You don’t need to change any part of you, or anything about yourself. You are whole, just as you are. Yoga and meditation practice are not about trying to change anything about you. Not anything. You are whole, you are complete. You are enough. This moment.

I have just returned home from a home away from home – silent meditation retreat.

I have written about a previous silent retreat I attended in 2016, which was a bit of a hairy and unusual one because of drastic weather events and complications in actually going home.

I have attended a fair number of silent meditation retreats over about 14 years. The pandemic lockdown years were an exception to silent retreating. During that time, I joined a 5 day silent retreat which was held online – I was unsure about this at first, but it was really wonderful, and based on the MSC (mindful self compassion) teachings of Kristen Neff, and I loved it. I also took myself on a solo retreat once we were allowed to travel again, and that was a little bit prior to groups being allowed to gather in-person, and that was also wonderful and quite different.

My recent retreat was a 3 night/ 4 day retreat, held at Maitripa retreat centre, north of Healesville. A place where I can connect with my inner-self, come back to my home within myself.

The grounded-ness of being at a place that feels like home, and with a teacher who I know and respect and am continually inspired by, is something special.

On retreat, there are new people, some who may have meditated before, some maybe not, some who may have attended silent retreats before, and some maybe not, some who are good and happy with the silence and some maybe not.

There are new emotions, new thoughts, and there are the emotions and thoughts that keep coming back and coming back over weeks and months and decades. And, let’s face it, when you’re stuck in hard, challenging thoughts and emotions, it can feel kind like never-ending.

There are different pains and struggles and aches and worries, and there are those uncomfortable things that seem to return.  Perhaps with a little different perspective. Perhaps a lot.

There are different situations happening in the world that are on our minds and in our hearts. And there are the questions such as “why do humans keep on inflicting suffering on each other?” that seem to continue on.

Tuning into nature, becomes therapeutic. Nature, which is a constant AND is continually changing.

While I ate my breakfast sitting on a couch in the living-room by the window, I heard the loud sound of birds chirping and chatting, and saw a flash of orange and green in the trees (camellia tree I think, a big massive one, with some buds just getting ready to bloom once summer weather cools) – and then I saw them up close! Just on the other side of the pane of glass. Several parrots with green seeds that they must have plucked from the tree, sitting in their beaks for them to munch on. They were eating brekky too, ha!

I was fascinated watching them, up close, as they hopped from branch to branch, exclaiming loudly, talking to each other in their bird language, looking joyful!  

I wandered through the gardens remembering where the flowers would again be blooming soon, once the heat of summer eventually died down, and admiring the flowers who were currently blooming in small places in the cool of shade.

I met several spiders and gave them their space.

I rescued a cricket from the women’s bathroom and carried him safely out to the garden.

I felt my feet on the earth, stepping, over and over, telling me this moment, this moment, this moment. I am here.

After the first day I realized I hadn’t looked at social media AT ALL. Yay me!

Next thought was – oh, hold on, I will just check my facebook and Instagram briefly, “just in case”…but the internet-gods didn’t agree, and there wasn’t enough signal, so within a minute I gave it up anyway, and put my phone back on flight mode, and away into the drawer.

I fell into the rhythm.

I would shower around 6am. I would hear the wake up bell at 6.30am. Morning silent meditation at 7am in the meditation hall in our circle. Yoga asana guided by our teacher at 7.30am. Breakfast at 9am. I would check the helping-roster after breakfast to remember when I was on dishwasher/kitchen duty. Brush my teeth and wander the garden, slowly. Back into meditation circle at 11.30am; meditation, yoga nidra, walking meditation, seated meditation. Lunch at 1pm. Another space of wandering the garden, writing in my journal, sitting in the shade, or resting. Back into meditation circle at 3.30pm for an hour; seated meditation, walking meditation, seated meditation. A short break. Back into meditation circle at 5pm for an inquiry and journaling questions (here was where we could speak if we had a burning question). Dinner at 6pm. Last meditation circle of the day at 7.30pm for silent meditation, and then chanting/kirtan until around 9pm. Afterwards, I would gaze up into the sky, the stars, and then time for sleep.

I was sitting under a big wide tree, in the shade, as I wrote in my journal that last day. A spot where I had returned each time to do the walking meditation. Being very hot temperatures each day, around 38 degrees each day (who knew exactly as my weather app wasn’t updating on account of the lack of phone signal!), each of us had found a separate shady spot, as the usual courtyard place for walking meditation was in the full sun and too hot.

I had made friends with the tiny yellow daisies in the grass just there. One tiny yellow flower was different to the others. I noticed how shiny it was, just 5 petals, so delicate, and by itself.

The rhythm of meditation with others, walking by myself, eating delicious vegetarian meals with others in silence, writing in my journal alone. Alone and together, separate and with others. The rhythm of my breath, expanding, contracting. The cool mornings, the heat in the afternoons. Waiting for a little bit of breeze through the trees. Watching ants scuttle across the concrete and to find a cooler spot in the garden beds. Writing and listening, and writing and closing my eyes to feel in my body.

I wrote about the sky. About being-ness. About grief.

I found a balance that I haven’t felt before. This was a new way of feeling balance.

