Day 0

It is cold and dark when I step outside an outskirt apartment building, which hosted me for the night. I’m in Linköping, central Sweden, to embark on an inward journey. It’s late December and all the windows are decorated with Advent stars. It gives this small city a cosy vibe. I’m heading for the bakery / coffee spot I discovered on Google Maps. You don’t need to teach Swedes anything about bread or pastries and not about coffee neither.

I enjoy my treats and read my book for an hour or so before heading to the train station. A 25 minute train ride brings me to Mjölby from where a bus will take me to Dhamma Sobhana, the Nordic Vipassana center. Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India's most ancient techniques of meditation. It focuses on the deep interconnection between mind and body, which can be experienced directly by disciplined attention to the physical sensations that form the life of the body, and that continuously interconnect and condition the life of the mind.

In short: You meditate for ten days, in complete silence, and hope to become a better person on the other side of it.

I have been struggling for a while with negative thoughts and just a general negative vibe as if a dark cloud is constantly hovering above. I had looked into Vipassana before, but now seemed to be the right time. I enlisted for a course in Sweden about 1,5 month ago, since I love Sweden and this center turned out to have a spot available after me being on the waiting list for a few days.

The bus stop in Mjölby is not really obvious, but I see a few other people that look like they might be heading into the unknown as well. So we wait for a while before a large touring car shows up and we stuff ourselves inside. I only took handluggage and so I’m quick to have a spot in the front. It turns out there are more people than seats and some people have to wait for the bus to return for round two.

The person next to me is a Norwegian, probably late 20’s, who seems keen on getting into the silence. We talk a bit and he tells me this will be his second time. ‘‘Maybe this isn’t so hard after all’’, is what I tell myself. I couldn’t be more wrong.

The vibe in the bus is slightly tense as people are mentally preparing to say goodbye to the outside world. On arrival at the center, we sign a form to declare silence from that evening on until the last day and also formally state that we are not a complete lunatic. After handing in my phone and book, I go to my room, which has four beds in it and looks extremely boring. I lay on the bed for a while until one other guy shows up. A Swede. Not very talkative. I’m hoping that no others will show up, since I’m a light sleeper, but by the end of the day all beds are filled. I could have know, since there was a waiting list. The other two guys are a serious looking fellow, late 20’s I guess and a young bloke, friendly looking. I never got to speak to them though because they arrived late and after we had gone into noble silence. We gather at the main building for a briefing in the evening during which there are some interesting questions from fellow students. One seems really concerned about the shower time, after hearing we will share the shower with the entire floor, and is wondering how long he can shower for. We also get told that some meditation session can take place in our rooms, if you prefer, and another woman wants to know if the teachers and assistents will come and check if you are truly meditating during those sessions. I can’t help but giggle, alongside some other students. We voluntarily put ourselves in this situation, so why would anyone need to check on that?

So this is it. From now on, no more talking, no eye-contact, no phone, no music, no nothing.

Day 0 ends with a soup and I turn into bed at 22:00.

Day 1

A gong sounds at 04:00. Within a few minutes, there is a hive of activity in the building. Men and women sleep in different buildings on seperate sides of the property, meditate on seperate sides of the meditation hall, enter the building on seperate sides and eat their meals seperately. At 04:30 we enter the meditation hall for our first session. We wait in the hallway until our name is called out by Berge, a stoic assistent for the male students. My name is called out and I’m told to take place at spot number F1. I see some people taking some extra pillows into the hall so I follow suit. The hall is spacious, but we turn out to be with little over a hundred people. I seek out my spot and sit down at my little island on the floor and try to get comfortable. In front of us, on a raised podium, a woman and a man take place and the meditation begins. I can’t help but think of the series Wild Wild Country and I have to laugh a bit at the setting I find myself in. The physical discomfort of sitting for extensive periods of time becomes clear within a not so extensive period of time. After five minutes my body hurts. After twenty it hurts a lot and after half an hour I wish I would have taken twenty more pillows. I sneakily look around me to see how others are faring and to my relief I’m not the only one suffering.

