Back to blog

In 2008 I started going to residential retreats at Spirit Rock, a Buddhist meditation center located in Northern California. My first retreat was two nights and three days. That was my first experience practicing what is called Noble Silence.

The retreat was dubbed “a retreat for the curious.” Most of the participants, like myself, had never been on a silent retreat before. As one of the teachers started explaining Noble Silence, people started looking around at each other, worried expressions on their faces as if they were doubtful that they could follow the rules. And there were many rules. We were not to talk among ourselves, and we were encouraged not to even make eye contact with any of the other retreatants. There would be opportunities to ask the teachers questions once a day after the evening dharma talk, and we would meet in small groups or one-on-one with a teacher during which time we could communicate with the teacher, but not with anyone else. No communication between retreatants was allowed, not even written notes. Those of us who had cell phones were encouraged to turn them into the office before Noble Silence began, and we were not to read or write for the duration of the retreat. Wow.

The reason for this silence, the teacher explained, was so that we could turn inward, not only during formal meditation periods (of which there are many) but also as we moved throughout our days on retreat with all of life around us – other people, animals, and the beautiful land itself. The point was for us to stay with ourselves and our own internal experience, to notice what was happening in our bodies, minds, and hearts, and to practice staying in the present moment without being caught up in external distractions. It would also help us to notice when things got uncomfortable, and start to learn how to practice staying with and working with those discomforts. This turning inward would help us begin to understand how our minds work and how we often get in our own way. With practice we could begin to learn how to respond more skillfully to our thoughts and feelings.

I’ve always liked silence, but I was a little concerned about not being able to read or write. I felt sure that I could keep myself from talking to others, but eye contact was different thing. I was used to making eye contact with people and acknowledging their presence – it was an almost unconscious habit. That would be hard, I thought. But it was easier than I imagined.

By then end of that short retreat I had fallen in love with Noble Silence, and I knew that I’d be back for more silent retreats. I will admit that I did do some journaling (and felt a little guilty about it), but other than that I followed the rules. It seemed almost liberating to not feel the pressure of having to talk to others and to just be with myself. And when the time came for us to break silence at the end of the retreat I found that I was not ready to do so. I didn’t want to talk to other people. I wanted to stay in silence. I drove home without the radio on and with the windows down, listening to the sounds of life outside. Other than greeting my cats and giving them love I didn’t talk or interact with anyone until the following day.

Since then I’ve been to many reteats, almost all of them silent. I find that I crave the type of silence that I experience in that setting. Not only have I had a number of important insights and realizations on retreat, I’ve also found joy in hearing sounds that I might have otherwise ignored – birds singing, water gently flowing over rocks in the creeks, the sound of my footsteps on gravel as I do my walking meditation. Even the sounds of others entering the meditation hall as a new practice period is about to start is beautiful and calming – the soft padding of feet as they walk to their place in the hall, the arranging of their cushions or chairs as they take their seats, the gentle rustling of shawls and blankets being draped over shoulders and laps. And then the silence as we all settle in.