I was in awe of the people who I knew (thanks to the first dinner conversation, where we are allowed to talk and meet each other) were attending their very first silent retreat – they were truly awesome; showing up to each and every scheduled session and on time, the slowness of the way they moved, the respect they showed to their fellow silent humans. They were in rhythm too. They were each dealing with their own thoughts and emotions and aches and pains and challenges. In the silence and in the space.

Here’s a poem that was shared to me during the retreat; it’s by David Whyte.

Enough.

These few words are enough.

If not these words, this breath.

If not this breath, this sitting here.

This opening to the life we have refused again and again until now.

Until now.

A few snippets from my journal:

Well. That was beautiful. The simplicity of sitting meditation, walking meditation, and sitting meditation, 1, 2, 3. One of my billions of thoughts while sitting was “I can’t wait to grab a wet paper towel from the bathroom and clean my feet”, like I did last night before bed, because I did the walking meditation barefoot on the grass, and also because – self care. It feels nice to wash one’s feet. Next thought “women in Gaza don’t have the luxury of even washing their feet” and probably not even clean water to drink. Oh! In the middle of the last sitting meditation I saw the word “love” in front of me and then sent love outwards to all the people who need it right now. I keep thinking and praying – can’t people stop killing? Can’t they realise and just stop? I pray for them.

Everyone found a shady spot to do walking meditation. I went under the tree in between the red kitchen at the back and near the courtyard. I had to move some sticks into little piles. And there were a few bees going for their favourite flowers that I paused to watch (and not step too close to). I stood and watched one bee closely, the way he moved the tiny petals, one by one, then after a few moments went in search of the next flower – the white/yellow daisies were not to his liking. He only likes the little white puff flowers, they have tiny thin upwards petals.

Just BEING in the QUIET of the morning, in the circle. We finished at 7.30am with chanting the Gayatri mantra. Then a short break before Yoga, which we went outside for. We were standing in a circle on the grass (I kept my socks on and ended up with bits of prickly grass stuck in them, oh well, funny). The sun was not yet above the trees up on the ridge, but the sky already light, and I loved it so much. A group of green-orange parrots were nearby and went from the ground, to the trees, and then off somewhere else. Two kites flew way up overhead. Or at least I think they were kites as they were big with a giant wing-span. We did slow Surya Namaskar. And then back in the hall with the chants which I loved! The rhythm!

….there’s been a slowing down of everyone it seems. What a beautiful and dedicated and respectful and quiet group of humans. I feel lucky to be here. Even in this heat, which is actually not too bad for me. It helps me slow down even more.

Oh my goodness I’ve just loaded and unstacked the giant dishwasher 20 times or more and it was HOT in there! Seeing as x left (on the first day so not sure what happened) it was just me supposed to be on dishwasher duty, so I just made a start right after lunch, started at 1.30pm. Thank the heavens that M came in to help me, because otherwise I would still be in there, and sweating! She also filled the water things, wiped all the benches, and swept the floors. Angel. When I did dishwasher duty last night it was way faster and easier. Just extra dishes due to the type of meal. Lunch was awesome. It is HOT. I remember my first retreat here which was also very hot and that one was packed to the rafters; there was even a woman camping in her caravan in the carpark. I’m sitting outside on the seat I placed here again. Because I get a tiny breeze here, and I’m in the shade. It’s quiet. I just wanted to sit in quiet, just me. (before the next session at 3pm)  “What is here, now?”

Man, what I would give for a strawberry freddo right now. Or a couple of those mini cherry ripes.

I was just thinking again – butterflies the size of birds and birds the size of butterflies, when a butterfly came and sat in front of me, on the grass! She paused, and turned a little, with wings out so I could see the intricate patterns, including the camouflage eyes on her wings. So very beautiful.

Did I mention how I stood by the garden bed by the old toolshed and watched a very tiny bird fly down from the branches of a tree, to the flowers (all those colourful ones close together) and then hover using the amazingness of her wings at lightspeed, to have her beak in the flowers? It was like something I’ve seen in gorgeous photos before….and now witnessed with my own two eyes, right in front of me, just that moment, by chance.

Obviously this is the best place on earth to do morning pages and write and write and write. There is so much aliveness and beauty and being-ness.

I’m no flower expert but I saw ANOTHER tiny yellow daisy-type flower in the grass over past the other meditation hall and slightly downhill as I walked towards the lone red-berry tree in the middle. The glossiness and shininess of the curved petals. And just 5 petals.

I wasn’t first in the bathroom today as there was someone in the shower I usually pick. The other one has even worse water pressure and even more fiddly (especially when half asleep at 6am) to not be burned by the water, or frozen. But it was nice. I am awake. I was out and wrapping my hair in my towel as I heard the wake-up bell.

Today is my last day! Exclamation. Because I’m both ready to go home and would like to stay at the same time. Opposites. Holding duality until it becomes non-duality (one). The constant rhythms that have developed. The early silent sitting. Then Gayatri mantra. Then yoga asana. Then brekky. Right down to the rhythm of what I take with me. My glasses and a drinkbottle. And if it’s walking meditation, my hat and sunnies. My shawl, the soft pink one that K gave me as a gift a few years ago. So soft.

About to go into the meditation hall for the 7am silent seated meditation…..