10-day vipassana retreat: is it worth it???
Having just returned from a 10-day Vipassana retreat, I’d like to share my thoughts and impressions.
NB: it's not me it's a Discord image 🤣
Why do people put themselves through such hardship?
Vipassana meditation centers have gained immense popularity worldwide. The demand for these “classical” and grueling retreats is enormous and continues to grow every year.
Participants are fully immersed in a strict monastic lifestyle: waking up at 4 a.m., meditating for 10 hours a day, eating simple meals, and adhering to strict rules of conduct and morality. These include a ban on killing any living being, complete abstinence from sexual activity, a vow of silence, and a prohibition on lying—which is naturally addressed by the vow of silence itself, as, without enlightenment, much of what one says may not reflect the ultimate truth and could therefore be considered a lie.
Phones, devices, books, music, or even journaling are forbidden.
For a modern person, this seems incredibly challenging and excessively rigid.
So why do so many people willingly subject themselves to such trials?
The answer is simple: when done correctly, the results far outweigh the suffering endured. After attending such a retreat myself, I realized that none of these rules are unnecessary. They are not merely a nod to tradition or the whims of a guru. Each rule is absolutely essential for several reasons:
To confront inevitable discomfort and pain. This allows a person with self-reflection skills to face and hopefully work through the least pleasant aspects of their personality.
To prevent the participant from “escaping” themselves. Journaling, reading books, engaging in sexual activity, enjoying delicious food, taking long walks, listening to music, socializing—all these activities often serve as distractions from ourselves. Feeling sad? Watch a funny movie. Feeling angry? Release the tension at the gym or went out on someone. Feeling bored? Scroll through Instagram. These are temporary fixes that address symptoms, not root causes. In a high-level retreat center, however, there’s no escape. You’re fully immersed in yourself and can uncover deep subconscious causes of negative emotions and resolve them. When I shared my experiences and realizations with my psychologist after the retreat, she was thrilled and said I had made an incredible leap forward.
To provide a powerful start. Meditating for 100 hours in 10 days is extremely demanding, but after that, meditating for 1–2 hours daily to maintain the practice feels easy—like brushing your teeth or doing habitual morning exercises.
To convince the participant of the practice’s benefits. Meditating for a couple of hours daily can yield excellent results, but it might take months, by which time most people will have given up. However, undergoing a profound transformation in just a few days demonstrates the power of the practice and motivates one to continue within the tradition.
At the end of this article, you’ll find some tips I believe are crucial if you decide to attend such a retreat.
Photos of the retreat center "Dhamma Dvara" taken with the kind permission of the administration.
What is Vipassana about?
Meditation has become very popular these days and is used for a variety of purposes. For some, it’s a practical tool—like a chair for sitting or a fork for eating—used to reduce anxiety, improve concentration, and so on. While Vipassana doesn’t deny that such outcomes are achievable through its techniques, these are merely side effects. The main goal, as I understand it, is profound spiritual growth, with the ultimate aim of achieving full enlightenment and liberation from suffering and any imperfections of the spirit.
Vipassana aims to perform deep “surgery” on the mind, healing all possible “impurities.” By directly experiencing the universe within, individuals free themselves from suffering and their ego, radiating only wisdom and love outward. Of course, achieving this takes far more than a few days—it may require most of a lifetime, if not many lifetimes. But even after a 10-day retreat, I felt an unprecedented sense of peace and emotional stability, as if no external circumstances could deeply hurt or unsettle me. I noticed how my state immediately influenced the people I interacted with. Inner harmony and genuine calmness—just like inner irritation—are contagious.
Naturally, returning to normal life brings a host of external irritants that will inevitably test this newfound balance. I am determined to continue meditating for 1–2 hours daily to refine my technique and slow the inevitable fading of this powerful inner state under life’s challenges.
Some people, however, chase peak experiences. Like addicts, they want something extraordinary. Some call this the “helicopter effect.” When your lazy, indulgent self is airlifted to a "mountaintop"—via risky, destabilizing practices or consciousness-altering substances—for a quick Instagram-worthy photo, only to return to a pub to continue the cycle of decline. This approach doesn’t lead to transformation. True transformation comes from the exhausting climb up the mountain on your own two feet. Reaching the summit is merely the cherry on top.
