Speechless

Tuesday, June 25th 2019

Nevada City and Los Angeles, CA

It’s 8am and I am waking up in my tent for the last time. Today I will check out of the Ananda retreat center. I am ready to leave, not in the sense that I need to get away from here, but more like I feel that I got what I came for. As I pack up, I suddenly feel that I should not take the rock from the forest with me. I silently ask what to do and think that I should leave it somewhere in the garden.

I make a lap around the property silently thanking each area where I meditated. When I arrive at the root cellar I decide to place the rock on a small altar in front of Kali, the goddess of decomposition. As I leave the rock, I silently wonder if I have shifted the energy of the garden. 

I end my walk at the dining hall, where I fill up my coffee tumbler. At 8:30 am I go to meet Alley at the Temple of Joy for one final meditation, but someone else is using the space and Alley is not there. Instead, I spend the time journaling. 

At 9am, Alley and I meet for breakfast. We eat in silence and then, afterward, hang around drinking coffee and working on the puzzle until the front office opens. 

At 10am I say my goodbyes, check out, and am on the way back to civilization.

I immediately stop at the first In n Out I see and relish in the joy of meat and cheese. I also grab a Starbucks cappuccino and send a few texts to check-in. 

I arrive at home by 6pm and meet a friend around 8pm. I try to explain my trip, but, all of the sudden I am speechless. I am somehow able to spit out the words “I don’t know what to say” and they kindly respond that I don’t need to talk about it right now. 

As I crawl into bed for the night, I feel slightly stunned, but also have a deep-seated sense of peace and tranquility. I think to myself that I should do this more often. 

Reflection, relaxation

Monday, June 24th 2019

Nevada City, CA

I try to sleep in as late as I can, but still, end up out of bed by 8:30am. I walk to the dining hall to find fresh coffee and tell the kitchen attendant that I love her. I eat a small breakfast of boiled eggs and granola. 

Today has no scheduled activities and most of my retreat group has already left. I plan to reflect on my experience before heading back to the city for work. I spend most of the morning sitting by the small pond near the front of the garden. My chair faces the Temple of Joy and the diffused morning light shining through the overgrown garden is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. Around 10am I start the 3 mile hike around the property. This time I do not miss any turns and have a newfound appreciation for the silence of the forest. 

When I arrived back to the garden Alley is hula hooping and waves me over. We chat for a few minutes and then resolve to meditate together before lunch. I bring her to the root cellar, where we sit quietly for 20 minutes until the lunch bell rings. 

We eat lunch together and then go separate ways for the afternoon. Alley works on a puzzle in the dining hall and I sit in the library reading the Findhorn Garden, a book strongly recommended by Charles, the gardener. 

At 4pm I join a group session of yoga and meditation. Alley and I eat dinner together and then spend the evening drinking tea and working on a puzzle. I am feeling so relaxed and happy and can barely fathom the roller coaster of emotions that I experienced over the last two days. 

When it starts to become dark I walk back to my tent to call it a night. 

Peace, joy

Sunday, June 23rd 2019

Nevada City, CA

It’s 6:30am and I am waking up for my final silent yoga and meditation session. I quickly get dressed and enter the Temple of Silence. The group of 12 has dwindled to just 7 in only 2 days. During the group meditation, I picture myself expanding beyond my body, then beyond the temple, then beyond the garden to eventually encompass the entire universe. I breathe love into every corner of it and feel very relaxed. I ask the universe why there is fear and it answers that there is no fear.

I skip the pancake breakfast and sit in the garden with a large cup of coffee. I feel very calm and peaceful. 

At 9:15am the group gathers in the Temple of Silence. It’s time to break the silence and everyone chants Om three times. Susan invites the group to share experiences and I can not believe how happy I feel to hear other people talk. There are a variety of comments on the whole process including one guy becoming aware of the pain in his body and another woman who can not stop crying; I get her, that was me yesterday. When it’s my turn to speak, I describe my experience as exciting, scary, sad, enraging, calming, and peaceful. Those are all the words I want to say at this point. 

Once the discussion is over there is talk amongst the group about visiting Ananda Village, located just down the hill. I learn that another woman from the group, named Alley, will also be staying 2 extra days and we decide to drive down to the village together. I agree to meet at the dining hall in 30 minutes. 

