Ten Days of Silence: My Vipassana Journey in Valle de Bravo
Two hours from Mexico City, deep in the forests of Valle de Bravo, I entered what would become the most difficult and transformative experience of my life: a 10-day Vipassana silent retreat.
Vipassana is one of the oldest meditation techniques in the world, created more than 2,500 years ago by Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha. He was not a god, but a man — a prince who left his privileged life to seek freedom from suffering. What he discovered, he chose to share: a path of morality, mental discipline, and wisdom, learned through direct experience. Today, Vipassana continues to be taught in the same simple way — without ritual, without religion, without worship. It’s not about believing. It’s about observing.
The First Day: Like Summer Camp, but Stricter
When I arrived, it felt almost like stepping back into my teenage years at summer camp. People arrived with backpacks, standing in line, glancing around with shy curiosity. I had come with a dear friend, but quickly learnt we would be separated — the organizers avoid placing friends together so the silence can be preserved.
In those first hours, when talking was still allowed, it almost felt like we were all searching for our “crew,” the ones we might connect with over the next ten days. But then the reminder came: no talking, no phones, no books, no writing, no physical contact, not even eye contact. All distractions removed. We also had to follow basic rules of morality: no stealing, no lying, no harming. The silence, in fact, makes honesty easier. You cannot lie if you cannot speak — and you cannot lie to yourself when all you have is your own mind.
I thought silence would be the hardest part. Spoiler: it wasn’t.
The Real Challenge
What I hadn’t fully grasped — even after reading the schedule in advance — was the reality of meditating ten hours a day. Every single day. The routine was strict: wake up at 4 am, meditate until 6:30am, eat a simple vegetarian breakfast, then more meditation, lunch at 11am, short breaks, more meditation, a philosophy talk in the evening, lights out at 9. Ten days of this rhythm.
The teachers compared it to brain surgery. Once it begins, you cannot leave halfway — you must finish the full 10 days to experience the benefits. Out of our group of 80 people — mostly Mexicans, with a few from Europe like myself — about 5% left before the end. It’s that demanding.
Most of the meditations were guided in the beginning of each session in english and spanish with a recorded voice from S.N.Goenka, a prominent teacher of Vipassana meditation who played a significant role in expanding Vipassana centers globally, but deceased in 2013.
The Early Days: Simplicity and Reset
At first, I enjoyed the simplicity. The food was healthy and delicious: two meals a day, vegetarian, light but nourishing. To my surprise, I wasn’t even hungry in the evenings. During breaks, I walked in the forest, listened to the birds, watched bees dancing on wildflowers, or took short naps. It felt like my nervous system was being gently reset by the rhythm of nature.
But mornings were hard. From 4:30 to 6:30, I often fought against sleep, my head nodding, sometimes catching the soft snore of someone nearby. Still, the hall was sacred in its silence. Eighty people breathing together, yet so still it felt like emptiness.
The first three days focused only on the breath — noticing the subtle sensations just below the nostrils. Again and again, my mind wandered, but I always brought it back. It was like training a wild animal, with patience and persistence.
Day 4: The Real Work Begins
On Day 4, we were introduced to the Vipassana technique itself. This was the turning point — and the true test. We were asked to sit in complete stillness for entire sessions: no moving, no stretching, no opening the eyes. The practice was to scan the body from head to toe, observing every sensation — tingling, pressure, warmth, pain — without reacting.
At first, it was brutal. Pain rose sharply in my legs and back. My body screamed to move, to adjust, to escape. But the teaching was clear: everything is impermanent. Pain arises and passes. Discomfort is not forever. And indeed, when I stayed long enough, I noticed the pain would dissolve. Then, moments later, it might come back. Nothing lasts. Not the pain, not the relief.
This is the heart of Vipassana: to observe sensations without clinging to the pleasant or resisting the unpleasant. To train the mind to stay balanced, whatever arises.
The Emotional Waves
By Day 7, I hit a wall. The experience no longer felt pleasant. I missed writing, missed the ability to clear my mind by putting thoughts onto paper. Instead, ideas and memories circled endlessly in my head.
Day 8 was the hardest. I woke up overwhelmed, and tears came in waves. Silent tears, flowing over my cheeks. My chest tightened, my breath felt shallow, my heart heavy, my shoulders weighed down. The instruction was the same: don’t push it away, don’t feed it — just observe. The teachers explained that this was the release of sankaras — deep emotional impurities stored in the body.
It was raw, it was painful, and it was healing. On Day 9, something shifted. A sense of lightness, peace, and gratitude replaced the heaviness. My body felt softer. My heart felt open.
The Final Day: Metta
On Day 10, the silence lifted. Slowly, voices began to rise as we prepared to return to daily life. For the first time in ten days, I looked into my friend’s eyes. We laughed, we shared. Her experience had been completely different from mine — more restless, less focused. And that’s the beauty of Vipassana: it shows each person their own inner landscape.
We also learned a final practice: Metta — meditation on loving-kindness. After days of deep, surgical work on the mind, Metta felt like a healing balm. Sending compassion first to ourselves, then to all beings everywhere. Vipassana trains clarity and equanimity. Metta reminds us to share it, to soften, to spread love.
Taking What Resonates
One thing I want to share honestly: Vipassana is not about agreeing with everything you hear or adopting every rule forever. During the retreat, there were teachings that touched me deeply and others that didn’t fully resonate. And that’s okay.
The beauty of this practice is that it invites you to experience directly — to test everything in your own body and mind. You don’t have to believe, you don’t have to follow blindly. You take what feels true and useful for you, and you let the rest go.
Just like with a meal: you eat what nourishes you, and you leave aside what doesn’t suit your taste. The important thing is the whole experience — the discipline, the silence, the stillness — and how it opens a door to meet yourself in a new way.
My Reflection
This retreat stripped me down to essentials: three sets of clothes, simple meals, silence, stillness. It tested the limits of my body, mind, and emotions. It reminded me of impermanence, of balance, of the possibility of freedom within myself.
It was not easy. It is not for everyone. But I believe, at least once in a lifetime, it is a gift worth giving yourself — to pause, to reset, to meet yourself fully without escape.
And perhaps the most humbling part? Vipassana is free. There is no charge. At the end, if you complete the 10 days, you may give a donation from the heart, with the simple wish that others may also experience this journey.
For me, these ten days were the hardest challenge I have ever faced. And one of the greatest gifts.
If you feel called, they have more than 100 Vipassana centers all around the world.
Check this website to find yours and upcoming Silent retreats
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