Vipassana teachers frequently remind students not to play the “game of sensations.” Any experiences, whether pleasant or unpleasant, are temporary. Clinging to them leads to inevitable suffering. From my own experience, I realized that certain extraordinary bodily sensations can result from specific insights. However, as pleasant as they might be, the conditions for their occurrence may never align again. This understanding eliminates the point of chasing or yearning for them.
A striking example is Ken Wilber. He devoted his prime years to intensive meditation, claiming to have reached the highest transcendent states achievable through meditation. Apparently, he believed these experiences alone would lead to full enlightenment. They inspired him to develop ideas about the universe and write his famous A Theory of Everything. The book became a bestseller, and his ambitious goal was to integrate all facets of human development—scientific, spiritual, personal, and social—into one interconnected framework.
However, when the scientific community critically evaluated his work, many scholars found it unconvincing, citing numerous flaws such as inconsistencies, superficiality, and cherry-picking. How would a truly enlightened individual, like Buddha, respond? Likely with a kind smile, gratitude for the critique, and compelling counterarguments—or, without a trace of ego, by retreating to refine the theory.
Ken Wilber, however, chose a different path: he wrote a sharp, condescending public letter, which his followers later scrubbed from the internet because it was so damaging to his reputation. While I couldn’t find the original, available discussions suggest it said something like, “I’m enlightened, I have a direct line to God, and anyone who disagrees is a complete fool.” After that, most of his followers abandoned him. He went from being a rising spiritual star in the Western world to a pseudo-intellectual marginal figure with cult-like tendencies.
I believe this happened because he chased peak experiences without understanding how deeply ego clings to our essence and how difficult it is to let it go—a necessary step for true sanctity or enlightenment. During my retreat, I personally experienced the cunning traps of the ego firsthand.
My Story
Since childhood, I have been interested in spirituality, and during my youth, I read a lot of esoteric literature. As I grew older, I realized how much manipulation and fluff it contains, so I completely turned away from these topics for several years. It happened—perhaps not coincidentally—that those were the darkest years of my life. Gradually, I began returning to the themes of self-development and inner growth, but this time through approaches that felt more solid: psychology and conscious change strategies.
I wanted to learn how to understand myself better, analyze what drives me, my feelings, and my actions. Eventually, I realized that working with a therapist would be more effective. About a year ago, inspired by several remarkable individuals who found great help in meditation, I started practicing it at home. My sessions were short—20 to 60 minutes—and not regular, but I still had some fascinating experiences.
One day, when I finally managed to quiet my restless mind and go deep within myself, I felt a chorus of emotions emerge. They didn’t seem to belong to me but rather to my ancestors. It was an incredibly strange feeling, especially since I’d never been interested in my genealogy. I allowed myself to follow this sensation and suddenly fell even deeper. I felt that somewhere at the core of my being, there was life—entirely disconnected from kindness, warmth, rage, or any other human or mammalian emotions. It was as if, deep within me, a "soulless" cold-blooded reptile existed, driven only by instinct.
When I shared this experience with my psychologist, she became very serious, said, "This is very good," and made a note. I didn’t press her with questions. I thought that if this was important, it would come up for processing eventually.
I invite you to walk with me through the challenging, exhausting, yet deeply healing journey I went through during those 10 days. Please keep in mind that this kind of experience is completely unique for everyone, depending on the contents of your psyche, your personal traits, and your current circumstances.
Facing Resistance
Even before registering, you’ll have to overcome a lot of psychological resistance. Your ego will constantly whisper that now isn’t the right time for such a retreat, that you’re not ready, that you can’t leave your loved ones without contact in this difficult period, or you’ll feel anxious about being cut off from the world. Thankfully, I managed to get through this without too much inner turmoil. Your family might also go through a resistance. One of my closest relatives was the only person, among the hundreds I shared this with, who essentially devalued the project by saying it was extremely selfish of me to go offline for ten days. What if I needed your help suddenly? - despite the fact that we speak once a month on average and live in different countries. One must be prepared to process such rough and painful manipulations coming from the closest circle even before attending a retreat.
