YogiWrites

The Fantasy of Silence

I went in expecting enlightenment in seven days, like some Netflix binge-watch. You know the scene: me sitting under a tree, eyes closed, maybe a halo of sunlight making me look like a discount Buddha.

Instead, what I got was a war zone—inside my head. Silence, my friend, is not golden. It’s a mirror. And this mirror shows you pimples you didn’t even know you had.

Inside the Retreat Walls

The retreat was in the hills—misty mornings, a bell that rang like it was calling lost souls, and rules stricter than my school principal. No phones, no talking, no eye contact.

On the first day, I sat cross-legged, trying to breathe. Within five minutes, my knees were screaming like Bollywood villains. Then came the mosquitoes—tiny Zen masters reminding me that pain is part of existence.

By day three, the silence started scratching my brain. Thoughts came like traffic in Delhi: loud, chaotic, honking without purpose. What am I doing with my life? Did I leave the gas stove on? Why is that guy breathing so loudly?

On day five, something cracked. I laughed—silently, of course—at the absurdity of it all. My thoughts weren’t enemies. They were just…noise. And in that noise, a tiny pause appeared. Just a breath’s worth. But it was enough.

The Lessons Nobody Warns You About

Silence is Uncomfortable—And That’s the Point

People think meditation retreats are like spa vacations for the soul. Wrong. They’re like Navy SEAL training for your mind. Silence pokes at you, irritates you, until you stop fighting and just sit with it.

Your Mind is a Stand-Up Comedian on Crack

Left alone, your brain turns into a circus. Old songs, random memories, fake arguments with people who aren’t even there—it’s chaos. But eventually, you stop being the audience. You just watch. That’s when real meditation begins.

The Body is the First Guru

Knees ache. Back rebels. Stomach growls. Every sensation becomes a lesson: Can you stay without reacting? Can you sit without running away? Turns out, enlightenment looks a lot like sitting through pins-and-needles.

Silence as a Teacher

Here’s the raw truth: silence doesn’t give you answers. It strips away your excuses until you can hear the answers you were avoiding all along.

I went in thinking I’d “find myself.” Instead, I lost a few layers of nonsense I’d been carrying. Silence didn’t hand me wisdom on a silver plate. It just forced me to stop pretending.

Why This Matters to You

Look, not everyone’s going to a retreat in the hills. But here’s the thing—you don’t need to.

Your daily life is already noisy: WhatsApp notifications, office deadlines, reels on loop. Finding silence is less about escaping to an ashram and more about pausing in the middle of it all.

Close your eyes for five minutes. Walk without headphones. Eat without Netflix. Trust me, it’ll feel weird, maybe even painful. But in that discomfort, you’ll taste the same thing I did: silence isn’t empty. It’s overflowing.

My Note to You

So, what nobody tells you about silence? It’s brutal. It’s boring. It’s beautiful. All at once.

If you’re brave enough, go sit with yourself—no phone, no noise, no distractions. You might not find enlightenment, but you’ll definitely meet the person you keep running away from: you.

P.S. In my next post, I’ll write about “How Discomfort Becomes Your Guru.” Spoiler: it’s less Zen and more like bootcamp.

🕉️ Want more raw, witty, unfiltered takes on spirituality and fitness? Subscribe to the YogiWrites newsletter—it’s like chai for your soul, minus the sugar.