Finding Happiness at a Silent Retreat
Taking a Silent Retreat
Silence and I become friends, lovers and then strained acquaintances.
If my grandpa would’ve sat me down as an 8-year-old and said, “Shana, one day you’ll sit still in the silence for an entire weekend.” I would’ve howled and waited for the punch line.
As a youngster, I threw myself into competitive running, volunteering, volleyball, and building lean-tos at outdoor education camps.
In grade seven, I even received ‘the double digger’ award in Volleyball for spiking the ball just before it went out of bounds.
Now, as an adult, I find the most peace and happiness when sitting in silence.
Here’s my experience taking a silent retreat.
Pacific Ocean
Driving off the ferry onto Vancouver Island always brings a sense of relief and relaxation. The air feels fresher and the notion of a simpler life rouses my creative spirit.
While driving through the country, thoughts sift somewhat effortlessly, and I’m able to quickly gain perspective on issues that, in the city, seem much bigger than they are.
By stepping away from routine, it turns out, I’m more willing to let small irritations go and have greater faith in God’s plan for my life.
The answers will come when I need them to. They always have.
Buddha by the pond.
Water rushes in.
The Victoria Self Realization Fellowship meditation group hosts their annual retreat at the Bethlehem Centre in Nanaimo, BC, and, glancing at the time, I realize I have 2hrs to explore the grounds before dinner.
My room is unpretentious, and admittedly, after settling in, I’m already thinking of easy-to-implement, design ideas. Maybe a sprig of lavender on the table? A fake plant for a touch of green? Matching sheets and blankets?
My mind has clearly not gotten the memo, I’m here to chill and transcend mundane matters.
I place my phone on the ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode except to allow pertinent messages from family. This simple yet neglected mode is remarkable. Looking at a screen without notifications is like discovering a new star in the galaxy. Pure bliss!
View of the lake.
Crisp white runners.
After dinner, we descend into silence. Will my mind behave or will it replay past events and future scenarios? Will I be able to sit without back pain? Can I not only endure but possibly enjoy the experience?
I settle into my meditation chair, welcoming the silence with open arms. Best not to fight it.
I acknowledge that stepping away from constant noise takes courage. So much of the day I'm focused on my life goals, so this weekend I plan to double down on striving for a peaceful mind and heart.
This realization strengthens my determination to go deeper into meditation. Gratefully, my mind settles down and after an hour, I glimpse the vast pleasure of joy within me for a precious moment. Then it subsides, and I’m back in the muck, spinning my wheels.
Silence and I become friends, lovers, and then strained acquaintances.
One thing I notice, other than the on-again-off-again battle to remain seated, is that my nerves have calmed down and, oddly, I feel a sense of inner freedom.
Cherry blossoms.
When not meditating, I’m enamored by the blooming cherry blossoms on the grounds, tasty vegetarian food, and lake walks.
As the retreat wraps up, I’m grateful. Silence has become my cheerful companion. I’m somewhat hesitant to want to talk again.
At lunch, we break our silence and I’m cackling like a hyena with my new friends.
Such is life.