Day One – SHOCK
The first day is a shock. You arrive on adrenaline. Naturally, everything hurts. Your legs go numb, your back aches. Time seems endless, but everything still feels new.
You realize there’s no position that’s comfortable for sitting for many hours. Most beginners groan, shift positions every five minutes, or give up and don’t finish the meditations. This is one of the hardest aspects of the retreat—it relies mostly on self-discipline. No one will chase you down to ensure you complete all the meditations. But the effort of getting to such retreat is high, so I did everything I could to get the "full experience" and to get maximum out of it.
I promised myself to be as honest with myself as possible—not to shy away from negative emotions, but to investigate them objectively and face the truth about myself, even if it was very painful. From my interest in self-development, I knew that these qualities were essential for genuine growth.
I quickly discovered that even small changes in posture activate different muscles. Instead of switching positions for each meditation, like many others did, I chose one pose and stuck with it. Eventually, my muscles adapted to this particular posture, and the back pain almost fully disappeared.
During registration, I met a guy with very odd manners. He looked like some kind of hippie-esoteric type. I immediately disliked him.
Of course, he ended up being the person sitting right behind me.
Day Two – HELL
The second day was probably the hardest. The initial adrenaline had completely worn off. The pain and fatigue became even more intense. I realized that pain and discomfort weren’t accidental. They were important to push the student to confront their negative tendencies. Instead of trying to avoid the pain by shifting positions, fidgeting, or taking frequent breaks, I decided to lean into the pain, keep my back straight, and hold the same position for as long as possible. Sneaking glances at the faces of the "old students", I noticed a clear pattern: those who meditated with a straight back had a much calmer, more serene expression. Those who slouched bore visible signs of tension and suffering. It became clear to me that posture directly influenced the quality of the sensations being experienced, aside from its obvious long-term health benefits.
On the second day, all sorts of suppressed thoughts, emotions, and unresolved conflicts began surfacing. This was the day I realized the monstrous zoo of sub-personalities living inside me and the chaos that my mind truly was. It felt like a monkey, jumping from branch to branch, laughing mockingly at every attempt to tame it.
My neighbor behind me turned out to be horribly sick. He was coughing a lot, blowing his nose, sniffling loudly, groaning, and generally distracting everyone. All I could do was observe my growing irritation toward him and my fear of catching whatever he had. The risk was very real—after the madness of COVID lockdowns, people had gone back to completely disregarding precautions. In the meditation hall, we were sitting side by side. No masks. This guy wasn’t exactly a model of good manners. When he coughed or sneezed, he didn’t turn his head or cover his mouth. Everything that came out of his mouth landed right on the back of my head. The vow of silence made it impossible to turn around and politely ask him to be more careful.
One day, when I returned to the dormitory, I discovered my warm slippers were missing. The dorm provided old communal slippers for general use, but many people, myself included, brought their own. And suddenly, mine were gone! I had always thought I wasn’t very attached to material things. If something got lost or broken, I usually handled it quite calmly. But this time, I was filled with rage—how dare someone take my slippers! I wandered the corridor looking for them. Five minutes before the next meditation session, a sleepy guy emerged from one of the rooms wearing my slippers. He must have been so exhausted that he didn’t realize these slippers weren’t communal but actually belonged to someone. The moment he took them off, I grabbed them and brought them back to my room.
What a hassle, I thought. Now I’d have to keep them in my room so no one else could wear them with their sweaty feet. This was inconvenient. I stewed in this irritation for a while, but after meditating, I realized this was a trait I hadn’t fully acknowledged about myself. True, I wasn’t very attached to things—I didn’t have family heirlooms or important talismans. But if someone crossed my personal boundaries and took something of mine without asking, I felt a surge of protest. I discovered in myself a hidden possessiveness. My God, I thought, they’re just some cheap slippers from Amazon. I decided not to stress over it and left them at the building entrance as before. No one ever took them again.
