My 10-Day Vipassana Experience: A Journey Beyond Time and Self
In 2016, I was living in Vancouver, Canada, immersed in a six-month meditation practice after being initiated by Sadhguru. Life felt steady, yet something stirred within me—an unspoken call, an invitation from the unknown.
One morning, the word Vipassana drifted into my awareness. I had never given it much thought before, but this time, it gripped me with an inexplicable force. I felt its pull like a whisper from destiny. Without hesitation, I placed my name on the waiting list. Before I could even process what was happening, I received my confirmation.
With nothing but trust in my heart, I was on my way to Northern California’s Vipassana Center, Dhamma Manda.
Day 1: Entering the Silence
Upon arrival, I was met with the rules of the retreat—no talking, no eye contact, no gestures, no communication of any kind. Ten days of absolute silence.
The schedule was strict: waking at 4:30 AM, meditating for hours, eating only two meals a day, and lights out at 9 PM. My mind reeled at the thought. Can I do this?
I shared a room with another participant. Though we never spoke or exchanged a glance, I silently greeted her in my heart, honoring the unseen thread that connected us.
Then, the meditation began. As I closed my eyes, an ocean of stillness enveloped me. A deep and quiet peace settled in my being.
This feels right, I thought. I could do this forever.
Days 2–3: Dissolving Into Infinity
By the second day, I felt as if my body had become weightless, as if I were floating in an endless expanse. My sense of self blurred, dissolving into something vaster than I had ever known.
Time no longer seemed to exist.
It is difficult to put into words, but if I had to, I would say I became pure presence. I no longer felt the confines of my body; instead, there was only awareness—an unwavering stillness at the center of all things.
A quiet voice inside whispered, Is this it? Is this what the masters speak of?
There was no craving, no longing—only fullness. I am complete.
That evening, during Goenka’s discourse, his words struck a chord: Some of you may experience bliss, even ecstasy—but remember, this too is temporary. Do not become attached to it.
A flicker of disappointment arose. I had felt something so vast, so profound—yet even this, I was told, would pass. But as I sat with his words, I understood. The practice was not about chasing moments of transcendence, but about witnessing all things—joy, stillness, even bliss—with the same steady equanimity.
And so, I let go.
Rather than holding onto that fleeting state, I turned my attention back to the rhythm of breath, to the quiet rise and fall of sensation. The vastness I had felt was not something to possess, nor something to lose. It was simply there—just as the next moment would be, just as the next breath would come. And in surrendering to this flow, I found something deeper than bliss.
I found peace.
Days 4–6: The Trial by Fire
On the fourth day, the experience shifted dramatically.
During meditation, a warmth spread through my body. At first, it was comforting, but soon it intensified, growing hotter, then hotter still. My entire being felt as if it had been thrown into an inferno.
I opened my eyes—the room was cold. But as soon as I closed them, the heat returned, fierce and unrelenting.
I stayed still, determined to observe whatever was unfolding. But the burning only deepened. It was no longer warmth—it was fire.
I am inside an oven. My mind grasped for logic, but none could be found. I felt like I was being reduced to ashes, my body consumed by an unseen flame.
Each time I opened my eyes, it vanished. Each time I closed them, the fire raged on.
For three days, I sat in this furnace of pain and confusion, surrendering to something far beyond my understanding.
Days 7–9: The Whispering Shadows
By the seventh day, I had endured enough. I was exhausted, my body and spirit stretched thin. And then—suddenly—the fire disappeared.
Relief washed over me. Finally, I am at peace again.
But my respite was brief. Just as I began to settle, a new trial emerged—this time, not of fire, but of sound.
At first, there were faint whispers, like distant murmurs carried by the wind. Then, the whispers multiplied—two voices, ten, a hundred.
Suddenly, it was as if I were surrounded by a sea of voices, coming from all directions. They laughed, cried, shouted, argued. Some whispered secrets, others screamed in anguish. It was an overwhelming cacophony of emotions, filling every space around me.
This was worse than the fire. The burning had been only physical pain, but this—this was a storm of suffering, echoing through unseen realms.
Where are these voices coming from? Are they memories? Echoes of past lives?
If there was a hell, I had stepped into its deepest chambers.
For three days, I sat amidst the voices, unable to escape, unable to quiet the storm.
Yet in the midst of it all, I noticed something subtle but profound. Though my roommate and I had never exchanged a single glance, never spoken a word, I began to sense her presence in a way beyond sight or sound. It was as if her intentions were carried through the air itself.
At first, I hesitated—unsure if I should turn off the lights at night, uncertain of what she preferred. But as the days passed, an unspoken understanding emerged. Without words, without eye contact, I knew—a quiet, intuitive knowing that transcended the need for communication.
It was as if the silence itself was speaking.
And in that silence, I began to understand something deeper. Beyond words, beyond form, there is a space where we simply know. Where we sense each other’s presence without the need for confirmation. Where stillness is not emptiness, but fullness—overflowing with the unseen, the unspoken, the felt.
It was in this silence that I found the first glimpse of something beyond suffering, beyond the storm of voices.
I found awareness.
Day 10: The Doorway to a New Reality
On the final day, I was depleted. There was nothing left in me to resist, nothing left to grasp.
I sat for my last three hours of meditation, simply allowing everything to be as it was.
And then—silence.
The voices were gone.
I scanned my body, feeling the rise and fall of breath, the tingling currents of energy, the rhythm of my heartbeat. Everything was simply… there. Present. Alive.
A teacher entered the room and softly announced that the ten-day silence was over.
I opened my eyes and looked at her.
Something was different.
Her voice didn’t just sound clear—it looked clear. The people beside me seemed illuminated, as if I were seeing them for the first time. The walls, the floor, the very air itself vibrated with an unspeakable aliveness.
Nothing had changed, yet everything had transformed.
And then, a profound realization dawned upon me:
The past nine days had only been a preparation. Only now, at the end, am I truly ready to begin meditation.
Tears slipped silently down my face.
As I sat there, I hesitated to leave. I had come here seeking something intangible, and now, just as I touched it, I had to step away. But life was calling me back.
I walked toward the door, carrying the weight of something ineffable, something that could never be put into words.
Returning to the World: A Glimpse Beyond Time
My sister picked me up, and we began our journey home.
At one point, we stopped for water. As she walked ahead of me, something remarkable happened.
Time slowed.
Not in the way movies depict slow motion, but in a way that revealed everything. The precise moment her foot met the ground, the way her fingers moved, the faint ripple of her breath—each detail appeared before me in exquisite clarity.
I turned to look at strangers passing by. I could see the finest strands of their hair, the almost imperceptible shifts in their expressions. Everything shimmered with presence, as if reality itself had unveiled its hidden rhythm.
For a day, I walked through the world seeing it not as I had before, but as it truly was. Then, slowly, the heightened perception faded, like a dream slipping through my fingers.
But something remained.
Vipassana: A Journey Without End
Looking back, I cannot say exactly what Vipassana is—only that it is something beyond words, beyond concepts. It is not something to be defined, only experienced.
A journey into silence.
A journey through fire and shadows.
A journey beyond the illusions of time and self.
And yet, at its heart, Vipassana is profoundly simple. Through the quiet observation of body and breath, it pulls you beyond fleeting thoughts and emotions, into the depth of direct experience. It asks for nothing but awareness—pure, unwavering presence.
And most of all, it is a journey back home.
Comments
Post a Comment