Have you ever been curious about those weirdos who pay good money to be silent for extended periods of time? What happens at these retreat places? If you’re the least bit curious, please come along on my recent 4 day silent yoga retreat in New Hampshire!
I drove up on Thursday afternoon and arrived late afternoon to a most magnificent old farm house, far off the beaten path, set high up on a hill surrounded by trees and green pastures.
After getting a tour of the farmhouse, I found it difficult to choose my room. Each was so lovely! I finally settled on a first floor room with direct access to the porch, unknowingly the place I would spend a large portion of my time.
The aroma from the kitchen was beyond description and every meal I had the pleasure of consuming outdid the previous one; all were plant based and the most delicious I’ve ever tasted.
We were directed to choose a cloth napkin and napkin ring of our liking which were to be ours for the weekend. We placed them on the sunny windowsill between meals, making sure they didn’t overlap. We also labeled our glasses and coffee mugs. There were no paper products of any kind (except for TP). A basket of colorful and eclectic cloth hand towels had been placed in the bathroom for our use as well.
At dinner that night we chose our seva jobs. I was a newbie and slow to the draw, so I ended up with the task of timekeeper. The only clock in the joint was in the practice room and since I had turned my phone off for the weekend, there was initial stress in taking care to ring the bell 5 minutes prior to every meal and yoga practice. I’d beeline it to the room for a time check and then back again to grab the bell, walking room to room, floor to floor, as well as the barn and outdoors for the one who chose to sleep in a tent. It was most peculiar that I quickly developed a great sense of time and truly enjoyed serving in this way. Pro tip: next time bring a wristwatch.
After dinner and our first yin practice, we unofficially took a vow of noble silence for the next 2 days, speaking only out of necessity. I.e. There’s a skunk out back; a fire in the kitchen; a booger hanging out of your nose.
At first it was hard not being able to talk, connect, share, and ask questions, but in that silence there was incredible self reflection. I got curious about why I wanted to talk and I was humbled to realize it was my need to tell people about ME: my accomplishments, knowledge, and way of life. Hello ego! I also realized I was making assumptions about other participants based on behaviors and choices that were different from my own.
I took to eating my meals on the porch in a rocking chair, a small wooden stool beneath my feet. Just beyond my toes the bees buzzed and hummingbirds flitted among the glorious plants and flowers as the surrounding mountains stood proud in the distance, wearing brilliant white whipped cream turrets.
Eating became a slow and deliberate joy, lasting for a solid 45 minutes. Often there were others on the porch at one of the two tables or in other rocking chairs. A few chose to eat at the kitchen table inside. No one spoke, no one read, no one did anything but chew.
In the spaces between meals and practices, I read a little and wrote a lot! I walked, swam and swung in a hammock. It was encouraged that we not fill every moment, but rather make time to do nothing.
We broke silence on Sunday morning and it was a perfect ending. Ironically, the young woman I had judged the most ended up being the one who helped me process, heal and release an early childhood memory that still haunted me all these years later. An angel, truly.
I am blessed.