Just half an hour after this realization, in the evening video lecture, Goenka shared a humorous example of stolen shoes and how it triggers anger in people. I was relieved that I had already recognized this in myself; otherwise, I would have felt deeply embarrassed hearing this example. A little later, I also realized that it is my ego was proud of having figured this out on my own before the teacher explicitly mentioned it, and for managing to avoid significant shame as a result.
Day Three – DEFEAT AND A BREAKTHROUGH
By the evening of the second day, my back tension gave me a splitting headache. I knew from experience that such pain could last for days unless treated with painkillers. The Vipassana technique is meant to help work with pain effectively, but it's introduced later in the retreat. On the third day, I felt completely unequipped to deal with the overwhelming pain.
Despite the formal ban on medications, I took ibuprofen at night, but it didn’t help. The next morning, I went to the meditation hall with a pounding headache. To make matters worse, I’d skipped the evening fruit snack that was allowed for new students. By morning, the combination of an empty stomach, severe headache, and nausea made my body start convulsing involuntarily. After sitting through an hour of meditation, I gave up. Holding onto the wall, I stumbled back to my room, took another large dose of ibuprofen, and collapsed into bed until breakfast.
I privately labeled this my "Third-Day Defeat." I promised myself I’d do everything in my power not to miss another meditation session.
By evening, my condition improved, and I finally experienced a breakthrough: a deep and focused meditative state. The sharp back pain felt unimportant.
Entrance to the Meditation Hall, accommodating up to about 200 meditators.
Day Four – THAT WAS JUST THE WARM-UP
On the morning of the fourth day, I managed to sit through a two-hour session without getting up. Later that day, when the full Vipassana technique was introduced, we were told that from now on, we must aim to sit for two hours at a time and, during group meditations, sit completely still for one-hour sessions. A murmur of anxiety rippled through the hall.
I felt elated—I was ready for this challenge.
After an incredibly intense two-hour guided meditation, during which the entire technique was explained, people started to crumble. Groans, sighs, and stretching filled the room as everyone tried to revive their stiff limbs. It was clear that the first three days had only been a warm-up and that things would not get easier. I looked at the face of the assistant teacher, trying to spot any signs of disgust or mockery toward this faint-hearted crowd—but his face remained serene. He gazed at us with the calmness of a Buddha.
This was the day when the weakest gave up. A few people left the retreat altogether.
By the end of the fourth day, I entered a deeply peaceful meditative state. The back pain no longer mattered, and the rest of my body was completely relaxed. My thoughts were distant, like tiny clouds on a vast sky.
Suddenly, my neighbor behind me coughed twice with incredible force. I was utterly unprepared for it—no fear or tension had a chance to build up. At the exact moment of his coughing, two bolts of energy shot through my arms from the shoulders to the tips of my middle fingers.
I’ve experienced an electric shock of 220V before, and this felt exactly the same—sharp, intense, and painful. It happened so quickly that by the time I realized what had occurred, it was over.
I resumed meditating, but irrational fears and magical thinking crept in. Fortunately, I caught these thoughts and dismissed them quickly. Still, my irritation had reached its peak. I decided to ask the management to move me to a different seat.
Later that evening, during the video discourse, I glanced at the guy and tried to figure out why he bothered me so much. Then it hit me—he reminded me of someone I don’t respect for personal reasons. With horror, I realized that my negative attitude toward him was rooted in subconscious projection. His illness and behavior only amplified my bias.
I saw this as a lesson for myself. I needed to work through my feelings and stay in my current seat. I mentally apologized to him and wished him good health.
Magically, just a few minutes later, like on Day 2, Goenka gave an example of aversion toward an unpleasant person and emphasized the importance of working through it—something I felt was directed specifically at me.
Day Five – AN ASTONISHING RECOVERY
For several days, I observed how a cluster of infections was spreading around the guy sitting behind me. By the fourth day, I realized I was no longer afraid of getting sick: "Well, if it happens, it’ll just be another bodily sensation to observe." When, on the morning of the fifth day, my nose began to run, I wasn’t worried.
