This year of travel isn’t solely about seeing new countries and places, but also having unique experiences. Something that had crossed my mind was a silent retreat. When I learnt that the retreat centre I was volunteering at in Georgia was holding one at the end of November I knew that I had to stay and do it. It was the perfect opportunity, mostly because I didn’t have to pay! Instead I was staying, eating and taking part in the activities for free (in exchange for volunteer work). The location, the Georgian mountains, wasn’t quite where I thought I’d do such a retreat, picturing Nepal or Thailand, but it worked out perfectly.
And so, from the 22nd November - 1st December I did not utter a word.
There are different types of silent retreats, which vary in the level of which the external world is excluded. This was a tame one. We were permitted to read, write, listen to music, explore nature, and we had group activities such as bodywork, ambient healing, contact improvisation and tea ceremonies. Communication was allowed, just not talking. We could gesture to each other and write notes when absolutely necessary (although some conversations were not necessary… I’ve included a screenshot of one of my favourites from my laptop notes below). We were discouraged from using technology. Personally, I decided to delete all social media from my phone and I really only used it for occasionally listening to music and for yoga/workouts. I used my laptop in the evenings to write my journal and do some travel planning, and watch a few episodes of netflix, but tried to keep this to a minimum too.
The structure of the day, and my own routine
8am - Yoga. This was silent, with the instructor using a clap to indicate when to change position.
8:45am - Serve breakfast, eat and wash up. As I was volunteering I had work to do each day and this was to serve the meals and wash up afterwards.
10am - Vipassana meditation. I would take a short walk up the hill to a viewpoint and then (depending on the weather) either sit in the hammock to meditate or join in with the group meditation inside.
11am - I would usually do some exercise at this time, and then shower.
12:45pm - Serve lunch, eat and wash up.
2pm - Free time. I would hike (either alone or with others), read, sit in the hammock in silence, draw or entertain myself some way. The litter of puppies were growing up fast so playing with them was always an easy way to spend some time. I was never bored.
5:45pm - Serve dinner, eat and wash up.
7pm - Evening activity or free time. The evening activities included the ones I mentioned above - ambient healing, sound healing, bodywork, listening to live music and contact improvisation. I often read, did more yoga or took an evening walk. We played cards some evenings.
The beginning and the end
The silence was created with an entering circle, where everyone counted down from 10 to 0 in decreasing volume. I actually missed this as I was still in Batumi on my way back from my trip to Tbilisi and the wine region (and after staying up until 7am drinking on the beach…). I entered the silence by shouting one last phrase into the mountains before crossing over the threshold of Gomarduli.
There was also an ending circle to bring the silence to a close. I started to join this but felt like I needed to end the silence alone instead. I moved outside onto the hammock and meditated for a while first. I sat with the silence for a few last minutes before deciding it was time to speak. It was really difficult to do. Like worryingly difficult, for a moment I thought I might not be able to speak. But I did. I recorded it actually, it’s very interesting to watch as my voice is so quiet and I spoke so slowly with huge pauses between words and sentences. Vilte and Alex came up to join me after a while and we sat in silence still. We spoke a little, but not a lot. We simply didn’t feel the need to. After 10 days of silence there really wasn’t such a thing as an ‘awkward silence’. But Vilte and I had some things we needed to talk about (she was considering joining me in travelling to Armenia) and so we did talk. I felt like I would have preferred to stay silent though. Talking didn’t offer anything to me anymore. I missed how wonderful and full silence felt. It was time to serve lunch. Whilst we ate lunch we all chatted. We talked about the morality of Christmas carolling and about religion. I shared some funny stories. My love of talking came back like a flood. How could I ever have contemplated remaining silent forever! I love to talk! My voice bubbled out of me, along with laughter and the laughter of others that my voice and my story enticed. And just like that I was back to talking, a little too much perhaps, like normal. But I’ll remember how wonderful the silence felt. I’ll remember how unawkward the silence became. I’ll remember how close I felt to people when walking or eating or sitting in silence. Maybe I’ll be silent a little more often.
Later in the day we did a sharing circle and shared our experiences of the silent retreat.
