Silent Illumination Retreat hosted by Dharma Gates, January 2025

Reflection for Silent Illumination Retreat with Rebecca Li (By M.L.)

A few months ago, I started a new job that opened me to a realm of new people and personalities. Some of these personalities I found difficult to work with energetically. Like two opposing genres of music playing loudly from two speakers, every time I came into close space with these particular people, I felt distinct dissonance. At first, it didn’t bother me. Yet, after three months I found tension related to this developing in my mind and body. So, as time drew closer to the retreat, I found myself eager to meditate and reflect on this development in mylife. Seemingly, the Divine forces of this world agreed. For the first day of the retreat, about 30 minutes into my arrival, something I never expected happened. While unpacking in my room, a fellow retreatant initiated a conversation near my room’s open door. They spoke quite loudly and it was impossible to ignore: “That girl has weird energy” they said in a concerned manner to another participant. “Maybe she’s olderor something?” In the grand scheme of things, it was not a terrible comment. Yet the manner in which it was said was not positive. So, althoughhaving wisdom to not assume it was about me and not take it personally even if it was, it happened to trigger the same agitation that I feltdeveloping at my job. It felt like a car accident. My mind and body froze in tension. Why did this have to happen? The mind ran through everypossible decision I had made that day. If only I had arrived earlier. If only I had arrived later. I explored every possibility that would have evadedthe timing of this unfortunate occurrence. While the mind ran through its simulations, there was a calm all knowing voice patiently waiting to chime in: You know this is all your going to think about this week, right? As this voice emerged, the mind responded: Absolutely not, let’s forget this ever happened. So, after all the chatter was said and done, the mind swept this experience under the rug, in the closet, locked the door anddidn’t look back…. until the next day.

As the retreat progressed, there was no lack of opportunity to experience new triggers. For me, I found that my yogi job, washing thedishes after lunch, provided just that. Having extensive experience working in restaurants, I found my mind had a distinct response to the sightof incoming dishes to the kitchen: urgency. I better get this done or else I won’t have time to take a walk while it’s nice outside. I better lean in and make progress because no one else is here to help me. Thoughts such as these took over as I focused on the job at hand, ever calculating how I could shift my process to become more effective and efficient. However, as more and more dishes flowed in, a larger and larger agitationgrew inside me. Then the memory of my experience from the previous day flashed to the forefront of my mind and the thoughts unleashed: Everyone thinks I’m weird and have bad energy. Oh my god, do I look like a crazy person washing these dishes? How many other people did that person talk to? I’ve got to get this done, get out of here and go take a walk. Ugh, I can’t even go to a meditation retreat without an energyconflict with someone. Who goes to a meditation retreat and gossips about someone they didn’t even meet or speak to? I’ve got to avoid thatperson at all costs. This would be the first of a series of triggers that would create a seemingly rhythmic rise and fall of tension throughout my day to day. Luckily, many of the breaks in tension I experienced came with wisdom and insight that gradually helped me release my attachment to the comments I overheard.

One insight I recalled was that most of the life we live is not ours nor is about us. Many of us go day-to-day consumed in the Me, Myself & I mentality. We believe our life is about us and that we are the main character. Yet, on the other side of this, there is an entire life welive that is not about us. Walking into a room of 23 people, there will be 23 versions of myself alive and living in the minds of those around me. Often as we navigate new places and realms of experiences, we don’t have a say in how our existence makes an impact on those we encounter. I have played the hero and the villain and everything between in the minds of others. I have no control or say on how my character is cast. How others cast us in the realm of their perception is mostly a projection of all the causes and conditions that have defined their experience up to that time. So, the person who I overheard, rather than saying anything definitive about me or anyone, was expressing an authentic aspect of his own experience at that time. In this realization I found myself feeling empathy towards this person. Was I not for the past three months feeling the same way towards some of my co-workers? Who am I to judge this one person on this one fleeting moment in their life? How many times have I cast similar judgements towards others with no basis or reason? This realization brought me great relief. It also brought me greatreverence for the diversity of people in the retreat. In all, I would have been happy if this was all I took home from my experience. However, it turned out there was much more in store.

The relief I found with my regained insight was short lived. Soon after, I learned that my initial agitation had not been transcended, ithad simply transformed. Day three of the retreat there was a minor shift in the meditation room seating chart. The person sitting to my right had switched with none other than the person who I had overheard the first day. Though by this time I held nothing personal against this person, Iwas confronted with a new challenge. As I followed our instruction, the method of no method, becoming aware of the changing sensations of mybreath, I also became very much aware of the changing sensations I felt from my neighbor. This person seemed to be constantly moving and expressing sounds. The mind sat center stage to all this person’s sighs, sniffs, scratches, stretches, blowing of the nose, over and over. It felt like every 5 to 15 seconds there would be a new sensation expressed from this person. I tried my best to overcome it, but in each session from 5am to9pm, I found no relief. By the end of that night’s meditation, my body’s nervous system was overcome in irritation, anticipating the nextsensation airing from this person. How am I going to go another three days like this? I watched my mind run through every possibility. Iunderstood that if my neighbor’s issues were temporary I would have no problem. However, every observation I had of this person made it clear it would not. I had witnessed over the course of the retreat this person’s tendency to rush through their motions, unconsciously slam mugs, throwjackets and even aggressively break sticks walking on the trail in the woods. These were all triggers for me, unsettling my capacity to feel calmand ease. I resisted the urge to ask if I could move seats. I can do this, I thought to myself. However, that night, the mind and body had a clear allergic reaction to my circumstance. I felt trapped. I tossed and turned, ruminating over and over the justification I felt in moving seats. Metal on metal my thoughts grinded against each other until there was no more energy to move them. I didn’t end up getting any sleep that night and prepared a note asking to consult the teacher for advice the following day. I felt horrible. Yet, as the sun rose there was again, a still calm voice that emerged reminding me: you know this problem is all yours, right?

