No one pressured me to go to my first 10-day vipassana course. In fact, the people closest to me tried to persuade me not to go. After reading William Hart’s “The Art of Living: Vipassana Meditation as taught by S.N. Goenka” and listening to some interviews about the practice, I quietly planned as I waited for years for my kids to become old enough for me to reasonably leave my family for an extended absolute absence. When I told family and friends about my plan to go completely off the grid for ten days around my 40th birthday, they thought I had lost my mind.
During that first course, there were endless stretches of drudgery, and while I feared I might be wasting my time, there was no one to blame but myself. I put myself in that position and there was no way I could tap out early after moving mountains to be there. When the course ended, I felt that I absorbed a lot during the evening discourses and gained something from sticking it out, but I didn’t think I was any good at the practice. I had no plans to return for another course. One and done.
But when I returned home, I experienced a level of peace I had never before experienced. The bliss proved to be ephemeral, but I was inspired to continue participating in courses and became involved with my closest Vipassana center by joining committees and taking on remote tasks. I wrote articles about my experiences, mentioned the practice in presentations to large groups at work, and talked about it with my friends and family.
At home, my wife disliked everything about my practice. The time spent away from our family. The lack of anything tangible to show from my “work.” She couldn’t understand it and I couldn’t properly explain it. In a speech, Mr. Goenka said, “The best way to encourage people to come to this path is to give them a good example. Let them see that here is somebody on the path of Vipassana, living so peacefully, with love, compassion and goodwill for others.” As far as I knew, my example hadn’t successfully encouraged anyone to take a course. But still, I kept sitting.
One day, after I had been practicing for five years, my wife looked at me and said, out of the blue, “I’m going to take a Vipassana course.” I was floored. She could have told me that she was going to change careers and become an astronaut, and I probably wouldn’t have been more surprised. I hadn’t convinced her to go. She wanted to challenge herself to take the course after turning forty like I did and see for herself what it’s all about. During our last conversation before turning in her phone, she was anxious about the center and what awaited her, and just before hanging up told me, “Just so you know, I don’t plan on ever meditating again once this is over.” It seemed like a less-than-ideal attitude.
She loved the course. While her bliss also wasn’t permanent, she did, in fact, meditate again after course completion. She continues to go to courses, and I believe that her life has been permanently changed for the better. Observing my wife’s growth has been just as important to me as my own personal practice. Observing how much she has gained has motivated me to be more direct with my friends and family by inviting them to join me when I sign up for courses but, three years later, no one else has taken me up on my offer. That’s ok, though because deep down I know that my own continued practice is what will eventually inspire others to join.
By committing to attend regular retreats, I temporarily leave my regular life and learn that the world continues in my absence. I need several days just for the mental chatter to calm down so I can get to work. Because of the substantial time allotment, I become so exhausted with the thoughts of the past and the future that I have no choice but to end up in the reality of the present moment from time to time. And those moments are precious. I observe my thought patterns and reactions to those thought patterns time and time again without distractions. I learn repeatedly that I don’t need to try so hard to avoid my difficulties and discomforts, because they eventually pass away. Indeed, they will pass away more easily when I don’t try to control them, because in reality, I can’t control them anyway.
At times, the meditation marathons and extended time spent completely removed from my regular life have felt grueling, like I’m on a primal survivalist show, lonely and disconnected from my world. At other times, I have felt like I have discovered Shangri-La, a peaceful place totally removed from modern society where I am provided just enough to grow.
Finding this practice and these Vipassana centers has been a tremendous gift, and that’s why I continue to nudge my friends and family, “Go see for yourself.”