At this moment, I'm sitting in my quiet attic apartment, two candles are burning, I've just finished a short yoga session, and I feel refreshed yet contemplative. The experiences of the last 24 hours have deeply moved me and prompted much reflection.

It all began with my decision to participate in a monastery Qigong Retreat. In a world full of digital distractions and constant availability, I longed for silence and self-reflection. With a mix of curiosity and nervousness, I set off for a secluded buddhist monastery near Kaiserslautern.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by the peaceful atmosphere of the place. Large dogs and cats roamed the grounds, giving the monastery a special ambiance. The participants came from all over - one woman had even driven from Switzerland in her Tesla. Since most didn't know each other and came from different countries, the entire retreat was conducted in English.

The introduction took place in the Buddha Hall, where we were taught the basic rules: bowing as a sign of respect, observing hierarchies, and above all - silence. It was an unusual experience for me to remain in complete silence.

Immediately after the introduction, the first outdoor training began. It was more intense than expected. In the cold, we performed challenging exercises - deep stances, holding our arms up, hopping in a squat position. The physical challenge was enormous, especially when Master Shi Heng Yi came to watch. A sudden thunderstorm forced us to move the training indoors.

The subsequent dinner was a lesson in mindfulness and hierarchy. We ate our meal in silence, ordered by age. As one of the youngest, I had to wait until almost everyone else had eaten. It was a strange feeling to be the last to eat while others had already finished. I felt pressured to eat quickly so as not to keep others waiting. To my relief, this concern proved unfounded - the atmosphere was relaxed, and no one was rushing to leave.

The meal itself - rice with vegetables - was simply prepared and sparingly seasoned. Yet through the mindful way of eating, I could perceive every nuance of flavor. This simple meal thus became a fascinating experience in awareness.

After dinner, the training continued in the hall. Partner exercises were conducted here, which was a new and unexpected experience. It was about balance, about the interplay of "sinking and rising, push and pull, yin and yang". The young teacher skillfully drew parallels to everyday life, which particularly appealed to me as a Libra.

Despite the darkness that had now fallen and the wet, muddy ground, the training was then moved back outside. This session felt like a standing meditation at first, but became increasingly strenuous.

The day concluded with the evening ceremony in the Buddha Hall. Instead of the hoped-for guided meditation, we experienced a half-hour of chanting. Sitting in the cold with aching feet, I found it difficult to engage.

Around 9 PM, after this long and challenging day, I faced a difficult decision. The prospect of a cold night in a shared room with three strange women, followed by an early 6:30 AM wake-up call, made me doubt. The room itself was spartanly furnished, cold, and offered no privacy. The idea of showering in the old, cold bathroom with a shower curtain and then spending the night in this uncomfortable room was discouraging.

I also realized that there would be no opportunity to write in my notebook or really have time for myself. The omnipresent cold and dampness I had felt all day intensified my discomfort. After careful consideration, I decided to end the retreat early!

The journey home began with an unexpected challenge. The path from the monastery to the parking lot led through pitch-dark forest. Only thanks to the helpfulness of a fellow retreat participant, who accompanied me with the light of her phone, did I safely find my way to my car. I drove the first few kilometers through secluded, dark forest roads, without cell phone reception, which was both frightening and strangely liberating.

When I finally reached the highway, I experienced an unexpected moment of clarity. The empty roads, my favorite songs on my Spotify playlists, and the feeling of freedom merged into an almost meditative experience. I was in the flow, completely present - ironically, exactly what I had sought at the monastery.

Arriving home, I realized: The early end of the retreat wasn't a defeat, but an important lesson in self-care. In my familiar surroundings, I was able to integrate the positive aspects of the retreat - the silence, being offline, mindfulness - into the next days. I created my own "home retreat," with the peace and seclusion I had sought, but in an environment where I felt comfortable.

This experience taught me a lot about myself:

1. Listening to Inner Needs: Recognizing when to push forward and when to step back is crucial for personal well-being.

2. Comfort and Familiarity: Understanding that a supportive environment is essential for growth and reflection.

3. Decisive Action: Learning to make choices that align with my well-being, even if they deviate from the original plan.

4. Value of Experience: Appreciating the journey itself, regardless of its duration or outcome.

For future similar endeavors, I've learned to be better prepared. Booking a hotel room nearby and choosing the timing more carefully are considerations for a possible next time. 

This short but intense experience has shown me that the path to inner peace is not always straightforward. Sometimes we find insights and tranquility in unexpected places - be it on a night drive home or in the quiet of our own home. It has taught me that true self-reflection depends on our willingness to listen to ourselves and remain authentic.

Incorporating these insights into my daily life involves creating regular moments of silence and mindfulness, ensuring my environment supports my well-being, and being open to adjusting plans as needed. This approach will help me maintain the balance and clarity I discovered during this retreat.

P.S.: Late in the afternoon, I had a surprising email in my inbox. The monastery had reached out to inform me that they had credited my already paid but prematurely ended stay as a voucher to my membership account. What a kind gesture!!

This means I can try again next year, this time with all the insights I've gained. It feels like a second chance, and I'm truly grateful for that. I'm already curious about how it will be when I'm better prepared. I'll probably book the hotel room nearby this time. I'll make sure I don't have to show up at the office early the next morning. I might choose a date that's not in the cold season, or I'll simply pack more warm clothes. In any case, I'm looking forward to giving it another go - with a completely different perspective on things.

This unexpected turn of events has really made me think. Sometimes, apparent setbacks lead to the best opportunities. Who would have thought that my early departure would lead to such a great chance?

What I listened to today:

That’s it for today! ☺️