After the session I happily stretch my legs in the forest surrounding the meditation hall. The boundary of the property is marked by a rope and we’re not allowed to cross it. I explore the forest and get a bit anxious when I find out how small the loop is we are able to walk. The biggest loop possible takes about three minutes. These are going to be ten long days, that’s for sure.

At 06:30, after our two hour meditation, we get into the dining room for our breakfast. Warm porridge with raisins in sirup. It’s simple but it tastes good! We will be sitting in the same spot in the dining room during every meal, which might seem insignificant since we are not allowed to talk anyway, but having to look at the same person three times a day turns out to be pretty tough.

At 08:00 we start our second run of meditations, which end at 11:00. We are then served lunch, which is more like what dinner is in the Netherlands. A warm meal, which usually consists of steamed veggies and rice or a pasta with a sauce. Simple, but always really nice. In an environment that is super sober and deprived of any distractions, a warm meal is pure bliss. From 13:00 until 17:00 we go through more meditations. At 17:00 we get served dinner, consisting of two pieces of fruit and a cup of tea. From 18:00 until 21:00 we meditate some more. During those evening session we also get to see a daily video of Mr. Goenka. The Vipassana goeroe as I shall call him. Those lectures are pretty interesting and always a welcome diversion from the rest of the days’ routine. At 22:00 we are supposed to turn off the lights, but I’m usually in bed and ready to sleep at 21:15.

Day 2

The Swede in my room turns out to be an expert snorrer and since I don’t know his name I shall call him Snorko from this point on. The wind was howling around the house last night and Snorko complemented the sounds with his chainsaw snore. My earplugs were no match.

I grab some more pillows before entering the meditation hall. I find it not easy to get into the meditation mindset this early in the day, but it’s not unpleasent to start the day like this. The first days we focus on our breath during meditation. The breath is a great tool, since it is always present, so by focussing on it, it will always take you to the now. It is during this meditation that I begin to notice something disturbing. Some six meters to the left of me in the meditation hall I begin to detect a frequent burping sound. It’s a muffled burp, the one that you make with your mouth closed. But in a silent hall, it is very noticable nonetheless. The burps occur with a minute interval on average. Since I am supposed to have my eyes closed, I’m not sure who the burper is, but I have my suspissions.

After meditation I walk around in the forest, looking for something that could stimulate my brain. There is a creeking birch tree, that only seems to creek when you get close to it. The past few weeks I’ve been reading a book about how to observe and predict the weather (The Secret World of Weather). It comes in very handy now and I start observing everything I can. The little ditch filled with water is frozen today. The clouds in the sky look dull and form a blanket. Probably no big changes in weather are immenent, is my prediction.

During the next meditation session that we can do in our own room, my suspicions are confirmed. The burper is the serious looking dude in my dorm. A devestating blow. Burpy, as I shall call him from now on, burps most after meals. The frequency then goes up to 2 times a minute. In his lowest frequency he burps once every few minutes. Burpy will prove to be the hardest challenge of all during my Vipassana.

Day 3

During my morning walk after the first meditation I spot something that makes me overly excited. A cat is crawling through the bushes. My excitement is crushed rather quickly though. Turns out even the cat has been instructed not to look anyone in the eyes and avoid contact at all costs. No matter how hard I try, it just ignores me and keeps its distance.

I stack up on more pillows for the second meditation. I must have collected around eight by now. I use three to sit on and the rest to support my knees. But it is during one of the meditations on day three that I spot something from the corner of my eye. A woman not to far from me seems to have wrapped the little blanket (we were supplied with on the first day) around her lower back and somehow attached it in front of her. It seems genious. I frantically try to replicate the contraption. I wrap the blanket around my lower back and tie the outer ends together in front of me with two knots. The blanket now supports my back by the counter weight of my legs in front, putting tension on the blanket. This is a game changer, I suspect. Happily I start my meditation and the blanket backrest seems to work really well. Half an hour into the session though, a big slack has formed in the blanket as the fabric has been stretched out. I tighten the knots a few more times that day, but every session it seems to gain more slack. Oh well, at least it worked for half an hour. The muscles in my back have been really painful since day one and the same goes for my hips. But slowly, the body adapts, and the hurt gets less.

