Column by Bert Cohen
Recently, I took part in a week-long SILENT RETREAT in rural Portugal. And I’m still a little speechless from the experience… Even though I quickly returned to the whirlwind of daily life afterward, I find myself more engaged than ever with some of the retreat’s central themes: awareness and sensitivity, impermanence, and letting go. And I like it.
The retreat
For six full days and nights, I immersed myself in a beautiful setting with no verbal communication, seven hours of meditation a day, more than two hours of gentle movement (yin yoga and mountain hikes), good food, and lovely people around me: two leaders and eleven other participants. I had spoken to many people who had done something similar before, and I was curious to see how it would affect me.
The silence
I loved the metaphor the retreat began with: we can see ourselves as a glass of muddy water. When life constantly stirs this water, it becomes cloudy and unclear. But when we let the glass rest for a while, the mud slowly settles and the water clears. By minimizing the constant “stirring” caused by communication and external input, the mind gets a chance to settle. And that brought me a level of clarity, sensitivity, and awareness that I had never experienced before.
The physical discomfort
Another theme that became painfully clear (sometimes even literally) was the power of letting go. My natural instinct is to act, solve, or intervene. But in this situation, many active responses simply weren’t an option. So I had to let things be. And often, once I did, the discomfort diminished or transformed on its own. It reminded me of the impermanence of things—from physical pain to ego—and that letting go is actually a choice available to me as well.
And what it has brought me since
Practically speaking, I’m meditating every day again. Over the years, that habit had slowly turned into something I felt I had to do rather than wanted to do. Now I’m looking forward to getting back into it, because it gives me an extra sense of mindfulness that just feels good. But perhaps more importantly: I still feel more sensitive, both physically and mentally. I see, hear, smell, taste, and feel more… and somehow I just know what to do. Didn’t we used to call that “intuition”?
