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Why I’m Disappearing for 10 Days (and What Vipassana Has to Do With It)

  • Jun 1
  • 3 min read

Updated: Jun 3



From 4th to 15th June, I’ll be offline. No messages, no emails, no yoga classes, no sessions. Just silence. Stillness. Surrender. I’m going on a 10-day Vipassana retreat — a meditation tradition rooted in the teachings of the Buddha and passed down through the teacher S.N. Goenka. It’s a path that hundreds of thousands around the world have walked before me.


It’s not a holiday. It’s not a digital detox (although that’s part of it).

I wanted to share a little about why I’m doing this — partly to reassure those of you I work with that I haven’t disappeared into the ether.



For me, it’s the first time in my life I’ll be without responsibility — no decisions to make, no space to hold for others. Just a set routine offered by someone else, moment to moment. That alone feels radical.



What is Vipassana?



Vipassana means “insight” or “seeing things as they really are.” It’s not about mantra or visualisation. You sit. You observe. You work with your breath, your sensations, your mind. Over 10 days, the layers of distraction are gently stripped back — no phones, no books, no journaling, no eye contact, no speaking. You just sit with what arises.


It sounds simple. But it’s not easy.


This particular form, in the tradition of Goenka, is precise and structured. Each day unfolds the same: waking at 4am, meditating for up to 10 hours, eating two light meals, following the code of silence, and gradually training the mind to observe reality without reacting.



Why Now?



I’ve built my life around service — supporting others through yoga, coaching, bodywork, recovery work. I have been on a journey from seeing everything I do, the people around me and the world as my sole responsibility - that's not a fun place to be toward a place that is more based in truth and reality. While I conceptually understood that, the felt sense is on it's own timescale. Not more effort, but more surrender.


This retreat isn’t about self-improvement. It’s about self-meeting, self compassion, self acceptance. Sitting with what is. Working through physical discomfort, mental agitation, and the ache that comes from not distracting myself. There’s no escape. But there is a path.


And the timing feels right. As someone in long-term recovery — from alcoholism, from overwork, from the delusion of “not enough” — this feels like another step. A chance to go deeper, not to fix anything, but to see it more clearly.



Some Truths I’m Carrying In



I used to be able to spend 10 hours a day doing things I cringe at now. Hustling. Hiding. Escaping. Performing. Pushing my body and mind past what was kind. So the idea of spending 10 hours a day simply sitting with myself? In some ways, it’s the most courageous thing I’ve ever done.


I don’t expect it to be blissful. I expect pain. Pins and needles. Boredom. Resistance. Tears. But I’m aiming to take it hour by hour, session by session. That’s one of the strategies recovery has taught me — not to get through the whole thing at once, but to be here for the next minute, hour, the next sitting.


And to remember: millions have done this before me. Many found peace, healing, and clarity. I may not. But I’ll show up and see what happens.



What This Means for You



I’m letting go of holding space for 10 days — to reconnect to the roots of what makes space-holding meaningful. If you work with me, practice with me, follow my work — thank you for your patience while I go inward for a while.


In the meantime:


  • You can still book sessions for when I return via my website.

  • If you have questions about Vipassana or your own practice, feel free to message me — I’ll reply once I’m back.

  • And if you’ve been feeling the pull toward stillness, structure, or sacred silence — consider this your gentle nudge.



Because beneath all our doing, there’s something deeper waiting to be heard. And sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is be quiet enough to listen.


See you on the other side.

With love and steadiness,

Ed

 
 
 
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