Retreat: Day 5

The final day of my Vipassana retreat arrived with mixed emotions. I wanted to head home to my family… and… I wanted to stay and continue to bask in this peace I was profoundly gifted.

We kept to our routine as we greeted the day, although the morning held new anticipations. Before breaking for lunch, we gathered in the sanctuary for our last dharma talk and meditation. Our teacher gave us the opportunity to share our experience with the one we were sharing our pew with. I was sharing mine with a lovely woman from the Ukraine, although her name escapes me, I recall her most lovely smile and presence that allowed me to sit beside her with ease. Before now, we had not made eye contact nor acknowledged one another. It was delightful to finally hug her, knowing she was there as I shed away layers of myself and I had witnessed her undoing as well.

There is a specific way to share experiences with others at the end of a silent retreat. I was familiar with this protocol, which gave me a sense of settling. If you are unfamiliar, to start, one person shares anything they feel moved to share regarding their experience and the other person listens. It’s quite beautiful. No words. No agreements or questions. Just a smile and eye contact, so you can hold the other in compassion. Then the other person shares. This sharing opens oneself up to knowing there will be no judgement or solving of problems.

Voices rose in the sanctuary. It felt foreign and unnatural for the first time to hear the roar of sound. Afterwards, my teacher opened the floor to anyone who would like to share with the group as a whole. Several people came up to the front and shared, and you can bet I did too. But here is where it gets interesting. I thanked those who taught me how to slow down, those I didn’t know, but was able to point them out and hug them with my gaze. I shared how their quiet and deliberate moving was a catalyst to the slowing of my agenda. I expressed that they appeared grounded and solace and that they had a great impact on me, especially two of the younger gentlemen. I noticed one of these gentleman was always in the sanctuary first. He came in early and he sat at the front. He held a meditation seat like a lion. Steady. Solid. I’ll call him Evan.

Evan also stood up to speak. He shared that he was going through the toughest time in his life. His marriage was falling apart. He had us in tears as he told us how deeply grateful he was for this weekend even though he was still finding his way through. My heart was open and tender for Evan and many others who spoke so honestly. I had thought Evan had it all figured out. Perhaps, I wondered, he came to deepen his meditation practice or enjoy the silence. What I learned was that he was broken and figuring it out… much like me. We are the walking wounded, let’s remember. Looks can be deceiving.

We have habits of covering up and putting on masks when we might be struggling. Many pass right by us and we miss them. Beautiful souls with many stories and struggles, joys and fears walking right by us… all the time. In our work place, our community, our homes. It makes you think - how have a missed you all this time?

And I can say that about myself too. How, dear one… how have I neglected you? How have I pushed you down, avoided and dismissed you?

Arriving in silence gives space for healing. Space for love.

I’m so happy to be on the other side. There has been a shift in me. I was able to come back to myself and I can truly say I love myself deeply.

Heading home, I was surprised I didn’t want to talk or listen to music on the three hour drive. Instead I rode in silence, noticing the feelings and sensations in my body and heart. Recalling what transpired - what I chose to leave behind. What I choose to walk into.

I called my husband to let him know… I was headed home.