In the beginning, I could hardly imagine spending 10 days in complete silence in meditation. 12 hours a day. You also have to have the stamina to sit.

Arrival

The bus driver, who was supposed to take me directly to the entrance of the meditation center, refused to deviate from his schedule. He is only allowed to stop at certain stops. Much to my annoyance. I’m over an hour late. But nobody seems to care.

When I arrive, some people are getting to know each other, others are simply standing on the lawn in front of the main building. Horses, which belong to the estate and are apparently employed to mow the lawn, are running around freely. We later learn that they are not allowed to be stroked. All part of the program. Another part of the program was to hand in our phones. Reading, writing, sport, all prohibited.

After everyone arrived, there was a light dinner and then the introduction that began the seriousness of the silent retreat, absolute silence. Basically, no contact was allowed, not even through gestures or with the eyes. This resulted in all the participants suddenly running around like zombies. Don’t accidentally look at anyone. With a serious face. Right from the start, I resolved not to stick to this rule one hundred percent. Rebellious! I want to know what moves others, what they think. Little by little, I find like-minded people who dare to look into the faces of others.

In the dining room, the tables are bolted to the wall. I have a window through which I can look out. It’s quiet, you can hear the clattering and scraping of plates. Nobody speaks. A cough. That’s all. Perfect silence, where not even a mosquito makes a sound.

The light in the shared room is switched off at 10 pm. The nights are short.

Day 1 – Settling in

At four o’clock in the morning, the gong that structures our day sounds three times. Gong! Gong! Gong! My body vibrates. Full of enthusiasm, I rise from my bunk bed. Another 30 minutes until the next gong. Toothbrush in my mouth. Nobody is set to non-communication yet. I must have been standing in front of the bathroom, which is connected to our room, for 10 minutes with foam in my mouth. Nonverbal consideration has to be practised first. Later, I discover a sink outside that is not so busy.

There is a cleaning schedule for the bathroom and a shower schedule to sign up to. I let some time pass before I put my name on the list. Rebellious! I put my name in twice on the shower list and then cross myself off again completely. Actually, there was no reason to be so strict. There was also an outdoor shower. Right next to the dry loo and my beloved washbasin. Almost like being at a festival.

Before, I had never been in meditation for more than an hour at a time, on average barely more than 20 minutes. Before breakfast, I had already spent two hours in meditation. When you’re preparing for something and have nothing else to do, it doesn’t seem that long. There was nothing to plan. You are free of all obligations.

I always went a bit from meal to meal. Especially when the last meal the day before was more than 12 hours ago and only consisted of half an apple and half a banana.

The food that was prepared for us was simple and consisted of rice or pasta, some tomato sauce and salad. We were warned not to eat so much. It would only make us tired and distract us unnecessarily.

Day 2 – Breathing

Every day is the same, two hours of meditation after getting up, breakfast and a break, three hours of meditation, lunch and a break, four hours of meditation, snack and a break, three hours of meditation with instructions for the next day. In between meditation sessions, there is always a 5-10 minute break to stretch your legs.

The first two days we focused on our breath. Where does each breath touch the nostril? How does each breath feel? What differences can we feel between the breaths?

Day 3 – Progress

We concentrate now only on the area between the nose and upper lip. What sensations do we feel there? It’s cold, warm, tingling. I can feel every breath of air. A feeling that I cling to like a branch. It gives me support. It is my anchor that I can hold on to when my thoughts wander. I have a restless mind that wants to be soothed again and again. This is certainly a phenomenon that is exacerbated in our modern world with the many possibilities and impressions that flood in on us every day. Our minds are not designed to be distracted. Meditation tries to equip us for everyday life, just as training in the gym allows us to go out into the world with a strengthened body.

A by-product is that you become more sensitive to sensory perceptions. You suddenly smell, hear and see more intensely. I can suddenly enjoy small things like never before. I watch the ants running over the washing line or dragging little sticks into their burrow in the ground. I walk barefoot across the meadow to absorb every touch. You realize how much the sensory overload of the world has dulled you. A process of reversal sets in.

You can try to sit quietly for just ten minutes, close your eyes and observe your breathing as closely as possible. Every time you notice that you have wandered off, return to your breath without judgment. That is all. Digression is normal. It’s part of the process.

Day 4 – The collapse

For the afternoon meditation, we all sit in the meditation room at the back of the property. Beforehand, in the group meditation, we learned to concentrate on the different parts of the body, to do a scan to sharpen our awareness of the smallest changes. For example, we concentrate on the upper arm and examine how it feels, what sensations arise. This could be a tingling sensation, a draught from the fan on the ceiling, a pinch, differences in warmth, anything that reminds you that you have this exact body part. And precisely this body part at any given moment. You have to block out everything else. You learn to concentrate.

Suddenly a bang. Something has fallen on the hard floor. My concentration is suddenly focused entirely on the direction of the bang. I open my eyes to see where the sound was coming from. One of my fellow meditators has fallen over. He is lying motionless on the floor next to his pillow. Our supervisor Daniel immediately rushes over to him to make sure he’s okay. I feel queasy. I can’t imagine this happening to me, but it could have happened to any of us. Each of us is in an extraordinary situation. Each of us demands everything from our minds.

