What I Learned From Ten Days Without Speaking

4:45 P.M. the Uneasy Goodbye to the Outer World

“Make sure you turn off your phone before handing it over.” The staff member held out a small navy-blue pouch.

I slid my phone inside, along with my wallet and airpods. The knot felt heavier than it should.

This was it — my last link to the outside world for the next 10 days.

In ten days, the pouch would be returned to me. But between now and then, there would be no messages, no music, no one’s voice in my ear but my own.

The retreat was in the countryside. A train to the end of the line, a 30-minute bus ride then a final 10-minute walk to the temple gates.

The sky was dark and heavy, the air smelled like wet soil. Rice fields on one side, quiet houses on the other. I felt like the lone protagonist in a war film, marching toward a battle I couldn’t yet see.

And I was my own enemy.

What I Was Searching For

The past two months had been… heavy.

I left Canada 6 months earlier, telling everyone I was “chasing my dream.” But by July, I was scrolling through full-time job postings. Mom’s voice on repeat:
“It’s time to find a real job. This will not work out.”

I told myself maybe corporate life would be different this time.
But I already knew that was a lie.

I was torn between following my heart and facing the harshness of reality. My thoughts scattered in every direction, irritation simmering under my skin, anger bubbling at the world.

One night after dinner, I was mindlessly scrolling, I stumbled on a post about Vipassana — a 10-day silent meditation retreat. No talking. No phones. No writing or reading. Just you, your mind, and the practice.

The girl in the post described it as “a reset button for the soul.”

I’d meditated on and off for two and a half years. I wanted to truly learn how to meditate and to quiet my mind and find some peace.

So as an unemployed person with nothing to lose, I signed up.

Day 1 - 3: Wrestling with Stillness

The moment I handed over that navy-blue pouch, unease kicked in. But I told myself I came here for answers. And I wanted them badly.

For the first three days, our only instruction was: focus on breathing.

When your mind drifts (and it will), bring it back to the breath. Over and over.

By the first afternoon, I wanted to leave.

The world was quiet, except for a sudden, sharp bark. I walked to the window and stared at the houses beyond the temple walls. Two dogs chased each other across a patch of grass, their tails spinning like propellers. I envied them — their freedom.

Instead, I felt like a prisoner. The only difference was I’d walked into the cell myself. As an energetic extrovert, the hardest part wasn’t the meditation. It was the not-talking. If I could have chatted with people here, it would have been less miserable.

But I reminded myself: You came here for answers. You’ll stay. You’ll get clear on what you want. You’re not a quitter.

When Silence Begins to Speak

The days dragged on. I didn’t know time could move this slowly.

Sweat dampened the fabric behind my knees, the itch quickly spread across my legs. I wanted to move, to change into dry pants, but the instructor’s voice echoed in my head: sit still. Stillness was the practice. Everything passes (discomfort, joy, sadness all of it.) Nothing stays.

So I took a deep breath, slow and deliberate, and fixed my attention onto breathing.

But by the second day, I something shifted. I noticed my chest wasn’t so tight. My shoulders felt lighter. The self-sabotaging voice disappeared. It made sense — all my usual triggers were gone. No endless feeds. No comparisons. Just breath in, breath out.

On the third day, during afternoon meditation, a voice rose in my head:

It felt like my intuition had been waiting for this silence to finally speak.

Once that decision landed, the ideas started coming.
A channel direction I’d been stuck on for months. A list of video ideas I was excited to make. The answers I was looking for.

I was afraid my overthinking would eat me alive. But when I gave my mind room to breathe, it guided me.

Why You Should Give It a Try

That’s the thing I want more people to know: meditation is amazing. It’s giving your mind a chance to speak without the world interrupting.

It definitely wasn’t easy. Waking up at 4 a.m., meditating for ten hours a day, fighting the urge to leave. It was without question, the hardest thing I’ve done mentally and physically. But I left with a lighter mind and a heart that knew exactly what it wanted.

If you’re in a messy season, in transition, or buried in anxiety — I’d recommend it. Ten days of silence won’t fix everything, but it might give you the space to hear yourself again.

The retreat is free, run entirely by donations. Branches exist all over the world.

Thanks for waiting on July’s newsletter. I went in at the end of the month, so this one’s a little late. But I came out different.

And I love you all, as always.

xoxo,

Sammie