DAY 11: FREEDOM AND REFLECTION

Day 11

25th December 2025

Yahooooo! Out from the center; our freedom day! 😂 - and yes! Merry Christmas 🎄😊

The gong came alive at 4 am, assembly at 4:30 am, meditation, video discourse and breakfast (I skipped breakfast). 

Time to surrender items like bed sheets, pillow cases (I never used them as i brought mine from home), the rubber heat pack etc. 

I collected my phone from the office and quickly captured a few photos of this meaningful place. So many pleasant and unexpected moments, yet each one had taught me so much.

A bus was arranged to take us down to Jamil, a distance from the hotel. With my heavy bags, I decided to take a taxi. 

A group of college students outside the Vipassana center helped me with my bags and guided me to a taxi, advising not to give extra money. The fare was merely 690 NR (about 20 Malaysian Ringgit) and the driver didn’t ask for more, though I gave a little extra anyway. 

God bless these students, all the Dhamma servers and the teachers who taught me about discomfort…life lessons that now feel tangible.

I reflected on the long hours of sitting during meditation and how it contrasts with my yin yoga practice….how fascia and body awareness shift differently. 

I remembered that a few years ago, just before COVID, I became a qualified pranic healer. During the pandemic, we practiced distant healing for patients in ICU or at home. I shared this with a teacher and she told me pranic healing could not be mixed with Vipassana, which explained why I initially struggled to connect with Vipassana meditation. I accepted this and let it be. 

Maybe one day I’ll return as a Dhamma server, in a warmer place, to experience Vipassana again.

Now, settled in my hotel, I reflect on my solo travel adventure and the meaningful days of my trip. Two more days before I fly back home and on 28/12, my mom’s one-year prayer. 

Hmmm, I may take a quiet walk and enjoy a meal while i’m still here..and maybe end my 10 days being a vegetarian…

Sign-Off Reflection

As I close this chapter of ten days in silence, I carry more than memories. 

I carry lessons in patience, resilience and self-compassion. 

I carry the quiet strength of having faced discomfort, the gratitude for every small act of kindness and the gentle reminder that growth often comes in stillness. 

Vipassana has taught me that silence speaks, the body teaches and the heart remembers. 

And as I return to the world of sound, light and motion, I do so with a deeper presence, a calmer mind and a spirit quietly brimming with wonder.

DAY 10: THE LAST DAWN

Day 10

24 December 2025

The familiar gongs woke us once again, though by now, I half-expected the sound to announce itself in my dreams too. 😂

Somewhere in the night, my calves and the sides of my legs erupted in cramps. Pain…sharp and insistent. I endured, blaming lack of salt, dehydration or perhaps just the unforgiving cold. Yet, comfort lingered in the thought: this was the final day!!

At 4:30am, I stepped out into the dim morning. Light, sweet showers greeted us. The night had blessed the earth with rain and now the misty drizzle brushed our faces. 

Black umbrellas stood ready with a note: “No sharing of umbrella”.🤣

The rule felt almost comical but then again, here - a rule is a rule and to be followed. Most of us dashed through the darkness, feeling alive at almost dawn, drenched lightly, silent but connected.

The rhythm of the day unfolded as always: meditation, breakfast, meditation, lunch, meditation, tea, meditation. But the energy was different. Collective sense of anticipation in ending the 10 days silence could be felt. We waited. 

By evening, the silence broke. And what a glorious cacophony it became! Voices, laughter, chatter…everyone eager to connect, to share, to release months (or perhaps lifetimes) of silence. 

The sound of human joy filled the halls, mingling with the crisp mountain air, leaving me breathless, speechless and smiling.

A donation drive and a book exhibition followed. We did our small part. We were allowed to collect our belongings from the office BUT phones still forbidden until tomorrow morning. 🥹 The discipline had been tough, but now it felt almost sacred.

That evening’s discourse by the late S.N. Goenka wrapped my heart in warmth. His words, infused with compassion and clarity, reminded us of the simple, profound truths: how to be good, how to recognize ourselves, how to make the world better, how to give and receive. I silently thanked him, praying for his soul, my mind overflowing with gratitude.

And back to the sound of our voices - for ten days, we had neither spoken nor met each other’s gaze. Now, we hugged, laughed, exchanged numbers, shared fragments of our lives and experiences. I talked, of course, perhaps too much.🤣😂

But it was joyous, liberating, human.

By 1:00am, I returned to my little cubicle, my bedroom that had been my world for ten days. I was literally freezing and didn’t want to end up with frostbite. Outside, others were still chatting, still laughing, voices rising above the cold mountain night.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, layered blankets around me, heart full, body exhausted, spirit quietly satisfied. Bags packed, mind at peace, I closed my eyes.

Day 10 ended not with silence, but with release, connection and a quiet, profound sense of completion.

DAY 9: COUNTING THE LAST STEPS IN SILENCE

Day 9

23 December 2025

The day dawned cold, as it had every day, yet the awareness of its finality made each moment feel sharper, more precious. 

Today would be the last full day of noble silence; tomorrow, we would speak again. The thought made my heart both flutter and ache.

The familiar rhythm held us; gong at 4 am, assembly at 4:30, meditation, breakfast, meditation, lunch, more meditation, tea, more meditation. 

Even now, my fingers and legs tingled with numbness from hours of stillness. The cold bit deeper than ever, a reminder that the body holds memory as much as the mind.

Outside, the same breathtaking vistas awaited; snow-capped mountains, the vast, silent sky, the waxing moon rising over the distant peaks. Sunlight glinted off the edges of frozen branches, the orange glow of sunset painting everything in awe. 

My mind wished to capture it all, yet I had no device to smuggle a photograph; just the raw, unfiltered beauty of the moment, imprinted directly onto memory.

