It was almost a decade ago when I first heard about Vipassana from a man I met in Mexico, who shared his experience of doing a 10-day course. At the time, I remember thinking “That sounds terrifying.” My next thought: “I should probably do that, though I can’t imagine ever being ready.” However, the Vipassana seed had been planted and over the years it grew and grew, until August this year, when I could no longer ignore the voice inside me urging me to register for the next available course. I sat at my computer, refreshing the webpage until the link went live (I knew places filled up pretty fast). Moments after I had applied, I received an email saying my application would be managed in the coming days and by the weekend, another one had landed in my inbox confirming my place on the course. My heart started beating furiously — the prospect of spending ten days in silence, meditating for roughly ten hours a day, still terrified me. However, I felt prepared to take on the challenge and had faith that, whatever came up, I would be able to cope with it.
The course surprised me; it was not what I expected, but it was exactly what I needed. From the outside, everyone’s experience looks the same but what goes on inside is another story all together, as everyone arrives with their own unique baggage and different issues that need resolving. I returned to the “real world” last Sunday and have been reflecting on what impact those ten days had on me personally, which I could probably write a whole essay about. To keep it brief and sweet, I will highlight 10 key discoveries I made during the course.
- Silence is the easy part
Most people’s reaction when I told them I was about to embark on this course was “10 days?! There’s no way I could keep quiet for 10 days.” Funnily enough, keeping quiet was by far the least of my difficulties (though don’t get my wrong, I was dying to speak to people by day 9!). It was a relief not to have to make conversation for the sake of making conversation, nor worry about any of the social niceties, as it gave each person a chance to focus on themselves. I also realised the connection that comes through sharing an experience with others, where each person is fully present, can be more powerful than connecting through words. In fact, I felt less lonely there than I can do when I’m out with loved ones that are only partially present, as their attention is constantly being diverted by their phones. Being removed from the constant, persistent noises coming from my (and other people’s) devices was sheer bliss.
2. Sit with the pain and the pain shall pass
On the first night of the course, I went to bed a little achy and woke up the next day feeling even achier from sitting for so long. The achiness progressively got worse and by day 4, I was having to cover myself in pain relief patches, as it had become unbearable. I let Angela, the assistant teacher, know I was struggling with the physical discomfort in the hope she would allow me to come off the floor and sit on a chair, which I had watched a couple of others do with envy. Instead, she told me we were about to start learning a new technique that would help me view my pain in a different way. That evening, we practiced Adhiṭṭhāna — “strong determination” — for the first time, which meant sitting with little to no voluntary movement for an entire hour, observing any sensations that arose without judgement. It was certainly not easy, but I managed to sit with the pain and discomfort and come out the other side. Remarkably, I went to bed that night with no aches, nor did I have any the following morning. The moral of the story: sitting with pain produces better results than reacting to it.
3. Nothing is permanent
This may sound like an obvious one, but we ignore this simple fact whenever we get caught up in our feelings. The teacher, Goenka, conveyed how failing to acknowledge the law of impermanence could be harmful through a little story (he liked his stories). A rich man died leaving two sons, one of whom discovered a packet he had left behind with two rings inside: a valuable diamond ring and an ordinary silver ring. The eldest boy insisted on having the diamond ring, leaving the silver one to his younger brother, who later spotted the words this will also change engraved on it. Both brothers faced the ups and downs that life brings, however only the elder brother lost the balance of his mind, becoming elated when spring came, then falling into deep depression during the autumn and winter months. The younger brother enjoyed spring but was able to smile when it ended, as he already knew it would not last forever. He did not cry when autumn and winter came along, as he knew they would not last either. As a result, he never lost the balance of his mind and lived a peaceful, contented life. Just like the seasons, each sensation we experience in our bodies shares a common characteristic: it arises, then it passes. No sensation is ever worth losing the balance of our minds over.
4. Pleasant sensations can cause just as much suffering as unpleasant ones
This might be a hard concept to grasp, as we are so accustomed to associating suffering with unpleasant sensations. In actual fact, it is not the unpleasant sensations themselves that cause problems, but our aversion to these sensations, an unnecessary reaction considering they will go away on their own. Developing an attachment to pleasant sensations results in just as many problems, as these will not last either. This leads to what Goenka calls an addiction to craving. He recognised that people who are supposedly addicted to drugs and alcohol are in fact addicted to the sensations drugs and alcohol give them, meaning if they give up these substances without addressing the root of their attachments, the craving will inevitably be transferred onto something else and the suffering will persist.
5. The greater our attachments are, the more misery we create for ourselves
This lesson in particular struck a chord with me. Goenka shared another fictional story that highlighted how attachments to that which I deem “mine” can result in misery. He spoke about a valuable watch a student had given him, which he dropped and broke, causing him to shed tears. However, when a friend dropped his watch of the same model and value, Goenka did not cry. In his words, “Nobody cries for the breakage of a valuable watch … one cries for the breakage of my watch.” I also learned that as well as being attached to material things, people and places, we can become attached to our own perceived identity. This means that whenever someone disapproves of or disagrees with any aspect of this identity — my values, my beliefs, my opinions, my views, my tastes, etc, etc — we take it personally and get upset. The idea of letting go of my attachments suddenly seemed very freeing after learning this.
