The Aftermath of My First Retreat

Despite the fact that I had never meditated in my life, I went on a 10-day Vipassana Meditation Retreat. For 10 days, I accepted a vow of complete silence: No talking with others, nor any silent communication by gesture or eye contact. Further, no cell phones, computers, TV, radios, music, no alcohol, no reading or writing. NOTHING. No input, no output. Except 100 hours of meditation.

Here follows the story of my experience: Part 7, as published in The Noise.  Previous entries are posted at tendaysofhell.blogspot.com. 

The most glorious and enjoyable part of my Vipassana meditation experience was not the retreat itself, but instead, everything that happened after those grueling ten days of silence.  Once I left the retreat center and entered the “real world,” something beautiful began to unveil itself slowly over hours, then days, and finally weeks and months.  If you recall, my first column back in July described how I almost had a head-on car collision driving away from the retreat center.  I return to that moment now.

After what should have been a terrifying and shock-inducing near-death moment, I am smiling peacefully and living only in the moment.  I drive into Fresno and stop at a restaurant called The Breakfast House.  But the “real world” is nothing like I remember it:  it is peaceful and surreal.   I walk slowly and feel as if my feet do not touch the ground.  A silly grin of serene satisfaction is upon my face.  The Breakfast House happens to be a Jesus-themed restaurant wonderland, complete with Jesus murals and quotes from the bible painted on the walls and in little frames next to each table.  Harp music fills the very clean space, which is colored by glowy orange pastel and gaudy in its love of Christianity.  I feel like I am in the classic fantasy of heaven you see in the movies: the ground is made of soft clouds, and everyone is speaking in whispers and wearing glowing white robes, smiling.  I expect Morgan Freeman to be my server.

During the last few days of the retreat, among the many comfort items I fantasized about, an omelet was at the top of the list.  Oh, how glorious it would be!  How it would be a scrumptious return to all that I loved and missed in my life.  But no.  The eggs were indeed delicious, however, this breakfast did not fill some burning desire in me.  I had shed that desperation.  I ate half the omelet and moved on.  My sense of peace and happiness did not rise or fall.

After the nine-hour drive home, I arrive back to Flagstaff in the evening and should be tired.  After vacations and trips, I always return home, throw everything down on the living room floor and collapse before I begin unpacking.  Sometimes I don’t unpack for days, and continue living out of my luggage.  This time, though, I am full of energy.  I take the kids to the grocery store, unpack completely, put everything away in its rightful place, do some laundry, clean the house and get my things back in order in a few short hours. 

For the next few months, I am in a new world.  Conversations with friends are revelations.  I tell my story with excitement and passion.  I listen to my children – carefully.  I slow down and quit running full speed like a crazed animal.  Instead, I glide.  Life is here and now, I choose to enjoy it.  My mind is changed about the once-difficult burdens of single fatherhood, work and responsibility.  Absent of this weight, I begin to have some real fun.  Within a month, I have a girlfriend (a minor miracle in my world) and travel to L.A. to see two concerts in two nights (plans that would, in the past, have been derailed by my worries about money, family and work).  At the concerts, I dance with abandon like no one’s watching. 

The most stunning part of my new attitude is my response to struggle.  Upon my return, my financial situation unraveled.  Within two short weeks, I faced insurmountable bills for unforeseen car repair, dentistry and medical.  But none of this shook me.  I remained calm, happy and acutely aware that my attitude and perspective color the world in which I live.  And of course, I survived these problems.  The difference between the old me and new me was that, instead of suffering through it, I survived happily.

Next month: what happens when I go back.

~~~~~

Follow up notes to this entry:

1. As usual, there is not enough space in a 750-word column to truly describe my experiences upon coming home from my first ten day retreat.  What did I exclude?
1. Sleep.  I didn't need sleep like I used to.  When the mind is calm and unfettered with stress, worry and day-to-day madness, there isn't the same need to rest.  I could sleep a few hours and feel energized the next day, all day.  
2. Work.  I'm the boss at my job.  So I set my own schedule, and I determine my own workload for the most part.  Upon my return, I began to cut back and find ways to make work a lesser part of my life.  This was necessary to make more room in my life for family and for my health.  In turn, I found that I was more productive when I was at work.
3. Confidence.  I had a new level of appreciation for myself and my ability to be happy and successful.  This confidence led to many other gifts.  It's highly probable that my newfound self-confidence directly impacted my ability to attract a girlfriend.
4. Letting Things Roll.  I've always been the kind of person who isn't easily offended and rolls with the punches.  But, after this retreat, this trait was raised to another level.  Whereas before I *could* get offended or take something personally, it simply was not possible anymore.
2. This was not forever.  These changes in me did not last.  If I had meditated daily after the retreat (I did not - I tried, but didn't meditate for more than a couple of days afterward), perhaps things could have been different.  After four months, the effects of the retreat had mostly buzzed down and my emotions began to take hold of me again.  My son landed in the hospital over New Year's Eve (2010 became 2011), and I was again overcome with stress and struggle.  Even going back on retreat in March 2011 didn't help (which is the next story in this blog).  I can say honestly that 2011 was a pretty awful year for me.  Thankfully, I ended the year with third retreat that helped me find a new level of calm.