Developing a 6th Sense through 10 Days of Silent Meditation
The Village Farm to Cafe in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. Photographed by author.
I’ve developed a superpower that’s keeping me up at night. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, I’m woken up by waves of energy emanating throughout my entire body. I’m somewhere deep in the forests of Thailand and when the 4am wake-up bell rings in a few hours, I will have to give up on sleep and start another day of meditation.
I’m halfway through a ten-day silent meditation retreat. How did I end up here?
My initial interest in meditation resulted from an experience with psychedelics in college that brought a couple decades of suppressed emotion to the surface and provided me with a more balanced perspective on life. I glimpsed ultimate truths unbiased by the ego — and while I’m not exactly sure why, I saw meditation as a means for turning that short visit to another world into a permanent residency.
Although I have been meditating in the ten years since (with limited consistency), I now know that I have not really known what true meditation is, what it accomplishes, or how it works. I have meditated for months at a time without missing a day, read countless books and articles on the topic, and used popular meditation apps, but I see now I’ve barely scratched the surface. I’m grateful for a recent ten-day silent meditation experience that brought this all to light.
I became aware of silent meditation retreats in more recent years and wanted to try it mostly out of curiosity and also a desire to learn more about myself and the mind. I got what seemed to be the perfect opportunity when I decided to take a leave of absence from work to travel Southeast Asia and ponder next steps in my career.
Now having completed the course, I feel compelled to share the details of my experience and what I gained to help you decide if it’s right for you. I want to lift the veil of mystery that surrounds meditation and the Buddha’s teachings, and hope to eliminate misconceptions I’ve heard like, “my mind is too noisy for meditation,” “my back won’t let me sit still that long,” “I’m too ADHD for meditation,” “it takes years of practice to get good at meditation” — the list goes on. Meditation is not about being still and quiet. It’s so much more than a way to increase focus or reduce stress. Think of it as a form of exercise, but for the mind instead of the body — it connects us to our deepest inner selves and helps us see reality more clearly. And because our minds are so fundamental to the human experience, I wholeheartedly believe that you will take away something of value from a ten-day meditation retreat. I found it to be invaluable, but my advice would be to go in with no expectations, an open mind — every individual experience is unique.
Table of Contents
Vipassana Is a Pure Form of Meditation
My Journey through Ten Days of Meditation
Disclaimer
Day 0: Arrival
Day 1: Distraction
Day 2: Struggle
Day 3: Agony
Day 4: Vipassana
Day 5: Ego
Day 6: Change
Day 7: Bliss
Day 8: Turmoil
Day 9: Acceptance
Day 10: Transition
Day 11: Possibility
The Benefits Have Been Pervasive
A World of Possibilities Has Been Revealed
Interested in Attending a Course?
Vipassana Is a Pure Form of Meditation
First, it's important to understand that while there are many different types of meditation today, each providing varying benefits, these are altered or watered-down versions of pure forms of meditation that originated in India thousands of years ago (maybe even hundreds of thousands of years ago). The Buddha came along in 2500 BCE and through meditation, created a new set of techniques focused on seeing things as they really are through stabilization of the mind and self-transformation.
The primary technique he used was Vipassana Meditation, which has since been adapted to serve a variety of goals and motives across the world in the years since. To practice it, one must first develop a concentrated mind through observation of the breath. With a sharpened awareness, one is then able to use Vipassana to break down the barrier between the conscious mind and the subconscious, and observe the true nature of the body and mind — this leads to the development of insight and experiences of universal truths.
The conscious, thinking mind is engaged in a constant game of telephone, with our sensory inputs on the starting end and the subconscious mind in the middle. Our subconscious minds perform an incredible amount of processing before signals are presented to our conscious minds. They are habit-building machines that constantly look for patterns they can use to trigger 'automated' reactions at the subconscious level, thereby cutting out the conscious mind and significantly reducing the effort required for us to do things. This is generally a very good thing, since our thinking minds have a very limited bandwidth; imagine if we needed to consciously remember to move our diaphragms for each breath we take or tell our hearts to beat once every second. It's also why we don't need to think through the minutiae of how to do things like driving or playing an instrument once we become proficient. But the negative side-effect is that the information presented to our conscious minds (if it even makes it to that level) has become so distorted or abstracted it no longer reflects reality.
Vipassana removes the layers in this game of telephone; through consistent, repeated practice, you train your subconscious to reduce the biased processing of certain sensory signals before they reach your conscious mind, enabling you to become more aware of the actual reality taking place both within and around you. This enables you to act in a more balanced, rational manner — it puts the conscious mind back in the driver seat and is the reason meditation seems to help us with so many things, like creating new habits, breaking old addictions, increasing focus and mindfulness, reducing anxiety, and making better decisions.
In contrast to modified forms of meditation, which work at the surface level (but do provide good benefits), Vipassana is a pure form of meditation that works at a foundational level. The above benefits are just side-effects, not the main objective. It seems to be a somewhat universal solution to universal problems faced by humanity, and therefore produces significant benefits for individuals that practice it in many areas of their lives. And best of all, you don't need to put in conscious effort to begin seeing benefits, like trying hard to maintain awareness of your emotional state when you encounter difficult situations; it begins working at the subconscious level automatically as you go about your day. Of course you still need to put effort into regular meditation sessions.
