Three of the Seven Things Learned on a Yoga & Digital Detox Retreat in Cambodia

So here I share my retreat experience and the seven things I found myself learning on such a personally confronting encounter. Of course, the whole point of me embarking on something such as a retreat is for the learning achieved in undertaking any challenge – it’s a sad day when any day is not a school day.

Here are three of my seven learnings with the remainder to follow in my next blog.

Yoga – wasn’t the stretch I thought it would be. That said, It certainly wasn’t a breeze, especially on day one as I found myself in positions generating a searing hot pain as my limbs extended parts of my being I had never, ever previously encountered. I soon settled into the rhythm and each day I progressed – managing ever-slightly, fuller and longer positions – without, I’m happy to report, the accompanying agony. Why we would endure this at all, became clearer to me as I began to enjoy the sensation of being more present to myself, as I more fully occupied my body. Challenge now – keep it going.

Digital detox – if you read my earlier post, you will know this was the element to this endeavour that I felt most challenged by. I’m super pleased to report, this anticipated challenge was a total blinking breeze. I had the biggest moment of panic at the point of tech-surrender as the retreat commenced, when I hadn’t quite clocked the fact my Apple Watch would be part of the digital haul to be netted. Pausing to decide if I go all-in, it took just seconds before I handed it over and became digitally naked – just me, my body and zero technology extensions or accessories. Standing there in my digital birthday suit, I felt completely free – and unencumbered by anticipation of what news alert, email, text message etc. might be ready to land. The remainder of the week left me enjoying the sense of settlement and ease that comes from being able to be present to the here-and-now. So my learning - to reduce the number of distracting alerts I currently allow and be more consciously choice-full about when I decide to look at my digital devices.

Control - it’s an illusion. One source of challenge on this retreat I could never have anticipated was the way Cambodian customs and practices would impact upon me.

Births, deaths and marriages – conducted in Cambodia by the truckload it would seem - are massive social ocassions lasting 3 days and more. These major life events are significant community celebrations, accompanied by loudspeaker, megabase sound systems, booming their way across the countryside with their resultant earth-moving sonic blast and shudder. Boom, boom, boom, goes the base beat and my flimsy wooden accommodation (which I’m convinced is constructed from oversized crude and rustic toothpicks) quakes from the sound waves, sending reverberations along my bed and deep into my until hitherto chilled and settled soul. This is the kind of volume and disturbance only Cambodians have learned to sleep through. As for me, I was obviously a complete novice and hardly slept a wink.

Eventually when it stopped around 0130 I went under - only to despair again as the 0400 drum beat commenced again. Seriously??!!

I lay there, hour after endless hour, growing in outrage as my sleep was unjustly stolen by noise bandits. “How is this even allowed?”, “Don’t they realise people need to sleep?”, “Surely they must be tired and need a rest?”. But on it goes.

Day two continues the same performance, except it’s added to by another celebration, this time coming from the opposite side of the retreat centre. Boom, boom, fecking boom. Boom, boom, feck...

All I wanted was sleep and the only way that was going to happen was if it stopped. On day three, it struck me - I have no idea when or even if, it will stop. My sleepless nights were my own responsibility as I set self imposed conditions on my slumber - I can only sleep when the noise stops.

So the the lightbulb illuminated in my being and I began to question, what if it never stopped? What could I do? That developed into the notion that I could let go control and simply embrace the reality as it was, not as I wished it would rather be. This wasn’t easy, as I tried to welcome each thud, but eventually, through the act of acceptance and relinquishing my ill-placed sense of control, I fell asleep. Learning - I don’t have the control I think I have, though I do control my capacity to accept reality, as difficult as that reality may be..