Certified Yapper goes silent 🤫

Hello, beautiful souls,

If you ask my mom, I’m pretty sure she’d say I came out of the womb yapping. I love to chat, chop it up—I’ll riff anyone’s bits. Connecting with people has always been my thing.

So, the idea of voluntarily not speaking for two weeks? Completely absurd. Almost everyone I know laughed at the idea of me shutting up for that long.

Last summer on the Camino, my friend mentioned she had completed a 14-day silent Vipassana meditation retreat. And just like when I first heard about the Camino, my intuition screamed that I needed to do this. I had no idea why, just that I had to. 

I thought it would be the perfect addition to my Thailand journey—and very Eat, Pray, Love of me.

In the days leading up to it, I felt nervous, but my brain couldn’t fully grasp what I was about to do. No contact with the outside world, no socializing, no music or dancing, no reading, no writing (that one was particularly difficult to contend with) for the duration of the retreat. 

I read personal accounts online, watched a couple of YouTube videos, and honestly? I wish I hadn’t. I have two friends who had done it and they gave me almost no details, and looking back, they did the right thing. No expectations would’ve been best, but inevitably, I had a few.

It was the most difficult, excruciating, and rewarding thing I have ever done for myself. I discovered a well of inner strength and determination I had no idea previously existed.

I’ve meditated on and off for years—mostly guided sessions through apps like Headspace or Calm or random YouTube videos. But I’d never had a consistent practice of simply sitting with myself in silence.

My friend told me I was running a marathon without training. And she was right.

By the end, I was meditating for over 14 hours a day, switching between walking and sitting sessions. Even meals were meditations in themselves, every movement a mindful one.

Each day, I met with my monk instructor, who introduced new techniques and mindfulness practices. But that didn’t make it easier. The resistance was loud. My mind fought me constantly. I questioned what I was doing almost every second of the day. No one was forcing me to stay—I could leave at any point.

And then, on day six, my instructor confined me to my room.

No more serene meditation halls. Just my tiny, un-air-conditioned blue box with one fluorescent light. I had to meditate there—for six whole days.

That room broke me. It ripped me open. And then, I stitched myself back together again.

My mind was relentless. Unhelpful stories, negative self-talk, every buried insecurity—I faced them with nowhere to hide. And in that raw stillness, something inside me reset. The tight grip I had on my past, my fears, the narratives I’d clung to for years… I felt them loosen.

And then came day 10.

The day before, something had clicked. After days of struggle, I had finally found stillness. My mind wasn’t fighting me as much. I’ll admit—I got a little cocky. I thought, I’ve cracked the code. I’ve mastered my mind. I’m basically floating through the rest of this retreat with ease.

Day 10 knocked me flat.

It was as if my mind had been waiting for the perfect moment to humble me. The storm came back with full force. Restlessness, frustration, overwhelming doubt. I felt like I was back at square one. I wanted to quit more than ever as I was sobbing on the tiled floor of what felt like my own personal prison cell. 

I started bargaining with myself. You’ve already gotten what you came for. Just leave. No one’s forcing you to be here.

But something deep inside whispered, stay. If I dipped out early, I knew I would be betraying myself. (And we ALL know I left that behind with an amethyst stone on a foggy morning last June!)

That day in the dining hall, a woman I had seen since my arrival sat down next to me. She was leaving that afternoon, and she whispered to me:

"I just wanted to tell you—your beautiful smile helped me through some really difficult days. You have such great energy."

I felt my chest tighten. I had noticed hers too. Her presence had comforted me in ways I couldn’t explain. I was sad to see her go, but that was another lesson on detachment.

And then it hit me.

Because in this messy, complicated, weird world, love and kindness matter more than ever. We never know what someone else is going through at any given moment. And sometimes, something as simple as a smile—shared in silence—can mean everything.

If I had betrayed myself and left early, I would have been packing my things instead of experiencing the peace and release that unfolded on day 12—the very moment I had been searching for all along.

This retreat impacted me on a profound level and immediately I knew I wanted to share my experience with others. I struggled at first to figure out how to incorporate such powerful teachings into something that felt innately impossible to convey without experience.

After some deep reflection, I created The Path Within. It’s a 30-page collection of simple yet powerful practices—breathwork, meditation, journaling, and mindful living—drawn from my own travels and experiences. I hope it can serve as a guide to cultivate your own peace and mindfulness practice.

So, my dear friends,

Never betray yourselves. 

And I hope you can make someone smile today.
Holly x

P.S., Some feedback I got from Steps to the Soul was that there wasn’t enough footage of the actual walking and scenery. So I decided to create a video of just that! Immerse yourself in the Spanish countryside, or just enjoy the lo-fi playlist I created while you work or study.