But then, during meditation, some commanding voice within me rebelled: "No, this is nonsense—I won’t get sick right now. I don’t need this!" Another part of me skeptically wondered—how could you simply decide not to get sick? Yet, to my surprise, the runny nose disappeared within a few hours.
Day Six – A MAJOR VICTORY
On the first day, Goenka mentioned in the lecture that the two hardest days are the second and the sixth. The second day made sense, but I wondered—what’s so tough about the sixth day?
That morning, I looked at the empty spot of a guy who clearly underestimated what this retreat was about. He had broken down on the fourth day and left. I felt sorry for him. But my sharpened self-analysis skills detected something off in my pity. I began to analyze why my pity felt tainted.
It didn’t take long to figure out the truth—my ego was secretly rejoicing: I was better. I didn’t break. He was weak.
And then it hit me—what an infinitely long journey lies ahead of me. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work on myself or how diligently I cultivate self-awareness, my ego will keep twisting things, finding ways to reinforce itself. A wave of sadness washed over me. Well, I thought, at least I have an ego—and quite an impressive one at that. After all, as experienced practitioners joke, you can’t let go of your ego if you don’t have one to begin with.
For all five previous days, I had been intermittently haunted by thoughts and unpleasant emotions about one specific area of my life that had been causing me pain for over a dozen years. The story is too personal to share here, but I’ll say this: the practice of Vipassana and the deep immersion sharpened my perception so much that, on the sixth day, I finally found the right question.
It unlocked Pandora’s box, which I had been unable to open for so many years. Inside was an incredibly unpleasant, shameful truth about myself—a truth that had been sitting right on the surface all along, but one I had refused to let into my consciousness. It was a very painful realization.
I understood that the root of my suffering wasn’t in the people I had considered my offenders but in my own victim complex and resentment—toward them and, most importantly, toward myself for lacking the experience and knowledge to protect my personal boundaries.
Accepting this truth about myself, feeling the pain fully, I stepped outside. I felt as if a heavy backpack had finally been lifted from my shoulders. I now understood how accurate that metaphor is.
That evening, during meditation, I experienced two remarkable bodily sensations. The first was intense and solemn. It felt like the heat of a fever—my entire skin was burning hot, but there was no sweating. Strangely, it was an incredibly pleasant sensation. I felt as if I were transforming into a glowing light bulb, radiating energy and light. This state lasted about 20 minutes before fading.
After the evening lecture, there was a brief 30-minute meditation session. During this session, I experienced another incredible state, but it was different. It felt as though, after a long exhausting absence, I had finally come home—to the warm embrace of loving family.
Only a few days later did I realize these sensations might have been connected to the breakthrough I’d had earlier that day—the deep insight into the core of a long-standing trauma.
Day Seven – THE BACKSLIDE
The seventh day was awful. A powerful enemy reared its head—Boredom. The intensity and pain of the first days were gone, and the achievements and euphoria of the middle days had already been felt. I realized I was simply bored. Everything seemed pointless.
To make it through the meditation session, I had to strike an alliance with the very thing I had declared my number-one enemy the day before—my Ego: "If you don’t sit through this, you’ll feel ashamed. At least you’ll be able to feel proud of yourself if you endure."
Later, my psychologist explained that after processing a major trauma, this kind of reaction is common. For a day or two, it feels as though you’ve been hit by a truck—a kind of emotional backslide.
That evening, I was overwhelmed by homesickness. It felt like these three remaining days would never end. Then, deep within, I realized something: everything I would return to would inevitably be lost someday.
Strangely, this brought a kind of peaceful relief. You must cherish every moment, I thought, but always remember—it’s not forever.
Day Eight – THE ILLUSION OF A HAPPY ENDING
The eighth day was calm and focused. I finally began to feel a steady, gentle vibration throughout my body. Strangely, it felt like it was in sync with the tempo of sixteenth notes at 120 metronome BPM —the average speed of a classical allegro. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence, I thought. Perhaps this tempo is so common for music because it roughly corresponds to our subtle bodily vibrations?
