From 3.30pm Friday to midday Sunday, I didn’t speak.
No introductions.
No opening circle.
No connection exercises.
Just functional instructions… and then silence.
Twenty of us. Mixed genders. Mixed ages. Different cultures.
The venue was intentionally plain. Clean but basic bedrooms – no art on the walls – no visual stimulation. Nothing to look at except the beauty of nature. That was intentionally plentiful.
There was No phone signal. No WiFi. No written communication either – I wanted to experience silence fully. Not just the absence of spoken words, but the absence of response.
At first, anxiety.
The twitch to check.
The need to respond.
I hadn’t realised how much my nervous system had been living in urgency. Life had started to feel like an emergency and when everything feels urgent, nothing really is.
It’s nice to feel needed. Important. Wanted.
But not at the risk of losing yourself.
Not at the cost of only feeling significant through response to others.
By Saturday morning, my body felt physically lighter without my phone. Like I had taken off an invisible weight.
At first, sitting in silence with strangers felt uncomfortable. And I observed that strangers in silence make no eye contact. And without names, people blurred into the background. A few faces stood out – but mostly, anonymity.
As the weekend went on this discomfort eased and I noticed more…
I noticed that silence slows movement and time – how we walked around the venue, how we ate, how we breathed – slow and steady – no-one wanting to be the one to accidently make noise.
And time stretches. A moment felt like an hour.
My mind, often filled the quiet with music. The same song on repeat. I didn’t consciously choose it – it was just there. It made me realised how much I miss music when it isn’t available.
Without stimulation, I was overwhelmingly tired. So I slept. Unapologetically. The jet lag from my recent trip to Canada that I had masked by “getting back to normal” surfaced. Silence doesn’t let you bypass.
At times, throughout the weekend my mind negotiated:
I ‘should’ be doing something. I ‘could’ be using this time better. Actually, I just needed to rest.
I thought I had gone to escape the noise of the world. But I realised I was there to explore my inner world.
To observe my thoughts without questioning or judging them. To write them down so I didn’t have to carry them.
What surprised me most?
Even with everything I do to support my wellbeing… I was more on edge than I realised. Silence revealed that.
It also revealed this:
I am comfortable in my own company.
Creative activity quiets my mind.
Time in nature regulates me – especially when I move slowly.
This wasn’t a retreat about connection.
It was a retreat about pause.
And pause can feel uncomfortable at first.
But the quieter you become…
the more you are able to hear.