This too shall pass—I know the truth of this adage, but only recently did I really know know it.
On Saturday, I re-emerged from ten days of silent meditation, having completed my first Vipassana course. What I found most profound about the experience is how it brings about an embodied sense of impermanence or annica. Circumstances, feelings, and sensations are constantly arising and passing—always changing. From just one moment of really observing this in my body, comes all sorts of possibilities.
For those not familiar, Vipassana means to observe things as they actually are, not just as they appear to be. As the culmination of the teaching of the Buddha, the technique offers a practical way to come out of suffering.
Vipassana is learned by attending a ten-day course with no talking, devices, books, or writing, so the reality within can be observed. Ten days! It was daunting, and as I arrived at the residence for orientation, I wondered how I was going to get through the next week and a bit. But later, having supper with 99 other equally nervous and excited students, I realised we are always getting through ten days, and then another ten days. If that’s so, then it doesn’t have to be daunting—we can take delight in the fact our lives are still unfolding in string of moments that become days, that become ten days, and so on and hopefully on!
Each day followed a timetable that included being roused at 4am and meditating for around ten hours. The meditation was interspersed with breaks for refreshments and a time to meet with the teacher if you had any questions or concerns. Every evening we watched a recorded discourse delivered by S N Goenka, who was the foremost Vipassana meditation lay teacher of our time.
The discourse and interspersed teachings add a daily building block for the technique. The first few days focused on the breath, or Anapana meditation. By the fourth day, we began to undertake the practice of Vipassana: observing sensations throughout the body, understanding their nature, and developing equanimity by learning not to react to them.
Having only just completed my first course, I’m no expert on the technique. So if you’re curious to learn more about Vipassana, I’d direct you here where you can enrol in courses—they are non-sectarian, available to all, and run worldwide on a strictly voluntary donation basis.
As a whole, the experience gave me a tool that can help develop more awareness and hopefully reduce the tendency to multiply negative reactions.
It reminded me that there is no one way—we must find our own salvation. By practising meditation, I’m practising self-transformation through self-observation—rather than looking outside for answers. When we’re told this or that thing will save us, fix us or change us, it’s helpful to remember that the path looks different for everyone.
I’ve been asked how I feel having completed the course. Given the techniques focus on annica (or impermanence), perhaps it’s no surprise that my emotional landscape keeps changing. It has felt like a particularly testing week, and I’ve found myself erupting into tears on multiple occasions. Part of that might be some personal shifts, part might be world and local events, and part might be what happens after an intense experience like a ten-day silent meditation course.
I return again and again to my current understanding of the teachings of the technique. If things are always changing, then our default modes of craving (wanting things to be a certain way) and aversion (not wanting things to be a certain way) don’t serve us. The middle way is to observe reality “as it is.” That’s what we do in meditation—what sensations can I observe on this particular part of the body at this particular time? As it is, as it is, as it is.
There is bound to be much that will emerge and morph as I continue to practise. When I was caught in an emotional storm about “not doing meditation right”, the teacher reminded me that “it takes many lifetimes”, which really puts the pull towards instant gratification in perspective!
Like all things, it’s a practice. On the tenth day, when we were able to speak to other students, I met a woman in her late 80s who has done over 15 vipassana courses including serving or volunteering at many. She affirmed that each time is different, and there is still so much to observe.
So far, I’ve continued to wake around 4.30am. Given it’s a much earlier rising time than usual (I’ll generally ping-pong between 6 and 8am starts) I’ve been surprised that I feel so refreshed during the day. The teacher did say that as you continue to meditate, many people require less sleep.
The instruction is to meditate twice a day—one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening—and do another ten-day course every year. I’ve continued to meditate for an hour every morning upon waking, and I’m flexible with the evening, sometimes doing thirty minutes and sometimes skipping it entirely.
It was refreshing when during the course we were instructed to not blindly accept the teachings, but to observe those too. We must find our own salvation.
As I continue to experiment, I’m keeping in mind the words of the teacher Goenka, “Work diligently. Diligently. Work patiently and persistently. Patiently and persistently. And you’re bound to be successful. Bound to be successful.”
In the spirit of the teachings, I want to share my experience and initial impressions freely in the hopes it may encourage others to explore the technique further in a ten-day course.
I’ve reserved my more personal notes and reflections for my paid supporters below—including a detailed voice note answering some common questions from curious friends.
If you think you’d benefit from those extra notes but cannot afford to support my work at this time, please reply to this email and I’ll provide you with a complementary one-month subscription.
That said, if you are considering doing a course imminently, I would recommend reading less about other people’s experiences so it doesn’t pollute your own expectations. But of course, as always, do what works for you!