I felt like all the storms were behind me, and that the rest of the retreat would be a calm and productive ending.
How wrong I was...
Day Nine – THE FINAL STORM
Day nine is the last day of serious meditation. On the tenth day, the program becomes easier, and the vow of silence is lifted. Day 10 is a buffer day before returning to the world. I decided I had to make the most of the ninth day. After a two-hour meditation in the morning, I planned to meditate for three hours straight after breakfast.
At first, everything went well, but after the second hour, my neighbor behind me began behaving terribly again—worse than before. In addition to the strong sickness symptoms that seemed to have no intention of leaving, he began muttering to himself and giggling. “He’s losing it,” I thought.
For about half an hour, I struggled to maintain concentration, refusing to let myself become irritated with him. But I had to admit, my meditation was completely ruined.
I really wanted to make the most of these last hours. I realized that my main motivation was not anger but ambition—I thought it was a positive thing at that moment—and decided to ask to be moved. I was told that the teacher had refused. I was scheduled to meet with him regarding technique, so I decided to bring it up again.
I explained carefully that it wasn’t about being angry with or upset at this poor guy, but that objectively, I just couldn’t work under these conditions. The rebellious part of me secretly rejoiced when I saw that I had managed to throw the teacher off balance for a whole 3 seconds with my argument. But I knew the chances were slim. After those 3 seconds, he regained his composure and very calmly reiterated his refusal, explaining that it was a valuable lesson and would benefit me. I wasn’t upset with him; he was a very likable person, undoubtedly advanced on the path of mindfulness and wisdom. After thanking him, I left the room, and immediately felt a disgusting feeling.
It quickly became clear that this wasn’t resentment toward the teacher. It took me about 15 minutes to pinpoint exactly what this feeling was. It was Disappointment. I started digging deeper. I realized that the ruined meditation, which should have been my personal record, along with the teacher’s double refusal, had “cut my wings.” Even if they had given me ideal conditions now, I would have said—“Forget it.” I watched in horror as the achievements of all the previous days seemed to lose their value. The ship of my spirit’s strength was rapidly heading toward the Titanic. I frantically searched for the reason behind this.
It took me about three hours to understand the cause of this state. It was, once again, that cursed ego. Deep down, I secretly wanted the ninth day to be the best one. I wanted the longest meditations, the deepest immersion, the best concentration. So that on the tenth day, I could look back and feel proud—“Ah, look at me, I made progress. I ended on a high note. I meditated for so many hours straight. Wow, I’m so great.”
I couldn’t help but facepalm. I mentally thanked both my teacher and my neighbor for this valuable lesson. Strangely, although paradoxical things no longer seemed strange, my neighbor magically recovered and immediately started behaving impeccably as soon as I understood this trick of my ego. For the rest of the retreat, he was so quiet that I forgot about his existence.
Day 10 – GRADUAL RETURN TO NORMAL LIFE
The 10th day marks a transition back to normalcy: participants are still within the retreat center, without phones, but the vow of silence is lifted. The idea is to gently ease participants back into everyday life after such a profound inward journey. A new technique is also introduced, aimed at fostering empathy for others.
By the end of the retreat, I realized that despite my small victories, I had only skimmed the surface of my psyche. As my concentration and awareness deepened in the final days, I attempted to explore more fundamental aspects of myself. For instance, I tried to understand my deep behavior patterns, or why I’ve always been drawn to certain types of women. It became clear that these layers of the psyche are incredibly deep and currently beyond my reach—like diving with scuba gear over the Mariana Trench, gazing at an unreachable bottom. It’s clear that exploring these depths requires extraordinary skill and "equipment" of a completely different caliber.