At the end of the day, whatever form of meditation you're able to fit into your life and practice consistently with desired benefits is the right form of meditation. I only provide this context to dispel any misconceptions that might come from experiences with other techniques. Even my own description of my Vipassana experience won't really shed that much light on how it works or how to learn it yourself — you need to actually practice the technique to benefit from and understand it. And the best way to learn Vipassana is through a ten-day 'meditation retreat', away from the obligations and distractions of your daily life, in an environment that fosters the necessary concentration.
My Journey through Ten Days of Meditation
I don't know where I first picked up the term 'meditation retreat', but that is neither how I would describe it now nor the language used by the host organization, which refers to these experiences as 'meditation courses'. I think 'meditation bootcamp' is also accurate.
The typical day includes a 4am wake-up bell, eleven hours of meditation interspersed with four hours of breaks and meals, a one hour video of a teacher's discourse that provides context for techniques you are practicing, and some time for students to ask teachers questions. You are free to sleep shortly after 9pm, with lights-out at 10pm.
You are asked to make a commitment to abstain from killing any being, stealing, sexual activity, telling lies, and intoxicants until the course ends. You are also asked to observe Noble Silence until the morning of the last full day; all forms of communication with other students are prohibited, including gestures and eye contact. Upon arrival, you also deposit any phones, digital devices, writing materials, reading materials, cameras, etc. At first, these restrictions might seem excessive, but having gone through the course, I now see there are valid reasons for each.
Disclaimer
Because developing insight and awareness through meditation requires a balanced mind free from expectations and any desire to have a certain type of experience, reading about my own experience might slow your initial progress if you are a beginner and haven't already attended a course. If you are already sure you want to attend a course — and especially if you plan to do so soon — I don't recommend reading the details of my experience. The risk is that you will set your own expectations based on mine and will cling to something you've read about, wanting it to happen. This will cloud your perception of your own experience and prevent you from progressing through the early stages of insight.
Regardless, I've decided to provide certain details of my own experience and leave the choice up to you because some of the posts I myself read online before attending the course detailed a very different experience than mine, others have already put the information I'm sharing out there for all to see, and most importantly, because my own account might convince someone else to take the course — even if they already have experience with meditation and think they know what it's all about, or are a complete beginner and don't realize that ten days could be enough for a truly profound experience.
If you don't want to risk developing an attachment to the type of experience I had, you can skip to the section where I cover what I gained from the experience overall (or just stop reading now and register for a course). On the other hand, If you aren't already convinced that setting aside ten days to attend a course is worth your time, then read on :)
Day 0: Arrival
As we approach the meditation center, within a forest of Northern Kanchanaburi in Thailand, I begin to waver between curiosity and anxiety. I have no idea what to expect over the next eleven days. I remind myself I've only meditated a handful of times over the last few years, not even for thirty minutes at a time. Am I in over my head? How am I going to handle eleven hours of meditation each day?! How will I fare with only two meals a day? Should I have eaten more this morning?
Immediately upon arrival, men and women are segregated and pointed to their respective dining halls. We deposit our phones and other prohibited items in exchange for room assignments. A couple students ask for the wifi password so they can send their final messages, but the volunteer staff are not aware of a wifi network.
I head to my room, which makes up half of a rustic little cabin at the end of a short path. The meditation center sits in the middle of a forest with nothing else around. Expecting to have a roommate, I am grateful to see a private room and bathroom. Contained within are a twin bed, an elevated meditation pad, and a small clothes rack.
On second glance, I notice I actually do have quite a few roommates. Spiders of varying sizes have set up webs in every corner. There are trails of ants running across all walls, in and out of little holes dispersed across the cabin. Luckily they don't seem to be swarming anything in particular — the cabin is just an integral part of their highway system. This is all a little too close for comfort, so I pull the bed a little further from the wall. I jump back in alarm as something darts out from behind the bed and takes cover behind a set of curtains. Phew, it's just a lizard.
My curiosity turns to a cloth bag sitting in the middle of the bed. Pulling open the drawstring reveals a dining set — it takes another second for me to realize I've awakened a slumbering swarm of ants that are now escaping the bag. I quickly close it and place it on the floor. Okay, keep it together, I can do this. I knew going in that I'd have to face my entomophobia.
I gingerly pick up my dinner set by the drawstring once the dinner bell rings and carefully walk to the dining hall. Other students are already seated, heads down, silently eating at assigned spaces facing the wall. Small dividers are in place to help us maintain our Noble Silence. I'm delighted to see a simple dinner buffet — I guess we do get dinner after all! I plan out how to swiftly open the bag and extricate my dinner set. I pick up the partitioned steel plate and try to blow the ants off. Within seconds, my forearm is covered in ants rapidly crawling higher — it seems the real slumber party was on the underside of the plate. I'm screaming inside, and despite my panic, manage to quietly run outside and drop the plate on the ground. After at least five minutes of desperately blowing ants off my limbs, I'm feeling lightheaded and very frazzled. The plate is still covered with ants. Things are off to a great start.