6. Awareness and equanimity are essential for long-lasting happiness
The two words I continued to hear over the 10 days were “awareness” and “equanimity,” the latter meaning an ability to remain calm no matter what our internal experience is. These two qualities go hand in hand and must be equally strong in order to achieve the final goal of liberation. If we are aware of sensations in our body but are not able to observe them equanimously, we are more likely to react with craving or aversion. On the other hand, if we have equanimity but lack awareness, then we remain blind to the reactions taking place in the depths of our minds. For this reason, we spent the first three days simply observing our respiration and focusing on a limited area of our bodies, as we had to sharpen our awareness before observing sensations throughout the rest of the body. We then spent the remaining seven days practicing observing these sensations without reacting. Sounds simple in theory, but is far from easy to apply!
7. The sensation of boredom is the most unpleasant of them all
My takeaway from the course in terms of what I learned about myself is that I have a severe aversion to boredom. I rather arrogantly went into it thinking I was prepared for whatever might come up, picturing dramatic surges of emotion, memories resurfacing, trauma being released, etc. However, what I had not prepared for was just how mundane an experience it would be for me; no emotional upheavals, no major realisations, no moments of catharsis. My thoughts were just ordinary thoughts and the sensations I was experiencing just ordinary sensations (with the exception of what felt like small wet spiders crawling all over my face — that was fairly novel). By day 5, the repetition and monotony was really starting to get to me and by day 6, I found myself tearing up during the final meditation. I went to speak to Angela the following morning, still struggling to hold back tears. She helped me see that I am more comfortable sitting with extreme emotions than I am being with nothingness, which I perceive to be ‘boring’. Her suggestion was to observe how boredom feels in my body and try not to react to it. By surrendering rather than reacting to the feeling, I soon calmed down and was able to experience peace.
8. Reacting is a choice
Again, this might sound obvious, but how often do we allow others to impact our emotional wellbeing? How often do you hear people say that someone made them cry, lash out, or get stressed? Goenka reminded us that nobody can cause us to suffer besides ourselves, which we do through creating tensions in our minds. By learning not to do this, we can remain peaceful in any given situation. For example (here comes another story), when Buddha was teaching Vipassana, he received vitriol from an old man who disagreed with the practice. Buddha did not react and the old man continued hurling abuse at him. Eventually, Buddha said, “Old man, answer me this: don’t you get visitors at your house?” The old man replied that he did. Buddha went on to say, “Do some of those visitors bring presents for you?” Again, the old man replied yes. Buddha then asked “Let’s say a visitor brings you a present you don’t accept — what happens?” “What happens? The present stays with the person who has brought it,” replied the old man. “That is what I want to tell you, old man,” said Buddha. “You came like a visitor to my place, you brought all these ‘presents’ of abuse and I am not accepting them. They are with you, your property. Not my problem.” Such a simple but powerful message.
9. Living simply results in less anxiety
It was not the first time this dawned on me, as I had a similar experience when hiking the Camino de Santiago, but it was a welcome reminder that I need very little to feel fulfilled, and that a great deal of my anxiety stems from stimulation overload. I relished being away my phone, laptop, diary and to-do lists, loved the fact that I only had three ‘outfits’ (jumpers and pairs of trackie bums) to choose from, and that the only decisions I had to make on a daily basis were what to have for breakfast and where to meditate outside of group sittings. I did not feel a trace of anxiety during those ten days, except when I went to retrieve my phone from the locker on Sunday morning and thought about all the notifications I would be bombarded with when I turned it on. Once I was back home, I made lunch and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I ate it without reading or watching some trashy TV show or playing Words with Friends at the same time, so I could just appreciate what I was eating. It made me see how often I reach for something — a sugary snack, my CBD vape, my phone — simply because I am not comfortable being in the present moment, yet these things only increase my agitation. One of the main benefits I have noticed since returning home is how much more present and grounded I feel, which is such a blessing.
10. All of this can only truly be understood through experience
As Goenka reminded us on several occasions, it is not enough just to understand Vipassana at the intellectual level; it has to be understood at the experiential level. He recounted (yet) another story about a highly educated professor on a ship, who was questioning a sailor about what he had studied over the years. The sailor told him he had never studied Geology, to which the professor responded “you have wasted a quarter of your life.” He then admitted he had never studied Oceanography and the professor said “you have wasted half of your life.” When the sailor said he had not studied Meterology either, the professor told him “you have wasted three quarters of your life.” The sailor was very unhappy. However, the following day, it was his turn to ask the questions. He ran to the professor’s cabin and asked, “Professor, do you know Swimology?” The professor was confused. “Do you know how to swim?” the old man went on. The professor replied that he did not. “In that case, you have wasted all of your life. The ship has hit a rock and is sinking. Those who can swim will be able to get to the shore; those who cannot will drown.” We can read all the books on swimming that we like, but we only learn to swim after getting in to the water. The same applies with Vipassana, so I urge anyone who feels they would benefit from this experience to give it a go.
All Vipassana courses are donation based and take place across the globe, making the practice accessible for everybody. Visit the official website to find out where your nearest centre is and to view their course schedule.
