APRIL Learn how to meditate
Meditation often feels like a black box – an elusive state of mind described in vague terms by those who claim to master it. Thinking of nothing? Sitting still for hours? It sounds downright impossible. Nevertheless, I became keen to learn how to meditate because I want to better control my mind: to stop my emotions from getting the better of me, to cultivate inner calmness, and to improve my focus.
Realising that my half-hearted attempts at meditation in the past would get me nowhere, I resolved to put aside all excuses and throw myself into the deep end. That’s why I decided to join one of the most significant Buddhist temples in Northern Thailand located on the outskirts of Chiang Mai. For five days, I would commit myself to learning how to meditate while living like a monk in complete silence.
“Acknowledge that you can’t control other people or events. The only thing you have some control of is yourself and your mind.”
Ajaan Buddhasak, teacher and head monk at Doi Suthep’s Vipassana Meditation Centre
Joining Doi Suthep’s Vipassana Meditation Centre
As I left Chiang Mai’s bustling old town in an iconic Songthaew taxi, I buzzed with anticipation. Until now, I’d been really apprehensive about what I was getting myself into, but on the day of registration, excitement took over. This was unlike anything I’d ever done before.
After a windy, one-hour drive that saw the busy cafés give way to untamed jungle, I arrived at the top of the sacred Doi Suthep mountain. Ascending the 309 steps of the magnificent Naga stairway, I found myself at the heart of the temple where the golden chedi enshrines the relic of Buddha’s shoulder bone. Stepping into this holy precinct felt like walking into another world, one filled with saffron-coloured robes, golden statues swathed in incense, and soft quietness broken by occasional gongs and hushed conversations.





My first impressions of the centre were mostly as expected: the accommodation was spartan, and the environment serene. The relatively modern buildings, perched on tall cement stilts amongst lush foliage, were nestled slightly below the monks’ living quarters on the flanks of the mountain. Frankly, I was surprised that a place as holy as Wat Phra Doi Suthep housed a meditation centre open to foreigners and even more so that the centre operates on a donation basis, making it very accessible to all budgets. Inside my room, I found a pillow, a blanket, and two hangers. It was necessary to bring along all other essentials, a detail I’m glad I paid heed to before arriving. There were no nearby shops apart from a few basic tourist market stalls at the temple’s entrance.



The Sound of Silence
All meditators must adhere to strict rules when joining the centre. These rules are aimed at fostering a meditative environment and showing respect within the temple grounds. Interestingly, the rules I thought would be the most difficult were surprisingly easy to follow, while some of the ones I expected to be simple proved challenging.

The biggest surprise of all was that the rule I’d been most anxious about turned out to be genuinely enjoyable – staying silent for five days felt wonderful. Considering I’m more of an extrovert, I never expected this. What made it so enjoyable was how profoundly different it was. This silence wasn’t isolating, lonely, or awkward because it was by choice and held amongst others who were staying silent too for the same reasons. Furthermore, it was accepted and respected by everyone I crossed paths with: monks, other meditators, Thai worshippers, and even the occasional tourists. Since we were required to dress all in white, meditators were easily recognisable and, consequently, shown a certain level of respect for being part of the temple complex. I smiled, I nodded, but I held my tongue for five days straight.
Being silent really helped me fall more deeply within myself and better observe what was around me as well as within. On leaving Doi Suthep, I also noticed how I was valuing my words more and speaking a little less often but with greater intention. In a world where we’re surrounded by so much noise and constant demands to express ourselves, it’s worth being reminded that silence can be meaningful and fulfilling.



Unexpected challenges and breaking the rules
Out of all the rules, I never thought I’d struggle as much as I did with not being allowed to write. It was just five days, after all. Initially, I dismissed this as an easy rule to follow, but all the quiet reflection, no talking, and new experiences had my brain itching to pour its thoughts onto paper. With no other outlets, not writing was surprisingly hard to stick to. However, I understood the purpose behind the rule. Writing, as expressive and therapeutic as it can be, could also become a distraction from the present moment and the practice of meditation. It was a lesson in letting go and surrendering to the experience without needing to capture it in words.
What also presented a very difficult challenge was not being allowed to eat after noon. The point of this fasting was to give us clearer minds in the afternoons to meditate, a habit all the monks follow. I had mixed feelings about this rule on coming to the centre but it’s challenge didn’t end up stemming from not eating enough. Our 7am breakfast and 11:30 am lunch were filling, vegetarian dishes that on a nutritional level would see us through the day. What made me crave food so much was that I had no other distractions, allowing my mind to easily wander and zero in on the idea of food. Eventually, my resolve crumbled and this was the one rule I broke.
Unbeknownst to the monks, I had smuggled a muffin and a pack of peanuts in my bag as an emergency backup. On the 3rd day, feeling sleepy and frustrated with my meditation attempts, I decided it was time for a bit of rebellion. Sneaking back to my room early that evening with a mug of tea in hand (yes, tea was allowed), a ridiculous mix of excitement and trepidation washed over me. As quietly as possible, I retrieved the forbidden treats from my bag and savoured them reverently. Ironically, I felt more appreciation for that single illicit muffin than any of the other meals I had at the centre.

