100 Hours of Meditation in 10 Days: My Vipassana Experience

Once again, I packed my backpack and boarded a plane, which lands me on a meditation pillow in Vietnam. I'm about to take part in my first Vipassana. This is a 10-day course focused on a meditation technique of the same name, which became one of the foundational practices of Buddhism in India 2,500 years ago. Despite its ancient origins, the course is completely non-religious and distances itself from any sectarian affiliation.

To ensure the most effective learning, every student was completely cut off from the outside world. Upon arrival, we handed over our phones and adhered to a strict schedule for 10 days. The day began with the first meditation at 4:30 AM and ended with the last meditation at 9:30 PM.

P r o c e s s

At the beginning of the course, everyone is asked to follow rules such as refraining from reading, writing, exercising, or using any kind of technology. Naturally, the use of any substances is also prohibited, and for nine days, participants practice what is called Noble Silence. This means students are not allowed to communicate with one another in any way. Free time is often spent on hygiene, doing laundry, sleeping, or walking in circles. Throughout the course, men and women are separated, sharing common spaces only during meditation sessions.

Schedule: At 4 AM, the first gong echoed, signaling the start of a two-hour meditation session. Breakfast was served at 6:30 AM, followed by a brief break during which many students opted for an early morning nap. By 8 AM, the next meditation session began, lasting for three hours. Lunch was served at 11 AM, and as expected, most participants returned to their beds afterward. At 1 PM, another gong marked the start of the longest meditation session of the day, lasting up to four hours for those who chose to stay. The final meal of the day was served at 5 PM, typically consisting of fruit and a cup of milk.

From 6 to 7 PM, students attended another hour-long meditation session. The day concluded with an 8 PM lecture, followed by the final meditation of the day from 9 to 9:30 PM.

Leaving a meditation session was indeed possible for someone who desperately wanted to. At certain times, the teacher also allowed the student to meditate in their rooms, which most people interpreted as permission to lie down. Ultimately, everyone was there for themselves, and it was up to each individual how much they gained from the course. Nevertheless, students were expected to follow the program, and assistants encouraged everyone to spend as many hours as possible on their meditation cushions.

For instance, on the second day, when I complained to one of the assistants (assistants and teachers were the only people we were allowed to speak to) that I was extremely tired in the mornings and kept falling asleep during the early meditation sessions, she told me to have some coffee. From that day on, she left a packet of coffee on my table every morning.

H i s t o r y

Vipassana barely survived in its pure form as it was originally taught by the Buddha. Surprisingly, it wasn’t preserved in India but in Burma, where it was revived in the last century by a successful businessman, S. N. Goenka. Overworking had taken a toll on his health, and Vipassana entered his life as he desperately sought relief from his relentless migraines. In 1955, Goenka attended his first Vipassana course.

In the first few days, however, he wanted to leave. “This is not for me,” his mind protested. He was already halfway out the door when his teacher said, “Stay just one more day.” So, he stayed. Little did he know then how pivotal this decision would be, not just for his own life, but for the lives of thousands of students who would follow.

The profound benefits of Vipassana, which healed both his body and spirit, inspired Goenka to leave his business career behind and dedicate himself entirely to the practice. Fourteen years later, he became an authorized Vipassana teacher, and in the 1970s, he moved from Burma to India, where he opened the first Vipassana center.

P r e s e n t

Since the 1980s, Vipassana teachings have spread across the West, and to this day, nearly 300 centers have been established worldwide. Goenka emphasized that Vipassana should be accessible to everyone, regardless of background. As a result, courses are free, and the centers operate solely on voluntary contributions. The courses themselves are run by volunteers.

Vipassana has also been introduced in schools and prisons. I highly recommend the documentary Doing Time, Doing Vipassana (1997), which recounts Goenka’s visit to India’s largest prison, where he practiced Vipassana with inmates for ten days. “I realized that anger comes from within me, that only I have control over it, and that my surroundings are not to blame,” one of them said after completing the course.

And so thousands of students and followers of Vipassana join every year around the world.

At least, that's how I like to believe.

P r a c t i c e

During the 10-day course, students learn three meditation techniques in total.

