Part 1: Silent Meditation Retreat: What's It Like?

Silent Meditation Retreat. Every word is a challenge to me. Silent: but I'm constantly talking, if only to myself. Meditation: my mind is not easily quieted, inner silence does not come naturally. Retreat: hardest of all when my impulse is to reach out towards others, rather than inquire within.

"So what's it like?" people ask. I'll start with the easy part, the setting, the Mary and Joseph Retreat Center high on the crest of the Palos Verdes peninsula. The city of Los Angeles sprawls in a smoggy haze far below, while the center itself, unassuming, simple and very clean, sits comfortably on the leveled hillside. The many gardens were created for contemplation, with their winding paths, fountains and benches; wide open green lawn, shady trees and rose bushes; strutting peacocks and friendly cats. For this old Catholic, I am at home with the statues of Mary and Baby Jesus and the long suffering Joseph, whose birthday is the day before mine. The rooms are spare: two twin beds, a night table, a desk, a small chest of drawers, an armchair and a standing lamp. Each room has its own bathroom, with a shower of stingingly hot water, a pleasure for aching bones at the end of the day.

Soon after arrival, we move into the great rectangular hall with its round fire-pit in the center and windows on the two long sides. There is a small kitchen at one end, with hot coffee always brewing; there is the little gift shop next to that that we have to cross to reach the restrooms on the other side. Starved for reading material, we will find ourselves lingering here - or trying not to! - greedily eyeing the plaques and cards. In the great hall itself, a makeshift teacher's space has been artfully created out of screens and a small table upon which the Buddha presides with candle and purple orchids, a bushy blue hydrangea. Our mats are arranged in a wide semicircle facing this space, with chairs behind for those whose knees will protest at all the sitting. I set up camp on my cushion, marking my territory with schedule and sweater and blanket, yoga mat and coffee cup. And Kleenex. That tears will fall at some point is a given.

There is a lot of sitting. One and a half hours on Friday, three hours on Sunday, and a marathon six hours on Saturday. Not counting the hour we sit during the nightly dharma talks. But the sitting is also broken up by walking meditation and yoga, which helps. There are periods of 'rest' after every meal which also help. Saturday in particular is a very long day, beginning with a 5:30 wake-up, the first sit at 6 a.m., all the way until 'Sleep' at 10 p.m.. But there is an energy which is stoked by the knowledge that even if we're not making eye contact, we're all in this together. I inhale courage, seeing out of the corners of my down-turned eyes the measured tread of the others, their straight backs, their upturned hands, the little nests they too have created out of cushion and blanket and cup. We are all trying so hard!