The truest challenge of them all
Learning how to meditate was really hard. The centre expects you to dedicate yourself solely to the practice, which is a lot to ask for a complete beginner. While I could manage to focus on my meditation attempts for about an hour at a time, mainly during the mornings and evenings, I found it nearly impossible in the afternoons (and don’t blame the muffin, that was a one-off).
During the long stretch from 12:00 to 18:00, when we had nothing else to do but meditate, I battled varying levels of boredom and sleepiness. It was difficult to fend off these feelings while sitting cross-legged with my eyes closed or walking slowly back and forth at the pace of a snail. To combat the struggle, I alternated my meditation attempts with short naps, counting the squared tiles on my bedroom floor, or taking walks around the temple, all the while questioning my sanity for signing up to this.
Despite these frustrations, results came at last. On my 5th and final day, as I walked up to the meditation hall, I was determined to make this last session count. And to my surprise, it did. I slipped into a state of clear-minded calm with an ease I hadn’t felt before. The struggles of the past four days had finally paid off, possibly accelerated by the subconscious knowledge that it was my last opportunity to truly make progress.

Nuggets of wisdom
The entire experience was a unique lesson in resolve, patience, and calmness. It changed the way I viewed meditation, largely thanks to Ajaan Buddhasak’s talks, our teacher and head monk of the centre. Full of enthusiastic bite-sized wisdom, quite a few of the monk’s sayings stayed with me:
Ajaan Buddhasak, teacher and head monk at Doi Suthep’s Vipassana Meditation Centre
- “Everyday we think 60,000 stories and 300,00 emotions.”
- “Emotions, such as sadness, have a cycle. Maybe a day, a week, a month or various years. It’s ok for them to run their course but don’t get stuck in them.”
- “Don’t fight your feelings, feel your emotions. Observe them and understand their roots.”
- “Take care of yourself so that you can become a better person. You will then be better to others.”
This last quote, in particular, resonated with me, as it embodies my reason for trying to improve myself through monthly challenges in 2023. Snippets of wisdom like these may not always bring new revelations, but hearing them shared with eloquence and within a broader context helps them sink in.
In the past, I used to perceive meditation as something to be learned and imposed upon the mind—a mental straightjacket designed to force it into calmness. Looking back, it’s no surprise that I didn’t make much progress with that approach. I’ve come to realise that meditation was never about suppressing thoughts, but rather about giving yourself time to unpack them. The goal is to become an observer of your feelings and learn how to let them go, instead of being consumed by them.
Moreover, I’ve learned that meditation is not as exclusive as I once believed. Being fully present, practising mindfulness, and experiencing gratitude are all elements of the meditation practice taught at Doi Suthep. However, I’ve encountered these states of mind in various settings without consciously trying to meditate. I have often felt this calm awareness and overwhelming gratitude when losing myself in a beautiful landscape, listening or playing music, or even when kitesurfing. This realisation has made meditation feel so much more approachable.





Patience and time
If I had to summarise my 5 days at Doi Suthep, I would say they were long, challenging, rewarding, and peaceful. I’m glad I went through with it and proud that I stuck to it, but I don’t feel the need to rush back. The intense focus on meditation, especially for a beginner, made it quite demanding. While it allowed me to fully immerse myself in the practice, I’d love to explore other teaching styles in the future.
The experience of staying at Doi Suthep has inspired me to continue practising meditation. However, since leaving the centre, I haven’t dedicated much time to it, which is a challenge in itself. Nevertheless, I haven’t given up on turning meditation into a habit because I understand that it’s a change that requires years of commitment, not just a few days. Perhaps the true hidden challenge of this misogi wasn’t just learning how to meditate, but also accepting that good things really do take time.