My experience
Going in I was pretty confident about being able to stay silent for 10 days, what I was less sure about was the impact it would have on my already quite busy and loud mind. It really exposed just how little control I have over my thoughts when I don’t have something active to focus on. This is something I really want to work on, to bring more discipline into my mind and more focus into my life. Staying silent was even easier than I’d imagined. After one day I no longer felt the need to talk. My first response to being asked a question or needing to ask one was to gesture, not to speak. The silence was engulfing and addictive. Quickly I realised how much of speech is pointless and just noise. The first day felt strange, eating in silence, looking at people and not saying anything to them. But then it felt normal. It’s interesting how quickly the body and mind adapts to a new situation. One of the most notable things was the effect it had on my memories. If at the end of the first few days you’d asked me if we’d been silent all day I’d have said no. In my head and my memories we hadn’t. Because in remembering every silent interaction I heard the voice of the other person, rather than the waving of hands. This changed around halfway through, with the opposite happening. My memories of pre-silent interactions had become silent, with conversations being through mime rather than spoken. This wasn’t restricted to interactions I’d had with people in Gomarduli but all of my memories, conversations with family at home or with friends at university, all silent. If there was ever a case for the malleability of memories and how untrustworthy they are this was it for me!
I want to emphasise how addictive the silence was. Being alone with your thoughts and being able to sit and really notice things rather than having to talk was both refreshing and restful. I spent a surprising amount of time just lying in silence. On the grass in the sun, in the hammock, on a blanket by the fire. Just observing and breathing and letting my mind wander.
I really enjoyed hiking with others in silence. It reminded me a lot of scuba diving. You’re moving around a space with someone and communicating through hand signals to indicate directions and timings. If you’re a friend I often go for walks with, prepare for me to suggest silent walks in the future! Something I started doing was hiking barefoot. The first time was on a sunny day, when the ground was warm and the mud was soft. I hiked up a little river, through patches of clay, then across warm grass and along a muddy path into the forest. I hopped from patches of soft leaves to mud to soft leaves again, avoiding the stones. I walked until my feet were numb and then I washed them off in warm water and put on thick woollen socks. The second time was when it was wet and cold. After having hiked for a while, and being almost back, I stopped to take off my boots and finished the walk barefoot. This time the grass was wet with rain and slippy. The little river was like ice and only the clay retained any warmth. My feet were red and numb within minutes, but it felt so wonderful. I thought about why I’d never hiked barefoot before. I’d recommend trying it!
I had one day where I felt desperately sad. In a way I haven’t for a long time. I was expecting to feel that way at some point over the retreat, something about being alone with your thoughts for so long, so I wasn’t surprised or annoyed by it. I let it consume me for the day, and I felt my sadness in a way I’ve never done before. I wasn’t sad about any particular thing, maybe not being able to share my travels with my Grandpa. I isolated myself completely for the day, hiking alone in the rain, reading alone in the evening, not communicating with anyone. It felt like a life lesson, to rely solely on yourself to both feel sad and to then feel better. I went to bed feeling exhausted, and a little anxious about how I’d wake up. I woke up feeling content and light as ever.
While I found the silence easy, I found not having contact with the outside world much harder. I didn’t miss social media, but I did miss speaking to my friends and family. Not having social media actually felt wonderful, like I existed only in the present moment and the present place. In my own bubble of tranquility. I know it’s not news to say having a social media cleanse feels good, but in case you needed an extra nudge to try it, this is it! I didn’t redownload everything at once. I felt a bit scared to actually, worried about feeling overwhelmed by suddenly having access to the rest of the world. I did it slowly. Replying to people in stages and intentionally. Giving each reply consideration and really savouring the connection it brought.
Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. It made me hone in on a few things I want to bring into my life (the main one being meditation) and gave me a fresh outlook on relationships and communication with others. I would quite like to try a full Vipassana retreat, perhaps when I’m in Southeast Asia…
A photo taken on each walk to the cross
Goodbye Gomarduli!
I stayed a few extra days after the retreat and then left for the final time. Like Kotor, Montenegro, I felt I found a little home here. I will miss everyone so much.