Before any of the meals, there are usually a few people walking around in front of the dining building. At the time of the meal, a person comes out with a gong which signals that we can go inside. I observe the situation. It seems to be coming out of a zombie movie. A group of adults, slowly walking in circles, looking at the ground. Awakened by the sound of a gong, ready to be fed.

The meal is self-service. You grab a plate and scoop up. It is recommended by Mr. Goenka to not over-eat as it will negatively impact your meditation. The guy sitting opposite of me couldn’t care less though. He has dreadlocks and usually wears an oversized lumberjack shirt. He moves so slowly, that I feel like he is trying to preserve every calorie he can. At the start of the week, he goes for a second plate after he finishes his first. He changes tactic after a few days though and resorts to building a great pyramid on his plate. He slobbers up his food and his cup of tea, which he deludes with great amounts of milk, so I will call him Slobberfox from now on.

Snorko turns out to have the most creaking bed in the world and I consider sneakily lubing it up in some sort of way when he’s not around. The plan never comes to fruition. The window in our rooms continues to create a draft, accompanied by a howling sound. Burpy continues to burp and he is also a master at entering the room in the most noisy way imaginable. The fourth guy in our room is rather cute and humble. After our last meditation at 21:00 though, he dissapears for about 45 minutes and comes back right before 22:00. I’m not sure what hedoes during that time, but I think he has an extensive skin routine.

Day 4

I notice a sound in the leaves on the ground. My senses have become sharper and since it’s quiet on the property, the only sounds you’ll hear are those by mother nature. I follow the sound by ear and then my eyes try to link it to its physical appearence. A cute little mouse pauses on its breakfast route. A sign that the weather will be milder today.

I am tired, but the meditation is going pretty oke on day 4. I do feel that I need to talk to someone about Burpy though. I surely can’t be the only one that is impacted by his burpes. I quietly inform Berge, the assistent, about my experiences with Burpy. He tells me to go see the teacher and request a 5 minute consult (you are allowed to request a 5 minute consult after lunch).

The teacher, Kenneth, hasn’t noticed the burping. I find that astonishing, but he is clearly on another level of meditation which I can’t seem to get to because of Burpy. He has had others with the same complaint though and he will talk to Burpy about it. A transfer to another room, which I was quietly hoping for, is not possible. He also assures me that what I’m going through are mental storms. The only thing I can do is ride them out.

Day 4 marks the point at which we go into Vipassana (appearently we hadn’t done so yet). We are truly dismantling the ego. We start scanning our body during the meditation. Trying to focus on sensations from top to bottom. I find this upgrade in meditation technique refreshing.

Meanwhile, half of the people in the retreat seem to have some sort of flu. Even the female teacher has to skip a few meditations. There is an array of couching during each meditation. A woman close to me seems rather sick and I can only pray not to get infected.

As we walk to the evening meal, a flock of geese fly overhead through the dark sky, dimly lit by a full moon. It’s small moments like this that put a smile on my face. Since day one I’ve had a huge urge to write about my experiences, the small things, the emotions. But we are not allowed to do so, since it might destract the mind too much. I’m hoping my brain is capable of remembering my time in the retreat though, because I love to write and share.

Day 5

Day five turns out to be the toughest one yet. The darkness is truly getting to me. My mood is swinging left right and center. I find the forest annoyingly boring. There is a light rain. What am I still doing here?

I discover that the backrest I saw the other day was not a blanket/pillow contraption, but an actual wooden piece that you slide under your pillow. How can I get one of those and why didn’t anyone tell me about this beforehand? I go to Berge, who in turn sends me yet again to the teacher. Yes, I can get a backrest and he will request Berge to get me one the next day.

