Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash (not me btw)
Introduction
I’ve talked a bit about my experiences doing a Vipassana meditation retreat and what I think I might have gotten from the whole thing.
This is just an overview of what the actual day-to-day is actually like, and a little bit of background info on the whole practice and the people who run it and how you can sign up for yourself.
I’d first heard of it from friends who’d done similar courses over the years. After initially responding with the common (and sane) “Oh I couldn’t do that”, eventually I became fascinated with the idea while travelling around Japan, despite not having done much meditation before at all.
I’d never heard of Vipassana before but just knew I wanted to do a ’10 day silent meditation retreat’. And so I found one run by the Dhamma organisation, with a centre located outside of Tokyo. The Dhamma organisation was founded by S.N. Goenka, a Burmese/Indian man who popularised this ancient technique, which it is claimed has been passed down unbroken for 2,500 years since the time of the actual Buddha.
The centres are now run worldwide. I attended a retreat at a permanent site in Chiba, Japan. There isn’t currently a full-time centre in Ireland, though Dhamma Ireland does organise a retreat once a year in Drogheda, Co. Louth (In April I believe, so you may still be able to book a space this year).
If you’re not interested in jumping straight at hardcore mode, there are other options in Ireland for an introduction to meditation. A couple of friends have recommended retreats at Dzogchen Beara near Castletownbere in West Cork. There are also local options in most cities around Ireland, and there are more and more people offering meditation classes to beginners and experienced meditators.
One thing I would recommend about a weekend retreat is (a) it’s only a weekend, which is a normal length of time to devote to something; and (b) they might be a bit of craic.
The Vipassana experience is no craic. Like zero. I don’t have memories of enjoying the peace that much either. It was a slog, but a worthwhile one for the rewards at the end.
What is Vipassana?
It’s an ancient meditation technique said to have been practiced by the Buddha himself to attain enlightenment. Allegedly lost to the wider world for thousands of years, it was rediscovered in Myanmar by Goenka, who founded the Dhamma organisation to offer volunteer-run, donation-based meditation retreats in centres around the world. His aim during his lifetime — and now in death — was to heal the world by teaching as many people as possible a practice that brings peace of mind, a practice which he calls “The Art of Living”.
Vipassana meditation involves scanning one’s body to experience it as an impermanent rather than a solid physical entity — by practicing detachment from one’s positive and negative emotions when doing this, you learn in a deep and meaningful way about ‘the nature of reality’. By practicing this, you become calmer, less reactive, have clearer thoughts, and generally see the world clearer.
The big question with this or any sort of practice is always: “Why bother? I’m fine the way I am.” And rightly so. Why should someone want to change how they think? How do you know that’s even a good thing? I too was worried that I’d have some life-altering psychedelic experience and find out some traumatising stuff about myself. I didn’t. It doesn’t work like that.
The only answer I can give is that the results feel overwhelmingly positive.
And maybe more enticingly, life gets easier when you see the world more clearly. It’s not the sort of thing you can learn from a self-help book either.
You don’t have to do a crash-course in meditation to get the same results, doing a couple of minutes a day and developing a habit of it works for a lot of people.
But if you’re like me and you like a challenge, and like diving recklessly into stuff to shock yourself into learning it, then I’d recommend looking into it. It’s kind of like a bootcamp for your brain rather than electro-shock therapy.
Rules
It’s all about the rules.
Well, actually it’s not. Yet another mistaken assumption I’d made (aren’t they all!). The silence and other rules are to ‘purify’ you and facilitate full immersion in your meditative practice as possible.
The most alarming one is the rule of silence: there’s no communication allowed with anyone. This includes, speaking, making eye contact, gestures and the use of body language directed at anyone. Mobile phones are handed in to the staff at the beginning of the course, meaning no internet or phone; reading of books is not allowed and neither is writing.
This is just one of the five moral precepts of Buddhism that all students must follow, as it’s believed that abstaining from five things allows the mind to be purified. The other rules are a bit more straightforward: no stealing, no killing, no sexual misconduct (or any conduct), and they do a really good job of segregating the sexes in order to facilitate that last one. You wouldn’t be catching anyone’s eye at one of these things (because eye-catching is forbidden, of course).
