Vipassana | 10 days, 100 hours, 10 words
Vipassana translates to "seeing things as they really are"
Introduction
This piece is about my experience of the 10-day Vipassana course. If you're thinking about doing one, please know that this was my experience, and it doesn't mean it will be yours. But I still fully believe everyone should do this at some point in their life, for the awareness and insight it develops. These are tools for life.
My Why
Earlier this year I completed a module on the neuroscience of mindfulness as part of my MSc at King’s. This module opened my eyes to all of the different meditation techniques based on variations of ancient Buddhist/Taoist traditions. One of which was Vipassana, which involves self-observation of bodily sensations and mental activity, fostering insight into the impermanent nature of reality, creating a balanced mind and thus, an equanimous approach to life situations (Giridharan et al., 2025).
With regular practice, Vipassana also induces structural changes in the brain, such as increased grey matter density in regions associated with attention (prefrontal cortex), emotion regulation (insula), and empathy (anterior cingulate cortex), as evidenced by functional MRI studies (Lazar et al., 2005).
So I was curious. After 10 days, even though that's a fraction of the hours long-term meditators put in, would any of what I'd been reading actually show up in my own experience?
I was also excited for the deeper insight into myself that the practice promised.
And then there was the challenge itself: no technology, complete silence, no reading, no writing, no exercise. No yoga!
All of it compounded and drew me to the Blue Mountains just outside Sydney on Wednesday, June 25th, 2026. The course would run from Thursday the 26th to July 5th.
A friend suggested I pick one word a day to summarise each day; thanks, Joe, because it turned out to be the only reason I could reconstruct any of this afterwards. Here's my journey through the 10 days, in 10 words.
Day 1 | Thursday — WHY!?
We spent the first day learning the foundations of the practice. The first is sīla — morality, in Pali, the ancient language of the texts. Taking the course means abiding by five precepts: not to kill, steal, commit sexual misconduct, tell lies, or use intoxicants. The second is samādhi — concentration: focusing and calming the mind through Ānāpāna, single-pointed attention on the sensation of the breath passing in and out of the nostrils.
My thoughts at 4.30 am before the two-hour morning sit: Why am I here? Why did I come? Why can I not feel my breath on my nostrils? My mind was cluttered, cloudy, scrambling. Somewhere between the train ride and this first sit, my why had gone missing, and I badly needed to find it again.
1.5 hours in. Finally, Goenka's unusual nasal singing came over the hall. Great, that ended sooner than I thought.
15 minutes later. Oh, get me out of here. Is this ever going to end? Does the man not need to clear his throat?
15 minutes after that. Thank god. It's over.
Time for breakfast!
Day 2 | Friday — DETERMINATION
My usual two laps of the grounds at lunchtime, this time filled with self-pep-talks. You can do this, Sophia. Hang in there. Once it becomes routine, it'll get easier.
I was thinking about the students sat at the front of the meditation hall. Why have they returned for their 2nd, 3rd, 4th course!? Surely there must be something in this. Trust the process.
It felt overwhelming, but it was only day two, and I felt a real surge of determination that I could get through this.
Day 3 | Saturday — IMPERMANENCE
Wait. I think I can actually feel the cold air on my nostrils. WIN!
The two-hour morning sit flew by, fast becoming my favourite part of the day. I managed to hold focus on the breath for longer than thirty seconds without my mind wandering, which felt like an achievement. Focus sharp, thoughts slower. I also think the cold shower I'd sadistically started adding before meditation seemed to be helping.
And then the afternoon session hit, and it all fell apart again. Unfocused. Frustrated. Agitated.
That evening's discourse, a video of Goenka summarising the meaning of the day, was about impermanence. You have an amazing sit. It becomes something to crave. You become attached. That's not the path to peace; attachment causes craving. I'd sat down that afternoon expecting the same clarity the morning had brought, plus a little extra progress, quietly convinced I was fast-tracking my way to enlightenment (lol). That expectation was the craving he was talking about. And the afternoon fell apart exactly because of it.
I experienced precisely what he described: pleasant sensations create attachment, you crave them, and when they don't return, you're disappointed. Everything comes, and everything goes. In the middle of my own meditation, that finally made sense.
Day 4 | Sunday — BREAKDOWN
Vipassana day. Just as I was getting used to focusing on the breath, now we had to move our attention through the whole body.
