Last week, I attended a week-long meditation retreat at the Lama Foundation in New Mexico, near Taos. It wasn’t totally “silent” but there was a LOT of silence.
I was unprepared for how much silence there would be. What I expected was 3-4 hours during meditation in the morning, followed by a break for talking in the afternoon, and then some more meditative silence in the afternoon and evening. What actually happened was a morning full of silence, including silent breakfast and silent lunch, followed by an afternoon of silence, and an evening of silence. There were short breaks for group sharing, totaling two hours over the first couple days.
After the first full day, I was freaking out. I think I would have had an easier time with total solitude, but I had absolute despair about being around people and not being able to speak or make eye contact with them. Some of my fellow retreatants were very committed to total silence. Now that I have a retreat under my belt, I can understand where they were coming from, but in the moment I felt ignored, abandoned, and unloved.
My friend Michael rescued me. After dinner Monday evening we went for a walk and (technically breaking the rules of the retreat) a talk. I shared a bit about what I was experiencing, including my complex trauma around isolation, and how much courage it had taken for me to break out of that pattern. All this silence, I said, felt like going backwards, like going back into that isolation. I had sworn to myself that I would never put myself in that situation again.
On top of which, for some reason, I wasn’t getting any nudges or reassurance from my Higher Power. That’s a rare thing for me, especially when I’m going through something hard. I felt abandoned by God.
But Michael was steady. He assured me that this week wouldn’t be going back to that old way of life, and could instead help me heal and grow. He had been exactly where I was. Yes, it is hard, he said, and a lot of surprising things will come up. Growth would mean relying on a totally different set of tools and experiences. In fact, it might feel a lot like starting over.
He concluded, “Do you really believe your Higher Power is with you and is working with you to heal and grow? That He knows what is best for you and will catch you?” I said I knew that on an intellectual level, but was flailing emotionally. Michael gave me another hug, and said, it’ll be okay. You can make this retreat whatever you need it to be. We’re all here voluntarily, and you can do as much or as little of it as you want.
Tuesday came and went. It was difficult, and I was running on empty. Wednesday morning, I was too depressed to put shoes on and go to the morning meditation. Rarely have I felt such anger and despair at the same time. I packed my bags, but out of laziness I decided I would at least stay through breakfast. After drinking 3 cups of coffee, I checked the weather forecast back home in Albuquerque. It was expected to be over 100 degrees for the next 4 days, vs mid 80s at the mountain retreat. I thought about what I’d be doing at home, probably sitting on the couch, alone, doing nothing, praying against all odds that my evaporative cooler would keep up with the heat wave. I began to see some strategic advantages to staying at the retreat.
This retreat included phenomenal meals, and a well-stocked library. Too, there were other people I could talk to, who shared my earth-melting sense of despair. If I wanted to skip all the meditations, sleep in, and read all day, maybe I could do that. Too, it seemed like the staff at Lama were allowed to talk to me as long as I broke the silence first. Worst case, I could just blend in with them instead of doing this monastic bullshit. Then too, that night there was a 12 step meeting at the retreat, and I was looking forward to that.
After breakfast on Wednesday, I talked to our coordinator Sarah. She listened thoughtfully as I repeated what I had shared with Michael. Then she reiterated what Michael had said. This is your retreat, make it what you need it to be. As long as you don’t talk in the silent areas, you’re free to do what you want. Freedom! Yes!
That afternoon, another camper Anthony asked if I’d like to go for a hike and talk things out. We did, and I had one of the best laughs I’d had in a long time. He reassured me, “I’m here if you want to talk, this was fun.”
From that point on, I did ok. I didn’t hold total silence the way that some other retreatants did. I began to identify who I could reach out to, including some of the more relaxed Lama inhabitants. For some reason, the designated smoking area was also the designated talking area. One day, we had a mini book study there, discussing passages from our spiritual “daily readers.”
But by the end, I was keeping a lot more silence than I ever expected to. I found myself sitting with an empty mind for half an hour or more outside of meditations. Something was changing for me. I began to see silence like a muscle to be developed, where you train your brain to stop grasping at external sources of validation and distraction.
Still, on our last evening when we could finally all talk to each other, I didn’t know how to feel about the retreat. “Will we see you here next year?” other retreatants asked. And I replied, “based on how I feel at this moment, probably not. I kind of hated this. But at the same time, I can tell that something’s brewing in my mind, so you never know.”
2 days after saying that, I’ve changed my answer. I would do this again, and might even attempt a retreat with total silence. Now that I know what I’m signing up for, and why.
The final evening of the retreat, a few of us stayed up late talking about life, mysticism, and the enneagram. It could not have been better. Three of us took a walk and visited the Ram Dass bus. Late that night, Michael and I talked for another hour, staring up at the stars over Taos. Oh! And the stars up there! They’re not like these fine, twinkling diamonds you see on a clear night. These stars are big, bright, and juicy. You can see clearly enough to walk without a flashlight, even on a new moon.
The way back from the retreat was one of the most fun car rides I’ve ever had. 3 of the other retreatants listened to music and talked through the week. We did dream analysis on each other, had some great laughs, and learned a lot about each other. It was a joyful 3 hours, everything about it. I’d do another week just for that car ride.
Have I changed as a result of this trip? Yes, I think so. But it’s hard to say how it will all unfold. I feel a bit more in touch with my heart, better able to discern my true self from my thoughts and ego. It makes me want to do more meditation and to deepen that exploration.
Once I got home and finally relaxed on Sunday, I started feeling a delirious, euphoric high. Everything was delightful, even little annoyances and fuckups. I heard Ram Dass’ voice in my head time to time, “how human! What a trip!”
Ram Dass also talks about how he was disappointed in psychedelic drugs because he couldn’t get high and stay high. He wanted to live in the headspace that those drugs opened up, permanently. By many accounts, he succeeded. I think I got a taste of what that drugless high looks like. I can see why someone would want to keep going back to that space, and why it would be a good thing for more people to experience what it is like. Stuff just doesn’t upset you. You see someone being a dick, and all you think is, “that poor guy, he thinks he has to do that to be loved. I want to go tell him how lovable he is.” Only I’m not high enough to actually do it.
More will be revealed, I am sure. But I feel more like myself, and more connected to the sorts of things that actually make me happy. I find myself wanting to spend more of my day outside, wanting to play more music, wanting to get up earlier. I find myself less driven to hang out with friends, although that’s still important. I value my own company more than I did. I can sit better with discomfort and boredom. I feel healthier, less needy, more loving.
A final thought: When I most needed it, I got help. Everyone who was there for me, who showed up at the perfect moment, I feel was guided to be there. The number of serendipitous events this last week was unprecedented, and I know that my Higher Power was in fact there for me. Father Thomas Keating talks about how a mother eagle teaches its young to fly. It pushes them out of the nest and lets them fall a ways. Then it catches them and returns them to the nest. On the way down, they struggle and flail, presumably terrified. Especially on their first trip. “Mom, what are are you doing? Mom! AAaahhh!” These are creatures who have never flown before, who might not know they can fly. But the reality is that each time they are pushed out of the nest to struggle against gravity, they are building the strength it takes to fly. And eventually, they do.