I go back to my tent to grab my wallet and can not decide if I want to bring water or coffee. I ultimately land on taking my wallet, journal, and coffee mug. I’ve only been here 2 days, but already feel mild anxiety about leaving. 

Another woman from the group, named Cat, joins Alley and me for the ride down the hill. She is from San Francisco and will be taking a cab back into the city. Cat is energetic and immediately wants to be friends, there is talk about forming a Facebook group and attending different festivals together. I am overwhelmed, but ultimately agree that we should all be friends. 

At the village, we spend some time browsing the gift shop. I buy a mala bracelet, which is a series of beads that I count while meditating in order to keep track of time. Soon Cat is off to catch her taxi and Alley and I drive to the rose garden. The village is a lot quieter than I imagined and there are only a few houses on large lots. We see a group of sheep grazing. 

The garden is beautiful. There are roses everywhere and I can tell they have never been pruned. When it’s time to go back, Alley asks if I’ll drive her car and I agree. 

Back at the retreat center, I learn that lunch is not served on Sundays. I make myself a snack of macadamia nuts and beef jerky and am surprised to find my watch and map laying on one of the tables. I reclaim my property and secretly think that I always knew it would find its way back. 

I start my afternoon by staring lovingly at the garden. I walk to a few spots that were identified by Charles, the gardener, as having special power. The first one is a large oak tree, which he called Grandmother. I sit in front of the tree and quiet my thoughts. I wait patiently for an epiphany, but nothing comes. Next, I walk to the only other oak tree located on the property, which the gardener calls Grandfather. I sit quietly for a while, straining to gain wisdom. I begin to think that should become more rooted, like the tree. I am sure that my mind is playing tricks on me, but also can not deny this is good advice.

Around 4:30pm I go to the Temple of Silence. A guy from our group is laying on his yoga mat, but the room is otherwise empty. Around 4:35, Alley joins. It becomes clear that no instructor is coming, however, Alley, who is also a yoga instructor, agrees to walk us through a few poses. At 6pm we move into a group meditation. 

At 6:30pm, dinner is served. Alley and I sit together. We have a long conversation about life at home, I learn that she is a mother and a part-time hula hoop instructor, who lives in Sonoma. We talk about our personal forms of spirituality and different belief systems. Eventually, health and wellness comes up as a core tenant for me and she is very interested. 

We only stop talking when it starts to become dark outside. Neither of us brought flashlights, so it’s time to call it a night. 

As I get ready for bed, I am overwhelmed with feelings of joy and am grateful that I stayed for the full term of silence. 

Crying, calm

Saturday, June 22nd 2019

Nevada City, CA

It’s 6:30am and I am waking up for yoga and meditation. I quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I arrive for class at 6:55am and they have already started. I feel irrationally angry that class started ahead of schedule. The instructor seems unsure of herself and the yoga poses are disjointed. As the class moves into shavasana I feel a strong tickling sensation in the back of my throat; I feel as though I’ll start coughing uncontrollably. I breathe in small sips of air followed by long, slow exhales. Eventually, the tickling stops as I move into meditation. 

As I leave class I feel a large build-up of postnasal drip. I cough some of it up and am immediately nauseous. I skip breakfast in favor of a large cup of coffee. Sitting outside next to the bird feeder, I begin to think that my allergies are really kicking in and that I should leave early. I devise a plan to leave after lunch, get an AirBnb near the coast, and continue meditation on my own. I run through the conversation with the front office in my head and even decide to donate the cost of my remaining lodging and food back to Ananda. I just want to get out of this place. 

Around 9:15am the group gathers in the dining room for a talk from the gardener. His name is Charles and from his introduction, I quickly deduce that he is over 75 years old. He has been with Ananda since his 20s and is incredibly charismatic. He tells stories of his spiritual journey and I hang on every word. He speaks about letting go of anger from this life and past lives. He says that people are too hung up on the “why” of their anger. He asks, if you had a hot rock in your hand, would you ask "why" it’s there or would you just drop it? He says that anger is like a hot rock. He also talks about how the world is full of fear and anger and this is just part of our evolution. 

