Last year, I attended a ten day silent meditation retreat. For ten days, neither I nor the other 100 or so participants spoke a word. We did not make eye contact with each other, or communicate through sign language or the written word. We did not read, write, watch television, or listen to any other sounds except the sounds of nature and the voices of our teachers. (To some, the prospect of doing this might seem loathsome or impossible, but to me, it was bliss!)

The purpose of the retreat was to practice Vipassana meditation, also known in North America as “insight meditation.” One of the purposes of Vipassana is to observe one’s own bodily sensations intensely, and observe them rising, intensifying, and then passing away. Invariably, however, the mind does not easily rest on noticing physical sensations only. We also pay attention to the constant running of our thoughts: the scenarios, the arguments, the mental revision of history, the projection of the future.

With so many hours a day devoted to this practice (more than ten, if you are very diligent), I began to notice something. The gap between a stimulus and my response became slower. For example, one day another meditator dropped something and it made a very loud noise. Normally, I would respond with fright that would immediately present itself as anger. A flood of adrenaline flows through me when I am startled by loud noises, and it is a very unpleasant sensation.

But this time, I noticed that right after the noise occurred, absolutely nothing happened within me for a brief moment. I noticed myself being in the gap, in the void, in the free place of consciousness that allowed me to choose whether to respond at all. What happened a second later, however, was that I responded with my typical anger and chemical rush of adrenaline.

I remember walking around all day contemplating this incident. The stillness I felt between the stimulus of the noise and my response of anger was astonishing and liberating. Was this what our teachers were talking about? Had the Buddha managed to achieve that stillness permanently, where all his reactions were by choice, and not just by rote, learned response?

Gentle reader, if I can have such a tiny experience as this, so can you. In that brief moment, I was able to experience such stillness, such peace, such liberation. Having done it myself, I can tell you that you can, indeed, train yourselves to end your mental, emotional, and physical slavery to sensation and stimulus-response. Of course, I am still suffering from my craving—my craving to experience this stillness again! But with practice and dedication, it may again…and again. I urge you to consider wanting this freedom for yourself, too.

Good luck!