Why I’m subjecting myself to ten days of ‘torture’

“Why on earth would anyone subject themselves to that kind of torture?”
So went the words of my father yesterday, when I told him over Skype about the ten day (totally silent and totally tech free!) Vipassana Meditation Retreat that I’m about to embark on.
There will be no reading, no writing, no gadgets, no talking, no eye contact, no exercise, no eating after midday, no caffeine, no sugar, no processed food, no meat, no killing of animals, no contact with the outside world, no news, no media, no Facebook, no advertising, no constantly being bombarded with stimulus, which I mostly never chose to receive. So, basically… no London. But no London and then some.
The question of what possessed me to do this has come into increasingly sharp focus as, one by one, friends and family have pretty much echoed my dad’s sentiments over the last few days. In truth, it’s kind of a long story, but the crux of it is that, not too long ago (and for a whole range of quite complex reasons that are beyond the realms of this particular post) my husband and I decided to quit our jobs and go on a totally paradigm shifting, mindset altering, self-imposed sabbatical. It was a pretty profound time in which we took time out to care for family, travel across South East Asia, Southern Africa and East Africa, and reflect on life’s most important questions: who we are (by which I mean, who we really are and what matters most) and where we are heading (by which I mean, what are our unique callings and what does a purposeful life look like for us — both individually and as a team).
A journey into meditation
One of the things that I took up while travelling, and which has had, and continues to have a major impact on my life, is meditation. I can’t say this was something that I really planned — and, in fact it took a fair amount of cajoling and persuading on my husband’s part — but, having now practiced meditation every day for the best part of a year and a half, I can honestly say it’s a practice that has been truly transformative for me.
Before meditation I was your classic Type A personality — the kind of person who was always on the go; unable to watch a movie or take just two hours out because it felt like I was “wasting my life” (yes, I know how crazy that sounds when I look at it from my current vantage point!). It was so bad that a number of my friends used to joke that I had a GANTT chart, spreadsheet and over developed to do list for just about everything. In a way, I guess you could say I was driven to the point of stupidity and totally overly ambitious (though largely at the expense of my own good health rather than at the expense of others’ wellbeing or progression).
To give you an idea of what I mean, in the year before my self-imposed sabbatical, I was working in a full time job, doing my masters part time, planning my wedding, caring for two elder relatives who had pretty severe needs at various points, doing daily workouts at 5am, formally mentoring several early career professionals, and trying to maintain an active social life and relationships all at the same time. To be honest just thinking about what I did in that year makes me tired! But it wasn’t just the amount I was doing that was problematic, it was my obsessive need for perfection in absolutely every area of my life. It wasn’t just that I needed to do my masters, it was that I needed to do it and achieve a distinction at the same time. It wasn’t just that I needed to deliver well on my full time job, but I had to surpass every target I had set myself in the previous year, even when I had already over-delivered the year before. It wasn’t just that I needed to… Well, you get the picture! …To say I was burnt out is not an exaggeration. And at the end of the day, it’s pretty inevitable, that that kind of schedule, combined with an obsessive perfectionism and the crazy pace of life of a city like London, is eventually going to catch up with you.
So despite my resistance — my concerns that meditation would make me less productive and remove ‘my edge’, that I couldn’t possibly sit still for ten minutes, let alone the fifteen or twenty minutes I was supposed to be working up to with Headspace — I guess you could say I was a prime candidate for this kind of intervention.
A transformation of mindset
Contrary to my deepest fears though, meditation hasn’t removed ‘my edge’, drive or ambition. It hasn’t totally removed my GANTT charts, spreadsheets or to do lists (Hey, future clients and employers — I see you!). Nor even made me inclined towards watching loads of movies. Really, what it has allowed me to do is begin to find and create the kind of balance and perspective that I truly believe makes me better at my work, and far more attentive to the needs and feelings of those around me. It’s taught me, in a nutshell, to pay attention to my whole self. To my thought patterns and often bizarre cycles of thinking — for example, the way I’m capable of totally torturing myself, or making mountains out of molehills, when a new project lands on my desk. It’s taught me to pay attention to my body’s endlessly fascinating and pretty subtle physiological responses to everyday encounters — the way a knot develops in my stomach, or my chest slightly constricts, when a particularly infuriating acquaintance or colleague walks into the room. It’s taught me to pay deep attention to, and sit with the rabbit-in-the-headlights, knife-edge tension that signals the way forward when I’m mediating a conflict, or facilitating a difficult discussion around race, religion and belief or politics in the workplace. It’s taught me to pay attention to my body’s warning signs — the ulcers, the searing pain I get in my neck and shoulders when I’m stressed, tired or have sat at my desk too long; and the chronic hip flexor strain and flat feet that I’ve realised are causing a lack of alignment and myriad of other issues across my body.
Really and truly, it’s a wonder I was able to function without noticing these things before. And, of course, I really shouldn’t be falling apart like this at my age. But at least this new practice gives me all the information I need to finally begin to address some of these developments once and for all. To prioritise my wellbeing in a way that will allow me to sustain and remain committed to my work and my purpose for much longer. And to recognise similar patterns in others. Because, the truth is, I’m pretty sure my experience is not an anomaly, and indeed very much the norm given the relentless pressures and hectic pace of life that so many of us subject ourselves to on a daily basis. In all likelihood, a major issue is that many of us simply aren’t making the space to truly engage with what our body or mind is telling us until it’s critical, or sometimes, till it’s too late — a point which has been made very well by both Melissa Heisler in her book ‘From Type A to Type Me: How to stop “Doing” Life and Start Living It’, and Alan Watkins, in his book ‘Coherence: The Secret Science of Brilliant Leadership’. (Both of these, by the way, were essential books on my sabbatical reading list and helped me immensely in rethinking the way I was setting up my life and approaching my work. I’ve also just spotted that the Kindle edition of Melissa’s book is currently on offer so do check that out!)
So why Vipassana?
With all these benefits on just 20 minutes a day with Headspace, I guess it’s only natural that I would eventually start to wonder what 10 days of total of total silence and intense meditation (10–11 hours per day!) might offer. Frankly, it’s a petrifying prospect. And I really have no idea what to expect. But I do hope it will at least be an opportunity to take a step back, and deepen the practice I’ve spent time developing. Hopefully working towards an approach that removes the need for a crux such as a guided audio — something which has been undoubtedly helpful but which I would quite enjoy moving on from now. And an opportunity to see what else I can learn about myself in the process.
As it happens, I’ve already learned a great deal just in the run up to my departure tomorrow. Weird stuff that I never knew was lurking below the surface. Like my fear of being unavailable and beyond contact to family members in an emergency — unsurprising given the caring responsibilities I’ve had over the past few years. Also, there’s my fear of discovering I will develop, or have lurking underneath the surface, some sort of mental health issue — also unsurprising given I support a family member who suffers with schizoaffective disorder — an this is an apparently common fear and phenomenon amongst family members and carers of people with mental health conditions, despite this being something I had never consciously acknowledged or addressed in myself before now. On a more practical note, I’ve also realised I have huge amount of fear around my ability to stick out ten days without two of life’s greatest pleasures — great food and great conversation! And to survive with literally no creative outlet or mental stimulation — unable to read, or write, or do something with all the brilliant ideas I’ve somehow imagined I’m going to generate in the silence!
I’m not entirely sure what I will gain from the retreat, but I do know I need to trust myself and the process. Including my ability to remove myself from the situation if I need to. If it proves to be anything like as valuable as my Headspace journey has been, then I’ve no doubt it will be ten days well spent. Ten days to invest totally in myself and my own mental and spiritual health — frankly, something all of us should commit to every once in a while.