The rest of the evening proceeds without incident once I notice a box labeled "dinnerware," tucked away in a corner of the dining hall. After dinner we attend a quick orientation covering basic logistics before heading to the meditation hall for our first session. Once we've all filed into the hall and found our assigned seats (large square cushions on the ground), two 'assistant teachers' silently take their place at the front of the hall and and kick us off with few minutes of recorded audio that instructs us to observe our natural breath, focusing on the nostrils or the area just below the nostrils.
Day 1: Distraction
It's still dark when the morning bell wakes me up the next morning. Similar to yesterday, each session kicks off with audio that provides straightforward instructions on observing the breath, with minimal additional context. Having settled in, I'm feeling quite eager — I'm familiar with this meditation technique and curious to see how my state of mind will evolve after hours of concentrated, uninterrupted practice.
My biggest setback of the day occurs when I head back to my room during our afternoon rest period to find the toilet completely covered by ants, same as the ones from yesterday's dinner encounter. The water from my morning shower must have led them to this new water source before evaporating from the bathroom floor. I'm distressed and unable to concentrate during the rest of the day's sessions.
In the afternoon, my mind is primarily preoccupied by the ant situation. They'll be crawling all over me the moment I sit on the toilet! Will they still be there when I need to use it tomorrow or will they leave on their own? Is there any way to get rid of them? If I do manage to get rid of them, won't they just come back? Am I the only one having this problem? I guess I can use the bathroom in the dining hall if necessary, no point in worrying about it any more.
Once the bell rings, I head to the dining hall, only to find that it no longer signals dinner. Where the dinner buffet once was, we have tea, an assortment of cookies, and bread available. So it's high tea instead of dinner after all. I stuff myself with bread and cookies hoping to avoid a fruitless battle with hunger as I try to fall asleep later. I notice something labeled anti-ant powder sitting on a window sill, with instructions indicating ants will not cross over this magic powder. I return to my room to sprinkle the powder in a circle on the floor surrounding the toilet before heading back to the meditation hall for our next session.
In the evening sessions, with a plan in place for the ant situation, my mind's preoccupation shifts to the growing discomfort of sitting cross-legged one to two hours at a time. Otherwise, given the measly six hours of sleep we were allowed last night compared to my usual eight, my mind drifts off into a dream-like state and produces vivid hallucinations, up to ten minutes at a time before I regain alertness and refocus on my breath.
After the bulk of the day's meditation sessions are over, we gather in the meditation hall for our first daily teacher's discourse, which is a video recording of the course teacher providing the context I felt was missing from the audio instructions delivered at the start of our earlier meditation sessions. I appreciate the deep justification he provides on the specific instructions we've been given, but some disappointment sets in once I realize all of our instruction will be delivered by some person I've never heard of through video or audio that must have been recorded before I was even born.
Back at my room, I see that while the anti-ant powder seems to work, it's not a viable solution for my problem. The ants have shifted their approach from the floor to the wall — they are clearly quite thirsty. I consider providing a more accessible source of water, but am not able to come up with a feasible solution. I spray some insect repellant into the toilet bowl water hoping to discourage them and head to bed.
Day 2: Struggle
The morning starts with a wave of relief — the bathroom is mostly free of ants! Halfway through our first meditation session, my optimism is quickly crushed. After a few minutes of relative success maintaining focus on my breath, the pain in my shins, knees, and back becomes unbearable and I start shifting around. Despite my best efforts to ignore the discomfort, my attention shifts to the pain and inevitably, as I give up on the current one, what position to try next and how to adjust the positioning of cushions supporting my legs.
The five minute cycle repeats itself throughout the rest of the day's sessions and I become increasingly concerned about my meditation progress. I can't focus. Am I falling behind the pacing of the course? No one else seems to be shifting around like I am. Will the discomfort get better if I keep trying? Maybe my legs are just adjusting. I hope it's safe to be stretching my knees like this.
My progress feels stagnant throughout the remainder of the day and the teacher's discourse fails to allay my concerns. We learn how the work we've been doing is taking us through the Buddha's teachings — by training our minds to focus on the breath, a real object of the present that doesn't provoke craving or aversion, we have begun sharpening our minds. This will be necessary for the next step: penetrating the depths of the unconscious.
Day 3: Agony
Other students are getting quite creative in building structures to meditate on (or in) by assembling cushions, pads, and blocks of varying shapes and sizes. Two students directly in front of me seem to be competing for 'tallest meditation seat', having consistently added new height each day.
Encouraged, I add some height to my own seat as well — but my ability to sit comfortably continues to get worse and I'm essentially dancing in my seat. On the bright side, there's no room for my mind to wander beyond either the agonizing discomfort or my breath.
I sign up for a timeslot to speak to the teachers after lunch about whether I should move to a chair. They suggest I remain persistent, at least for one more day, even if I'm only able to increase my time in each position a few minutes each session — it's all part of the process and discomfort is typical for new students. I walk away wondering if I should have better articulated that I think the discomfort is hurting my progress.
In the evening discourse session, I notice the teacher's jolly, charming demeanor has grown on me. He introduces the idea of experiential wisdom and its distinction from intellectual knowledge. By observing the nature of our own physical and mental structures, we begin to truly understand the nature of reality and impermanence. We may 'know' that everything in the universe is constantly changing, but we have to experience it within ourselves to internalize the knowledge as wisdom. And it's the development of this wisdom that naturally leads to a balanced mind, true happiness, and true compassion.
