Keep it Simple. This straightforward poster—sans bells and whistles—was enough to grab my attention.
Two weeks ago I read this poster tacked on the door of our yoga studio. It read “Urban Silent Retreat.” The thought of being absolutely quiet for a certain period seemed intriguing, especially since the workshop focused on mindfulness, and how one could harness it in order to find peace and order in one’s life. This is something I was looking for, because I had been misplacing my eyeglasses, losing my keys, and wearing my helmet around town, sans my bike one too many times. Some of my friends and family members have joined Opus Dei retreats in total silence, or Vipassana Meditation that lasted for several days—too much for me, I thought, but this one would last only six hours—the perfect amount of time to get my feet wet, or in this case, my tongue tied.
I was quite nervous at the beginning, because the concept of silence imposition brought back memories of growing up in a strict Catholic school where we were constantly being shushed by teachers and nuns. I am very reactive to things, and I communicate a lot with my eyes and talk a loth through facial expressions, but our moderator, Psychologist Ela Amarie suggested that we avoid eye contact or interaction with our co-workshoppers, so that added more perceived stress to the situation.
After a short introduction of what to expect, Ela began the first of nine or 10 mindfulness practices. From acknowledging the sensations felt in each body part (why can’t I feel my left big toe?), to enjoying every taste, color and texture in our lunch (who knew a simple couscous salad could taste so delicious), to creating a short story in half an hour (about a thought-eating monster, a spell on remembering, and learning how to face your fears)—each exercise was between 20 to 50 minutes long.
The course of events were a mix of happy, confusing, exciting, heart-warming, thought-provoking, tear-jerking moments. And naturally my mind strayed from the scene many, many, MANY times, but instead of being hard on myself, I learned from Ela to firmly yet gently call my attention back to the task at hand. The first step to being mindful, I realized, is being aware that you’ve lost your train of thought.
Over the course of the day I noticed a shift in my way of thinking and reacting to things, and it was clear to me that there is hope for this monkey mind of mine. I came home feeling absolutely refreshed and inspired to turning ordinary things to extraordinary by simply being present and relishing the here and now.
I wish I could tell you more about the exercises here, but that would take away the beauty and rawness of the experience. You have to see, hear, feel, taste, and touch the event yourself! If you’re in Switzerland, check out http://www.themindfulbrain.net/ for upcoming events. And if you want to read the short story I created, let me know—I might actually have the guts to publish it here!