I never ended up turning in that note. Rather, later that morning something extraordinary happened. With the mind and body tired, it was as if all the noise I had experienced the previous few days disappeared. Without the noise, without the agitation, I had a breakthrough from my head to my heart. I was able to meditate without any attachment to my neighbor. I also found, when guided by the heart, I was gifted anexpansive view that allowed me to understand the bigger picture of my reactions and responses throughout the retreat. It was like standing under the stars, looking up and suddenly comprehending their infinite history, all the connections between constellations and planets across the sky.When I’m confronted with potential conflict or dissonant energy in a general situation or from another person, my immediate reaction is toignore it. I suppress that feeling and do my best to avoid it. I also do my best to escape the situation or avoid that person I feel the energy from. I’ll go out of my way physically and emotionally to escape confrontation. I also find every rationalization for behaving this way. I will judge, justify, and then rehearse every reason that avoiding and evading does indeed alleviate suffering and conflict. However, now I can see how itdoes the exact opposite. In fact, it propagates suffering in my life. The reaction I had to the initial situation I experienced at the retreat and the person associated, was the same reaction I had to the difficult people I encountered at work. Over time, as I avoid, ignore, and evadeconfrontation in my life, I withhold love. Not only love from myself and others, but also my true authenticity. By not embracing and expressing my true authenticity, I’m not accepting others in their true authenticity. As I zoomed out shining this light further across my personal time and space, I could also see other manifestations of this pattern. In my 20’s, I used alcohol and cannabis to escape and avoid conflict within myself andothers. Underneath this, I also discovered that I have an attachment to a desire to be understood. As a child, I struggled with speech and oftenfumbled my words. I was constantly misunderstood and judged for it. I was often made fun of and rather than correcting any misunderstanding, I found it often in my best interest to not speak at all. It was safe to contain my feelings, withhold my emotions, avoid situations that would lead to conflict and misinterpretation. Due to this, I’ve always secretly desired deep connection, feelings of empathy, connection, and acceptance. WhenI feel potential conflict and dissonance, it threatens my desire to be understood. By avoiding that which threatens my true desire for understanding, I re-create the same experience of suffering I experienced since childhood.

In this expansive moment I also discovered some additional treasures. One being my distorted concept of peace. In recent years, I’ve held dearly the idea that “peace is the path not the final destination.” So, in my personal practice and daily life, I developed an addiction tosensations of quiet, “moments of peace.” Whether in the mountains, or the quiet of my home in meditation, I deemed

“peace” as an experience of myself and nature without disturbance, without agitation, without distraction. I now can see how I had this wrong.By becoming attached in meditation to the sensations from the person next to me, their agitation became my agitation. In judging every movementand sound, the less and less I could connect to my own stillness and control my own physical expressions. In practice, it is the point of practice to remember to create space between myself and the ever-changing sensation of what is going on around me. It is my duty to witness it, not become it. The more we practice, the more we can remember to create space between us and what we can’t control. The more we can create space, the better we navigate our thoughts and think through impulsive reactions and transform them into mindful responses. So, if peace is thepath, then peace is not the avoidance of suffering. Peace is not the ignoring of suffering. Peace is not the numbing of suffering. Peace is theexperience of wisdom and compassion that comes from understanding our suffering. It’s within the ever-evolving examination, self-inquiry and relating to our suffering where peace emerges.

In all, if I could say anything to the person sitting next to me in meditation it would be this:

Slow down. Breathe.

Everything is Okay.

Be a little more mindful and considerate.

All advice, I can use myself.

The next time I hear someone’s energy like loud music, clashing with mine, rather than avoiding the dissonance, I’ll remember to pause my music. I’ll compassionately examine what may be available to learn from the situation and experience.

At the retreat center there was a hiking trail. I hiked this trail everyday. Day one, the trail was hardly visible covered in snow. Therewere a few foot prints where one person had explored, but many parts still totally covered. Initially it was quite difficult to traverse. I was often unsure of myself trudging through the snow. Thankfully there were markers on the trees to guide the way. As each day passed, I noticed more and more foot prints carving the path. By the end of the retreat, the entire trail path was carved out and easy to navigate. I recall hardly needingto check where I was going, I was in full trust of the path that had emerged. This experience illuminated me to the importance of meditativepractice and study of the Dharma. The Dharma is very much like the markers on the trees. Even with no clear path, one can find their way towisdom. The more of us that walk this path in practice, the easier it will become for all of us to find our wisdom and lessen the suffering in this world. Together we have the power to discover our true human potential, in spirit with those who have walked before us.

Thank you.