1/08 - 20 Days Before My 10-Day Silent Meditation Retreat: A Reflection

Today, like every other day, I am working. I wake up and immediately get pulled into a flood of tasks, desires, plans, and unexpected events. There’s a constant flow of conversations, interactions, and moments of solitude. All of this is often accompanied by the low hum of distractions: my phone, notifications, ads, music, texts, calls, and the static of the news—local and global. My mind floats, slipping from one thought to the next, crashing, turning, and flipping in quick succession. I feel like I'm riding waves of thought—some gentle, some overwhelming—each foamy bubble of thought racing and expiring as quickly as it formed.

This is the grand multiplicity of an ordinary day.

I’m reminded of a quote I love, though I can’t seem to find it now, attributed to the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh: “10,000 thoughts in each moment pull us in many directions, leading us into forgetfulness.”

This familiar occurrence—the endless swirl of thoughts, activities, and sensations—has been with me since the day I was born. Each day, you wake up and life unfolds. A journey of colors, sounds, feelings, thoughts, and reactions.

But what if, for 10 days, you were to step out of this stream? What if you chose to sit in silence, refrain from talking, and simply observe?

In 20 days, I’ll be heading to Jesup, Georgia, for a 10-day silent meditation retreat. I’ve never done anything like this before, and it feels like I’m jumping into the deep end. But I’m excited and eager to dive in.

Why a 10-Day Silent Meditation Retreat?

Why 10 days in silence? That’s something I hope to explore through this reflection. I am seeking freedom. I am searching for a deeper understanding of the mind, of myself, and of the nature of reality.

A 10-day silent retreat, in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, feels like an intentional unplugging—a disconnection from the relentless momentum of everyday life. When in our modern world do we ever get a chance to do this? No phone, no writing, no distractions. What will it be like? What will happen?

A phrase I’ve been writing in my journal recently is, “Many faces, many voices, one silence.” It’s an opportunity to step away from the many faces, many voices, and to

simply sit in silence. Emptiness gives rise to form. Habit energies pull us through the world, but how much of my life have I truly chosen? How much is simply a reaction to the momentum of each passing moment?

I've come to realize how much I value the sense of adventure in my life. It fills me with energy—light, alive, and full of possibility. There's something about the unknown, the daring, that feels deeply right. I want to embrace more of this feeling in my life. I feel as if adventure offers transformation.

I am deeply curious.

Preparation for the Retreat

In preparation for this retreat, I’ve decided to make some intentional changes in my daily life. As a way to cleanse both body and mind, I’m doing Dry January, eliminating alcohol for the month. I’m also focusing on eating clean, steering clear of processed foods. Sitting meditation has also become a part of my routine, with a goal of sitting daily for at least 30 minutes. Each day, I’m reflecting on my intentions for the retreat, grounding myself in the purpose of this experience.

Here are some questions I’ve been reflecting on as I approach this retreat:

• ●  How will my body react to the stillness?

• ●  How will my mind respond?

• ●  How will this affect my relationships with family, friends?

• ●  How will it impact my work as a therapist?

• ●  How might this affect my romantic relationships?

• ●  What about my relationship with substances and psychedelics?

• ●  Will the experience be pleasant, difficult, or both?

• ●  How will this shape my understanding of unconditional love?

• ●  How will it alter my understanding of the mind?

• ●  How will it change my daily habits and patterns?

• ●  And, most importantly, how will I integrate this experience into my life moving

  forward?

  Exploring Contemplative Fitness

  Recently, I came across Frank Yang, a YouTuber who discusses meditation extensively. His teachings led me to the concept of “Contemplative Fitness” by Kenneth Folk.

  Kenneth Folk defines contemplative fitness as:

“Just as we can speak of physical fitness and mental fitness, we can identify a branch of human development that we might call contemplative fitness. Its ultimate manifestation is a kind of persistent well-being that is independent of external circumstances. At its essence, contemplative fitness is the art of being OK. And from the platform of being OK, the stage is set for the very best of humanity to emerge. When you are OK, an enormous amount of energy is freed up to find out what it means to be truly human. When you don’t have to work so hard to protect yourself, you have, perhaps for the first time, the luxury of considering the needs of others. It is from this stable place of equanimity and self-acceptance that we can learn to access levels of sensitivity, creativity, spontaneity, and empathy that we didn’t know existed.” — Kenneth Folk

Meditation, in this sense, becomes a form of contemplative fitness—much like going for a run, but for the mind. In many ways, it feels like I’m signing up for an ultramarathon with only a 5k’s worth of experience in sitting meditation. Maybe I’m in over my head, but something about it feels right.

I already seek mental stillness through various practices—writing, drawing, dancing, running, swimming, and playing guitar. Each of these activities brings me a sense of calm and presence. But sitting in silence for 10 days will be something entirely different. I’m curious how these other forms of meditation will translate into the stillness of meditation, and whether this act of "doing nothing" will take me deeper into a state of equanimity and clarity.

This meditation retreat is my adventure into the unknown—into the depths of silence. I want to learn more about myself and the nature of my mind. It’s an opportunity to go deeper, to release my assumptions about who I am, what life is, and simply be with the way things are—without grasping, analyzing, or trying to capture anything.

The Buddhist View on Suffering

As I reflect on the nature of this experience, I recall the Buddhist teaching that “Life is suffering.” No matter where you are, who you are, or what you do, suffering is inherent in life. So often, we try to outrun it—seeking solutions, accumulating possessions, power, fame, relationships, or validation, believing that somehow we can escape suffering.

But in my understanding, the Buddhist response to suffering is profound: “Well, if suffering is inevitable, what happens if we stop fighting it?” What happens if we simply sit, observe, and do nothing?

I’m curious to see what unfolds. I will observe my mind, my body, and my reactions to this silence. It’s an experiment in presence. I will write again when I return, but for now, I’m stepping into this adventure of self-discovery and exploration of the mind.