Rehab for Anger: Ten Days of Silence

It can be a long journey to develop a meditation practice, but there is no time like the present to start. Meditation has given me the ability to clear my mind and develop an ability to possess equanimity. It’s vital for success as an investor, to keep sane, and to be a leader.  

Why don’t people meditate?

"I've done a five-day. Ten days seems like a lot."

"I didn't know you were that type?" 

"Wow, that's crazy. I wouldn't last a day." 

"Have you ever meditated before?" 

These are all reasonable and regular responses from people when I mentioned I went on a 10-day silent meditation retreat.  

Last year, without much reading into meditation and no introductory classes, I took the plunge of 10 days of Vipassana meditation in silence. This is by no means an exceptional experience. Many people have done this, and at least two have written blogs about it: Andrey wrote this one; Ben wrote this one. Their experiences mirrored my own. This one I read in the day before going. It is useful to know what to expect visually. Still, that particular one was written in a tone that made the experience seem as if it was a ritual to be observed, not a serious undertaking to study. 

Long story, short - it's difficult. They confiscate your cell phone. No reading. No writing. No place for your mind to hide. And many people drop, maybe 20-30%. You observe that their mats are simply removed. Another one bites the dust. The center does make you sign a statement upfront to lay out the expectations of noble silence, but I guess some people still aren't prepared. You have to accept the premise. Fully. Upfront. Decide and commit. And that's what I did. I knew I was going to see it through. 

What's the theory of the practice?

Vipassana means 'to see things as they really are" as the lead meditator Goenka explains. The Vipassana meditation technique has a rich underlying philosophy. 

They have their words. I have mine. It's 'rehab for anger.' It's not positioned that way, of course. The premise of the process is more common. It's more about mindfulness, being in the present, letting go of your reaction to what you can't control, and being at peace and happy. 

So, how does it break your anger? Two parts, I'd say.

First, start with taming your mind. You start with four days of instructions to focus your mind on the space between your nostrils, observing your breath. Feel those sensations. Every time your mind wanders, bring it back to the breath. Focus on the here and now. That's it.  

Obviously, you are thinking about other things during those four days. You're clearing out all the little things you can remember in recent memory. The details of the trip to the center. Your recent feelings about what's going on in your life. A conversation or something. But you think about it, process it, and then it's not worth revising. 

The physical aspect and the link between mind and body is the part I didn't fully appreciate it. You are physically retraining your brain not to react. How? By sitting quietly for an hour or two hour-long periods without moving your legs or hands and not opening your eyes. Just feeling your body for sensations. It's uncomfortable – like the strain in your shoulder blade from the muscle you don't use that much. And you just observe it, don't move, and notice that it actually goes away. 

Second is the length of the program. Ten days is a deliberate part of the process. It's long enough that you can't escape quickly. You could make it through the four days and still be at the surface. Day 6 and 7, that's when it has gone deeper. You know you're not at the end yet, but the easy things to think about are gone. Many people crack like a nut on day 6-7.

The natural question that people always ask is, "So, what was the thing for you? I understand if it is too personal to share." And it is personal. The personal is all that matters. I'll share it with you.

For me, it was the morning of day 7.  

In early January, I read the memo title "Political Reality Meets Economic Reality" by Howard Marks.  And in this particular note, Howard included an appendix called "The tax system explained in beer." I had some grievances with this analogy. I didn't like the way Howard had "been waiting a long time to have a chance to use this." Like, eager to confirm his view. So, in my head, I started to write a response, like a letter back. There was a long list, but at the top was about how talking about beer was a rhetorical device to make using tax dollars seem frivolous. Like infrastructure for all, or ensuring every child has access to education, or that we have national defense or roads. It's not beer money. Second grievance? The assumption was that the top earner was static and not changing over time.

And then, BANG. I had a realization like a bag of bricks to the face. Why is this getting an emotional reaction out of me? Why has this risen to the surface? I was holding on to socio-economic anger from childhood. As if my hand was firmly grasping onto a helium balloon. And I had just opened my fist and watched it slowly drift away. And that release? That let-go? It hits you hard. You realize that you don't need to be angry. It is out of your control. Let it go. And you did, let it go. Just like that, this burden is gone. 

The next couple of days is a recovery period of that realization. Yes, they are also necessary so that on day 7, you feel sufficiently trapped. But once you have this release, you get antsy. Andrey described something similar. 

My experience wasn’t unique

When we broke the silence, I was in my own world and not interested in chatter. It seemed like most people were eager to interact. At the last dinner, I found a spot to sit alone, looking out the window onto the thick forests of rural Washington State. Happy to be alone. The woman who had been next to me in the meditation hall all week sat down next to me.

She was around 60 and looked like a hippy. I had heard her earlier talk about how she was from southern Oregon and grew cannabis in her garden. I was happy to have her there, and we started to compare experiences.

I asked if she had experienced something similar to me. She said she had. She started slowly and recounted that 37 years ago, she had lost her first daughter, Sarah, suddenly at seven months old. That it had been extremely painful. And, that she had always blamed herself for her death. She paused and, with a cracked voice, went on. She was convinced that it was a punishment she deserved because she had gotten an abortion at 18. 

Deep breathe. 

We all have something.  She had held that anger for 37 years. That blame. That guilt. And I. I knew how it felt to let it go. To forgive yourself. To forgive the world.