"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step".

— Lao Tzu

We're all humans having a human experience, trying to understand our place in the world. Some are lucky; the path is more prominent, and while the road may be rocky, the game of life puts a little less friction in their way. Others find themselves on a baron plain — with no trail, transport or guides in sight. Either way, we all experience the same pain, pleasure, and suffering as one another — the only variables are time and attachment.

I didn't take an easy trail — not by a long chalk, and thus, I spent the first 42 years of my life in one variation or another of what psychologists call "fight or flight" modes. Although it feels like many moons ago — before the world went mad — 2019 was my favourite year on Earth to date. It was the year my rampage came to an end. I can safely say that year ushered the most exquisite and profound change I've welcomed into my heart and mind in this lifetime. My soul cried aloud to be heard and healed, and finally, I responded, assessing and addressing my spirit, which was fractured into a million little pieces.

By April of this magical year, I had shed almost every facet of my old life. I sold or gave away everything I owned, and with just two bags and a beagle, left London en route to Bali with no plans or aspirations other than to gift myself a clean start and some weighty work as I would turn all of my attention and energy inwards.

"Maybe you are searching among the branches for what only appears in the roots".

— Rumi

So there I was, one year sober, discombobulated by a life-changing awakening at the hands of psychedelic medicine. I was a stranger in a strange land. Ungrounded, yet feeling more electrified, exuberant — effervescent, even — than I had ever been. I was free from the confines of hamster wheel life, and it didn't hurt that the sun shone every day in this warm and welcoming place.

So, I dove headlong into the business of healing. One of the many modalities I learned was meditation, and that September, I discovered the Tapa Brata, a remarkable health and calmness meditation technique taught by a wonderfully wise and gentle Buddhist Balinese healer called Pak Merta Ada. By the latter part of the year, I was meditating for up to three hours every day, which, as it transpired, was excellent foundation training for what lay ahead since the Tapa Brata would have me meditating for 8–10 hours a day — in total silence.

Finding My Harmonious Mind

My first Tapa Brata retreat was profound, to say the least, and amongst its many gifts, I learned to love myself as I let go of decades of pain, self-harm, and suffering. The following years were a mixed bag of adventure, magic, love, awe, reinvention, and madness as I travelled to Peru, Chile, and Brazil. Then, accompanied by my partner Jules, we ventured around Bali, Turkey, and other parts of Indonesia. All the while, the world fractured as weaponised sickness consumed the globe.

My daily meditation practice slowly diminished — ebbed as life got in the way. My sound healing and breath-work sessions too. Even the yoga fell by the wayside as eighteen months ago, I dove headlong into creating my first book, How To Die Happy.

Drink Your Own Medicine

Anyone who follows my work knows me as an ambassador for happiness. Not the skin-deep, financially abundant consumerist and material kind of happiness — actual happiness. True alignment with soul, mind, body, and environment. Profound inquiry into our Samsaric existence's illusory nature. A desire to better know where love fits into this jigsaw of cosmic complexity. And a fundamental tenet to achieving this much sought-after prize lies in embracing the impermanence — the "Anicca", as the Buddhists call it — of all things.

"We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world."

— The Dhammapada

It was somewhat poetic then that a lightning-fast rotten tomato of irony struck me as I realised that by the time I began frantically promoting How To Die Happy, I was, in fact, unhappy. Why? Because in the turgid mess of hustling like a fool — every day, often until the small hours, marketing, plugging, podcasting, pitching and writing, I had my eyes fixed on a prize that did not materialise in the shape or size of my dreams. I'd also received the unexpected news from an allopathic doctor that I was infertile while we were trying to make a family. The grind of daily life snook up on me while I wasn't looking, and I completely forgot my own advice. I became attached to outcomes again while discarding my daily practice in favour of work, work, and more mind-grinding work. In writing a book to help others with mental health, my own diminished in the process. Isn't that a trip?

I was suddenly lost, unfit, increasingly short-tempered, exhausted, and ungrounded. I was doing everything I advise others to avoid and overcome through mindfulness. Then one day, Jules said: "Babe, have you read your book?!". And like that, the penny dropped. This was what's commonly known as a "Come to Jesus" moment — a time to acknowledge my mindlessness with self-love, surrender, and a healthy amount of discipline to ensure a rapid and efficient exfiltration from my current psycho-spiritual funk.

"Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts unguarded".

— Buddha

Of course, I knew it; I'd just been so lost in the dream spell that I didn't want to admit that my lacking mindfulness practice had left me with a mind full of woe and harmful debris. This was a remarkable juncture — a reminder that, as all things in this world are impermanent, so too can our mindfulness be. The invitation stood before me to stop, take stock, and reset again. Use my understanding of how combined acceptance, awareness, gratitude, and presence are the key pillars to living a happy life. I may have let my practice go, but all was by no means lost. While the illusory fog of life had cultivated my disconnection from divinity, that magical point of reconnection is never far away.

So there was only one thing for it; it was time to return to Forest Island — the serene location of Bali Usada's Tapa Brata — where once again, I would meditate, walk, eat, and sleep in silence for six nights and seven days in search once more of my harmonious mind.

Returning to Peace

Even when prepared for a weeklong silent meditation retreat, one is still unprepared. Though remembering my first, this time, I packed socks, warmer clothes, and (crucially) earplugs just in case my two roommates were snorers. Man alive, those earplugs came in handy, as my new silent Malaysian and Australian roomies were hogs at night! Equally convenient was my Seiza meditation bench, named after the traditional Japanese posture "seiza", whereby a person sits in a kneeling pose using a small, portable bench. This is a welcome alternative to sitting cross-legged on the floor when one has knee issues.

So here I was again! In rural northern Bali. Sunday evening, surrounded by the sounds of the jungle. I was not long settled into my shared room; dinner was done, and as we sat in our designated places in the meditation hall, we entered our "noble silence".

May I Be Happy

I've already written a detailed story about what the Tapa Brata entails, but in brief, the process takes participants on a remarkable journey of self-discovery and healing. This intensive silent retreat is about training our minds and bodies through meditation to find inner peace and happiness. My teacher calls it the "harmonious mind" — a state we achieve by combining concentration, awareness, loving-kindness, and wisdom into a particular mediation practice.

The process relies upon our higher conscious acknowledgement of the phenomenon of Anicca — a fundamental concept in Buddhist philosophy referring to the impermanent and ever-changing nature of existence. The term is from the ancient Pali language, in which the Buddhist scriptures were written.

Anicca isn't merely an intellectual concept; it's a profound truth. According to the teachings of Buddhism, everything in the world, tangible and intangible, is subject to constant change and flux. Ergo, nothing remains the same, and all phenomena are in a state of impermanence. By developing an awareness of impermanence, one can gain insights into the nature of reality and the interconnectedness of all things. We can also avoid suffering since accepting that everything is transient helps us avoid clinging in the first place. And as the Buddha famously said: "Attachment is the root of all suffering". So by recognising the impermanence of all phenomena, we eradicate our own mental self-harm, navigate life's ups and downs with greater equanimity, finding inner peace easier amid the ever-changing nature of our experiences.

During the transformative experience of this retreat, we dive deep into the Self, exploring the subtleties of our spirituality and healing past traumas tucked away in our subconscious minds and somatically stored as sickness, pain, or injury within our many bodies. According to Chinese medicine, various bodies make up our holistic being. These are the gross body, meridian body, chakra body, and mental body. We are not solely composed of a single physical body but encompass multiple energetic layers that interconnect and influence one another.

Therefore, part of the process involves harmonising these bodies throughout the week. By recognising their intricate interplay, we can nurture our well-being and cultivate a greater sense of balance, health, and vitality.

Fasting, silence, qi exercises and meditation are the pillars of this retreat, supporting our personal intentions and helping to provide clarity. The goal? To redefine our concentration, consciousness, calmness, gentleness, and compassion. It's about nourishing and replenishing well-being while retraining the mind to be calm and considered.

The Man Who Wouldn't Cry

Perhaps it's befitting that words can't truly capture the profound impact a silent retreat can have. There were many reflections from my first visit and new experiences combined. And then came Day Six.

