Silence Opens The Door To Infinity

Upon my arrival to the town that is home to the “campus” of the retreat, I stopped at Starbucks to take advantage of their free Wi-Fi (and to get my last dairy fix in the form of an iced chai latte before three weeks of raw, vegan food and wheatgrass). I wrote down my order and showed it to the barrista. At first she wasn’t sure WHAT I was doing, she reached out and took hold of the notebook as if I were trying to hand it to her. She looked at me for a second, then back down and once she actually read the words she understood. I payed and as she handed back my change she spoke very slowly and loudly, saying “Ummmmm… Thank you?” simultaneously saying thank you in sign language. The question mark had to do with the fact that she wasn’t sure if she had the movement right. She did. I returned the thank you in sign language and smiled, thinking how cool it was that she tried to communicate with me in (what she imagined to be) “my language” and how uncool of her to assume that because I couldn’t talk she had to slow down her speech and raise her volume to be understood. People are funny. I don’t believe in talking to children in an altered oogly baby voice, as it is inherently condescending, and the same goes for people with apparent phonic and/or auditory challenges. Talk to them as you would anyone else and trust that if they need a different form of communication, they’ll let you know.

I drove up to the campus, checked in and got my welcome bag complete with daily organizer, water bottle, E’s & I’s kit (you don’t wanna know) and package of five miniature bottles of their new line of skin products. Lovely. The woman who gave me the welcome bag asked me my name (in order to give me the correct name tag) and I wrote it down for her. Upon discovering that I couldn’t speak, she made eye contact with me and said, “Do you read lips?” She didn’t alter her voice, she didn’t gesticulate so that I’d understand, she spoke normally and waited for me to let her know what I needed. I pointed to my ear and then gave a thumbs up and she immediately understood that I could hear her. I then wrote her a note briefly explaining why I was silent and she gave me an acknowledging nod and carried on. I later pondered this compulsion to explain myself and realized that I don’t explain the situation because I don’t want people to think I’m mute, but rather because letting people believe that feels somehow disprespectful to people who actually are mute. Maybe I’m just crazy. I proceeded to my room, lucky number 63, after getting a few things out of my car. The room was on the 2nd floor, which I liked, and as I opened the door my nose was assaulted by the smell of humidity and must. It was a relatively large, carpeted room with a table and two chairs, queen-size bed, rickety old broken dresser and two bedside tables. I put my bags down and noticed a steady stream of noise entering the room. I looked up and saw that the window faced the highway. At first I thought oh no, I don’t know if I can deal with this. Then I thought bah – you lived in New York City for cryin’ out loud you can handle it. I closed the window to see if it made a difference and it was a little better… but that means I’ll have to sleep with the window closed, sleep without fresh air and it’s musty in here. This doesn’t feel very relaxing… but maybe I’ll get used to it. I stood there and contemplated the situation for another moment and when the argument in my head finally ceased, it was clear what I needed to do. I often try to justify NOT asking for what I really need because I don’t want to inconvenience people, or be pegged as a high-maintenance pain in the ass but I am, after all, working on speaking my truth. Asking for what I need (in a gracious manner, of course) is part of that practice; staying in a room that offends my senses just because I don’t want to ruffle feathers would be quite the opposite of speaking my truth and, besides, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

The guy at the front desk had a little difficulty at first because I was staying for the entire three weeks (most people do a week at a time, even though it’s a three-week program). After several minutes of concentrated finagling he handed me the keys to my new room, and then turned around before I had the chance to write a big fat Thank You in my notebook. I proceeded to my room, lucky number 56, after vacating the old one. I opened the door and it was like a different planet. The room is on the first floor and is smaller than 63 (full bed instead of queen, no table and chairs) but it inspires utter tranquility rather than shear madness. Clean “wood” floors (yeah, it’s Pergo) instead of a dirty old carpet, a window that faces the quiet walkway and a dresser with drawers that don’t have gaping holes in them – I was in heaven. I went back to return the keys for 63 and flashed the front-desk-guy a note that said, “Thank you so much, I love my new room.” He smiled and took the keys.

I immediately began meeting people. There’s such an eclectic mix of people here; people I’d never have occasion to meet outside these premises, which makes it interesting and exciting. Very few people assume I’m mute, most ask if it’s by choice but some assume it is for spiritual reasons (sometimes I correct them, sometimes I let it go). I decided to write an explanation on an index card which I inserted into the back side of my name tag. People seem to appreciate the accessiblity of it. Everyone is patient with me (no one has anywhere to be besides right here) and a couple people have felt bad for wanting to talk to someone who has to write down her anwers. I just give them a thumbs up as if to say “I like that you’re talking to me,” and write down that I don’t mind writing if they don’t mind waiting. They don’t.

My first day here, during the orientation, I spotted a quote on the projection screen. It was never pointed out or discussed but my eyes went right to it. "Silence opens the door to the infinite," it said. And when I got back to my room that night, instead of writing my name on the cap of my water bottle as most people do, I wrote that quote around the edge, so that every time I open it I read those words and remind myself that my silence is for more than purely physical reasons - it's providing infinite possibilities in mind, body and spirit.

This place is intense. I’m grateful that I went through my denial and resistence phases before arriving because it makes everything so much easier. I watch some people struggling with themselves as they resist the program but I hear by the end of the week everything will turn around for them. The first week is when everyone is detoxing and the first couple days I was feeling pretty great – super alert and attentive in all the classes, excited to be there and feeling like I was invincible as I saw others dragging and feeling like hell. I had a headache from the detox but it was survivable. Today, however, I saw others perk up as I fell into a detox stupor. The last two days I woke up 5 minutes before my alarm was set to go off (6:45) but today I had a tremendously difficult time waking up - I barely made it through the exercise class at 7:30 this morning, and it was just downhill from there. My head was pounding so hard I could barely keep my eyes open during the classes and fatigue was weighing me down from all sides. All I wanted to do was crawl into a cave and hide out, possibly forever. At lunch a new friend said, “Rana, you’re so quiet today.” She laughed at the irony of her own statement (or lack thereof, really) and said, “I just mean your energy seems a lot different – much lower than before.” Even in silence I’m an open book.

The food is, despite some people’s resistence, pretty good. I usually go through life feeling constantly hungry, “I can always eat” has been one of my mantras for over a decade. Since I’ve been here I have had only one hunger pang and that was tonight after I’d inadvertently slept through dinner. The food is so packed with nutrients that I never actually feel hungry; I eat at mealtimes (drink, actually as we’re on a three-day juice fast) because they’re designated, not because I’m starving, and it feels really amazing. Good, nutritious food. Body happy. After my nap (I slept through dinner and the evening class - oops) my headache is gone and I’m hopeful that my energy will be back up tomorrow and I’ll be raring to go.

People are amazed by my commitment to silence and the discipline it takes - they're just waiting for me to answer a question out loud by accident - but it doesn't feel like a matter of discipline, it just feels like I'm doing what's right for my body right now and its surprisingly easy. Someone asked me what's the first thing I'm going to say when I can speak. I wrote, "I'm going to sing... then I'm going to laugh my ass off."