My skepticism reappears when the teacher speaks about how modern scientists have only recently confirmed the Buddha's discovery that the entire material universe is made up of subatomic particles which rapidly arise and pass away, but the Buddha experienced this truth directly, and that was the key to his enlightenment.
We are told that tomorrow, through observation of our bodies and minds, we will begin developing this type of wisdom; we will be introduced to the Vipassana technique. It feels like the big reveal we've been waiting for.
Day 4: Vipassana
Today is Vipassana Day. New signs are posted in the dining hall informing us of an adjusted schedule. Two hours in the afternoon have been allocated for our first Vipassana session. I'm both excited and curious.
Meditation sessions have turned into true agony. The discomfort in my knees now persists even beyond our sessions. I don't see how I can continue for seven more days. I consider asking the teachers for a chair again. Whenever the option is given, I choose to meditate in my own room instead of the hall, where I have an elevated seat that doesn't require crossing my legs.
Finally, it's time for the big reveal. The session starts as usual, with an audio recording that begins with a brief period of chanting followed by a new set of instructions. We are to shift our attention from the area underneath the nostrils to the very top of the head. After feeling whatever sensation is there, we move on to the rest of the scalp, then the face, and eventually down the rest of the body until we reach our toes, one small area at a time, being sure not to leave out even an inch of the body. And then we start again from the top of our heads.
The reveal feels anti-climactic. I'm already familiar with these 'body scans' from the Headspace app, although the specific instructions are different. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was definitely not something this simple. How can this possibly lead to wisdom or enlightenment?!
The final instruction is to not change our position for the remainder of the entire session, unless it's to correct our posture. No shifting our legs or arms. No opening our eyes. If absolutely necessary, we can shift slightly to alleviate discomfort, but we must do our best to maintain our current positions.
I am determined to make it to the end without moving. At first, the focus required for moving my attention part by part throughout the body helps me forget about the discomfort in my legs and back, but soon I am no longer able to ignore the growing pain. Knives have pierced my knees, my ankles and shins are on fire, and an intense throbbing has appeared in my upper back. Maintaining a position this long is not possible! At least not after only four days of practice. I consider shifting my position, but then decide, if they're asking us to maintain our positions, it must be possible. My competitive side rears its head. I can't lose this challenge. I have to prove to myself I can do this — if I give in now, I'll never be able to do it.
At this exact moment, something magical happens; the pain throughout my body has suddenly become less intense. A switch has been flipped — the unbearable pain has transformed into an almost pleasant burning sensation, as if I've applied industrial-strength Icy Hot. At least thirty minutes go by before the pain reappears, like a flickering light, alternating between unbearable pain and a slightly pleasant burn. I regain my resolve and the pain dissipates completely, giving way to a pleasant warm glow.
The meditation session ends, but I don't move. I slowly open my eyes as I hear other students file out of the hall. I remain seated, unmoving, feeling a new sense of calm and peace. Once the last student leaves, I slowly get up to follow.
Curious about my experience, I approach the assistant teachers at the end of the day. I hear the terms 'vibrations' and 'energy' used to describe the sensation I experienced, which is initially received with a healthy dose of skepticism — I continue to use 'warm glow' and 'tingling' as my preferred language. My curiosity grows as I continue to reflect on the experience, not fully understanding it. Maybe it really is possible to feel the energy of biochemical reactions in the body.
Day 5: Ego
We learn that, starting today, we will have three hour-long 'sittings of strong determination' during which we are not permitted to leave the meditation hall and must do our best to maintain our positions.
Before the start of each session, students now gather at the entrance of the meditation hall to perform all kinds of stretches — it looks like we're about to compete in a marathon. Inside the hall, one of the students competing for tallest meditation seat has taken the clear lead, having created some sort of backless chair by stacking six layers of cushions and pads in varying configurations, with two smaller adjacent towers of pads to support his knees.
At the end of each session, some students are now seen gingerly limping out of the hall. I'm grateful my own sessions are no longer characterized by pain — sitting still for an hour has become easy after yesterday's success.
As the day progresses, a new frustration arises — as I diligently observe the sensations in various parts of my body, I notice I am no longer able to feel distinct sensations like before. Every time I turn my attention to an area, the sensation I was feeling there dissipates and is replaced by uniform tingling. I wonder if my ability to feel sensations is becoming duller.
Slowly, I realize I have apparently reached the next stage in the course progression. My ability to be aware of the sensations throughout my body has increased. I no longer need to meticulously examine my sensations one baseball-sized area at a time — I can feel entire limbs all at once. My meditation sessions become an enjoyable game of turning sensations throughout the body into this pleasant tingling, increasingly larger areas at a time. I am curious what's driving this change in perception, and unable to turn to Google, I ponder what this really tells me about the nature of reality, if anything.
I remain skeptical of the teacher's claims that Vipassana sharpens your awareness by increasing your mind's ability to observe subtle realities much deeper than the 'apparent reality' we've become accustomed to. I continue to question whether my awareness of sensations is becoming sharper or duller. Are we just tricking our minds into perceiving a different sensation? Instead of a subtler reality, is this an illusion?