As Charles leads us around the garden he pauses to tell stories about certain trees and statues. His stories are interspersed with mysticism and a well-articulated worldview. I am fighting back tears throughout his entire talk. Something about this morning has made me very emotional and, subsequently, completely embarrassed. I can only take solace in the fact that no one will ask me to talk about it. 

By the end of Charles’s talk, I am fully crying and can not stop. He leaves the group with a bit of advice to learn to filter, not block, situations that are hard to handle. He looks at me as he says this. 

As soon as the talk is over, I walk to a small root cellar that is dedicated for meditation. I grab a handful of kleenex and a meditation pillow. The room is dark and the air is cool. It smells like dirt. I step through each breathing exercise. I am crying hard, but am still able to control my breath enough to eventually get into meditation. I ponder the idea that I have a metaphorical hot rock in my hand and work on dropping it. I ask myself the root of my anger and listen quietly for an answer. Eventually, it comes. 

After meditation, I splash cold water on my face, cover-up in sunscreen, and leave for a hike. This time I decide to hike the entire loop around the property, which is 3 miles. I no longer have a map or watch, but start down the path, nonetheless. The forest is very quiet and I am enjoying the movement of walking and the use of my muscles. I am no longer actively crying but am still occasionally tearing up. My thoughts are slowing down. At one point I pass a Y-shaped intersection and think that may be the path back to camp, but continue onwards. Later I see a white rock glistening on the road and pick it up. As an afterthought, I silently ask the forest if it's okay to carry the rock and I feel that the forest is okay with it. As I hold the rock in my hand, I think of those who have died in my life. I wish that I had been more empathetic during those times and resolve to adopt a new perspective. 

As I continue to walk, I am starting to feel as though I may have gone too far. Eventually, I hit the end of the road and realize that I should have turned at the fork. I am strangely not upset, though have mild anxiety that I am running short on water.  The sun is incredibly hot and, after what seems like forever, I am finally approaching the main property with an empty water bottle. I immediately fill up and then head back to the bathhouse. I take a cold shower and feel completely renewed. 

Next, I go back to the dining hall and pour myself a small cup of milk and take a few handfuls of macadamia nuts. I have missed lunch by nearly 3 hours. Next, I pour a cup of coffee and go to my usual chair. I am surprised to see a dead rat laying next to it. It appears that Pasha, the resident cat, has brought me a present. I find somewhere new to sit and spend the rest of the afternoon journaling and staring at plants. I am finally feeling calm and relaxed. 

At 4:30pm I rejoin the group for evening yoga and meditation. There is a new yoga teacher, who is incredible. At the end of class, he conducts a sound bath and then a guided meditation. During the meditation, he asks the group to picture ourselves sending a gift to mother earth and then imagine what she sends back, however, in my vision she sends nothing. As I fall into meditation, I picture myself in a waiting room. I am a ball of light that is expanding and contracting. Eventually, I expand my own light enough to break through the walls of the waiting room. Behind the wall are endless rows of hospital beds, filled with suffering bodies. I start to send light to one at a time, but they are endless. I begin to expand again and light eventually encompasses all of the space. 

The dinner bell rings at 6:30pm and I am starving. I follow the group to the dining hall and eat vegetable curry with rice. This is not filling, however, so I supplement with beef jerky and more macadamia nuts.

After dinner, the group gathers in the Temple of Silence for a class on chanting. I am excited, but quickly learn that “chanting” is really just singing hymns. Susan explains that it’s okay to break our silence because the sounds are intentional. I don’t like the class but participate anyway. 

Afterward I walk to the bathhouse for a long, hot shower and then crawl into my tent for some much-needed sleep. What a day. 

Sadness, anger

Friday, June 21st 2019

Nevada City, CA

It’s 6:15am and I am already awake. My alarm starts chiming at 6:30am and I immediately change into yoga clothes and walk to the bathhouse to brush my teeth and wash my face. Next, I walk to the dining hall in hopes of finding hot coffee, but I am disappointed. Instead, I find some lukewarm water in a thermos from the previous night, which I mix with instant coffee. It’s not good, but I sip it out of habit. 

At 7am I enter the Temple of Silence for an hour and a half of yoga and meditation. 

At 8:30am the group gathers for breakfast. I eat 2 boiled eggs and supplement with some beef jerky that I brought from home. The coffee is finally ready and I fill my coffee tumbler to the brim. I sit in the beautiful garden, sipping piping hot coffee and feel extremely happy. 

