Over the past ten years, I have attended eight 10-day Vipassana meditation retreats. Vipassana means to see things as they really are. One of the requirements for participants in the retreat is to remain in Noble Silence until the ninth day, when you are allowed to engage in what the teacher likes to call “Noble Chattering.”

I didn’t realize until I got here how rigid I had become due to this habit of fixation. Now I’m forced to ask: what other habits am I carrying around? How much of my daily life is spent habitually, in ways that aren’t helpful, and perhaps haven’t been for many years?

I have realized that some of the most profound revelations in my life arose from observation of others’ actions rather than their eloquent dialogue or prose. There is just a different quality to the experience.

Recently, I was invited to a friend’s for lunch to meet her new granddaughter. When I arrived, eight-week-old Baby Maya was sound asleep, lying sprawled on Grammy Barb’s chest, heart to heart. Dressed in a pink and white striped top, black pants with flowers of all colors gaily spread across them. White anklets on her little feet. 

Recently, there was a thought-provoking interview with Matthieu Ricard, the French writer and Buddhist monk, on Krista Tippet’s radio show, On Being.  A wonderful and wise teacher, he offered this reminder:

This past March I went to a week-long silent retreat at a buddhist monastery in the wooded hills of West Virginia (yes, West Virginia). It is a beautiful, simple place. No talking unless absolutely necessary. Up at 5am for the first sit at 6. No food after noon.

My journal may have saved my life. As a 22-year-old in my first job after college, living in an unfamiliar city, I found myself feeling trapped in circumstances that seemed devoid of meaning and human connection. My future life looked bleak, and I began thinking about ending it.