Every Tapa Brata meditation begins with the silent chant "May all beings be happy" — a riff of the Sanskrit mantra close to my heart: "Lokah samastah sukinho bhavantu". Which translates in English as "May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all". This is our eternal expression of loving-kindness. Using this mantra so frequently every day, we soften our hearts and minds and highlight our connection to all living beings, the planet, and nature that hosts us. We remember our oneness.

On Day Six, we were invited to turn that loving-kindness towards ourselves. What do you know — exactly as had happened four years prior — the moment I began this mantra, I broke down. The love resonating from my heart inwards released a colossal energy blockage accrued over time since my last retreat. All the stress, hard work, attachment, disappointment, lacking self-worth, imposter syndrome, and selflessness to the point of a woeful lack of self-love poured out of me as the dam burst.

On this occasion, I was better prepared for this energetic tsunami. So as the waves of emotion rolled through me, I knelt steadfastly on my bench, one hand on my heart, the other instinctively over my sacral chakra, and quietly sobbed. I worked with the energy — belly-breathing to allow whatever needed to come out of me. While focused on my breath and the waves of self-love washing over me,

I could hear that the session was over, and people around me were stretching and leaving the hall eagerly en route for a simple fruit breakfast. As hungry as I was (we'd been meditating since 04:30 am), I did not want to put a stop to whatever was happening to me — this beautiful and raw release of sadness, frustration and grief, combined with a knowing and loving energy that simply held me through the process, allowing me to release that which I did not need. The energetic and physical weights I bore incrementally dissolved as I breathed through the process. With each deep breath, I felt lighter. I let go of those feelings with every out-breath, making space for the new.

"The quieter you become, the more you can hear".

— Anonymous

Eventually, after I don't know how many minutes, I took one more conscious breath, then slowly sighed through my mouth as I opened my tear-stained eyes. My nose was snot-filled, my cheeks and eyelids wet from the cathartic outpour. The room was empty, but rather than any sense of sadness, I felt revitalised. Kneeling in the dark in this simple, still wooden joglo hall, I was enveloped in an ethereal blanket of peace and love.

This meditation had once again provided a conduit for my body to release the dark energy I'd accrued. As a beaming smile lit my face, I suddenly felt different — renewed, refreshed — closer once more to my truth. It was a moment of purity and clarity, something supernatural — healing I could not receive through traditional means. I was reminded once more that magic does indeed exist. Then shortly thereafter, my rumbling stomach provided a reminder of its own: "We're missing the fruit breakfast!" it barked.

Coming Home to Self

As we emerged from this sanctuary of silence, speaking to one another for the first time and sharing stories of collective struggles associated with our week of mindful work, our hearts were filled with gratitude and love. The Tapa Brata touches us in ways that go beyond words. We carry the lessons learned, the healing experienced, and a renewed sense of purpose in our hearts and minds. And once again, I received a gift in this place; a timely reminder that mental stillness and fortitude are subject to the Universal law of impermanence just like everything else. Anicca!

This idea that "life gets in the way" is a common phenomenon for many of us and an acceptable reason to struggle to consistently meditate. Though, as a new friend recently reminded me, life is the way. Highs and lows are a part of the ride. Therefore, daily practice and consistent mindfulness are the best way to guarantee a smoother journey and maintain proper mental hygiene. There is no end date for this work. It's a lifelong commitment that pays dividends beyond comprehension. But, like many other rewarding facets of life on Earth, we reap the rewards through dedication and practice.

So, if you ever get the chance to embark on this incredible journey, embrace it with an open heart and inquisitive mind. Let silence guide and meditation practice lead you towards a transformative experience. In those moments of stillness, you'll rediscover the beauty of your existence, find inward solace, and step onto a path of lasting peace and happiness. And if you ever lose your way like me, let silence show you the incomparable gifts that dwell within your harmonious mind.

A Sidenote About Silence

Not everyone has the time, money, or resources to disappear to a silent meditation retreat, but then silence costs nothing. So try to find ways to incorporate silence into your day — wherever and whoever you are. For pragmatic advice on how to do it, feel free to check out this additional short article: Golden Silence: Practical utilities for integrating silence into hectic daily life.