Anapana

Since the mind is naturally full of "clutter" at the beginning of the course, Vipassana is not introduced until the fourth day. The first three days are dedicated to a practice called Anapana. The primary focus of this technique is to concentrate on the breath and the sensations occurring both on the external and internal parts of the nose. Gradually, the area of observation is narrowed down to sensations occurring just under the nostrils, above the upper lip. The goal is to sharpen and sensitize the mind. This technique is generally recommended as the starting point.

Vipassana

In the ancient Buddhist language of Pali, the term Vipassana means “insight” or “clear seeing.” This method encourages observing the processes and sensations in one’s own body without any interference or physical reaction, no matter how small. Sensations may include itching, breezes, cramps, anxiety, stress, as well as warmth, cold, relaxation, or comfort.

Starting from the crown of the head, the observation moves piece by piece through the face, neck, shoulders, arms, fingertips, chest, abdomen, back, thighs, knees, and toes. Essentially, it’s like an internal body scan. The goal is to become aware of impermanence and to accept reality as it is, not as you wish it to be. Vipassana does not involve mantras or an attempt to “transcend” the mind. Instead, it leads to full awareness and acceptance of the present reality.

Metta

This brief technique is taught on the last day and is recommended to be practiced after Vipassana, at the end of the meditation. The student shifts their focus away from internal sensations and instead directs their attention outward, wishing well for all living beings. It’s as though the internal sensations are transformed into loving energy, which is telepathically passed on to others. We were told that if Metta is practiced regularly in a particular place, the area becomes “marked” by this positive energy.

A m I r e a d y f o r V i p a s s a n a ?

On the sixth day, I saw a girl from my dorm sitting on the steps with her packed backpack. I couldn’t help myself, so I broke the Noble Silence and quietly asked her why she was leaving. She told me it was too much for her and that the meditation had only triggered severe anxiety. During our brief conversation, she also admitted she had never meditated before and confessed that she wasn’t prepared for such an intense experience. Thus, if you’re considering participating in a Vipassana course, I’d recommend starting by meditating on your own first, gradually working up to at least 45 minutes to an hour. And by meditation, I don’t mean Vipassana itself but perhaps trying a simpler technique like Anapana, focusing on your breath.

Each day, it was possible to book a conversation with the teachers. However, a Vipassana teacher is not a psychologist, so they can only offer guidance on the meditation technique, not on personal struggles. It’s important to emphasize that Vipassana is not recommended as therapy for psychological issues or trauma. Under unfavorable circumstances, the course can potentially do more harm than good. If you’re seeing a therapist or psychologist, consult with them before deciding to attend.

The best approach is to go in with no expectations. Expectations only lead to disappointment, and this is doubly true for Vipassana. Beyond meditation and perhaps a few exercises to ease the strain on your back and legs, there’s truly no way to prepare. Everything will unfold in the moment. I don’t want to underestimate anyone, but it’s highly unlikely you’ll achieve enlightenment in ten days. Clinging to such an idea will only distract you from the practice.

M y e x p e r i e n c e

Intentionally, I want to avoid phrases like "I was looking forward to..." or "I didn’t enjoy...". Vipassana practice is about observing, not reacting. It’s about accepting reality as it is, not as I wish it to be.

Adjusting to not having my phone with me wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. The urge to grab it hit me only on the first evening. My mind was swarming with fears and worries, and it felt strange not to have the usual escape route I’d relied on before. But once I adapted to this offline reality, my mind stopped craving the phone altogether.

However, I often thought about writing— just putting pen to paper in a notebook. I missed the ability to capture whatever was running through my head. So my writer’s soul wrestled with the core lesson of Vipassana: embracing impermanence, specifically the impermanence of thoughts.

The walking space was limited—a narrow oval about 30 meters long. Initially, I found it challenging to walk slowly and ended up striding back and forth. But as my thoughts slowed, so did my steps, and I became increasingly attuned to my surroundings. Whether it was the plants, the sky, the palm trees, or just my bare feet on the sun-warmed concrete, everything became part of my awareness.