During the mid-day break I spot a puffball mushroom. I get a huge joy out of kicking it and watching it puff. That will be the highlight of my day for sure. I feel restless. Burpy is on my mind and I wish I didn’t have to see or hear him ever again. My thoughts are dark and at the end of the day I’m seriously doubting if I want to stay. My meditation is not going so well today. Then I suddenly remember that I have a 2-pack of Snickers in my backpack under my bed. Should I eat one? It will probably make me feel better. But only for a short while. I convince myself not to touch them and take a warm shower instead. That actually helps and I manage to survive my worst day yet.

Day 6

‘If Berge hasn’t arranged for my backrest today, I’m leaving’, I tell myself when I wake up on day 6. On entering the meditation room I find my backrest is there though, so I guess I’m staying. The meditation hall is a bit of a mess at this point in time. Blankets, pillows and backrests are all over the place. A lot of people have given up on sitting on the floor all together and have requested a chair alongside the wall in the back of the hall. Burpy is amongst them. His chair is a bit further away from me then his floor position was, so the burps have lost a few decibels. During a meditation I do notice what I believe to be a mosquito. I am not 100% sure if it is, but it comes back during several meditation sessions and my hearing rarely lets me down. Another sign of the relative warm temperatures that accompany us for the biggest part of the retreat.

I start to notice thay my bowel movement has become super steady. No coffee and hardly any sugars for six days have done their job. It feels healthy to eat simple meals at regular hours.

Day 6 draws to an end. No idea how I survived, but I did.

Day 7

It’s another grey day. I observe the clouds. There are different layers and they seem to be getting lower. My prediction: it is likely that there is rain coming. And surely a few hours later, a rain starts trickling in the forest. Never thought rain could give me so much satisfaction.

I am not the only one looking for something to do. On a tree stump I find a collection of chestnuts. I decide to send a secret message to the others. I lay the chestnuts in a heart shape. It feels good to find a secret way of interaction. During my walks, I try to peak at the others that pass the stump to see if they find the message. To my delight, some of them do. Another reason for me to smile.

On another walk I hear a low and distant sound, kind of like an explosion. I conclude that there must be some military base nearby. It is a bit scary not to know if there is a war going on nearby, but at the same time I find daily life also scary sometimes with the overload of information we receive through our phones, always making us fear the worst.

The lack of emotions, like laughter, are starting to get under my skin. I miss laughing, I miss music and I miss conversations. I also feel a bit useless, not having anything to do besides meditating. A daily chore would be a welcome activity. I set myself the goal of walking in the forest until I see a leaf dropping. It takes around two minutes to spot one. Not a very succesful time killer.

Day 8

They day begins oke. I’m trying to start with a positive attitude. My patience with Burpy has hit a low and my conclusion is that if I want to make it until day 10 I have avoid him at all times. This tactic leads me to the meditation hall after breakfast, where I try to do a nap while no one is around. It gives me some relief, not having to spend that time with Burpy in our dorm.

During lunch, a fellow student angrily throws away his plate of food. A very rude move in my opinion, since the food has been great so far. Frustration is in the air. I struggle with the meditations. I am exhausted, mentally and physically. But these are storms I have to get through, like Kenneth told me on day 4.

At evening tea, it starts to dawn on me: I really don’t want to be here anymore. I really really don’t. And I can’t think of a way I could get through another two days. My meditations have stagnated. I’m startint to become anxious. It feels weird not to talk about these feelings and emotions with anyone. I take a shower in the hopes of feeling better. It doesn’t work. If anything, it convinces me even more to leave. It’s 17:30. I’m walking around the meditation hall, not knowing what to do. I feel weak for wanting to give up, but I see no other option.

I spot Berge. He prepares the hall for the meditation. I try to make eye contact. Almost as to ask for a sign of compassion. But he stares at the ground and walks past me. I have made up my mind though. I start chasing him, almost running at this point. I catch up with him in front of the teacher’s house. As I tell him I want to leave, his face seems kind and concerned. ‘‘Let’s talk to Kenneth’’, he says. We knock on his door and he kindly invites me in. The room we go into is peaceful. There is soft light. I feel relief. Kenneth listens. I shed a tear. I tell him about Burpy, my anxiety, my restlessness. ‘‘We won’t pressure you to stay. If you feel like you can’t stay here anymore, than I think it is good that you leave’’. A weight falls of my shoulders. I’m ready to get out of here.

