WELLNESS
The centre sits on the edge of a game reserve, which means your meditation soundtrack includes actual lion roars at sunrise and sunset. It’ s thrilling and slightly unnerving: you’ re meant to be“ observing sensations”, but instead you’ re wondering if you’ re on the menu. Accommodation is simple but not monk-level sparse: a private room and bathroom, no frills, no décor, no mirrors. It’ s just you, a bed, and the battle with your own mind. Think spiritual bootcamp with better scenery.
Here’ s the ridiculous part … it’ s free! Completely free. You don’ t pay a cent upfront. The retreat runs purely on donations, given only after you’ ve finished the course. Someone before you paid for your stay; you pay it forward for the next brave soul. And honestly, after tasting the food, you’ ll want to donate. The vegetarian Indian meals were some of the best I’ ve ever had; fragrant curries, silky lentils, pillowy rolls, tea that tastes like comfort in a cup. Eating in silence somehow makes every bite taste like gratitude.
By Day 4, I was ready to pack up and bolt. We’ d been given only one instruction at the start:“ Sit and feel the touch of the breath.” That was it. No mantra, no visualisation, just those words.
I sat there thinking – what does that even mean? Feel the touch of the breath? Where? How? I couldn’ t visualise it, couldn’ t force it, and the more I tried, the more frustrated I became. My knees hurt, my back ached, and my brain was screaming,“ You’ re wasting your time!”
And then … boom. Out of nowhere, it just clicked. I stopped trying to“ do” the breath and simply noticed it. The tiniest sensation of air at the nostrils, the chest rising and falling, the body sitting.
Suddenly, I got it – not as an idea, but as an experience. Everything shifted. In that moment it felt like the edges between me and the world softened. The sky, the ground, the trees, the birds, the lions in the distance; all of it one … continuous … flow. I wasn’ t“ me‘ watching’ nature.” I was“ in” it. Part of it.
The next six days were pure amazement. Hours of meditation passed like minutes, 4am to 9pm sessions flew by. The aches were still there, but they’ d lost their power. The silence no longer felt like punishment; it felt like possibility. A kind of doorway into everything. Honestly, it blew my mind in the gentlest way.
At Dhamma Patākā, everything runs on quiet order. Men and women sleep in separate areas, and the meditation hall mirrors that split: one side male, the other side female, both equally stiff from sitting cross-legged for hours. You’ re assigned a specific spot on the floor, and that’ s where you stay for the entire stay. No musical chairs. No escape. Mine was near the back, between two strangers – or so I thought. Ten days later, when the silence finally lifted, I discovered my neighbour was Kim Engelbrecht, the Isidingo actress who had also acted in Hollywood. I’ d spent 10 days next to her without having the faintest clue. Once we could talk again, we laughed
SUMMER 2025 / 26 • rovesa. co. za | 17