Talking to participants with extensive experience—those who had done 5, 10, or even 20 retreats—was fascinating. Some radiated lightness, empathy, and success, but they reported that progress doesn’t make it easier. “The deeper you go, the tougher the inner challenges,” they said. This resonated with me; I felt I was still at the very beginning. Others, however, seemed stuck, broken, reminiscent of Bulgakov’s Master in a mental institution. They appeared overly fixated on meditation as a cure-all for their problems. Observing them, I couldn’t help but think they might benefit more from other tools—physical exercise, social skills coaching, therapy, and even osteopathy.
I reflected on how Gautama Buddha reached enlightenment at 36. Surely, it wasn’t just meditation. I believe meditation was one of many facets of his scientific brilliant mind, alongside intuitive wisdom, best education one could get at a time, incredible genuine compassion to all creatures, and stoic resilience, cultivated through an extraordinary life that spanned the extremes of princely luxury and ascetic poverty.
A roommate asked me why I had come. I explained my long-standing interest in mindfulness, self-development, and spirituality, as well as my work with a psychotherapist to uncover hidden processes in my psyche. I admitted that I had specific goals and themes I wanted to explore and believed this meditation technique could help. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was too late, when I noticed regret on his face: he had come on a friend’s invitation, merely seeking a thrill. He got his thrill, but little else. He felt now unworthy because of my unconscious “showing off”.
Oh, this my bloated ego, come on, give me a break, will ya?!
Many, like my roommate, came out of curiosity or on a friend’s recommendation, seeking a unique experience. Others arrived with clear intentions or deep personal questions. In the end, I realized that everyone’s path is valid, and the retreat provides something different for each person—whether a profound insight, a fresh perspective, or simply a challenging but memorable experience.
If you’re thinking about attending a retreat like this, here are my personal tips:
Prepare for hard work and let go of expectations. Expectations can lead to craving, which blocks progress in this technique.
I believe that this meditation is most effective when combined with an interest in self-analysis and psychology. However, it requires the courage to face uncomfortable truths about yourself and accept them without turning away.
Find a posture that allows you to sit still for at least an hour before the retreat. I used a Japanese seiza bench, which worked well for me. Avoid positions that might block blood flow (to prevent clots) or strain your knees unnaturally. If you haven’t been sitting cross-legged since childhood, a Japanese-style pose might suit you better. If not, request a proper chair in advance —they are required to provide one. Be aware, though, that regular chairs can lead to drowsiness for some. Whatever you choose, maintain good posture; it’s crucial for success.
Do not attend this retreat if you have acute unresolved trauma or a psychiatric condition. Unfortunately, some people hope for miraculous healing from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, clinical depression, etc., which can sometimes end in psychosis or even self-harm. If you’re unsure, consult a qualified psychologist and discuss whether this is the right step for you.
Understand that while assistant teachers are highly skilled in the meditation technique and often wise, they may not have deep training in psychology or spirituality. If you encounter sudden trauma or challenges surfacing from your subconscious, some assistant teachers may provide excellent guidance, but others may not. Be prepared to rely on yourself.
Consider bringing a remedy for bloating. Based on the mighty sounds I heard in the men’s dormitory for 10 days, the vegetable-heavy diet can be tough on many people.
One quirky issue: the fruit at 5 PM for new students. I’d personally prefer a light vegetable soup or salad. The sugar spike from the fruit causes a strong insulin response, and by bedtime, you may feel intense hunger. On the other hand, not eating after 11 AM on a vegetarian diet can be tough if you’re used to animal protein. A hack that worked for me: drink half a glass of milk or soy milk with the fruit (the fat helps), and do 20 minutes of light exercise afterward. This helps soften the sugar blood spike and reduces hunger later.
Physical activity was essential for me and even led to a few breakthroughs in my meditation. While exercise isn’t encouraged during the retreat, I did it discreetly in a distant area to avoid disturbing others.
Take the ethical code seriously. It’s not just a formality—it’s a genuine support system for your journey.
Stay critical of ambitious claims.
Although Goenka states that it's not a cult, he often makes bold assertions, giving the impression that this technique is the only proper method since the time of the Buddha. While I fully appreciated its advantages, it seems clear to me that many other techniques work well for different people. There is some evidence suggesting this technique might indeed be authentic, but it is not entirely conclusive.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me!
