“Retreats”
January 2021, Bangkok
The title of this piece is in scare quotes because, as in a lot of Buddhist terminology, there are double meanings. That’s not just for ancient Pali, but also for the vocab used to describe modern Buddhist phenomena. Usually these meanings are split in a vertical way—the higher meaning and the conventional meaning. One example that I tend to focus on a lot (also in more ways that one) is the use of ‘I,’ or ‘the self.’ The conventional meaning has a whole lot of baggage that doesn’t exist in the higher meaning. In fact the higher you get, the more baggage falls away, as, in general, the entire point of the Buddhist path is to distance ‘yourself’ from everything you consider to be ‘yourself,’ one thing at a time, individually. The conventional use of ‘I’ is used in Buddhism for teaching purposes, as from the learner’s point of view, things can typically only be communicated in a subject/object dichotomy.
In much the same way, probably because of nefarious connotations that constantly barnacle themselves onto language’s journey through time, a ‘Meditation Retreat’ has (at least) two different meanings, and with it just as many realities. I don’t want to name names, because part of me still likes this monk to some degree, even though more and more I’m finding the overlap of where we agree diminishing, but I know of one monk who travels globally, providing what I would call ‘posh meditation retreats.’ From what I hear, just based on the instruction he gives on the available audio of these retreats, the attendees are allowed to wake up whenever they want, if they so choose, they are encouraged to lay down if the meditation is becoming too strenuous, and, this might sound weird, but they’re allowed to talk. Before I became aware of this information, I was interested in attending one of these retreats when I saw that this famous monk was coming to Bangkok. I was very excited, because to this day I still haven’t met a ‘famous’ western monk, and the usual in-person instruction I get is from someone who isn’t a native English speaker. Much to my surprise, this retreat was taking place in a luxury hotel right in the middle of the city, and had what I would consider a pretty pricey entrance fee (especially for Thailand). It was pretty clear the kind of people the organizers wanted to attend this ‘get together.’
Luckily, I haven’t found myself in one of these types of ‘retreats.’ I only say luckily because I have a tendency to go into a lot of things blindly (even winding up in Thailand happened by purely blind chance). Since there are a lot of meditation centers and temples that people can go to for long term meditation stays all around the country, I tend to just find out the location, book a spot if necessary, and go there without reading any reviews beforehand. A lot of them are just recommendations in passing by Thai acquaintances, which, with experience, I’ve learned not to trust anymore, in much the same way that I don’t trust directions from a Thai person (they’d rather lie and make something up than say they don’t know). Most of the time, it’s a good, or at least memorable experience, and hasn’t been a feel-good hippy hugfest. The type I’ve experienced I wouldn’t even want to call ‘retreats’ because a ‘retreat’ implies getting away from something, or cowering away. In tourist oriented Thailand, a ‘meditation retreat’ should be reserved for the first type that I mentioned, where it’s more about scenery than actual practice. These other retreats, which I’ll describe hereafter, are more like ‘programs,’ without the conspiratorial baggage that may accompany that term (hopefully).
One of the first ones that I attended was almost a combination of the ‘retreat’ and ‘program’ types because it was located on a very scenic mountain top on a very popular tourist island. But it was donation based, the living conditions were very barebones, and it had a pretty rigorous and intense schedule. Male and female were split up, as it should be if any meaningful work is to be done, meditatively speaking. I can’t be too sure about the female ‘barracks’ (the most accurate word for them), but the male ones were rough. Everyone had a mosquito net, a blanket, a wooden ‘pillow’, and wooden plank that was connected in what seemed like an unorderly series of other planks, meaning that all hundred or so of us male attendees were bunched together pretty closely. Unfortunately for me I’m a very light sleeper, but even if I weren’t, the ridiculous level of snoring that I heard from one of the other attendees would still have barely let me sleep the first night. The only reason that I did get an hour or so was because I MacGyvered a noise muffler, which consisted of using the band aids I brought with me to tape the toilet paper I brought with me into my ears and wrapping the blanket around my head in a knot. The next morning, along with every following morning, everyone is awoken with a very loud bell at 4 am, along with the lights being turned on in the barracks. This also makes it very apparent just how many bats are sleeping with us because they start flying around the same slim mazelike spaces between the sleeping planks that everyone needs to use to get out to go brush our teeth in the same trough before the first morning meditation.
For me, though, the hardest part was the women. Because, as I said, this took place on a popular tourist island, model-esque women from all over the world were making up a fraction of the attendees. Even though there was no talking allowed, any sight of them throughout the day sent my mind swirling around in unhelpful mires. Despite what a lot of people probably think about meditation, fantasizing isn’t part of the equation, and in fact is counterintuitive. Either way, this was still a very good ‘program’ or ‘retreat’ because it was challenging in a number of ways, which is what it should be. It isn’t supposed to be a vacation, a place to go to distract yourself, or even relax. It should be a place where you need to go to confront directly what it is you consider to be ‘yourself,’ to see what it is that makes you tick, what it is that you consider difficult, and to see what your capabilities and strategies are in overcoming that difficulty and how effective they are.
