A 9-day meditation retreat

52 hours of sitting meditation, 52 hours of walking meditation, and almost total silence.

21 September 2026

I first learned about meditation retreats through books. Friends, mostly entrepreneurs, pointed me to more information. Most of the retreats I came across were overseas, including ones in Bali and Chiang Mai.

A 9-day Vipassana program sounded doable, fun, and therapeutic. I googled Vipassana and learned that it meant “insight.”¹ That sounded useful as I tried to figure out my next adventure.

I was coming up on six months of sabbatical. I was trying to be at peace with where I was, but there was a nudging feeling that I should have made more progress by now.

But 9 days is a long time. I had my wife’s blessing to keep researching and go if I found one that fit. I narrowed my search to Singapore and found that the Vipassana Meditation Center was offering a retreat from September 5 to 13, during the school holidays. The timing worked, and I wouldn’t need extra days for travel.

So I applied and waited for about a month. I was prepared not to go and had started planning activities with the kids. Then, about a week before the program, an email arrived saying I’d been accepted.

That was when I felt both excitement and fear. On closer inspection, the program looked intense.

After some research, I decided there wasn’t much I needed to do to prepare.² Just go with the flow and have no expectations. But be mentally prepared for a sore body, silence, and no phone. From what I’d read, it wasn’t uncommon for people to leave early.

I packed my bag and off I went.

I’ve shared the experience in 3 parts. Or you can scroll to the end for my takeaway.

Days 1-3

There was no meet and greet. It was a silent retreat, so no socialising was allowed. After an introductory briefing and a crash course on meditation and mental noting, we went straight into an hour of sitting meditation, followed by an hour of walking meditation. My body was fresh, so all was good.

Then came lunch, supplied by donors. It was surprisingly good. I was enjoying the Burmese cuisine. Before eating, we gave thanks to the donors and helpers. We were encouraged to eat mindfully, noticing our movements, thoughts, tastes, and smells.

During the free time after lunch, I explored the space a little, moving around mindfully. (Yes, moving around is a way to do meditation.) The toilets were clean, which made me feel positive. I still couldn’t figure out where I’d sleep, but I didn’t ask because it was a silent retreat.

The afternoon and evening brought another 3 hours of sitting meditation and 3 hours of walking meditation, followed by a dharma talk. It was brutal. Still, I surprised myself by doing 5 hours of sitting meditation on day 1. My longest stretch before the retreat had been 45 minutes.

The dharma talk ended around 9pm. Lights out was at 10pm.

Only then did I realise we’d be pulling out mattresses and sleeping in the ground-floor hall, about 7 of us together. There weren’t enough mattresses, so I settled for a straw mat with a comforter laid over it. I was used to that. It was how I’d slept as a child.

I rushed to shower so I could get as much sleep as possible.

But I couldn’t fall asleep. The road was noisy and people were snoring. Around midnight, someone packed up and left. Another person left around 2.30am. I only fell asleep at 3am. The lights came on at 4am.

I was very tempted to give up. I could take the demanding meditation schedule and the much-needed silence, but I couldn’t function on so little sleep.

Somehow, I found the strength to continue. By the end of day 2, I couldn’t believe I’d completed six 1-hour sitting sessions and six 1-hour walking sessions. I also had a chance to speak with the meditation teacher, who gave me short, simple reminders to focus on my breath and mental noting.

That night, I only fell asleep at 2am and woke at 4am. My mind kept creating reasons to quit. Again, I’m not sure how, but I continued.

By then, we’d seen each other’s faces several times. A few smiles, nods of acknowledgement, and small acts of kindness perhaps helped me through day 3. I was also starting to see how the centre functioned. It was pretty amazing how much of the heavy-duty work was handled by the community. Some members volunteered to clean when they could have been resting. That gave me energy.

By the end of day 3, I told myself I needed enough sleep to function. Otherwise, this wasn’t good for my body. I managed to fall asleep pretty quickly and felt recharged for day 4.

Days 4-6

On day 4, I started noticing a pattern. Work wasn’t floating into my mind. Family was the main theme of my thoughts.