At the same time, as it becomes clear I'm progressing much more quickly than the course pacing, my ego (and in hindsight, my overconfidence) grows. The audio instructions in our sessions are still guiding students through awareness of high-level sensations reflective of 'apparent reality', without any acknowledgement of this new tingling sensation of 'vibrations'. Having already achieved awareness of these vibrations throughout my body, helpful instruction on what to do next feels far off.
Feeling both confused and impatient, I approach the assistant teachers with my questions and frustrations. I ask how one can really know which reality is the illusory apparent reality and which is the true reality — the response is that one must experience it themselves. I remember that this is not the place to debate theory, but to practice the technique. They won't give me any detail on later stages of progression, but I'm able to confirm I'm headed down the right path. Having heard my experience (and likely having seen both my frustration and extreme goal-orientation), they leave me with a final word of caution as I get up to leave: remember these sensations are impermanent and remain equanimous — only a balanced mind can perceive the truth.
Despite their advice, I become agitated. Is this all meditation is? A pointless game of sensations? Am I going to have to sit through days of sessions and lectures covering something I can now already do? This is a waste of time. I could be traveling through the rest of Thailand right now. It's the first time the thought of leaving crosses my mind. I have trouble quieting my mind as I try to fall asleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night feeling what I can only describe as intense vibrations pulsing through my entire body — almost as if gravitational waves traveling are traveling through me. Woah, what is happening?! It lasts for half a minute before subsiding.
Day 6: Change
I feel much calmer once I wake up. Yesterday's agitation has passed and I feel silly for getting so worked up. In fact, I feel a new sense of detachment from the turbulence of my emotions. Unable to explain the sensations that woke me up last night, I assume it must have been a dream — but the experience remains in the back of my mind and I'm opening up to ideas that once seemed outlandish.
I continue to develop my awareness of sensations in the day's meditation sessions. It feels like I'm learning a superpower — like developing a new sixth sense. I have access to what's happening in my body on a completely different level than before — this is very real, tangible physical capability. So this is what 'awareness' is!
During our afternoon rest period, I find myself surprised by another change. A bee approaches and begins to circle as I'm walking. My typical reaction is one of panic; my heart rate spikes as I flinch or shrink down and take the first safe opportunity to create some distance. But now there is no panic. In fact, there is no involuntary reaction at all. I calmly watch with curiosity as the bee lands on my arm. I slowly raise my arm to get a closer look and see the bee is licking my sweat. I let it continue as it makes its way up my arm. I decide I do not want a bee in my shirt and pull the sleeve of my t-shirt against my skin as it gets close. It flies away and I am left stunned by what just occurred.
I have never been okay with insects walking on me (or even being near me), nor is this something I cared to change, but it has just happened, seemingly without any effort on my end. Protected from the trials and tribulations of life outside the meditation center, this is the first tangible evidence I've witnessed that something is changing. I begin to believe the teacher's claims that Vipassana is a universal solution that works at a foundational subconscious level. The rest of the day is filled with small moments of wonder and awe.
At night, as my consciousness fades just before falling asleep, I'm jolted awake by an intense sensation throughout my entire body again. This time it feels a little different — a sensation of intense energy emanating throughout my entire body. Intrigued, I try to pay close attention to what's happening, but it quickly subsides. Soon I start to fall asleep again, only to be jolted awake by the same feeling of warmth and energy, which also quickly subsides as I start to chase it. This cycle continues for almost two hours. It seems my conscious mind is getting in the way of whatever I'm subconsciously perceiving.
Day 7: Bliss
In the absence of the typical distractions of day-to-day life, I've been noticing bouts of creativity during rest periods. Ideas and solutions to questions and challenges I had been pondering before the course have been presenting themselves. Small truths about my own life and relationships are bubbling to the surface. I don't know if this is a result of the meditation, the quiet solitude, or both.
I choose to meditate in my room for an afternoon session. I lie down on the bed and begin examining the sensations of my body. Soon I'm able to feel sensations throughout my entire body at once. The chattering of the ego has been silenced. There are no arising thoughts fighting for attention. There is only awareness of these sensations, which feel like the gentle warmth of the sun on your skin. I notice the feeling of my tongue against the roof of my mouth. As I continue to observe, it too dissolves into a warm glow. I can no longer feel a physical body — it has dissolved entirely into pure energy. I am enveloped by the energy of the universe — we are one and the same. Pure bliss. No longer bound by gravity, I become disoriented and everything starts spinning. Realizing I've progressed to a new stage, I become excited. Complete dissolution of the ego — the subjective sense of self that dictates how we perceive the world — feels within reach. I'm yanked back into my body and despite my attempts to escape, it has anchored me in place. I give up as the bell rings, indicating it's time to head to the meditation hall for a group session.
I spend the remainder of the day's sessions attempting to reach the state of total body dissolution, unsuccessfully.
Day 8: Turmoil
My unsuccessful attempts continue. With my eyes now set on this new goal, I become impatient. My progress is reverting, despite my desperate grasping for what's no longer there. It's getting harder to feel the subtle sensations of energy in some areas of my body. Intensified discomfort has reappeared in my upper back.
