This too, belongs

As the weather cools and the fall semester begins at SFU, I’m reminded of the storied back to school tradition that is the ‘what I did this summer’ essay. In that vein, I’ve decided to share about the very special journey of coming home that I took this August. This was not a trip to a location from my past, but rather a passage to myself.  

Throughout my 30+ years living in Vancouver, yoga and meditation have been meaningful practices, though varyingly inconsistent depending on what else was happening in my life. Over the last few years, they have become increasingly significant, and my practice has been more sustained. As I’ve entered a new post-parenting phase of my life–well, I’m still a parent, but the demands have shifted considerably as my kid has launched into adulthood–I’m granting myself permission to be curious and delve into things that bring me joy, uncoupled from the need for them to be “professional development” or “a side hustle”.  

As such, I’ve registered to embark on a 2-year Mindfulness Meditation Teacher Certification Program in 2025. This program will be led by Tara Brach and Jack Kornfield, two of my absolute favorite teachers and thinkers, whom I consider to be among the greatest minds helping to develop and popularize the integration of Western psychology and Buddhism. One of the prerequisites for this course is a 6-day vipassana retreat. Vipassana, or insight meditation, is the practice of continued close attention to sensation, through which one ultimately sees the true nature of existence. It is believed to be the form of meditation practice taught by the Buddha himself, and although the specific form of the practice may vary, it is the basis of all traditions of Buddhist meditation.

A vipassana retreat is something that I have wanted to do for a long time, but my fear of the unknown and limiting belief that I wouldn’t be able to do it always manifested in excuses. But now, I had no way out, and as a result, found myself at the glorious Hollyhock retreat centre on Cortes Island in the last heydays of summer.  I’m far too early in my path of study to intelligently espouse Buddhist philosophy, but what I can do is share a bit of my story.

At the retreat, I had the opportunity to sit in total silence for 6 days, held deeply in a natural setting and by an exceptional teacher who gently guided us to turn inward and become mindful of the chaos of our thoughts. When it was suggested that we renounce our cell phones for the week, my heart skipped a beat. But I met that fear with faith, knowing that there was a way for me to be reached should an emergency occur, and understanding that letting go of my phone was another vital step to fully embrace the journey I had chosen to undertake.  

Our daily schedule began at 6:15 am with meditation—first sitting, then walking, then sitting again—until 9:15pm with breaks for exercise and meals. During the retreat, the only speaking that occurred was during guided meditations and dharma talks provided by our teacher, directions from a yoga instructor, and two short check-in meetings with our small group. The rigidity of the schedule, along with the lack of talking, cell phones, reading or journaling were designed to help us delve further within ourselves. Our teacher explained that without these distractions, we could become more attuned to the present moment and lessen the temptation of being pulled away from our strengthening focus on mindfulness.

By the second day, this structure allowed me to begin touching into robust moments of calm and an internal quiet I have rarely, if ever, previously achieved. The amount of time between my non-productive thoughts lengthened, along with a greater awareness of my thoughts overall. My body struggled with the physical demands—sitting for long days of meditation is harder than it looks! —but I eventually managed to create a semblance of comfort with the help of multiple meditation cushions and a giant blanket. During practice, as to be expected, feelings arose, and I tried to face them without judgement in the manner I am learning. As Tara Brach says, we can try to meet our own self-discovery of feelings and emotions with the sentiment, “yes, this too belongs.” Allowing and accepting our feelings, rather than doing what we naturally tend to do, which is to push away, resulting in lasting pain or discomfort.

It is said that ‘you don’t know what you don’t know’, and I was taught that the Buddha implores us to not believe in things blindly, but rather test ideas in the laboratory of our own experience. I’m very aware of and vastly grateful for the privilege of going to Hollyhock and be able to briefly step away from my life and obligations. That said, over the week, I gained valuable personal insights and confidence that I can be silent, live without my phone or other distractions for 6-days, and handle the physical demands of an intense meditation schedule. 

As I’ve returned home to the city, one of the most constructive impacts I’ve noticed is a lasting halo effect. The opportunity to practice and experience mindfulness at the retreat opened a new doorway, showing me that a different way of being is possible and that I can in fact travel a different path. Since returning, I’ve been more appreciative and responsive to joys and challenges, and moment-to-moment, I feel more attuned to the felt experiences in my life. I know it is possible that I can be more present personally and professionally and make more ethical choices in the way I live. I’ve learned that I have the ability for great compassion towards myself and others, and that this practice can be extended to my work.

As we embark on the fall semester and our office begins planning and supporting programming that addresses the pressing challenges of our times, I will carry these lessons with me. After all, they too belong.