If you've been following me for a while, you've probably noticed that I disappear for about a week every year.
No Instagram Stories.
No travel videos.
No photos.
Nothing.
Every year, I get the same messages.
"Where did you go?"
"Are you okay?"
"What happened?"
The truth is much simpler than most people expect.
I go to a Buddhist temple.
Not because I'm running away from my life.
Not because I'm taking a vacation.
Not because something bad happened.
I go because I believe our minds need a chance to rest just as much as our bodies do.
We make time for work.
We make time for family.
We make time for vacations and endless responsibilities.
But how often do we make time to simply sit with ourselves?
For me, that's what these seven days are all about.
Once a year, I spend seven days living in a Buddhist temple in Thailand as a white-robed lay practitioner, following the Eight Precepts.
If you're not familiar with Thai Buddhism, that probably sounds a little strange.
So let me explain.
A white-robed lay practitioner isn't a Buddhist nun.
We're ordinary people who choose to leave our everyday lives behind for a short time to practice meditation, train the mind, and live as simply as possible.
Some people stay for three days.
Some stay for five.
Some stay for seven or even nine days.
Everyone has their own reason for being there.
For me, seven days feels just right.
It's long enough to slow down, clear my mind, and remind myself what really matters.
Many people think you only go to a temple when you're heartbroken, overwhelmed, or searching for answers.
That has never been my reason.
I don't wait until my life falls apart before taking care of my mind.
I see this as maintenance.
Just like we service our cars or go for an annual health check-up, I believe our minds deserve the same care.
Before I tell you what those seven days were really like, I should explain the Eight Precepts, because they shape everything we do at the temple.
The first time I heard about them, they sounded like nothing more than a list of things I wasn't allowed to do.
But after practicing them, I realized they weren't meant to punish me.
They were meant to quiet my mind.
The first five precepts teach us to live with honesty, compassion, mindfulness, and respect—for ourselves and for everyone around us. We don't harm living beings, take what isn't ours, lie, drink alcohol or anything that clouds the mind, or engage in sexual activity during the retreat.
The last three ask us to simplify life even more. We don't eat after midday, we let go of entertainment such as music, movies, television, and social media, and we also give up makeup, perfume, jewelry, and even the comfort of sleeping in a proper bed.
At first, it felt like I was giving up so much.
Later, I realized I wasn't giving anything up at all.
I was simply removing distractions, one by one, so I could finally pay attention to my own mind.
When I first learned about these practices, I remember thinking,
"This is going to be really difficult."
And honestly...
Some parts really were.
The hardest part, at least for me, was sleeping.
I remember lying there thinking,
"How am I going to do this for seven nights?"
Every time I turned onto my side, my hip pressed against the hard concrete beneath the thin woven mat.
It hurt.
There was no comfortable position.
No matter how I turned, I could still feel the hard floor underneath me.
But I never thought about going home.
I never thought about my own bed.
Instead, I kept reminding myself,
"I'm here to train my mind."
"This is part of the practice."
"I can do this."
"I just have to make it through seven nights."
Every night became another small challenge.
Some nights were easier than others.
But each morning I woke up feeling proud that I hadn't given up.
Little by little, my body adapted.
The floor never became softer.
The mat never became thicker.
But my mind became stronger.
I realized that the real challenge wasn't the hard concrete beneath me.
It was learning not to let discomfort control my mind.
That became one of the greatest lessons I took home from those seven days.
It taught me that peace doesn't come from always being comfortable.
Sometimes, peace comes from discovering that you're stronger than the discomfort you've been trying to avoid.
