there is no perfect meditation practice, what's perfect is that you're there. I teach and preach that our biggest downfall is all to often our desire to control the uncontrollable. And here I was… ignoring my own advice.

And look, I won't bore you with the details of all that came next, but what I will say, is that I was faced with a choice. I could deny reality by wishing my situation to be different (wishing that I had the perfect night's sleep or just to perform better) or I could surrender, be compassionate with it and myself.

And this had me thinking. So often, distress or frustrations arise not due to external circumstances… they are a result of this tendency to cling to a reality that isn't so. This resistance to accepting things exactly as they are or allowing the imagination to take the reins often perpetuates this added layer of stress. And the result… well, for me it's a tiny tantrum.

You may be pleased to hear, after a splash of cold water to the face and quick walk, I chose the path of least resistance. And after that, my relationship to my practice and internal landscape changed. Not just for the remainder of the silent retreat, but I have managed to take that lesson with me.

Change is the only constant became my mantra for the remainder of the retreat. Nothing is permanent. Not a pleasant experience. Not an unpleasant experience. Nothing is certain. We can have it all mapped out and the universe will throw us a curveball. And that can be okay. It can all be okay. So, what's my point? Control the controllable. Even as I write this piece, my first newsletter I have no control over whether anyone reads it, or how they interpret it. I choose to accept that uncomfortable thoughts, emotions or situations will rise when we least want them to and am comforted in knowing that they too shall pass. What do you choose to accept?

My first experience participating in a silent retreat was nothing short of humbling. I set myself the intention to adopt a beginner's mindset and be a student again. And boy, was I a taught a lesson.

If you've come this far, I extend my heartfelt thanks for sharing your time.