Daniel leads Alejandro out. The meditation continues as if nothing had happened. The room retains the calm that we are all here for. Another 20 minutes until the gong. One of the meditators comes forward and asks to speak, which is normally forbidden outside office hours. Blanca, our professor, waves her off. We all go out.

A piece of fruit and an hour’s break (descanso). I sense that this is not the usual break for me or the others. There is a restlessness in the air. I can understand that Blanca wants to get an overview of the situation and take care of Alejandro before she talks to us about it.

60 long minutes later, the next bell sounds for the group sitting. We are all eager to hear what Blanca has to tell us. Even more than in the past four days, we are longing for the words of our spiritual guide. Everyone takes their seats. I look around me. Normally, everyone starts meditating as soon as they enter the room. Many have their eyes open. Blanca enters. She makes herself comfortable on her raised seat, as if on an altar facing us. She drapes the blanket over her legs and her right shoulder. She puts on her glasses and leans to the right to prepare her MP3 player for the next lesson.

I can hardly believe it. Without a reaction, without a gesture, she continues her program. I break silence to ask her if she doesn’t want to say anything about what happened. She simply replies that now is not the time to speak. A murmur goes through the room. Everyone is looking for answers. Several voices rise. A lady at the back left takes the floor. She makes it clear that she is afraid. She herself is not very mentally stable. And perhaps others feel the same. Many in the room agree with her. The answer is to stay calm and concentrate on meditation. The question and answer session follows three hours later.

The next instruction from the recording is to concentrate even more, to move less. I am outraged. The exact opposite happens to me. I can’t keep my mind calm. Unanswered questions are running through my head.

I didn’t really prepare for the course beforehand, I came with as untainted a mind as possible. Except for one thing, a podcast that described how important it is to know how the center handles incidents like this. No complicated questions. Our guide was to make us aware that such things can happen and how they are prepared for them. Nothing more. I leave the room in protest. Rebellious!

Our guide follows me. He asks me to stay quiet and not disturb the others. Which I had no intention of doing.

Next session. New instructions. The so-called charla, or chat, an hour in which we are given instructions for the next day. Meanwhile, Blanca is called outside. Unusual! Something has happened. After a few minutes, I go outside. I see Alejandro, the man who has fallen over, and Blanca talking to each other some distance away. He looks upset.

They separate. Alejandro walks towards the parking lot with his bag. I follow him. I want to make sure he’s not driving in his condition. Daniel follows me. In the parking lot, I see that there’s another man with Alejandro, a friend. Alejandro tells me gruffly, tensely, almost aggressively, that I shouldn’t break my vow of silence, that he’s fine, that it’s all his own fault because he hit his head a few weeks ago and that’s why the incident happened. He’s not driving himself, his friend is.

Daniel catches me again. I tell him that my trust has been destroyed. His reaction is again just to keep calm and not disturb the proceedings. Everyone is on their own path here. I promise not to interfere any further.

Consultation hour

QnA at 9 pm. As promised, I keep a low profile. I wait for the others to ask the right questions. Suddenly Alejandro comes forward and apologizes for disrupting the proceedings of the day. It was all his fault. He leaves the room with his head down, visibly ashamed. He seems like a pawn in a higher game to me.

The colleague in front of me speaks up. He is asked to sit on the cushion in front of Blanca. He explains that he is a teacher himself. In his opinion, teaching is not just about teaching, but also about being able to empathize with your students to be able to guide them.

Blanca agrees and explains what empathy means to her. It is the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, in their situation. Unfortunately, she didn’t put her theoretical understanding into practice that day. All that mattered was getting through her program. Like the bus driver when I arrived, she couldn’t deviate from her timetable for a moment.

Not a single reassuring word during the entire session, not a word about how to prepare, what can happen and how to deal with such situations.

I decide to leave the next day. My whole dorm spends the night without much sleep. A lot of shuffling and turning until the gong at 4 am.

Before leaving

Before I leave, I ask to speak to Blanca. She tells me that it was a difficult situation for her too, which she had to cope with on her own without any guidance. She had simply tried to calm everyone down. Just as the Vipassana teachings demand. We have to learn how to deal with such strong feelings. To control them and not simply allow them to happen. That is the core idea of meditation. To strengthen the mind for difficult situations. She compares it to a storm that comes and goes. Overreactions have no place for her.

What may be true in theory for an experienced meditator did not work for us beginners. I would have liked more guidance and compassion from her. I hope that in the next courses she will take my request to heart to point out the dangers and show that she and her team are able to react accordingly and not simply abandon the beginners.

How does the journey continue for me?

The moment I decided to leave the course, I knew I wanted to sign up for a course at another center again. I am sure that Vipassana can broaden my horizons and I want to give it another chance.

In hindsight, I could perhaps have reacted more calmly to the situation, Blanca is basically right, but I wasn’t in a position to do so at that moment. So my decision to leave was the right one. Maybe one day I’ll be mentally strong enough to deal with strong feelings better.

Now, back in civilization, it’s like after a long mountain hike. My senses are so much sharper after these four days. I can feel the smallest changes on my skin, every sound appears in my spectrum of perception. I perceive my surroundings more comprehensively. I hear the quietest noises around me. Nothing seems to be blocked out any more. Back in Cordoba I hop on right to the next bus out of the city. Flight.

What would you have done in my place? Would you have stayed?