The Sound of Silence

The 12 days of ...

On the Nightstand

Where in the world is Steph?

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The 12 Days of ...

I’ve been trying to get into this retreat for years. It’s a busy place, a popular place… and a very, very quiet place.

From November 19–30, I was completely off the map while I attended a 12-day Vipassana Silent Meditation Course.

Many times a year, they open registration on specific dates and times; each time, I’d set an alarm, log in—and instantly everything was booked. Every time I felt a little deflated.

But this year, I got in. And since it coincided with my 60th birthday, it felt very meant-to-be-ish.

My excitement lasted about twelve minutes before turning into sheer terror. I literally talk for a living—how on earth was I going to stay silent for ten days in a row?

And me? Sitting still for 10+ hours of meditation a day? Without reading, writing, exercising, or even making eye contact? Good Lord. What had I done?

I secretly hoped I’d get a speaking engagement that would force me to cancel this whole ridiculous idea.

But the pull was strong. Something in me wanted this experience. And as the date got closer, my fear softened into cautious optimism. I reminded myself: this technique has worked for hundreds of thousands of people for thousands of years. It even works in prisons. I could at least try. Trying is what I do best.

Packing...

I packed. And packed. And packed.

I’m the girl who did two weeks in Europe with a carry-on. I often do work trips with just a backpack.

But for this? I nearly needed a donkey.

Bolster. Pillow. Blankets. Shawls. Meditation bench (I bought one and then had to watch a YouTube video to figure out how to use it). Following their guidelines, more and more got shoved into my big suitcase.

I packed a picture of my family. That would be nice in my bare quarters (it was).

As I packed, I lectured myself: Do not sneak in snacks. You only get tea and fruit for dinner. Other people do this. You can do this.

Trust the process. Do not sneak in your journal. Or a pen. Or an exercise band. You can take little walks, that will be good. Trust the process.

You do not need a smart watch, you do not need a dumb watch, you do not need any watch.

Trust. The. Process.

Note - I totally overpacked!

And Then I Realized… This Is a Course

On arrival, I quickly learned I had put my energy in the wrong place.

I was so worried about the logistics, I forgot the whole point: this is a course—a literal 12-day training program teaching one specific meditation technique: Vipassana. Every rule, every routine, every quiet space is designed to help you practice without distraction.

I slid into the monk-like lifestyle surprisingly quickly… though I did catch myself reading my clothing labels and fire-extinguisher tags in desperation for mental input (it needs to be changed on March 3rd by Ross, in case you're wondering).

A beautiful Burmese gong woke us at 4:00 a.m. It marked every meditation session and every meal.

The days were full, in a repetitive, rhythmic way: Meditate. Eat. Rest. Shower. Walk. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Twice daily you can ask the teacher a question. Otherwise, it is deafeningly quiet.

Counting Time, Slowly

I kept track of the days by balling up small pieces of paper towels. The days of the week don’t matter there, but somehow it mattered to me; it seemed important to me not to lose track. I arrived on a Wednesday and there are 4 balls so it must be Sunday.

There were 25 people in my course, men and women were separated. Only one participant left—on day two.

My daily walks shifted quickly. At first, I trudged through the designated forest paths quickly thinking, let’s at least get some steps in! (Not that I had a watch to count them… did the walk even happen, then? )

But over time, I walked slower. And then slower. Until I could hear deer delicately pulling leaves off branches… and I could even hear them chewing the leaves. I swear I could watch mushrooms grow.

Eventually, I was zig-zagging back and forth, simply to go slower. It was magical.

Silent Meals Are… Interesting

The vegetarian meals were hearty and delicious, prepared and served by volunteers who had benefitted from previous courses.

It was so strange to sit at a table full of people and not converse, gesture, or even make eye contact. No phones but still we couldn't look up. It was so hard not to use basic manners.

Inside My Head (Spoiler: It Was Loud)

Even though the retreat is “silent,” my mind was anything but.

Breathe. Breathe. Oh gosh, shut up mind. Breathe. This is hard. So hard. I laughed. I thought. I planned. I cried. And then… I began again.

Three times a day, we were asked to remain perfectly still for one full hour—no movement. Strong determination was required.

At one point, tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t wipe them. I stayed still. They slid under my chin and down my shirt. It is a peculiar thing to simply… let your tears flow.

Insights

As the days passed, the learnings deepened and are still being revealed...everything is impermanent — the good and the bad,

we play a larger role in our own happiness (and misery) than we think, I am very unimportant. Personal epiphanies came that are not for sharing, yet. I am sure there will be more to come.

Each participant takes a profoundly personal journey, as we found out when we were allowed to speak again and share our experiences.

“Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India’s most ancient meditation techniques. It was taught more than 2,500 years ago as a universal remedy for universal ills — an art of living.”

They have centers worldwide, run entirely by donation. Everything — teaching, food, housekeeping — is done by volunteers. And if you don’t complete the course, they won’t even accept a donation.

If the course helps you, they encourage you to return as a server.

If You’re Curious…

If you’re interested in exploring this deeply unique, experiential, and potentially life-changing course, visit dhamma.org to find a center near you.

It was unlike anything I’ve ever done.

It asks a lot of you. It was difficult. It was uncomfortable. It was illuminating.

And it was exactly what I needed as I entered my 60th year..

On the Nightstand

Die With Zero – Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life by Bill Perkins

A quick but powerful read about getting the most life out of your money, not the other way around. Perkins encourages us to stop saving everything for “someday” and start investing in experiences while we still can — health changes, kids grow up, seasons shift.

He introduces “time buckets” instead of bucket lists: mapping out what meaningful experiences you want at each stage of life, and actually doing them(before the window closes). His core message?

“Most people are more afraid of running out of money than wasting their life — and that has to change.”

A great nudge to say yes to the things that matter now — not someday.

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In Case You Missed It - How to Die Slowly

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Where in the world is Steph?

I had a great time with the Wisconsin Management Women, Inc. group for their Hope, Heels and Higher Education event. Because I typically hop on and off of the stage and stand on chairs and run around in the audience, I find heels are not very practical and I've been opting for my sparkly runners lately.

BUT...since this event literally had 'heels' in the title, I thought I should make an effort!

SO...I brought these hot pink pumps and ended up sending them to Goodwill with Managment Women, Inc president Elise.

Furthermore, I am making a new policy at Your Life, Unlimited. #NoMoreHighHeels.