At 9:15am I head back into the Temple of Silence for a class on meditation. Susan explains some techniques for getting into meditation and then coaches each of us on how to sit. The trick is that you need to be completely relaxed while keeping your spine straight. I learn that meditation pillows easily allow for this position and my mind is blown. I think of all the time that I've spent sitting on the hardwood floor in my living room. No wonder I couldn’t relax. 

After class, I find a place to sit in the garden and am immediately moved by its beauty. The garden is a mix of plants and flowers with seemingly no order and definitely no pruning. The plants grow into each other in a way that feels like they are all part of the same family. I watch birds gather at a bird feeder and the leaves of various plants move subtlety with the wind. An older man comes out to add food to the bird feeder and I start to tear up. I feel moved by his kindness and am immediately embarrassed by my strong emotions. 

As I stare into the distance my mind is alternates between parts of songs from the car ride up and observations about being silent. 

Some observations include: (1) I have a strong desire to say hi to everyone that walks by. (2) I realize that I rehearse conversations in my head before they happen. (3) Being here is like being a cat, since I just sit in different places and watch birds. (4) Being here is also kind of like being in an airport because I’ve stopped acknowledging the people around me. 

Time is moving slowly. Eventually, the bell rings for the 12noon group meditation. 

I return to the Temple of Silence and meditation begins with Susan saying grace and then playing a few chords on her accordion. Once I am comfortable, I start with 4 count breathing, as previously instructed. Inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, exhale for 4 seconds. This is meant to relax the body. Once I am fully relaxed I move into normal breathing and chanting Hong (inhale) Saw (exhale) in my head. Hong Saw, according to the Ananda tradition, is the sound of the breath of the universe. I imagine the energy in my third eye and move my perspective from a person who is causing the breath to a person who is observing the breath. This is meant to relax the mind. Finally, I move into full meditation by visualizing my energy dropping from my head down into my stomach. I am completely relaxed, silent, and still. 

At 12:30 the bell for lunch rings, ending meditation. Lunch is salad and vegetables, which I slowly eat outside. Afterward, the group is asked to participate in something called karma yoga, which is essentially doing service for others. I am not into this idea, but give it a shot and end up washing dishes for the next 45 minutes. 

Around 2pm I leave for an afternoon hike. It’s pretty hot outside, but I forge ahead. The path is beautiful and it feels good to be moving. I plan to walk roughly half a mile to a small lookout point, just outside of camp. I make a few wrong turns, but quickly find my way back to the main path. When I finally arrive, there is another person sitting at the small lookout point. She smiles and says “hi”. I whisper “hi” back. Oh well, I turn around and start the hike back to camp. At one point I realize that I dropped my watch and map (which were previously attached to my water bottle). I retrace my steps, even the wrong turns, but are unable to find them. I try to accept that I will not have a watch for the remainder of the retreat, but I also feel annoyed. 

When I get back, I pour another cup of coffee and sit in the garden to spend some more time with the plants and birds. I try to spend some time thinking about my career and dating life but just can’t get into that line of thought. They all of the sudden feel so small and far away. I am feeling increasingly emotional and continuing to tear up over little things like flowers, cats, and hot coffee.

At 4:30pm the group gathers at the Temple of Silence for evening yoga and meditation. Dinner is served at 6pm and then everyone gathers back in the temple at 7:15 for a Satsang, which is an Ananda tradition, where students ask questions to masters. Anandi leads the session. After each question, she pauses for an annoyingly long time. One person asks if she has ever experienced anything metaphysical and she cryptically says that she is not supposed to talk about that. I hate this answer. Another person asks about Kryia yoga and she says that I have to complete a year-long, paid course to find out about that. I also hate this answer. 

Once the Satsang is over, my annoyance has officially transformed into anger. I quickly get ready for bed and then toss and turn for what feels like hours. At one point, car lights shine directly into my tent while I hear another resident setting up camp annoyingly close to my tent. Eventually, I drift to sleep. 

Excitement, fear

Thursday, June 20th 2019

It’s 7:30am PST and I have overslept by 45 minutes. I jump out of bed, make coffee, and quickly get ready to leave. By 8am I are on the road, just one hour behind schedule. 