I also felt grateful that I’d persisted. I was getting the hang of the practice and starting to feel calmer, more aware, and more appreciative of what was in front of me.

On day 5, I had one of the best meals of the retreat, if not the best. Burmese tofu curry. It tasted like butter chicken with tofu. Yum. Mindblown.

I also experimented with a few new ways to meditate. They all failed. I was trying too hard, but managed to get back to basics and regain momentum.

The teacher advised me to stop experimenting and getting distracted by what I’d read. I’d been reading books from the centre’s library during free time, and he caught me. We weren’t supposed to read during the retreat. He reminded me to focus on my actual lived experience. I wholeheartedly agreed.

On day 6, during the last sitting session at 7pm, I had the most wonderful hour of meditation. A sense of nothingness, while still being aware of thoughts, smells, sounds, and body sensations coming and going.

I also felt I was finally getting walking meditation. I kept it simple, as the teacher had instructed. Just observe, be aware, take notes with the mind.

That awareness started carrying into daily life at the centre. I could notice ants crawling and avoid accidentally stepping on them. It also helped that I was starting to sleep much better.

Days 7-9

On day 7, that sense of nothingness returned during the morning meditation. It was shorter this time, but I was grateful for the experience. I was trying not to have expectations. Having experienced it once, I felt it would never feel quite as good as the first time.

That day, I also started feeling intense body aches. Every breath in and out triggered soreness in my back. Before, I’d been able to adjust my body to ease it. This time, I couldn’t.

So I accepted the pain and made friends with it, noting it in my mind. I tried to use the sessions to become more aware of physical sensations.

On day 8, the aches disappeared. Not sure how. But yay.

It was the last full day of the retreat, and I had a feeling I couldn’t quite describe. A mixture of happiness, sadness, and pride.

During one session, I had a passing thought of my kids hugging me. I couldn’t stop smiling while meditating.

My last two 1-hour sitting sessions that day were as good as they could be. I was happy I’d given my best and stayed as focused as I could.

It was also our last night. We still weren’t allowed to talk, but somehow I felt a bond with the other participants and the centre’s helpers.

On day 9, we completed another 5 hours of sitting meditation and 4 hours of walking meditation. Before a simple graduation ceremony, we were finally allowed to talk.

It felt like we were longtime friends having a proper conversation for the very first time. We talked about the retreat, and some shared experiences from other retreats they’d attended. A few had done intensive retreats like this several times. I was very impressed.³

Back home

My kids swarmed me and hugged me. It was a very nice feeling.

A few days later, I could still feel the effects of the training. Things weren’t suddenly easy at home with 3 overly active kids, tbh. I also felt like everything was moving a little too fast, but it was easy to settle back in.

My takeaway

The retreat helped me feel more at peace with where I am with work. I also realised I’m actually quite content with my life. I was very happy with the quiet and solitude the retreat provided.

I’m happy for Slothware Lab to be a workshop where Ian and I try building things, optimising for joy, letting the signals take us forward. If the signal isn’t great or the joy isn’t there, I’m okay to stop. I’m also at peace if Slothware Lab doesn’t work out.

I’m more open to letting life take me where it takes me, having coffee with people, and helping where I can. I’m happy spending significant time at home and being present as a dad, as much as possible. I’m also learning to accept that my kids will demand a lot from me, and it’s on me to take care of myself.

A few things also became clearer. There’s a certain joy in helping people get unstuck. I’ve helped founders pro bono, and a kind founder I hadn’t known before paid for my time on Intro.co. I didn’t use to enjoy doing this. Now I’d love to do more.

I enjoy working with founders. I also enjoy angel investing and rooting for them. I may or may not be a founder again, and I’m at peace with that.

Sooner or later, I’ll need to generate income through work. That would give me greater peace of mind and sense of purpose, I believe. Unless I’m building my own startup, I’m gonna limit work to about 10 hours a week so I can be a present dad and husband.

More important, imo, are the skills I picked up from this meditation retreat. The same shit still happens at home, but I’m handling it better. Whatever I’m feeling, I seem more able to notice it before reacting. I slow down and, if needed, walk away, but never, ever blow up.