The other difficult one might be no intoxicants — so no cigarettes and alcohol, though they did serve us coffee at my one.
As I mentioned, it’s not actually about the rules. Keeping your mouth shut for 10 days doesn’t bring you to enlightenment, though they reckon it helps. The silence is to prevent students from interfering with each other’s practices by discussing what they’re going through.
As humans we are all ignorant and so any tips or feedback students might offer each other is categorised as ‘lying’ — which is bad for purity of the mind, of course. It makes sense when you’re there, though a common anxiety (myself included) throughout is the self-doubt: “Am I doing it right?!” “Is it going to work?!” etc.
Once you’re in there, it’s not actually that hard to follow the rules. Everyone was quite devoted and it’s not like you’d be tempted to tap someone on the shoulder and go “Psst, listen to this!” The most difficult part was not constantly apologising to everyone in that very Irish way when you brushed against them in the queue for the bathroom.
Routine
Students follow a simple but strict routine which contains over 10 hours of meditation per day, although only 3 of these are mandatory (though you’re generally encouraged to attend them or to practice privately in the dorms — there isn’t much else to do anyway).
A gong wakes everyone up at 4:00am and the first meditation session begins at 4:30. The first two-hour session isn’t mandatory, and after I’d accidentally slept in for day 7, I realised I could ‘accidentally’ sleep in for days 8 and 9 too.
Meditation is done mostly in a large meditation hall, where students sit on the floor on cushions and mats. Although the teaching doesn’t require you to sit in any particular way, most students prefer the stereotypical meditative pose of crossed legs and gently pinched fingers resting on knees.
This was excruciating for me, so after a couple of days of struggling to cross and uncross my legs and restore feeling to me feet every so often, I gave up and sat with my legs stretched flat on the floor at a 45 degree angle to the side of my cushion. Conveniently, the student who had been sitting in that position had already quit the course.
Meditation sessions are guided by crackly old recordings of the voice of Vipassana founder S.N. Goenka (I did my retreat in Japan so they alternated between Goenka’s English and a tragically mono-toned Japanese translation which captured none of the personality and warmth of the original teacher). There are also nightly lectures where he goes a bit more into the history and purpose and religious theory of the practice. These are also on old video recordings.
He’s quite keen to hammer home the point that the lectures and teachings only provide ‘intellectual entertainment’ which is interesting and enjoyable but doesn’t teach the practice in any meaningful way. For that you must practice ‘experiential learning’, which is why you focus on your body. The body scanning technique of Vipassana forces you to meditate deeply on your own senses to learn about the nature of reality.
By the way, the concept of ‘experiential learning’ is probably the main thing that’s stuck with me from the course, both ‘intellectually’, and in my attitude to doing things. See my rant on the subject here.
10 days sounds like a lot. Students are told throughout that ten days has been found over the years to be the minimum duration of intensive practice that must be observed before a true and lasting change can occur. A course of lesser duration wouldn’t have the same effect, and the effects are negated or even negative if a student leaves the course even a day early (it’s possible for people who’ve already done a ten day course to join a shorter retreat).
Along with the strict ban on interpersonal communication, contact with the outside world is forbidden, so you have to hand your phones over to the volunteers at the start of the course, where your phone and personal belongings are kept safe in little bags until the morning you leave. Reading materials are also forbidden. Fast forward to release day and spending a couple of hours glued to my phone getting through hundreds of notifications, messages and emails. Such gratification.
Meals are simple in the extreme, and students are only given two meals per day. The first is at 6:30am, the last is at 11am. In my course, both consisted of brown rice, some (mostly raw) vegetables and some miso soup, whose saltiness was almost a treat. New students may take a piece of fruit — either an orange or half an apple with their evening cup of tea at 5pm. Returning students may not.