During meditation, I intermittently notice my brow is furrowed slightly, or that a tension has developed in my right forearm and I'm pinching my thumb and index finger together. Each time, I relax my body, take a deep breath, and then turn my attention back to the sensations.
I slowly become aware of the subtle difference between objectively observing a sensation and projecting the sensation I want to see. My impatience is inhibiting my progress, clouding my awareness in an almost imperceivable way. I've developed a strong new attachment to total body dissolution and I'm unable to remain equanimous. I keep finding I am projecting a sensation based on my expectation, which prevents me from seeing what's actually there.
I'm stuck in a negative feedback loop where dulled awareness leads to frustration which in turn leads to a further loss of awareness. I've fallen behind the pacing of the course — my ability to sense the subtle sensations of the body has fallen behind the audio instructions. I worry I will not achieve dissolution of the physical body or ego again before the course is over. Maybe I will never be able to achieve it again. My mind is in turmoil.
Day 9: Acceptance
The turbulence of yesterday seems to have passed, but a still somberness remains. Remembering the course teachings, I try, unsuccessfully, to accept the current reality and release my craving. I tell myself I achieved total body dissolution once already and don't need to achieve it again — at least not before the course ends. I tell myself I don't have a goal anymore — I've learned so much already and will walk away with the knowledge I need to continue my practice. Maybe if I continue lying to myself, it will eventually become the truth.
Today is the last day for real focused work; tomorrow we have an adjusted schedule and no longer observe Noble Silence. My meditation sessions become a bit aimless; I disregard the audio instructions and instead follow my own curiosity, allowing my attention to wander freely, but still observing sensations closely as they evolve.
The shooting pains in my upper back persists, but I see a new pattern of perception; as I focus intently on precisely pinpointing the source of the pain, it shifts and morphs. As I expand my awareness to encompass a larger region, the pain gradually diminishes and is replaced by a gentler throbbing sensation. Soon the pain disappears altogether and only the feeling of blood pulsing through my back remains. Eventually, even that fades into a pleasant tingling.
Moments later, I start feeling pangs of hunger. I'm not sure when, but at some point in the course I stopped stuffing my stomach in the evening with bread and cookies. Shifting my focused attention to the sensation of hunger dissolves it effortlessly. The pain in my back returns, but it's less intense. I continue to observe, widening my focus to cover larger areas, almost as if I'm watching a distant planet's weather patterns. Turbulent storms ebb and flow, fleeting breezes dance across the surface, while vast stretches remain calm and quiet.
I'm amazed by the dissolution of such intense sensations through equanimous observation and controlled attention. It dawns on me, with a new intuitive understanding, that equanimity is the key to seeing the true nature of reality. Practicing Vipassana strengthens the mind's awareness and balance, building the muscle of true objective observation and non-reactivity. And just like with any other muscle, the important part is doing the workouts and putting in the reps. Each rep provides benefit, solidifying insight and internalizing wisdom. Fortunately, with Vipassana, you get immediate feedback on whether you're doing them right.
Day 10: Transition
Another insect encounter confirms, without a doubt, the beneficial effect meditation has had on me, working silently behind the scenes. On a morning walk, I feel something crawling on the back of my neck. Calm and composed, I reach back and place my fingers in the assumed insect's path. I bring my hand back around once it crawls on and see it's a jumping spider, which elicits not even the slightest panic.
During meditation, I notice my awareness of sensations has started growing again and my perception has become sharper. I'm grateful to be able to start over, this time focusing on maintaining a balanced mind every step of the way.
We are released from our Noble Silence after our last morning session, provided we don't speak within earshot of the meditation hall. A few students excitedly introduce themselves to each other in the dining hall. Others head straight to their rooms. I don't feel ready to socialize and head back to my room as well. We don't head back into the city until tomorrow, but the course is essentially over. The end approached more quickly the closer we got, and having gained so much from the focused time we were given, I feel a tinge of sorrow. But of course all things must come to an end! I spend a minute mourning before heading back to the dining hall.
The rest of the day is filled with chatter. I find myself overwhelmed with pleasant sensations during every little social interaction. Every conversation plasters a smile on my face that remains minutes afterward. Everyone is eager to share their experience and hear about others'. Some had out of body experiences similar to mine, some felt a cathartic release of trauma and repressed emotion, and others seemed to have not progressed through the earlier stages of meditation and awareness. While each person's experience was unique, everyone found the experience to be incredibly valuable and insightful.
I find it harder to keep my attention focused during our remaining meditation sessions now that our silence has ended. My mind wanders, replaying earlier conversations, or planning future ones. I start thinking through logistics for tomorrow. I need to book accommodation. Do I want to go back to Bangkok? Maybe I should have the bus drop me off along the way and spend a few days in a quieter town.
I head back to my room intermittently throughout the day to check in and observe the sensations I'm feeling, unable to stay above it all during the thick of a conversation. Things get more manageable by the end of the day.
Day 11: Possibility
The pleasant, overwhelming sensations triggered by every interaction continue on the bus ride back. I'm in a state of overall bliss. I've put off taking a closer look at my phone, having been bombarded by a slew of notifications after first turning it on in the morning. Wanting to savor the last few hours of freedom from my phone, I meter my usage.
