Kate Silber signed up for her first silent meditation retreat 11 years ago, she writes in an essay for Outside. It was a five-day retreat, and if you had asked her at any point in the first two days about the experience, she would have told you it was a mistake. No talking, no reading, no journaling, no—anything, really, except the effort to remain constantly mindful even when eating or walking, and all completely alone. "I wondered why I was there if all I was doing was suffering," she writes. But then:
- "Around day three, after many tears and regrets and wishing I had never come, something broke. I was sitting in the barn-turned-meditation hall, my body aching, the afternoon sun dimming, the silence deafening, and something just released. The tight fist of my mind loosened its grip. The tornado of thoughts stilled. What was left was profound peace. Everything was clear, still, and calm, like an alpine lake mirroring a cloudless sky. Thoughts wafted by but they were clearly seen like the arc of a bird in flight. I didn't have a vocabulary for a peace like this. I never knew it existed."
Which explains why Siber has now been to 20 such retreats, some as long as six weeks. She makes the case for them in her essay, buttressing her argument with scientific studies, and emphasizes that it's not only about her own mental health. "I know without a doubt that my practice benefits those around me," she writes. "We are affected by each other's presence, whether we're aware of it or not." (Read the full essay.)