The afternoon opened with a one-hour, then a two-hour, introduction to the technique itself. Given I'd just started settling into the two-hour morning sits, I felt good going in. I was wrong.
Through the two hours we had to hold our posture: adhiṭṭhāna, the sitting of strong determination! By this point I was still hunting for the right position: weighing the cross-legged combo: 2 blankets + 2 cushions + 2 knee pads + base mat (guaranteed dead leg within twenty minutes) against straddling 3 cushions + base mat + 2 blankets (which brought its own knee, back and neck pain). Looking in front for inspiration and realised all of the experienced Vipassana meditators were basically sat on the concrete.
I chose the straddle. Wrong call.
Goenka talked us through scanning the body, observing sensation without becoming attached to the pleasant or averse to the unpleasant. Equanimity. A balanced mind.
I'm sorry, but who exactly is getting pleasant sensations here?
By the end, my knee was throbbing so hard I could barely hear him over it. Thankfully, just as it became unbearable, it was over.
I was in shock. How am I supposed to remain equanimous when the pain is this bad? Is anyone else feeling this?
The evening discourse arrived, and somehow, as always, he seemed to describe exactly what I'd been thinking, which made the whole thing feel normal again. He mentioned how day 4 and day 6 were the hardest days, validating my painful experience…
Wait, what's happening on day 6?..
Day 5 | Monday — DETERMINATION 2.0
Three one-hour sittings of strong determination: no moving, no shifting posture. After the pain of the day before, I went in nervous but resolved, buoyed by a pep talk from the assistant teacher, who told me the deep, gross sensations I was feeling were normal, that this was an opportunity to practise equanimity, and that the pain would dissolve if I kept moving my attention around the body.
It helped. The pain seemed to ease.
Day 6 | Tuesday — PAIN
Sitting for an hour sounds manageable until you can't move at all, and it becomes an entirely different game.
Every day seemed to bring a new flavour of pain. Today it was the neck and shoulders. Solid. Gross. Intense sensation. Even the smallest movement hurt.
It reminded me of Devil's Snare from Harry Potter: the more you struggle, the tighter it grips; be still, and it releases you. I came close to leaving that day. I couldn't understand why I seemed to be in so much more pain than everyone around me, who looked so calm and settled.
I used to think the goal of meditation was to enter a dreamlike altered state of consciousness filled. Sitting there, I nearly laughed at how wrong that was. It's the opposite (this type is anyway). You are as present as you will ever be, because your attention is pinned to the body, and the sensations keep reminding you: there is only here, only now.
At least my sense of time was sharpening. I worked out that one full body scan, head to toe and back, took about ten minutes with the occasional mind wander, so if I could get through roughly five, I was nearly at the end.
The relief of hearing Goenka's nasal voice mark the end of a sit had, by now, started sounding like angels singing.
I was in more pain than I'd ever felt in my life, and still I was proud I'd stayed, and stayed at least partly equanimous. Singing Snow Patrol's Give Me Strength in my head on my way back to my room.
Day 7 | Wednesday — COMPARISON
Every other day, a small group would be called to the front of the meditation hall to speak to the teacher, the only window we had into how anyone else was actually doing.
It seemed like only Beatrice, seated to my left, and I were still in pain that wasn't easing. We both got the "come see me at lunchtime."
I became hyper-aware of everyone around me, and it started dragging me down. How still, how composed everyone seemed. Maddy, to my right, sat half-lotus with no dead leg — how? Nat, back-left, never so much as rustled, and always made it to the 5 pm gong — how?
Then staged an internal intervention with myself: this isn't about anyone else. This is my experience, and mine alone. You have been comparing yourself to others your whole life. Stop. Focus.
What got me through was letting myself indulge my thoughts sometimes, thinking about how lucky I am to have Will, my family, my friends, an education, a career. It brought me to tears, how grateful we are. It also passed at least ten minutes. Win.
The lunchtime pep talk: apparently subtle micro-movements in the shoulders should ease the tension. We'll see.
Day 8 | Thursday — UNSUBSCRIBE (morning), RESUBSCRIBE (afternoon)
Hard to pick just one word for a day that flipped entirely halfway through. Normally the morning is bearable and the afternoon falls apart; today it went the other way.
A rough sit that morning; pain was still very much present. Goenka started talking about the more you resist and create aversion to sensations, the more saṅkhāra (reactions) you create, which get buried deep in the subconscious as misery. The more equanimous you remain, you start to diminish your current stock of saṅkhāras and thus diminish negativity and misery deep within the body.
