01/31/2025
“My train leaves in twenty minutes. I’m going on a silent meditation retreat for five days. For five days, you sit with your mind, and that’s all you’re doing. Think about it: how many times do you distract yourself during the day? There are the obvious things, like looking at your phone or watching TV. But then there’s just everyday life: walking around, taking in the world, talking to people. What if you stopped doing all that for five days? And you were alone with your mind? What happens?
Our minds are wild. They just… function, like any other organ. They think, they create, they make stuff up. They don’t like uncertainty or loose ends, so they try to fill in the blanks: what happens next, what should I have done differently, am I OK? Then there are things from our past—tragedy, heartbreak, trauma. Things that didn’t feel good, so maybe we didn’t let ourselves feel them fully. We pushed them out of the way, buried them deeper, pretended they didn’t exist. But those feelings don’t disappear just because we want them to. They stay in our bodies. And when you sit still for several days, with no distractions, those feelings can resurface.
So why put yourself through it? Because when you sit with your mind long enough, there’s a certain liberation. You start to see it for what it is: ‘Oh, that’s just my mind.’ And there’s freedom in that. It creates space. You don’t have to get caught up in every thought. You can step back and say: ‘It’s real, but it’s not true.’ Those words were transformative for me.
The purpose of the practice isn’t a goal; it’s an orientation—to end suffering, not just for myself, but for all beings. That’s what guides me. It’s what led me to become a therapist. No one walks into a Buddhist center on a high note. You come in wrecked, like you were in a shipwreck and just crawled up onto the shore. But then, you find something. And you don’t want to keep it to yourself. You want to live by it.”