When Silence Became A Mirror: A Reflection on My First Silent Retreat

It was the spring of 2020, and I was preparing for something I had been looking forward to for months: my very first silent retreat. A time to pause, to turn inward, and to explore the stillness that I often spoke about but rarely had the space to fully experience.

Then, almost overnight, everything changed.

Sometimes silence holds up a mirror, showing us not just who we are, but how deeply we’re connected to everything around us.

The retreat, once planned as an in-person experience, was moved online. And on the very day it began, our provincial government announced an official lockdown. Suddenly, the word silence took on an entirely new meaning.

While “keeping silent” was part of the retreat experience, silence now surrounded me in a way that was both profound and unsettling. The usual background hum of daily life, the traffic, the voices, the footsteps, was gone.

In that depth of stillness, something began to shift.

The only sounds were the birds outside, the wind in the trees, and the small rustlings of outdoor life continuing as if nothing had changed. Meanwhile, the rest of us were suspended in a collective moment of shock, denial, and complete uncertainty.

That first day felt strange, almost hollow. Without the usual distractions, I became acutely aware of every thought and feeling rising to the surface. It was uncomfortable, raw, and at times, overwhelming.

In that depth of stillness, something began to shift. The silence didn’t just reveal myself — my worries, my hopes, my resistance — it also illuminated how interconnected we truly are.

The silence became a mirror.

That retreat taught me something I hadn’t expected: self-reflection and other-reflection are deeply linked.  As we understand ourselves more compassionately, we start to see others through the same gentle lens.

Looking back now, I feel a quiet gratitude for that time. Not the easy, joyful kind, but the gratitude that grows from having walked through something that changed you. The timing was odd, yes, but also strangely perfect. It arrived exactly when I needed to learn how silence could teach, heal, and expand awareness far beyond myself.

That retreat was an unexpected teacher. It reminded me that silence, even when it feels unsettling, can hold profound wisdom. It taught me that reflection is not only about looking inward but also about expanding outward, seeing the shared humanity that binds us all.

As I look back on those surreal days in 2020, I find myself returning to that silent retreat reflection: when we pause long enough to listen, really listen, gratitude begins to bloom naturally. It doesn’t always arise in moments of ease, but often in the spaces that stretch us, still us, and invite us to see with new clarity.