The silence.
I feel like my life began when I got still.
I first learned about silent retreats when one crossed the path of my awareness online while traveling abroad. I was in Costa Rica and I heard about a silent retreat happening in Columbia in 2022. I considered going but didn’t make it happen. The next winter in 2023 in Bali, I heard about more silent retreats happening there, and they also didn’t align, but the idea spoke to me. I wasn’t sure why.
In early 2024, a client of mine attended a silent retreat and upon emerging back into the world reached out to let me know that I’d been on her mind - she felt called to share with me, that there was something within the experience that would be of value. Within days of this experience, a sat with a psychic who immediately instructed me to find a silent retreat to connect with my intuitive gifts that had been stifled by society and my life experience. In the next few days, while visiting with a new friend, I mentioned my desire to find a silent retreat to attend. To my surprise, she invited me to one happening in two months time that she was registered for.
When the time rolled around, I found the experience tucked into the edge of a very busy time. I had planned a women’s retreat of my own on Bowen Island late May, then my best friend decided to spontaneously plan a wedding in Vegas right after. This left me with just two days in between Vegas and the silent retreat. I noticed as the resistance and the excuses began to bubble up. Did I really need to attend? I could just not go. Maybe it wasn’t the right time.
I know the resistance well. She’s always there when the potential to level up is present. I have learned to notice and acknowledge the resistance. This resistance was also present the first day I spend time with this new friend. I simply was not in the mood to be social. I was feeling discouraged, overwhelmed. I remember asking the universe for answers, for direction, for my next step. I felt the urge to cancel my plans but decided to challenge the resistance - as an experiment. If getting out of the house this one time didn’t prove to be fruitful, I wouldn’t do it again in the future.
When I met with this friend, and began to get to know her, it was revealed that she has incredible healing gifts that perfectly suited what I had been desperately calling in.
So I knew. I knew that not going wasn’t an option.
So I headed up to the top of the mountain on Salt Spring Island, armed with blankets and a sleeping bag - knowing that I was headed into an experience where I would be without a cell phone, without power, without heat, sleeping in a cabin. I really knew nothing else about the experience or what to expect. I just knew that the invitation had presented itself and it was up to me to say YES.
I was the last to register for the retreat - it was actually full when I reached out. Originally, she told me she would add me to a waitlist but she reached out shortly after and let me know she would make space for me.
Unbeknownst to me, the retreat almost didn’t happen. The organizer lost her husband to a battle with dementia just prior to the retreat start and she was faced with the decision to cancel or find a replacement host. She was able to recruit a student of hers to fill her shoes to hold space and guide us on this journey.
I was also the last to arrive. I got off the ferry and wound my way up the mountain, bumpy dirt roads and a long journey up, higher and higher. I was met by a mystical woman, with a beard, and three attractive young men on a quad. She asked me, was there something happening at the retreat center this weekend. I told her yes, and explained I didn’t have any more information than this.
I passed through a gate and finally found myself on the property. Later I would learn that this was the most incredible property on the island, 160 acres of pristine south facing land atop the mountain overlooking Salt Spring and Vancouver Island, carefully curated to be enjoyed in a mindful and contemplative manner. A Buddhist retreat center. Upon arriving, I immediately switched off my phone and tucked it into the glovebox of my vehicle, knowing I wouldn’t look it again for several days until this experience was complete.
I was showed to my cabin and guided into an opening circle held by a First Nations elder from a neighboring community - a residential school survivor with a big, beautiful, colorful personality and a wonderful sense of humor. I was immediately struck by his words. He spoke to the busyness of our world, of our lives. He assured us it could be different, it could be simple. Simplicity was my intention for 2024. I was captivated by the words of this elder. He spoke for over 2 hours, a weaving and wandering journey of storytelling, sharing and wisdom. He spoke passionately about the importance of self-love. How we can’t show others love when we don’t love ourselves. He spoke about doing less, enjoying life more. He shared with us that when we get still, we will realize that the trees and the birds are speaking to us. That our ancestors are present.
We received a blessing and energy clearing from the elder as he smudged us and we shared a meal with him before entering silence.
And so, the journey began.