Eventually, I stumbled into what are popularly called ‘Goenka retreats.’ They are more like the ‘programs’ by my terminology, but I’m getting tired of being so pedantic, so I’m just going to let the terminology go at this point. They’re called this because they were popularized by S.N. Goenka, an Indian-Burmese man who previously attended similar sessions created by his teacher, U Ba Khin, which apparently transformed Goenka’s life from a successful business man into the modest meditation teacher he became. Goenka is heralded as the popularizer of the 10 day retreat, and basically the same structure that existed in the 1970s exists today. The main difference is that Goenka is no longer alive, and a video of him teaching is shown in the evenings instead of a teacher speaking. This is actually fine by me, as the talks recorded on the videos are a masterclass in basic Buddhist teaching, as far as I’m concerned. Simple, captivating, and earnest instruction that really motivates you to meditate for that ninth hour of the day no matter how tired you are. The rules at the Goenka retreat are basically the same as any other silent vipassana retreat, only more intensely adhered to. In addition to no talking, no writing, no reading, no entertainment, there is also no eye contact or interaction (as much as you can help it) with others. Of course, if an emergency comes up, there are helpers you can talk to. One of the bonuses was that everyone here has private rooms, so the barracks situation is avoided. However, on my very first Goenka retreat, which was in a heavily wooded area of Thailand, I opened the curtains of my window, which was next to an inclining hill, and saw a gigantic black Burmese python making it’s way upwards. A bit nonplussed, I just closed the curtain and continued to sit there. In the next few days, though, it was obvious to me and probably a few of my neighbors that this thing was living under my abode. Eventually, I went to tell the helper that it was under my room and a few guys came to catch it and take it somewhere deeper into the woods. With these kinds of situations I can’t help but make a personal, internal and esoteric, sort of synchronistic metaphor for that situation, but I don’t want to get too tangential in this piece.
In all of the retreats that I’ve gone to, there is always someone I see crying eventually. These are very personally intense situations you put yourself into, and there are stories I’m sure you can find on the internet about mishaps happening specifically in Goenka retreats that led to suicide or outright madness. Even the teacher at that first retreat I mentioned talked about a good friend of his that had been on the meditation retreat circuit for years and years killing himself. That’s why I originally made a distinction between the first type (posh retreat) and this type (program). No one really has the same danger of losing their minds (in any more volatility than they already have) in a luxury hotel in the middle of a city as they do being quiet with a group of strangers for days on end in the middle of the woods. Any real development in the meditative realm has to, from time to time, be done in environments that are ‘primal.’ From my perspective, the woods is the best place for this because to our minds, it is chaos. The order that exists in society—trains and busses arriving and departing on time, coffee shops with the same worker you see every day, etc. etc.—doesn’t exist in nature. You never know what will happen from one second to the next, and you need to learn how to adapt accordingly in every situation that presents itself. Sometimes it will appear boring, but letting your awareness drop can be dangerous. There’s a different frame of mind you enter into that simply isn’t accessible while comforted by day to day city or small town life. Part of what aids that existence amidst natural chaos is following the precepts, but, again, I don’t want to get into the mechanics of that in this piece. A later writing, for sure.
Goenka retreats come highly recommended from me, but then again, I’m not too deep into them. There is a graduating scale that allows different types and intensities of retreats the more you’ve attended them, almost like unlocked achievements. If it wasn’t for the lockdown, I’d already maybe be much higher up, as all the ones that I had planned on attending got cancelled because of Covid. Maybe then I’d either be an even bigger proponent and advertiser for them, or I’d see the cult like shenanigans which other people have reported on. Regardless, the entry level retreats seem to be sound to me. Because of their intensity, though (you literally meditate for around 8 hours a day, eat once or twice, and watch an hour long Dhamma talk at night), I would highly recommend building up a practice of doing at least an hour of meditation a day for at least two months before trying your first retreat of this kind. I had a friend who went with me to one who did maybe thirty minutes every day beforehand, and he got through it, but struggled a lot, and spent a lot of time not meditating (which I would think is even more dangerous). The parting plan that Goenka suggests is doing two hours a day to maintain any semblance of benefit from an intense retreat like that until the next one. I would agree with that amount of time as well. Although I’m not perfect at keeping times like these on a daily basis, the brutal truth is that settling on only 30 minutes a day as your practice isn’t really going to get you anywhere. There really (eventually) needs to be a dedicated effort to get to a substantial amount of time daily in order to see any real progress, and on top of this, there needs to be continued stints at ‘retreats’ or ‘programs’ like this to take you to new levels within meditation. Of course, if you’re just beginning, getting accustomed to any kind of success in any amount of meditation is the priority, not duration. This isn’t to discourage anyone who is only doing 10 or 15 minute meditation sessions a day, or skipping days, or anything like that. It’s just to say, don’t get lazy; comfort isn’t the priority. You’re not bringing Buddhist Dhamma down to meet your desires; you’re leaving your desires to be in line with Buddhist Dhamma. There are always ways to make more time for this practice if you truly want to see its benefits. If you really care about it, you’ll invest more effort into constantly improving, and a good, quality ‘retreat’ can accelerate success.