A personal essay in which Kathryn Smith recalls going to an Ashram and taking a vow of silence — which (temporarily) made her feel better about everything.
Kathryn Smith | Longreads | October 2018 | 14 minutes (3,450 words)
I spent New Year’s in a hot pink temple shaped like a lotus flower, surrounded by 100 other people with their eyes closed and their legs crossed like pretzels. I had taken a vow of silence and not spoken to another human in three days. It was so quiet that I could hear the twinkly lights on the ceiling humming.
I’m a mid-30s white woman with a cat, a small apartment, and a mid-level office job. I don’t meditate, really. I vociferously hate chanting. I don’t know what I think about swamis in long orange robes who believe energy runs through everything and rocks have feelings — I have a 401K and a thoroughly sensible life.
But I went to an ashram because I thought it might fix something, and I think it kind of did.