The idea behind a silent retreat is to remove all distractions and to be fully present with yourself and with nature. Through this experience deep clarity is achieved, answers surface, ancient wisdom is remembered. We meditated 6-8 hours each day. This was quite a daunting commitment for me, someone who has never had a consistent meditation practice despite exploring and learning within the space for nearly a decade. I found myself plague by fatigue anytime I attempted to sit in meditation. To remove ourselves from the constant state of “doing” that we have grown accustomed to in our society and to teach ourselves how to simply “be” once again.
I woke up the first day with the awareness that the novelty may be enough to float me through the day. I found myself exhausted - almost as if my brain and body were rejecting the experience. I had 5 or 6 naps throughout the day, any time I found myself with free time outside of the scheduled meditation sessions - of which there were 4 daily, starting at 6AM. Each time I attempted to sit in meditation on this first day, I lost myself to drowsiness and sleep. I found myself dozing off, waking myself up as my head dropped forward and body began to slump into a sleeping state. My mind would wander off, into a nonsensical dream land almost instantly.
We meditated in the cedar grove. I saw with my ass in the wet earth, leaning up against a massive cedar tree, with the perfect opening to hold me between its roots, covered in think, soft, vibrant green moss. It was the first experience I have had of feeling truly safe in nature. Being a predator free island, my mind was at ease. I have had fleeting experiences of connectedness, of stillness in nature. I crave it, I seek it. But at home, I feel I must be hyper-vigilant and aware of my surroundings. Fear takes over. For the first time, I felt able to stay in the stillness, to soak up the wisdom of the trees, the plants and the animal spirits all around.
And at night, the more still I became, the more wild and intense my dreams got over the next few days.
On the second day, I woke up with a sense of dread. I had to endure three more full days of silence and nothingness. Yet as we moved through the morning practice, I noticed far less resistance and an ability to drop in a bit more deeply. More stillness. The storm came this day. It poured rain and we experienced strong winds. Our third meeting of the day was an outdoor walking meditation, in the pouring rain. Again, the resistance met me, but I knew that this would be an importance experience. As I sopped in my soaking wet sneakers, back and forth, up and down a trail in the woods in the pouring rain, I found myself in a deep state of presence. It was just me, my steps, my breath, the rain drops, the trees, and the earth. At one point, I found a branch of a cedar tree draping down just in front of my face and I found myself fixated on the way the arms of the cedar would hold onto the drops of crystal clear water for just long enough - they innately how much they could hold before simply letting go. I could see the forest through the drops as the hung, heavy and fat, just before they fell away. They didn’t feel the need to hold it all, to be a savior, to cling - the way we do as humans. We torture ourselves, trying to control and carry it all. How much better we would feel if we could let go as effortlessly as the cedar branches do, when it’s time.
I pulled off my hood and stood, face to the rain, allowing it to cleanse me physically, emotionally, energetically. I felt the strong wind whipping droplets into my face and opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, like a child, to catch the rain as it felt. In this moment it occurred to me - I was free. I was so fucking free. Phone off, unplugged, in the forest, safe from the large predatory animals that populated the land where I lived, completely present, enjoying the experience of being with nature through a storm. Nobody could reach me and nothing mattered that did not exist with me in that very moment. FREE.
And with this realization, a second insight came through - I had never felt this feeling before. Ever.
I had never experienced true freedom until right then and there.
This was the first experience since beginning my entrepreneurship journey 5 years ago that I felt safe enough to step away - to truly create boundaries and plan to unplug completely. For 5 years I had hustled, forced, created, followed up, been available, been present, overseen, executed. I had become so obsessed with my “success” that my business had overtaken my entire life. I had no space for living. I was always thinking about how I would pay my bills, how I could make more. I hit income milestones I never dreamed possible as a solo entrepreneur in the online wellness space - $10-15k months, $100,000k+ years, but it was never enough. It never felt how I expected it to feel. It never made me feel secure.
Prior to being my own boss, there was more spaciousness. I had weekends off, as many do. Freedom.
However, at this time, I was so deeply uncomfortable in my own presence. I filled any open space that existed with alcohol and partying. I had almost no experiences of being still, present, with myself - sober.
