Forty-eight hours without talking, reading, eye-contact or any other kind of non-verbal communication and *drummroll* your phone (!) can change your life forever: For better or for worse. What I experienced and took away from a silent retreat weekend in the woods of Landgoed Beukenrode in Doorn.
Fast Forward
Tuesday.
Back in reality.
Major Tom on the speaker.
The barista is steaming milk behind the bar.
My sitting neighbor is tapping away on his computer, animatedly moving his foot up and down to the music.
Two women are talking about their jobs.
I am closing my eyes. The soundscape of the café surrounding me, it is all blending into one big orchestra of noise. Quiet in comparison to a busy street, but still so much going on.
Arrive
“Sometimes you have to slow down,
So that your soul can catch up with you.”
I think back to Friday night when we had just taken a walk from the house into the dark woods to begin our silence. We sat down to have dinner and the quietness of everyone felt almost violent.
Having dinner with about 15 people in a room without talking is quite a strange experience. Had they chosen an extra loud salt and pepper grinder on purpose? How can it be that someone chewing their bread stick can be heard in an echo across the room? I noticed every sound, the rattling of cutlery, the sound of gums at work, water coming out of a thermos. It was like an orchestra playing a musical piece.
When you take away all the talking, the chit-chat, the laughing, the sighing, the small remarks on the food. What is left there to DO at the dinner table without the talk? Do we ever just eat? I realized how little I actually usually focused on the food. We eat and talk and shove it in, but do we ever put down the fork to properly chew and enjoy its taste between bites? Where do we put our hands when they are not “talking” together with us? Where do we look when we cannot look into our partner’s eyes across the table?
Suddenly it became a very hard thing to do. To slow down the eating, enjoy it and not feel totally helpless or bored all at the same time.
Being
It felt much more easy, comfortable and, yes, natural to be silent in the woods. Every morning we would take solo silent walks through the forrest: Surrounded by trees, birds everywhere, the leaves crunching under my heavy walking shoes, the moss softly sighing in their moist delicacy. Peaceful, minutes passed, an hour becomes nothing and everything all at the same time. I could stay forever.
And it was in this state of BE-ing, rather than DO-ing, where I found a guiding star in the clear sky of the dark waking hours, dozens of woodpeckers guiding me through the woods, sea shells on the ground of a forest so far away from the ocean, and eventually relaxation in the most uncomfortable situations.
And most importantly: I found moments of peace, quiet and a sense of home inside. Even after writing away pages and pages in my journal, after I had emptied out everything. Eventually, there were moments when I felt totally connected with the here and now and I was not thinking about what would be for dinner tonight, not about work, not even my family or the kids, not even myself. I was one with the moment, the light hitting the ground before me, the cobwebs moving gently in the wind, the sun as I watched it long and quiet, its powerful light moving down as the day turned late.
Express
What seemed quiet days on the outside did all the more work on the inside – emotions and sensations: I experienced all kinds of feelings, from sadness on our first dinner to delirium at my morning meditation. A feeling of complete joy and pure love standing amongst the trees in the forest, quiet and serene, confidence in moments of clarity during our yoga practice and creative exercises. The body always finds a way to express excess energy, and when you can’t talk you will feel even more tremble when you sit in quiet.
Find Your Voice
Eventually the weekend was coming to its end. Because even if we wanted to, not even this silence would hold on forever. Life is always changing. We will return to our normal lives. To the first moment of hearing our own voice again outside of our body. Greeting our family when we return home. Talking about shopping that needs to get done. Words strung together, sentences with deep meaning and a lot with less.
When we broke the silence again on Sunday afternoon in the woods, I was not done with it just yet. I didn’t feel like letting out a big loud noise. I just wanted to laugh from all the funny moments that weekend that I couldn’t express my amusement about. And then, go back to less words, just for a little while. Ease into it …
Yes, we will turn back on our phones, read a book, the first email at work and our own hand written notes. We will walk between buildings, ride our bikes through the street, go back to autopilot.
But things will be different. Maybe we can keep still for just another moment, and think long about those first words we say to our children. That first article or book we pick up to read. The first message we answer on our phone.
We may open the window first thing in the morning, listen for the birds waking up in our neighborhood, and maybe find a new favorite spot to just spend time in the park or in the forest nearby. Where we can come back to everytime we feel we’ve lost connection with the wi-fi of the Universe.
I am still bursting with laughter inside. Happy and thankful for those 48 hours that deeply changed my life.
A special thank you to our teachers at Balanzs and my warm, funny and open yogi friends for this special time together <3 I will hold the feeling and memories of this weekend dear in my heart.