I walked among my fellow meditators, observing their silent practices. Some lay on the grass, fully clothed, facing the sun; some stood with palms in prayer; others paced slowly, taking in the warmth. Even the teachers, elders who guided us tirelessly from 4:30 am, were human; a nod, a murmur, a slight doze and yet their dedication never faltered. I silently saluted them.

Meditation continued. The Dhamma discourse played in the evening, Goenka’s voice gently guiding, reflecting, reading our unspoken thoughts. A smile, a suppressed chuckle, a quiet human moment; glimpses of life within discipline.

As I returned to the dormitory under the ink-black sky, my mind traced each step, each creaking stair, each shadowy corner of the centre. 

The cold was sharp, almost a tangible presence, urging me to move swiftly, carefully. I prepared for rest, layering sleeping bag, blankets and extra comforters, feeling both gratitude and a touch of melancholy.

Lying there, I thought of home, of those I loved, of what had been lost and what remained. 

Silence enveloped me, yet it no longer felt heavy; it was tender, protective, a cocoon of reflection. 

And as sleep claimed me, I counted the last steps in silence, carrying forward lessons of patience, awareness and quiet joy.

DAY 8: SERVICE AND WONDER

Day 8

22nd December 2025

The day greeted us with a spectacle. 

Earlier, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm glow over the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Later, the waxing crescent moon appeared, delicate and serene in the evening sky. 

I paused, mesmerized. 

I wished, just for a moment, that I could have smuggled an extra phone to capture these views, to show the world the breathtaking beauty of this place. 

And I wondered, why not a general phone for such moments, where the wonder could be shared without breaking the silence? One day, perhaps. I would be so proud to share it.

Before lights out, a small, spontaneous moment of service unfolded. 

It wasn’t planned. 

It just happened. 

As I passed the bathroom, I noticed someone wearing rubber gloves, washing the toilets and another cleaning the basins. 

Without a word, I picked up the broom and began sweeping and mopping the floor. Quietly, instinctively, each of us knew what to do. And in that simple, silent cooperation, I felt a profound sense of joy and fulfillment.

In that moment, I realized the essence of Dhamma service. 

No applause. 

No recognition. 

Only presence. 

Only doing what is needed. 

It felt pure. 

It felt good.

Perhaps, in time, some of us would become the future Dhamma Servers, carrying forward not just work, but the spirit of care and mindful action.

DAY 7: SYNCHRONICITY AND SOLITUDE

Day 7

21st December 2025

Today, the unimaginable happened.

At lunch, I sat outside the Dhamma Hall, staring at a dried-up tree. Most of its leaves had fallen, yet some clung to the branches, dancing in the wind. 

And then… I saw it. Tiny twigs seemed to spell words and numbers; “love,” “no,” “yes.” 

I laughed at myself, asking silly questions, scanning for answers in the delicate movements of the leaves. 

That tree! I could feel it had a personality of its own.

Later, I was given the rare chance to sit in a Pagoda Cell, a small meditation space under the stupa. My turn: 1:00 pm to 2:15 pm. Assigned cell number 7.

Cold, dim and facing a wall, I felt that familiar flutter of fear. 

And then it hit me: 

7 again? 

Mom! 

Day 7 and cell number 7! 

(7th was the date of mom’s passing)

Tears streamed down as I realized she was here, guiding me, comforting me. I spoke to her, shared news from home, thanked her… and my heart soared.

The day ended with an overwhelming sense of joy. 

Synchronicity had appeared once more.

I was never truly alone.

DAY 6: LESSONS IN PATIENCE AND PRESENCE

Day 6

20 December 2025

The day moved slowly, almost as if time itself had taken a deep breath and paused. 

I could barely remember what day it was, or even the hours, except for the gongs: wake-up, assembly, breakfast, lunch, tea and the continuous rhythm of meditation. 

The hours of sitting left fingers and legs numb. Some days, I could not even feel my legs; a consequence of the rule we were told from day one: once seated, no movement. 😬

This morning, in my usual rush to fill my water bottle and get to the Dhamma Hall, darkness played a trick on me. I missed a step on the stairs. My knees hit hard, my water bottle tumbled down after me. Layers of clothes softened the blow, but there was still pain and a bruise forming. I quickly brushed myself off, whispered to my left knee to “behave”and carried on to breakfast. 🤣

Food remained the same and I ate less. My bowel movements had become a worry; difficult and painful at times. I even imagined being taken to a hospital in an ambulance, my Vipassana ending abruptly. Fear gripped me. I realized this was partly my own doing: drinking less water each day, avoiding the washroom at nights. 

During one session, severe pain forced me to ask to be excused. Denied. Tears rolled again, seemingly endless. 

My God, if all the tears I shed over these days were collected, they could flood the entire Himalayas. 😂😭

Eventually, my discomfort was addressed. I was told to move to the back of the hall, sit on the floor and lean against the wall. Relief came immediately, subtle but real. I stayed there, mindful of every breath. When it was time to return to the dorm, I gulped water, felt my bloating ease, and reminded myself to take care. A few days prior, I had skipped rice and Nepalese chapati entirely, sticking strictly to vegetables. Slowly, my system regained balance.

My left knee, tender from the fall, required gentle nurturing; two more days of care before it truly felt whole again.

Day 6 was a profound teacher. Every challenge…the pain, the discomfort, the bodily rebellion, reminded me of lessons I had taken lightly back home. My mother’s voice echoed through my mind: “Don’t rush. Walk slow. Look where you’re going.” Her guidance, her wisdom, her love; all of it felt alive here.

Despite the pain, the fear, the tears, I ended the day a happy child. Smiling, grateful and learning… slowly, deliberately, tenderly. 😊