My Vipassana Experience In Ras Al-Khaimah: Diary, Part 1

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by Alena Anishchenkova

My Vipassana Experience In Ras Al-Khaimah: Diary, Part 1

13 Jun 2024

Vipassana is a type of meditation where you renounce the outside world, cleanse yourself, and process your experiences. Renouncing the outside world is literal: you don’t use your phone, you don’t talk (not even to those also doing Vipassana), and you do this for 10 days. Our author, Alena Anishchenkova, went through this experience in Ras Al-Khaimah and kept a diary for 10 days, recording her thoughts. Here is the first part, covering the first five days of Vipassana.

Different people experience Vipassana in their own unique ways, each with different impressions and reactions. This article shares the author's personal experience — your own journey through Vipassana may be completely different.

Day 0: Social awkwardness

The Vipassana takes place in RAK in UAE in a former hotel. You come on Saturday afternoon for registration and settling down. There are 30 females and around 15 males in each course. On day 0, you sign the papers and hand over your valuables, documents and the phone to the organisers. They talk you through the rules (you have to stay 10 days, keep silent, follow the schedule) and show you the premises. Females stay in a room of three, meaning on day 0, while you can still talk, you need to agree on several things like who cleans the room and when, how we use the washroom in the morning if we sleep with the AC on or off, etc.

Then, there is a dinner where everyone gets to know one another, and at 7 pm, we have a first meditation with which the Nobel silence starts. That is when it gets weird. You have just had different interactions with the participants; with some, you had deeper chats; with others, small talk, and with some, just glances or nods to acknowledge their presence. But right after the meditation, you all turn into ghosts because Noble Silence means not only no talking but also no non-verbal communication.

So, all of a sudden, people don’t even look at one another, no glances, smiles, nods, pats, physical interaction, nothing, like you have to pretend from now on that you don’t see people around you. That was the hardest part of the day because it did not feel right. We are all social creatures, and that is not how we live our everyday lives.

Photo: Marcos Paulo Prado

Day 1: 10h mediation. Hard? Oh, yes

On Day 1, you wake up at 4 am, and your first meditation starts at 4.30. There are 60, 90, and 120-minute meditation sessions spread throughout the day, adding up to 10.5 hours of meditation daily. And let me tell you one thing: meditating is HARD.

Let’s start with the physical aspect: you have to sit still in a lotus position the entire time. It is fine for 5, 10, or 15 minutes, but after that, you need to move. Your neck, upper back, lower back, knees, and legs start to hurt or go numb, so you have to change your position repeatedly. This constant shifting, of course, doesn’t help with concentration at all.

And then there is the mental side: millions of thoughts start attacking you as your mind realises you are not technically busy with anything. These thoughts range from deep questions about the afterlife to trivial ones. Your task is to acknowledge them, let them go, and return to focusing on your breath. That is your one and only task for the next three days. However, it is immensely difficult to calm the mind to the point where you can actually focus on your breathing for an extended period. As soon as you get distracted for even a second, your mind starts bombarding you with thoughts again.

Day 2: Sleep deprivation. Hardest day ever

Last night, we went to sleep at 9 pm, and I couldn’t fall asleep until 12 am. So, when the bell rang to wake us up, I only had four hours of sleep, and you know, sleep deprivation is real.

You cannot fight one simple question the whole day: Why am I here? Why? I didn’t get it. Why did I do that to myself? Anger and frustration are my best friends today because I cannot understand why I put myself into this situation. I have a great life in Dubai, work, friends, hobbies, etc., so why am I here?

Well, you get the gist. Day 2 was extremely tough because on the first day, you are still adjusting to the new place. But on Day 2, the proper realisation hits: you are stuck here for 10 days, and the whole experience is extremely exhausting both mentally and physically.

To understand how bad the day was I will give you one example. Let me tell you one thing first: everyone knows me as an extremely non-violent person, so I hope what I am about to say will not scare you too much.

In the meditation hall, everyone sits very close to one another. You have an assigned seat for all 10 days, and you cannot change it. It is basically a square meditation mat (70*70 cm) that defines your personal space, plus 20 cm in front of you. I usually sat in the centre of my mat, but the girl in front of me sat on the very edge of hers, close to me. On Day 2, she decided to lean back and forth before each meditation session many times, almost hitting me in the face. Because you are so deprived of your normal life, you get really angry not only with yourself but also with the people around you. I had no way of telling or showing her that she was invading my personal space, so I was absolutely fuming inside, which was really hard.

