Dear Future Me, Please Don’t Go on a Silent Retreat
A letter to my overly-ambitious self
Dear Future Me,
I know you’ve been getting into mindfulness again lately. I understand why. You’re a busy lady. You study full-time and you have four side-hustles. Of course you’re stressed. Of course you’re looking for a way out.
I get it. But I’m here to warn you: do not go on a silent retreat.
You probably think it sounds like an adventure. And it does, if you can call ‘pure hell’ an adventure. Future Me, there are some things you need to realise about these retreats.
1. You Are Going to Be Bored
‘Of course,’ I can hear you think, ‘that’s the whole point.’ But can you remember the last time you tried being bored? I think it’s been six months since you gave up on meditation again. And that was because those ten minutes per day were just not feasible for you. Not even with a gentle guiding voice. Not even with Andy from Headspace.
You tried it for a month, you really did, and I applaud your effort. But if ten minutes was unbearable, what makes you think you are ready for a week of unrelenting boredom?
2. You Are Going to Be in Pain
You’ve read the articles. People complain of pain during their hour-long meditations. Their back hurts, their shoulders hurt, their legs hurt, and all the while they are acutely aware that they have to remain seated for another 48 minutes without anything to distract them. They’re miserable. You don’t like being miserable, do you?
3. You Are Going to be Tired
Fine, so you’re able to get up at 6 AM once a week for your early class — good on you. But getting up at 4 AM five days in a row? That’s pushing it. Remember that time you missed a night’s sleep, and by the time it was 5 in the afternoon you could do nothing but cry?
4. You Are Going to Be Hungry.
I know you like to experiment with intermittent fasting and not eating sugar. You’re even drinking very little alcohol. But, Future Me, I don’t think you quite grasp how little you would be eating during a silent retreat. They give you toast at 5AM, then lunch at noon (probably also toast, because God forbid you enjoy something), and then tea at dinnertime.
Tea.
Future Me, you know how you get when you’re hungry. You get grumpy. You stop talking to people. You have trouble falling asleep. And then you get horrible stomach cramps when you do eat.
5. You Are Going to Be Lonely
It doesn’t matter that your partner would also be there because you’re not allowed to talk to him. You can’t write him a little note. You can’t have sex. You can’t sleep in the same bed. You can’t even get a hug when it gets to be too much. You have to ignore him and he has to ignore you, 100% of the time.
In Case That Didn’t Convince You
You’ve read the reviews of those Vipassana retreats. ‘It was horrible — I was wretched throughout the whole thing, but the final ten minutes were actually quite pleasant. 10/10 would recommend.’
This annoys you as much as it angers me, right? It’s just a bunch of people wanting their suffering to have been useful. Please, only believe the first bit.
I know what you will say, Future Me. Being bored, hungry, lonely, tired and in pain is not the end of the world. You would get over it. Your mind would be clearer and more disciplined afterwards. You would find it easier to be mindful, easier to focus.
And so what if you can’t read or write anything for a week? Chances are you’ll be doubly inspired once you get back.
I want these results too, believe me.
And if it all sounds so torturous, won’t it be extremely liberating to experience that you can bear them?
But this is my point: you won’t be able to bear them. You are going to be so desperate on day 2 that you will do anything to get away from that place. You’ll ruin it for your partner and everyone else there.
Even if, by some miracle, you make it through the week (probably while crying 85% of the time), it is selfish to sacrifice other people’s experience for something as vain and fleeting as your shaky desire to feel ‘in with the enlightened crowd.’
Let’s face it, Future Me. You’re not cut out for this. And that’s okay — you can just be addicted to your phone, everyone is these days, it doesn’t matter.
I know it sounds like excuses from an addicted and evasive mind, but I promise it’s not.
I just know you better. Deep down, you know I’m right. Right?
Please, Future Me.
I beg you.
I’m scared.
About the author
Here so you can learn from my mistakes: a singer/writer bringing you desperately personal stories and some occasional pedantic advice.