Today I am driving to the Ananda retreat center, just outside of Nevada City, CA. The GPS estimates a 7.5-hour drive, but I know it will take longer. As I drive out of Los Angeles, the mountain pass is covered in fog. It’s surreal and the drive is beautiful until I hit the end of the mountain pass and the sun fully emerges. I crank the AC to full blast but only succeed in cooling off my face and one arm. As a headache starts to solidify, I think, “This will be a long drive”. 

Earlier this year I signed up for a 4 day, silent retreat. I have just turned 38 and am officially calling a time-out to reevaluate my life. My thoughts immediately turn to my relationship. It’s only been two months, but I am starting to worry that he’s not as sincere as he initially seemed. I would like to use this time in silence to gain clarity on current and past relationships. 

Around noon I pull over for gas and lunch at Taco Bell. Later, closer to Nevada City, I make an emergency stop for tampons. Perfect. Eventually, I have to switch from GPS to handwritten directions, as I am getting so far out of town that I have lost cell service. The road to the retreat is rough and narrow. I begin to worry that I went too far and start to panic. This place is really in the middle of nowhere. 

Eventually, I arrive and park next to a small cabin, which is labeled “office”. I am greeted by a nice woman named Susan. She whispers “hello” and I whisper “hello” back. Susan shows me a map of the property and then gives a quick tour. She points out the dining hall, bathrooms, and my tent for the next 4 days. After providing a printed schedule, she whispers that dinner is at 6:30pm and then leaves me alone.   

I feel excited and spend some time organizing the tent and killing the random bugs that followed me in. I feel bad for killing bugs in such a spiritual place and whisper “sorry” to each bug. My tent came with a sleeping pad and some bedding, which is surprisingly comfortable. Once everything is in order, I sit quietly for a few minutes in anticipation of what the next few days may bring. My head is still pounding, but my spirits are high.

The dinner bell rings at 6:30pm sharp. I walk to the dining hall and see a small group of people lingering in front of a buffet of food. Someone from the kitchen comes out and explains that dinner is not silent and that the group will sing a blessing before eating. They pass out small cards with lyrics and then everyone sings together.  

Dinner is a potato bar with either a white potato or sweet potato. I am not happy about all the carbs, but knew this retreat would be vegetarian, so at least I was mentally prepared. I fill my plate and then look around for a place to sit. To no one, in particular, I announce that I will eat outside. Soon 2 women join me. They are sisters who traveled from Las Vegas. They laugh when I introduce myself, it turns out they have a 3rd sister back home with my same name.

After dinner, the group walks to the “Temple of Silence” for orientation. I giggle at the name, but also kind of love it. This is definitely the beginning of a great story. 

Susan and Anandi lead the group in introductions and a discussion about the benefits of meditation. Each member talks about his or her reasons for meditating. They range from battling an idiopathic itching condition to connecting with a higher power. I, personally, want to know my true self and am feeling only slightly narcissistic by my motivation.

At the end of the class, the group starts silence by chanting “Om” three times. It has officially begun. 

It’s 8:30pm now and I walk to the shower house. The shower is in a private room and there is no one in line. I think that I am happy with the accommodations so far as I quickly complete my bedtime routine and walk back to the tent. 

As I lay down, the sky quickly darkens, and the temperature drops. I am laying on my back, but feel like I am being rocked on a boat. I wonder if this is some sort of lingering motion sickness from the 8 hours that I spent on the road earlier today. 

In anticipation of something profound, I lie still and focus on the peacefulness of the forest. However, the longer I lie here, the more anxiety I begin to feel. I am not tired and, as my mind drifts, I imagine dark creatures floating a few feet over the ground. My mind then drifts to thoughts of death and I imagine knives flying through the air, close to the dark creatures which are now moving quickly as they skim the surface of the ground. I feel fear and panic. There is nowhere to go, however, so I remain still and breathe slowly through each minute. 

My head still aches and, at one point, the pain moves to the center of my forehead and turns into a feeling of pressure. I attempt to remain still and hope this is my headache subsiding, but eventually, the pressure becomes so distinct that I have to feel my forehead with my hand to make sure that nothing is there. The pressure passes and my headache returns.

Eventually, I drift into an uncomfortable sleep. This is not what I expected.