Day 3: Protect legs

The day before, my knees were hurting, and I went to bed thinking that the next day, I needed to focus on them and make sure to position them better to have less pain.

I woke up today at 4 AM again, and my right knee still hurts, meaning six hours of sleep didn’t help after yesterday’s 10.5 hours of meditation in the same position. It gets me a bit worried, but I need to get ready for meditation. On the way to the washroom, I hit my little toe against the wall. After the first meditation session, I look at my toe, and it has turned slightly purple. After three more hours, it will be fully purple. So, there are only two options: it is either broken or not.

There is a possibility of asking for assistance (there are three ladies called servers whom you can reach out to for any questions apart from the meditation technique — for that, you have a female teacher). I was unaware of their policy on injuries; maybe they have to send you to the hospital if you are unwell, meaning my Vipassana experiment will end. Again, it is all in my head: “If the toe is broken, it is not a big deal because I don’t really use it in my daily life (do you?), so even if it is broken, I am sure I can survive seven more days. I have already survived three days in this crazy place, and I cannot leave now; I’m too far in.”

Photo: Jd Mason

Day 4: Toilet delusion

Day 4 is going fine. We have been given a new meditation technique: We basically are to do a body scan from top to bottom, focusing on sensations in each part of the body. It sounds crazy, but I literally don’t have any sensations in my forehead. What do you guys want me to do?

I go about my day as usual until the delusion incident happens. Apart from going through the hardest mental struggles every day, you don't feel well physically either. First off, it is +35-36°C outside, which is draining by default. You are not eating enough (basically, you have two full meals: breakfast at 6.30 am and lunch at 11 am, followed by a fruit snack at 5 pm, which I don't really count). You are not allowed to exercise (not even yoga or stretching), and your whole body hurts. Your head is foggy, and sometimes you feel so weak you could faint.

That leads me to the delusion incident itself. I was really worried about not getting my steps in, so between each meditation session, we had a 5-minute break. I would go to our room to make some steps, drink water, and use the washroom, and I was usually the first one to reach the room. On Day 4, I came in, automatically turned on the light switch in the washroom, and then realised that the door was closed and there were slippers at the entrance, meaning someone was inside. Then I thought to myself, did I actually touch the switch or not? My brain immediately said, "No, you didn’t," but I was pretty sure I did. So then I wondered if there was a person inside or not, did I try to open the door or not? And I just didn’t know.

At this point, I was scared because it felt like I was losing my mind, not knowing the most basic things. It reminded me of that movie with Anthony Hopkins, "The Father," where he plays an older person with dementia who cannot tell reality from delusion. The problem is that we cannot communicate, so even if someone were in the washroom, they wouldn’t be able to say, "Hey, turn on the light." It bothers me a lot because I understand how exhausted and miserable we all are, and how even a tiny unpleasant incident can make our day even more depressing. But I had to go to another meditation session, so I left, but I couldn’t concentrate at all.

I kept thinking that I needed to go and apologise (even if it was against the rules of silence), but then again, what do I say? "If you were there, I'm so sorry, but if you weren’t, don't mind me." That is very weird, honestly. She would think I am crazy, and I am not sure I am not at this point. I want to go home; I don’t understand what reality is anymore.

Day 5: Smile in the morning. Importance of social connections. Frustration in the evening

Today is the first day I woke up with a smile. The only thing that has changed is that I accepted the circumstances. I didn’t know that it would be that exhausting. My biggest advice to all considering Vipassana is to read more so that you are fully aware of what you are signing up for.

Acceptance is an important factor for our well-being and happiness because you are still deprived of all the people and things you love, and it is extremely challenging, but as soon as you accept this experiment, it goes so much easier from there.

Today, I thought a lot about the importance of social connections and how much communication happens even without words. Just think about your day; there are so many things we say without actually speaking: we smile at the girl at the crosswalk, meaning, "What a dress, girl, you look great," or we nod at the barista at the coffee shop, saying, "It’s always a pleasure dealing with you, see you tomorrow," or we wave at someone we know, meaning, "I see you, have a good one!" If only we could interact non-verbally here, it would be such a relief.

Evening came, and I felt frustrated again; even though I was still accepting where I was at, it was never getting easier to just sit and meditate the whole day.

by Alena Anishchenkova