My First Silent Meditation Retreat: A Glimpse of Freedom
- patrikharbusch
- 27. Juni
- 4 Min. Lesezeit
"There is a voice that doesn't use words. Listen."
Rumi
At the time of my first silent meditation retreat in the Vipassana tradition, it felt like everything in my life was shifting. I had just returned to Berlin after spending four years in London and taking a three-month sabbatical in Southern Europe. I had a new job with fresh responsibilities and the pressure to prove myself in my new role. My long-distance relationship, once tested in a shared space in Berlin, was slowly falling apart. The prospect of apartment hunting in Berlin’s tight housing market added yet another layer of stress.
To the outside world, things probably looked okay. But internally, I felt pretty overwhelmed.
I had been meditating regularly for some time and knew its benefits well. However, I also knew that if I wanted to deepen my practice and find clarity within the chaos, I needed to dive deeper. So, I booked a nine-day silent Vipassana retreat at a beautiful, forested sanctuary in northern Germany that had hosted retreats since the 1950s.
Looking back now, it was one of the most life-changing experiences.
Arrival: A Space That Held Something Sacred
From the moment I stepped onto the property, I sensed an atmosphere of peace and warmth. The old, turn-of-the-century house seemed to carry the aura of decades of practice. It was a clear, crisp day at the beginning of spring. I could hear birds singing outside, and the first flowers had begun to bloom along the edges of the old paths. That first afternoon, before the silence began, I met the four men with whom I’d be sharing a room — one of whom would become a close friend and a companion on future retreats.
The food was simple, nourishing, and delicious: porridge with fresh fruit, warm lentil stew, rye bread, and herbal tea. These vegetarian meals sustained me through the long days of intense meditation practice.
And then the silence began.
Breaking Point and Breakthrough
The daily schedule was intense. We started with the meditation at 5:00 a.m. and practiced until 10:00 p.m. There were hours and hours of sitting and walking meditation, with only short breaks in between. I wasn’t new to meditation, but this level of discipline was something else.
By day two, I was already wondering if I could endure the full nine days. My body hurt. My mind complained. My legs and shoulders were extremely sore. And the internal stories began: This is crazy. There’s no way I can do this!
But something shifted on day four.
During one of the sitting session, something inside me let go. It wasn't through willpower, but rather through some kind of surrender I didn't control. The moment I stopped resisting the discomfort, the pain vanished. What remained was pure spaciousness. There was no "me" suffering through anything. Only sensations floating in open awareness.
No inside. No outside. Only presence.
That glimpse of true freedom was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
Spacious Awareness and Unexpected Clarity
Of course, the challenges didn’t disappear. Difficult emotions, mental stories, and physical tension returned, but they were no longer overwhelming. I now had a reference point: a calm, spacious awareness that could hold whatever arose.
From that day on, my mind began to quiet. I could see my life with incredible clarity. I could see what nourished me, what drained me, and where my energy needed to go next.
I remember laughing to myself at times because it felt absurd that I hadn’t seen some of these things earlier. I had spent so many weekends in the countryside journaling and reflecting, gaining small bits of insight. But the depth and silence of this practice revealed far more than I had been able to access before.
Reentry and Afterglow
Coming back to Berlin was disorienting at first. After nine days of profound stillness in nature, the noise, the grey buildings, and the hurried energy of the city felt like a slap in the face.
And yet, something had changed. There was an afterglow that stayed with me for weeks. While the clarity of the retreat gradually faded, my sense of direction remained. I knew what mattered. I had a renewed inspiration for my daily meditation practice, which was now rooted in direct experience rather than belief in what was possible.
Why I Keep Returning
That retreat was an important turning point. It marked the beginning of a deeper meditation practice that continues to unfold. I’ve returned to retreat many times since then.
It also taught me that deep transformation doesn’t always come easily. Real insight sometimes requires a certain level of discomfort, discipline, and the willingness to face what we usually avoid. However, when we meet these things with presence and compassion, something powerful can emerge: peace, clarity, and a sense of real freedom.
In retrospect, this experience is one of the most valuable gifts I’ve ever received. A doorway into a different way of being.