The more I explored this, the more it dawned on me that for most of us, we have not experienced PRESENCE and freedom in this way since we were babies. In the womb - stillness, darkness, beyond words, our only job is to be and to rest and to grow. In our toddler years, the spaciousness continues. We are fed, we are cared for, nobody expects anything from us. We are free to play, to explore, to be. But as we grow older, 5 years old, maybe, life begins to fill up. We are put into sports, activities, we begin to have obligations. The spaciousness begins to dissipate. We begin school, and our time to simply “be” is reduced to just a few hours after school, the weekend. As time passes, we lose our spaciousness, more and more - with our realizing that is slipping away. Until one day, we wake up as an adult. Days feel like minutes and there never seems to be enough time. We can’t create space for the things we want or need because everyone is relying on us for so many things. Surviving feels like a daunting and exhausting chore that gets heavier as the years roll on.
What if it doesn’t have to feel this way? This is the lesson I learned this in this 5 days. Over and over, from various teachers - the elder, the meditation leader, the rain, the wind, the slugs and the snails, the deer that would eat out of my hand.
Re-discovering and re-claiming your spaciousness, your stillness. Changes everything.
I have felt so deeply flawed. So scatted. So incapable and unable. Always behind. Always treading water.
I constantly contemplate the idea of medicating my ADHD, because I always feel unable to manage my life, unable to keep up.
Stillness showed me something that medication never would - contrary to the beliefs I have held for so long, the stories that felt like truths - chaos is not who I am. It is not a part of me. It a symptom of our society. Perhaps some people cope with it better than I do. But inside this experience I felt serene. My mind felt calm and organized. I felt at peace. I felt not just okay - I felt alive and incredible.
Do you remember the feeling of summer vacation as a child? Ultimate freedom. This is how the retreat felt. When the days were long, weeks felt like months. The retreat reminded me that time is plentiful. Hours are long and minutes are abundant. It’s not time that suffocates us - it’s our lifestyle. You can make the decision to step outside of it.
Day 3 began and I could begin to sense the light at the end of the tunnel. We moved through our morning meditations and were met with a discussion around opening our heart. This is a topic I have done extensive work around and really focused on over the last few years. I remember once hugging a friend and them telling me they could feel that my heart was closed. I was offended. In this conversation, the teacher invited us to reflect on just HOW open our hearts were. On a scale from 1-10? This made me think; I had really come a long way. I genuinely feel like my heart is wide open - ready to give and receive love. But there is something else - like an invisible electric fence - preventing me from doing so. A protection mechanism. An armoring. I am ready to love - but not letting anybody get too close. It dawned on me suddenly - it felt like a smack in the face. The fence WAS my chaos. The busy-ness. The scatteredness. Working. Doing all the things. I wasn’t create SPACE for anyone give or receive love. I kept myself pre-occupied, unavailable. It was an excuse, a cop-out. I clung to the busy because slowing down didn’t feel safe.
We had a big conversation around forgiveness and explored a forgiveness ritual. It helped me realize that along my healing journey, I spent so much time working to forgive others who had hurt me, wronged me. But the electric fence was not to keep others out, as much as it was to keep me in. It was me that I needed to forgive, for the decisions I’d made and the situations I’d put myself in. I didn’t trust myself.
These realizations left me rocked for the rest of the day. I found myself needing to rest and resisting the stillness a bit. I went for a walk in the woods and spent some time playing with the cats on the property.
By the fourth day, I was looking forward to our sits. To meditate, to be in the stillness was starting to feel so good. We had endured three days of heavy rain and strong winds by this point. I was praying for some sunshine, as there was a particular part of the property I wanted to spend time in when it was dry. I wasn’t really packed right or prepared for extreme wet weather. To my delight, just before lunch the sun came out. I wandered over to the meadow near where I did my walking meditation in the rain with the cedars a couple days earlier. I spent about 75 minutes basking in the heat of the sun and stillness of the meadow. Watching the long grass blow and the daisies dance in the wild, observing the bees exploring each flower, noticing all of the little beetles and bugs wandering among the thick, soft mossy earth.
When people say “go to your happy place” - I’ve never really had a happy place. Until the meadow. It was like something out of a storybook. With birds chirping and singing, eagles swooping overhead and the entire vast space to myself, I felt like I had come home. I sat and meditated, I laid on my back and watched the clouds move quickly through the sky with the wind. I had never felt so at ease.