I immediately notice the pull of conversations and other notifications. Most of the notifications are irrelevant or unimportant, just noise stealing my attention. I disable notifications for the offending apps, but that's not enough. At every level, I see information and suggestions grasping for my attention. I feel the sputtering engine of old habit patterns, ignited by the spark of article suggestions in Google's search app, my Instagram feed, or even old tabs I've left open in Chrome. The fuel has mostly dried up and the engine is unable to run. I close or disable the offenders once again and put away my phone.
My perception of what's happening within my mind and body has clearly gotten sharper. I feel the waves of sensations flowing through my body with each interaction. I feel the blood pulsing through every part of my body, even at my fingertips. I feel the two distinct contractions that make up each heart beat. I see the constant stretching of my attention in every direction. I see the patterns and habits of my mind more clearly.
I'm uncertain I'll be able to maintain this level of awareness outside the quiet, focused space of the meditation center, protected from the obligations and distractions of daily life — but having gained what feels like a superpower, I feel motivated and committed to integrating meditation into my routine. A path has been revealed. I'm excited by what feels like a whole new world of possibilities in front of me.
The Benefits Have Been Pervasive
After spending a few weeks reflecting on the benefits the course has provided me, from the existential to the mundane, I do feel that Vipassana is a somewhat foundational solution to many of the universal challenges humans face day to day. I feel more balanced and my perspective on life is more balanced.
Ten days of silent meditation magnified the suffering caused by attachment and revealed the nature of my own mind and its tendencies. I'm leaving the experience with newfound wisdom that will help me live a happier and more peaceful life (and I think I was living quite a happy and peaceful life before!). I've gained an intuitive understanding of how attachments create suffering, and how, by releasing them, we not only see reality more clearly, but also free ourselves undue suffering. I feel a new sense of freedom. I live in the present more than ever before, without dwelling in the past or getting lost in the future. I seem to have found a balance that still allows me to learn from the past and plan for the future without causing unnecessary turbulence in my mind.
In the weeks since the course ended, I've also noticed a deep harmony within my mind that has enabled me to more easily accomplish my goals. My conscious, rational mind has a much stronger hold of the reins, with the subconscious instinctual mind having been relegated to the back seat. The frequent battles that took place between my rational and instinctual mind as I made countless small decisions throughout the day just don't occur anymore. Only now, having experienced a more harmonious mind, do I see what was happening.
I've detailed some tangible examples in the sections below, but there are many more to choose from. I'm sure they'll continue to stack up if I can continue my twice daily meditation practice.
Clarity and Joy
The distance created from my ego has given me clarity on the adjustments I need to make in my life and career to be happier and more fulfilled in the long run, distinct from what's been normalized by society. My meditation practice does not get the bulk of the credit for this clarity, most of which has developed slowly over the years, but it has crystalized it by enabling me to more clearly see the influence society, employers, parents, or friends have here. I will have more confidence in my next steps, but also an awareness that both what I want and the path to get there will continue to evolve over time.
Eleven days without many of the luxuries I am accustomed to also reset my standard of living and left me with clarity on what actually makes me happy. I lived without tv, books, music, air conditioning, insect-free spaces, internet, notebooks, and dinner. I was confined to a particular area of the meditation center and given just the basics like food, water, and a safe place to sleep. I left the experience feeling like all the other luxuries and material goods of my life are superfluous. With the distractions of my typical life stripped away, I was able to see what I actually need to be content.
I find more joy in the seemingly mundane aspects of life. Little things — like watching insects go about their lives, experiencing the luxury of a hot shower, or feeling the stillness of an early morning before the sun rises — bring me delight in a way they didn't before. Delicious bites of food trigger sensations that become a whole body experience. I'm even finding myself content in the moments that once brought boredom if I didn't have something to occupy my mind, like waiting to board a flight. I'm less likely to pull my phone out in the elevator for a quick dopamine hit.
Increased Willpower
I've noticed that it has become quite easy to change my old habits and make better decisions, which I fully credit to my meditation practice. Interestingly, meditation hasn't actually increased my willpower, but instead has significantly reduced the willpower I need to expend. The automatic change I saw with my entomophobia is just one of many examples I've noticed since the course ended.
Instagram and Reddit don't have the same hold they once did. I don't instinctively reach for my phone whenever I have time to kill, knowing that Reddit or Instagram will take up precious time without providing anything real in return. While I've always 'known' this, the difference now is that the desire just isn't there. I don't have to exercise any willpower to push myself in the direction my rational brain wants to go.
Another interesting example is the tendency to overeat or overindulge in desserts. Being quite active and healthy, I have never felt the need to minimize overeating or my sugar intake. Coming out of the meditation course, I noticed my decision-making has shifted. Instead of feeling compelled to eat everything on my plate and feeling a little overstuffed afterward, or ordering a tiramisu (my favorite dessert) just because I see it on the menu, I just stop eating once I'm no longer hungry. I just seem to know when I've hit the right level of full and automatically make the decision to stop eating without thinking about it. Again, it's just happening, without my having to expend any effort or willpower — you don't have to resist the desire to itch a mosquito bite when the itching sensation doesn't even reach your conscious attention. My subconscious mind, seemingly better trained, only presents what's actually important, and my conscious attention more easily tunes out what doesn't matter.
