Vipassana 101: How accidental 12 Days of Silent Agony Rewired my Tech Mind
Today I want to share a different side of myself, stepping away from the usual coding, AI architectures, and technical topics.
Back in the middle of July 2020, fate pushed me into a 12-day Vipassana meditation course. At the time, I was completely against anything labeled "spiritual." In fact, I signed up by pure accident, and almost missed it entirely.
Here is the story of how that
1. The WordPress Crash and an Accidental Ticket
To be clear about where my head was at in 2020: I was a hardcore programmer and data analytics guy. I worked with pure logic every single day. I was proud to dismiss anything "unexplained," superstitious, or mystical. I did not believe in karma, I was not religious, and I had no interest in Buddhism, Christianity, or organized belief systems. I considered myself a strict free thinker. If someone brought up meditation, I usually tuned out or actively rejected the concept altogether.
At the same time, I was going through a very rough personal period. I felt lost, stressed, and depressed, even as I was running my own Data and BI startup in Ho Chi Minh City, dealing with client deliverables, project fires, and the nonstop pressure that comes with being a founder.
One day, I came across a link to a Vipassana course organized at Chùa Pháp Đăng Thiền Tuệ (Hồng Trung Sơn) / Chùa Viên Tuệ. When registration opened that morning, their WordPress server crashed immediately under the traffic. I closed the tab and didn't think twice about it.
Later that evening, while having dinner with friends, I casually pulled up the registration page on my phone just to see if the site was back online. The form loaded. I filled in my basic details, clicked submit, and somehow secured a spot for a retreat starting only two weeks later.
Anyone who has tried registering for Vipassana in Vietnam knows how difficult it is to get a seat. Some people try for years without success. My confirmation email came through on June 25, 2020, confirming the course starting on July 6.
It also turned out to be the very last session before the next major wave of COVID lockdowns hit the country.
2. Leaving the City Behind
My first thought after getting accepted was anxiety about work. As a founder running my own startup in Saigon with multiple client projects and a team depending on me, I genuinely believed things would fall apart if I disappeared for nearly two weeks.
That was just my own ego talking. I handed over what I could, told my team I would be completely unreachable, and got on the bus. The world did not end, and work went on without me.
When we arrived, there were around 200 people. More than half were younger women, along with a handful of young men like me, and many middle-aged to older attendees.
Before the retreat officially began, the organizers collected our phones, IDs, wallets, and personal belongings. Everything was locked away.
From that moment on, we entered what is known as "Noble Silence."
3. The Rules and the Daily Reality
Noble Silence meant complete isolation while surrounded by 200 other people:
- No talking, no whispering, no gesturing.
- No eye contact or casual glances.
- No phones, laptops, or internet.
- No books, music, writing pads, or pens.
- Just you, your breath, and your thoughts.
The daily timetable was relentless, starting with a wakeup bell at 4:00 AM and running until lights out at 9:30 PM:
You spent almost the entire day sitting on a small cushion in the main meditation hall, trying to observe bodily sensations and keep your mind still.
I was fortunate enough to get assigned to a split room shared between two people. Other practitioners stayed in larger communal rooms with 4 to 8 beds. The setup was minimal: a thin mattress, tiled walls, and a small wooden stand.
Meals were simple vegan dishes prepared by volunteers and returning old students. Food was served strictly at fixed times. If you missed a meal or chose not to eat, you simply stayed hungry until the next scheduled window.
Between meditation blocks, there were short 30 to 60 minute breaks for personal hygiene, hand-washing clothes, and walking silently in designated outdoor areas.
4. Wanting to Quit Every Single Day
I will not sugarcoat it: the experience was mentally and physically painful.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor for 10 to 12 hours a day takes a heavy physical toll if your body is used to sitting in an ergonomic office chair. After a couple of hours, your knees ache, your lower back tightens, and your neck feels stiff.
Because you cannot check your phone, talk to anyone, or write down your thoughts, your brain starts searching frantically for distractions. Old memories, regrets, random anxieties, and petty thoughts flood
I wanted to pack my bag and leave every single day. Even by day 9 and 10, I was still looking for ways to get out. But the retreat was located far from town, and leaving early was only allowed in genuine family emergencies. There was nowhere to run. I had to sit there and endure it.
5. What Actually Changed
I did not experience any sudden
The real shift happened quietly, weeks and months after I returned to normal life.
When you are forced to sit through physical pain without moving or complaining, you eventually notice something simple: the sharp sensation in your knee or back comes in waves. It rises, peaks, stays for a while, and eventually
The physical pain is real, but the suffering mostly comes from your mind fighting against it. Once you stop resisting and just observe the sensation as it is, the tension drops.
In Vipassana, this principle is called Anicca (impermanence).
Experiencing that on a physical level changed how I handle mental stress back in the real world. Deadlines, business arguments, broken relationships, and sudden setbacks still happen, but I react to them much slower now. Things arise, they feel uncomfortable, and eventually they pass.
6. Closing Thoughts and What Comes Next
I am not a meditation teacher, a monk, or an expert on spirituality. I do not practice daily rituals, and I still consider myself a free thinker who values logic, science, and practical engineering.
I also do not believe everyone needs to go through a 12-day
However, that July 2020 retreat was the first time I saw what happens when the human ego is stripped of all its daily props: status, job titles, social media validation, and casual chatter.
When you remove the audience, the noise, and the performance, what is left underneath?
In the next posts of this series, I want to explore that contrast: how we build identities to survive modern pressure, the trap of performative culture, and how learning to observe the mind changes how we handle difficult environments.
If you ask me whether I believe in God today: yes, I believe something greater exists, though not in the traditional religious sense. That is a story for another time.
Just me sharing a chapter from six years ago. Thanks for reading.
Continue to Part 2: Vipassana 102: Sleepless Solitude, the Endless Thought Stream, and Lessons That Took Years to Land →