Breaking silence and leaving the retreat was bittersweet. I had grown so fond of this was of existing so simply, and so fully present. I wondered if I could have gone on that way forever. One of the most interesting things was that we practiced mindful eating and eating meditation. This means to eat slowly, intentionally - to really be with eat bite. Considering how many plants, animals and humans had to work together to make the meal possible. Savoring the flavors and textures. At home, I usually eat my meals quickly while I work or throw on a TV show to entertain me while I eat. I’m not sure I have ever eaten alone, in silence. Some of my deepest thoughts and insights came to me while eating this way.
Of course, there was a part of me that craved getting back on my phone, back into my life and reality. I wanted to talk to my friends and family. I wanted to take photos. I wanted to check-in - but at the same time, part of me dreaded it. I feared it - I worried about my ability to be able to integrate this feeling and to carry it with me.
The Chaos
The biggest takeaway during the retreat was that without really realizing it, I had lived so much if not all of my life in a state of chaos. This experience of serenity and stillness that the retreat offered me felt so novel to me. Had I ever been truly still and unplugged before? I realized, I hadn’t. It was brand new. I had never detached from my business in this way. I had never been unreachable, unbotherable. Nobody could disturb my peace.
From my earlier childhood years I was energetically and emotionally chaotic. I experienced a lot of fear, anxiety and worry. I was stubborn, opinionated, outspoken and impulsive.
Into my teenage years and 20s, my chaos was external and very obvious. I was often in trouble, getting arrested, partying, binge drinking. I was self-destructive. I was always dating the wrong guys and getting stuck in cycles of drama and abuse.
As I transitioned into my 30s and began to explore a self-love journey deeply, I became more empowered and shed the forms of self-sabotage that were most obvious and dangerous. I quit drinking, I stopped partying, I was no longer interested in casual sex or hook-ups. I had high standards for friends and for dating, I had a business I loved and that kept me busy and out of trouble. I thought I had it all figured out.
But what I failed to realize was that my chaos just got quieter and less obvious. It became invisible to the outside eye. Nobody could detect it - often times not even me. Because it camouflaged itself as productivity, as working, as getting ahead, as making a positive impact, as wellness. My chaos was now well-intentioned and “healthy” but it was, none the less, chaos. It was no wonder I was constantly exhausted.
I had been carrying a subconscious belief that if I slowed down, I would be in danger.
If I wasn’t constantly working and hustling, something would get the best of me. I kept myself in a constant state of frenzy, go go go, busy-ness in order to avoid exactly what I was experiencing here at the retreat - presence. Mental and emotional availability. Spaciousness.
In the past, boredom had gotten me in trouble. It had led me into the hands of men who wounded me and situations that damaged my self-worth and self-trust.
Ever since I learned “the hard lesson” - more on this later - I decided I had to be balls to the wall, accounted for, focused and on a mission plan every single day. This led to me being scattered and working many, many hours a day and often not accomplishing much. I filled my days with workouts, cold plunges, yoga - rarely with other people. I was uncomfortable with just being. I felt unworthy of rest because I didn’t get enough done during the day. I felt unable to commit to being social because I didn’t trust that I would have “enough done” and felt I needed every hour in the day to be dedicated towards my business. No matter how much I did, it never felt like enough. And because my life had very little structure, there was no urgency to complete things, because I had nowhere to be and nothing to do.
The practice of being available - the cure. This new information - that I required SPACIOUSNESS. That I NEEDED space and stillness. I had to do everything possible to preserve the feeling I had created at the retreat - to create as much of it as possible in my life each day. This meant I had to get my shit together. I had to firm up my boundaries around work and get serious about my time management to ensure I was getting things done in my business but also making myself available to just be.
Magic happens in the stillness. Awareness is born. Answers are found. Wisdom is downloaded. I realized I struggled with inspiration and motivation because I was trying to draw it from chaos - from the busy-ness, when in fact, it can only from the divine feminine - the being, the stillness. When we stop forcing ourselves to “do more” we have the space to remember who we really are and what we really want.
I made the decision to leave the chaos behind. For all of these years I had believed it was just who I was. It was a part of me. I am Riley, and I am constantly scattered. But the retreat showed me that I am so much more - and I exist outside of the busy. I have the ability to be slow, get organized, feel capable. I was able to achieve this through the structure and flow the retreat provided. I had never felt so ABLE. The chaos was a crutch, and I don't need it anymore.
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