At this point, I feel like I was creating more saṅkhāras than I got here with. UNSUBSCRIBE.
I’m not sure what happened during lunchtime, but Goenka repeated his instruction again, and for some reason it landed differently. I can’t remember exactly what changed, but I remember thinking. The only way out is through.
The pain had eased, and I dropped into a calm and clear mind almost instantly. I probably had one of the best meditation sits I have ever done. I felt in control of my attention, thoughts arriving and passing easily, everything clear, and when my mind wandered, I could bring it back to the body quickly. I could manage and handle the “solid, gross sensations”. For the first time, I felt like I was genuinely witnessing what the meditation was doing. I felt a surge of inner strength and resilience. I thought of endurance sports, and it reminded me this could be what endurance athletes go through. RESUBSCRIBE.
Day 9 | Friday — INSIGHT
With the end in sight, and knowing we'd be able to talk the next day again, this felt like the last truly intense day. If I'm honest, I eased off a little and let myself indulge in thought more than usual.
But what came up was worth it: old experiences and situations, seen from a completely new angle, connecting to more recent patterns and behaviours I could now trace back to where they'd started. Ideas about direction, about what I wanted next, and a new kind of confidence in what I actually bring to study, to work, to relationships, to friendships.
Day 10 | Saturday — METTA (LOVE)
Metta means loving-kindness, in Pali.
After the 8–9 am sitting of strong determination, noble silence was lifted, and we could finally speak.
I struggled to stay focused through that last sit, but what I loved was the ending. Goenka closed with a specific metta meditation of loving-kindness, which rounded off everything: we're here for ourselves, but we're here for others too. We wish happiness not only for ourselves, but for everyone around us, and for the whole world.
Then the male teacher, who'd ended every session until now with "take rest, take rest," instead said: "be happy, be happy." WEEPING.
Talking again was the biggest joy I can remember. I hadn't realised how good it could feel just to talk, and to listen. Seeing everyone's smiles, their personalities, their accents felt like pure joy. I was buzzing for the rest of the day, genuinely Glastonbury-level excited for everything still ahead.
Day 11 | Sunday — READY (Bonus)
I was ready to go. Classic me, no lingering the next morning. It reminded me of childhood sleepovers, always the first one awake, texting Mum: pleaseeeeee come get me. It had been good. But I was also ready to leave. Ready to process.
The outside world felt strangely normal. I'd braced myself for some kind of "integration" period. I'd even warned friends, just so you know, I might not want to talk much, I might be off in my own world for a bit. Turned out to be the opposite entirely.
One thing that did feel strange: my phone. Holding it again felt foreign and heavy. The screen seemed impossibly, unnaturally saturated with colour. It was so nice to see Will’s face on it though. I cried.
COMING BACK
It’s official. I feel amazing. A real sense of accomplishment, and like I've come away with tools that will stay with me for life. Although I was in a lot of pain, I had some real breakthrough moments. I am in awe of Vipassana; how did they work out, over 2,500 years ago, more or less what we're only now confirming? You can trace craving and aversion through almost every situation you'll ever face. Sensing your body's physical reaction as a signal, and choosing to respond to it equanimously. Knowing, and believing, in impermanence, reacting in a balanced way as something to keep aiming for, not something you arrive at once and keep.
I wrote this, and the companion piece on Vipassana and my understanding of it, in two days flat. I feel focused. Attentive. Aware. Full of love, and ready to give it away without expecting anything back. And, relieved that dinner can go back to being an actual meal, and not just fruit.
Will I do another 10-day sit? Definitely.
Sophia
References
Giridharan, S., Soumian, S., Kumar, N. V., & Godbole, M. (2025). The Impact of Vipassana Meditation on Health and Well-Being: A Systematic Review of Current Evidence. Cureus, 17(9), e93355. https://doi.org/10.7759/cureus.93355
Lazar, S. W., Kerr, C. E., Wasserman, R. H., Gray, J. R., Greve, D. N., Treadway, M. T., McGarvey, M., Quinn, B. T., Dusek, J. A., Benson, H., Rauch, S. L., Moore, C. I., & Fischl, B. (2005). Meditation experience is associated with increased cortical thickness. Neuroreport, 16(17), 1893–1897. https://doi.org/10.1097/01.wnr.0000186598.66243.19