During the first few days, a lot of surface-level issues floated to the top—things like short-term plans for my life or how I’d decorate my apartment when I eventually have one. I remembered a scene from the movie Eat, Pray, Love, which I had watched (not so coincidentally) on the flight to Vietnam. Sometimes I do enjoy when my life feels like a complete cliché.

Anyway, it struck me how fitting it was when the protagonist wrestled with a flood of thoughts during one of her first meditations. Her mind kept drifting to material fantasies about decorating her meditation room when she would move to Chicago after her travels. Later, when she emotionally confided this to a more experienced student, he said to her:

And so, this sentence became my anchor every time my mind stubbornly insisted on decorating something imaginary. And there were plenty of such moments in the first days, for some reason.

The more surface-level issues bubbled up, the deeper I dove into my consciousness. The fourth day was the first time I shed tears. By the sixth day, old wounds literally began to ache.

I overheard that this 10-day course is sometimes referred to as the 'Purification of the Mind,' which felt increasingly fitting as the days went by. Because, as we know, cleaning often stirs up a real mess, uncovering more than one dark and dusty corner.

I also realized that if, in everyday life, one hides from decisions, postpones them, or opts for the easier path, during Vipassana, there’s nowhere to hide. You sit before it, entirely exposed.

I like the quote by Matthew David for Travel Memoirs:

H a s a n y t h i n g c h a n g e d i n m y l i f e ?

It has been over a month since I participated in Vipassana. So, have I noticed any changes in myself? Honestly, it’s hard to answer this question because they’re not exactly radical changes. My plans haven’t shifted—if anything, I feel even more confident in them. Am I mentally stronger? More emotionally resilient? Hmm...

I think I can say that I’ve learned to handle unpleasant emotions in a healthier way. In the past, I tended to either run away from them or let them completely consume me. Vipassana taught me to recognize the impermanence of everything. Just as an emotion arises, it will also fade away, and everything in between is simply an intense experience. When something good happens, we don’t want it to end. Conversely, when something bad happens, we want it to end immediately. But in both cases, this longing only creates suffering because we’re always chasing something we can’t truly hold onto.

As I continue to reflect on Vipassana, I must say I’m fascinated by the idea that this technique can serve as a kind of armor. None of us have the power to prevent life’s difficulties. I’ve always dreaded how I might respond to truly challenging life tests when I’ve struggled even with mere inconveniences. I’m grateful to have discovered a technique that can prepare me for such trials. But I also know that a single 10-day course is far from enough.

I’ve realized that if someone wants to build a solid foundation, it’s better not to rush the process. I see this course as just the beginning. How well I manage to integrate the practice into my life will depend on time, and my willingness to put in the hard work ahead.

I n c o n c l u s i o n,

Vipassana is a deeply personal and unique experience for everyone. That’s why it’s difficult for me to fully recall and describe everything that happened during the meditations on a deeper level. At the same time, it’s not my intention to influence anyone else’s experience. So, in the end, I decided to reflect on mine through just a handful of verses.

I sit again on the pillow,

my hands calmly resting in my lap,

while my head rushes through them,

all the wounds seemingly buried a while back.

Like skeletons crawling from coffins,

my anxieties find their way out,

the empty spaces,

now sting and silently scream.

And I sit motionless,

I let the pain be felt,

I let the pain rage,

whimpering with no response.

Like someone walking past the asylyum,

hearing screams and cries,

but not looking inside the windows,

stiffly continuing on their way.

So I walk for hours,

sometimes two, and sometimes four,

until the gong suddenly sounds,

and I awaken into silence.

The ever-present silence,

how liberataing this experience is,

my head too is now silent,

having lost its power over the soul for a moment.

Anchored in the present,

I walk back and forth,

full of peace and bliss,

that life is not a tourment.

I feel each touch,

as I tread lightly,

then I look up at the sky,

and merge with its palette.

The decayed wheel broke apart,

unable to bear its own weight,

and the stream of thoughts suddenly seeped

into the springtime flowerbed.

down south.

[Translated from Czech]

If I were to translate my 10 days of Vipassana into concepts, they would be these:

Work, discipline.

Silence, nakedness.

Love, devotion.

Pain, awakening

H u m i l i t y, f r e e d o m.