Improved Perception
I have a better intuitive understanding of the workings of the mind and how it perceives reality, internalized through experience rather than intellectual knowledge — an understanding, much like learning a sport, that can only come from practice. Spending time observing subtle sensations of the body that don't normally reach conscious awareness reveals your mind's tendency to perceive based not just on reality, but also on your desires, fears, and expectations.
Having battled my own mind's aversion to and desire for certain sensations, I've become familiar with its propensity to make assumptions that obscure reality. I've witnessed the way my mind's deep subconscious perceptions change and evolve based on the manner of observation — how pain becomes worse when I fight it, how desire creates illusions, and how a balanced mind dissolves these biased perceptions, revealing the truth underneath. My ability to see clearly has improved. I understand how my own goals, fears, or expectations can blind me. I even see the biases others exhibit more easily and better understand how to navigate them, thanks to an increased awareness of how their prior experiences, desires, or aversions might be influencing their subconscious perceptions.
Increased Awareness
Awareness feels too broad a category to describe the changes I've experienced since the course ended — it applies in so many different ways, both in the traditional and spiritual senses of the word.
Increased awareness of how the mind works and its tendencies has resulted in less mental turmoil and anguish. I have a broader perspective that has created more headspace — it's hard to describe in words. I have a more intuitive or internalized understanding of the law of impermanence. Outside influences (and even internal thoughts) stop eliciting strong unpleasant reactions. With my conscious mind firmly in the driver seat, I get to decide how to act and react.
Similarly hard to describe in words is the awareness of these subtle sensations in the body. Only the loud sensations like pain, cold, hot, itching, etc. typically reach our conscious awareness. There are quieter, ever-present sensations of energy and vibrations — even subtler than the sensation of blood pulsing through my skin — that I had just never heard before. It's the awareness of these sensations that feels like a sixth sense and has provided insight into not just my own mind and body, but also the universal human experience.
In addition to the heightened awareness of my mind and body, I feel an increased detachment from my ego that has led to not only greater understanding of why I'm doing things or reacting in a certain way, but also more control over my behavior. I see emotions evolving step by step as they manifest as physical sensations in the body.
I experienced a recent example on a delayed flight that left me with a very short connection to an international flight. As we began our descent, the flight attendant stopped by my seat to prep me with instructions and then came back shortly after to move me to the first row so I could be the first one off the plane. After we arrived at the gate, she pulled me in front of a couple passengers that had lined up ahead of me and had me wait by the exit door, where she shared additional instructions.
It started to feel like I was about to parachute out of the plane. While the jetway was being moved into position, I felt my heart start fluttering, followed by mild churning in my stomach and subtle tingling in my arms. Instead of getting caught up in the nervousness, or even calmly identifying the emotion and thinking "I feel nervous" (as one might learn in therapy), I found myself making much more distant observations. "Oh, I feel new sensations — these feel like anxiety… Why is my body reacting with anxiety? Should I be nervous? Well it's not like I can change when my flight leaves, so I don't think there's anything to worry about." It was like I was watching it all unfold from a distance with curiosity and mild amusement. The sensations subsided before the door even opened (and I got to the departure gate with time to spare).
Finally, I have a clearer view of old habits, both big and small, that I now want to rewrite (and I'm more empowered to do so). For example, I've noticed an old tendency to jump to Google for a quick search every time I'm curious about something, want help articulating my thoughts in writing, etc. Rewriting this automated pattern has resulted in more original thought — I look inward to work out the answers to questions myself instead of turning to other resources. Another example demonstrates increased focus — I don't get lost in rabbit holes of web articles when researching topics I'm writing about. Somehow, magically, my mind stays ruthlessly focused on the right information or tasks to close out the immediate goal instead of getting lost on tangents or side quests related to other goals I may have. There are countless little examples like these to choose from.
A World of Possibilities Has Been Revealed
Despite the significant benefit I’ve seen so far, a ten-day course is probably the equivalent of meditation kindergarten. I’ve since learned from my time at a Buddhist monastery that the awareness I’ve developed is among the earliest of many stages. Even the specifics of the technique you use when practicing Vipassana evolve as you progress. This is just the beginning — I plan to hone my new sixth sense and use it to develop a deeper understanding of my own mind and the human experience. Any new insight gained will inform my lifestyle.
For me, the veil of mystery has been lifted. In just seven days, I experienced a state of mind free from the physical body and the constant chattering of the ego — using a relatively simple technique anyone can learn. Once again, I’ve glimpsed ultimate truths and a new world of possibilities, but this time a path has been revealed. I’m far from being a permanent resident, but with a new understanding of how meditation works and experience with tangible benefits, I’m now motivated and committed to maintaining a daily practice to get there.
Interested in Attending a Course?
If you’re interested in embarking on your own journey of self-discovery, consider attending the same ten-day Vipassana course I did. They’re offered in hundreds of meditation centers worldwide at no cost, and are all taught by Goenka, quite effectively, through recorded audio and video. He has played a critical role in ensuring the Buddha’s original teachings on meditation reach millions of people across the world, including many of today’s spiritual leaders.
Remember, go in with absolutely no expectations and an open mind. Each individual experience is different. Yours will be uniquely yours.