I’m pretty sure the food varies from centre to centre, as I’ve heard of there being amazing food in some places, and much worse quality than the centre I attended. All the food is vegan. In fairness, the detoxifying effect of the bland food was immediate and much welcomed. Such was its blandness that I couldn’t even use the meal plan to distinguish days from one another, which is quite an achievement on their part.
The food was prepared and served by a team of volunteers, all of whom had completed at least one course before as students. They all introduced themselves at the end, and one lady had been coming to the retreats every year for twenty years. She did have a bit of an air of the Buddha about her.
Coffee, surprisingly, was offered at meal times, though all other intoxicants are banned.
No cigarettes, no alcohol. Men and women are segregated, though you could probably have already guessed that.
As I’ve mentioned again and again, there’s a rule of silence for the duration of a Vipassana retreat. No talking or communication under any circumstances. But I lied. There are a couple of circumstances where it’s permitted. Students are allowed to consult the volunteers, in limited fashion, on basic housekeeping things and questions. And each day, a number of students are allowed to put their name on a white board to schedule a lunch time meeting.
What is the meditation like?
As I mentioned above, I mistakenly assumed that enlightenment comes from the deprivation of the senses and asceticism that the course provides. I was wrong, the rules are only to facilitate purification of the mind through meditation, of which you can enjoy up to ten hours a day. That’s a lot to be doing of anything. Thankfully, only 3 of those hours are mandatory after the first few days.
Warning: spoilers alert. I actually wasn’t sure during the thing if everything is supposed to be kept a surprise for first-timers before you do it yourself, but I don’t think it would ruin the experience. As I said, I was quite naïve before doing the whole thing and am generally quite willing to go along with anything I’ve signed up for.
Edit: I was going to give a full run down until I realised my hunch about it ruining the experience was right. During the retreat you barely even hear from head ‘teacher’ (some very holy monk type figure, mine was the most serene and lovely Japanese woman). All of the instruction and teaching is done by an old VHS recording on Goenka. That’s how strict the practice is; they can’t risk any of the teaching changing through hands and interpretations and so on. And so my innocent and barely-cooked interpretation might give you preconceptions before attempting it that could be difficult to break. So I’ll just give an overview:
Days 1–3 involves Anapanna breathwork. You focus on your breath to prepare you for Vipassana.
From Day 4 onwards you practice Vipassana, a full-body meditation. The aim is to see your body and thus your perception of reality in a more real manner. In syncing up your body with this new acceptance of reality, ta-da! You become a better person. Or so it goes.
On Days 9 (I think) and 10 you start to practice Metta, which is where you use your new-found powers to spread love across the universe. Supposedly it can go through walls.
If you’ve never practiced meditation before, it’ll probably be difficult, but absolutely doable. If you have, it’ll still be difficult. If I could give you one piece of advice for preparation practice SITTING. You will be doing as much of that as of meditation, and the more comfortable you can sit for longer periods the better it’ll be. It turns out it’s just as important for the whole thing.
Conclusion
As I’ve mentioned before, a full-on ten-day retreat is not for everyone. I couldn’t get my head around the idea years ago, when a couple of friends went to do one at the centre in Drogheda; I was in the ‘curious but not ready’ category a couple of years ago when more friends did one in India; and finally when I was ‘ready’ (despite not having done any meditation practice prior to signing up), it became the only thing I wanted to do while I was travelling.
It’s not everyone’s idea of a holiday, especially when it uses up half your annual leave. But if you’re experienced at meditation or yoga or fancy a challenge, or if any of my articles have for some reason inspired you, then go for it. There are other, less extreme, options too, of course.
Everyone’s experience is different, and I have spoken to people since who actually enjoyed the whole thing — I can’t say I agree with it. For me it was an eternal slog from start to finish, though one that always got easier and there was a real feeling of progress throughout.
I do think it’s changed my life for the better, though don’t be put off by the word ‘change’ — it’s not that drastic. It’s taken me months to put what I learned into practice and see results.
At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about: practice. So if you’re half interested, and you like practicing things and getting better at them, you’re halfway there already.
Go for it.