Now for the practicalities. I’m a 30-minute drive from the nearest train station, which is a 30 minute train ride from Linköping, which is where I intend to sleep in a big bed after a hot shower. Berge is super friendly and helpfull and begins to look for my phone and book in a shed somewhere. After some confusion, he manages to find them. We start looking for a taxi. I call to the only one in the area, but its nearest taxi is 90 minutes away. Uber doesn’t operate here. It seems like I’m running out of options. But it is at this moment that Berge shows his true nature. A nature I couldn’t have known since we were not allowed to talk before. ‘‘I don’t want you to end up in the cold Swedish wilderness. I’ll bring you to the station’’.

Berge has trouble finding his car at first, which I find pretty remarkable since there are not a whole lot to choose from. But I am soon to find out that his poor eyesight is the root cause. The windows in his car are fogged up and frozen over. But Berge doesn’t want to waste any time. He reverses and then turns onto the road. A second later, the car is at an angle and the bottom of the car is clearly toouching something. We’ve hit a ditch. Luckely for us, he manages to revers out of it, but the tone for this well-intentioned ride is set. The rest of the drive towards the station is a concatenation of Berge trying to decipher what lies within twenty meters in front of us. Meanwhile he tells me about his former occupation of working in a slaughter house which left him depressed. He also tells me about Burpy, who was almost send home on the first day, but was given the benefit of the doubt. He turns out to be a bit of a weirdo (duh) and had asked Kenneth if he thought Artificial Intelligence could be enlightened in the future. I’m somewhat relieved to find out that I was not the only one disturbed by Burpy. We get to the train station in the end and I owe Berge big time.

My first re-encounter with society are some teens playing music over the speaker of their phone at the train station. Is that what I left the retreat early for? I wait another 20 minutes and hop on a train. I start looking for a hotel on my phone. I want one with a sauna, but they basically all have one here in Sweden. After I book my hotel I start looking for a restaurant. I settle on Mexican. I also try to book another flight to the Netherlands for the next day, but the price from Linköping is exorbitant. A train to Stockholm and a flight from there are my plan B, which I settle upon.

I call my mom while walking to the restaurant a while later. It feels so good to reconnect with loved ones and to walk around in a city. I order tacos and a big beer. Fatigue takes over and I make my way towards my hotel. The sauna does not dissapoint and I hit the hay at 22:00.

Day 9

I’m wide awake at 04:00, ready to meditate, but I don’t feel the urge to do so. I struggle to fall back asleep. I enjoy a breakfast with options in the hotel restaurant and go for a second breakfast and a coffee at my favorite bakery from nine days prior. It feels so good to have options at this point, eventhough I know this feeling will wear off quickly.

So let me sum this Vipassana up for myself. What did this retreat bring me?

• I feel humbled. A feeling I love and which I often miss in daily life.

• I feel reset. It feels like I’ve had a cleanup. Mentally and physically.

• I can look at my life with a fresh pair of eyes and a new mindset. My outlook on life is more positive.

• I feel a huge appreciation for my friends and family and for the things I have in my life.

• I have more focus and clarity in the things I want to do.

• I feel very fortunate not to have people around me that burp 24/7.

• I am going to try and meditate as much as I can, since I have found it to be very useful as a means of balancing my mind.

Who should try a Vipassana retreat?

• People that need a reset.

• People that want to be less dependant on a smartphone.

• People interested in meditation and balancing the mind.

Who shouldn’t try a Vipassana retreat?

• People that don’t like to challenge themselves.

• People that suffer from claustrophobia.

• People that require luxury and options.

I hope you enjoyed reading this piece. As you can tell, I did not focus too much on the meditation method itself, since I think that you can only experience that for yourself. My aim in writing this piece is to give you a general idea of what a Vipassana looks like and how I experienced it.