I was alone, with only vague directions on how to get there and without a clue to what I was in stall for. Yet I was filled with excitement - 10 days, 10 BIG days, away from everyone, without TV, movies, books, comics, music, writing and most of all NO talking. And I was such a talker.

It was a thrilling prospect. A real challenge, I thought. When I left my flatmates they said, "Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow," but I grinned firmly and said, "No you won't, it'll be two weeks." They laughed and somewhere deeply I felt afraid.

What was I doing? Why was I doing this? Was I mad? I had no idea. Like hey, I'm happy, I thought. Sure sometimes I flip out but doesn't everyone? But in the back of my mind there was always the thought, just do it (before it had become the motto to pump your shoes up).

So I said my farewells, my family saying that if I wanted I could always come back and just spend 10 days down in the garden and on one would speak to me. No, I'm going to do it and away I went on a two and half hour train trip from Sydney.

I got off at Blackheath station, hefty backpack, frozen fingers and breath like a cloud. Sure enough there were similar people looking as lost as myself. Then an older man and an Asian women smiled and pointed out the way. We followed them on a 20 minute brisk walk up the road beside the railway line heading towards Lithgow.

Looking around, I saw many young people like myself but also a large number of people of varying ages, backgrounds and cultures. Like me, many seemed eagerly waiting for things to start as we ate our pumpkin soup and herb bread. But there were some who seemed different. There was a serenity about them. They were at ease. I asked one, have you been here before? Yes. What was it like not talking? He replied, not very difficult and that he rather liked it. He liked it! What happens here?

They then told us about the centre, how we were to behave and reminded us of the seriousness of our undertaking such a deep operation of the mind. Were we prepared? Would we stick out the whole of the course for 10 days? If not, they understood and we could leave now. But if yes, then we would have to stay regardless of what came up.

Now I was scared. Could I really do it? Was I prepared? I had no idea, never having done anything like it before. Not even much meditating. Maybe a little relaxation exercises in drama classes but nothing like this. Yet I thought, well I've come this far, I'll give it my best shot.

The men and women were separated, as we were to observe complete segregation of the sexes for the whole course. We moved over to the meditation hall. There was drizzle and the walk was quiet, a little giggling here and there. Already I felt the silence descending and a lump in my throat rising.

I was scared.

If the meditation centre felt quiet, the hall was something else. There were no statues, flowers, paintings, nothing. In fact the whole centre was bare of such distractions.

Then, an old Indian lady came out of a door and sat on a raised platform facing us. It was quiet. It was foreign. I was frightened and excited all at once.

Some chanting started. Not from the lady but by tape. A rough, deep, slow voice - we were told it was our teacher Mr S. N. Goenka and this lady was an assistant teacher of his. I was taking it all on, the whole kit and caboodle.

We took refuge in the teaching and then the precepts (vows), including no talking. This was to be our moral foundation during the whole course, the base on which the technique depended. We then asked to be taught the technique of Anapanna meditation for concentrating the mind. It was focusing on the natural breath, coming in and going out of the nostrils. No controlling it, no visualisations, no mantras, just breath. Then it was an early night, or so I thought, 9 pm. But I was to find we were going to need this with such a heavy programme starting with a 4 am wake up bell. Boy oh-boy.

First morning. 4 am. GONG! GONG! Not for me. 4.30 am. GONG! GONG! Not for me. 6.30 am. GONG! GONG! Food! Breakfast! I was up. It was good simple food. Fruit, cereals, porridge, toast, standard stuff. Maybe these guys weren't so weird.

My first sit (meditate) was at 8-9 am. Afterwards I knew meditation wasn't just pretty relaxation, euphoric bliss. It was work. Real work. Unlike any work I had done before. And it was hard. VERY HARD.

All day such a wild mind. This way, that way. Sometimes in the depth of the sea, sometimes on another planet. It was everywhere but where I wanted it, observing the breath. And I thought there would be no talking. Maybe no outside talking but I couldn't shut this mind up. I want peace. Give me quiet. Constant chatter. I'd never heard such a racket. This movie, that movie. This song, that song. I was going nuts.

How quickly this changed. Before the end of that night, the crowded meditation hall had the ripples of laughter running through it. He was a witty, illuminating fellow who in one night shattered all expectations of some big 'guru'. He was such a likeable funny man who often took the mickey out of himself, yet full of such wisdom, always knowing what stage we were at, helping and encouraging us.

The first three days went like this. The mind still wild, getting slightly quieter, though rarely would it stop. And this meditating was hard. For the first three days we could shift our position in the hours of meditating, but still it was hard.

Then came day four. Vipassana Day. For me there had never been anything like it. And nothing was ever the same again.

The technique of Vipassana is to observe the bodies sensations from head to foot. Which doesn't sound so hard, but the point of the technique is observe them objectively, attempting to come out of our cravings and aversions, liking this sensation and disliking that one, and that is very hard. My first session blew me away. I was unprepared for the intensity of the experience.

Goenka said we might feel like running away on the second or sixth days especially, but for me it was the fourth. I felt like talking to management or the assistant teacher which we were permitted to do. It was all too much, I wanted to get out of there. But I thought to myself, just stay until the end of the discourse tonight, Goenka always makes me laugh, then I'll leave. That evening sure enough Goenka explained everything I was going through and I didn't feel quite so alone. Having a hard time was to be expected, he said, and this too would pass away. And as explained, leaving during a course could be very dangerous in that we would be so open and unprepared for the world.

Feeling much encouraged, I stayed on to work very seriously, very hard for the rest of course. All the difficulties were still there but as the days passed I began to slowly understand how to work with them, not against them. Though the discourses were very helpful in understanding the technique, as was talking to the assistant teacher, it was through my own direct experience that I learnt the most.

Like this the days passed and finally day 10 arrived and silence was lifted. Now chattering was permitted and boy was there chattering. So quickly the whole centre changed from serenity to a crescendo of talking and laughter. I found from other students, that like myself the course had been difficult but such a feeling of peace remained. All this time a chattering mind was now quiet and I felt so happy and amazed at the world.

The following morning we left and were once more in the outside world.

This was nearly two years ago and since then I have kept up the practice with amazing results. There is nothing like this technique in my life and I have returned to the centre for more courses, each one different from the last, though the teachings remain the same, bringing benefits of greater insight into who I am and a feeling of gratitude and compassion to those around me.

I have forgotten what emotions such as depression and boredom are like and feel so much more content with what I have. Yet I do not feel that in any was by taking these retreats or in practising my daily sittings I am becoming removed from the world. Rather, I am finding greater impetus to be in the world and help make the changes that need to made.

Nor is there a feeling that this is what I ought to do. Vipassana is not about converting people from one religion to another, from one set of beliefs to another. It is a practical technique with limitless benefits. So that if one is a Christian, by the practise of this technique, one will become a better Christian. If one is a Jew, one will become a better Jew. If one is a Buddist, Muslim or even none of these, Vipassana offers a non-sectarian path from the teachings of the Buddha for self purification, open to one and all.

Indeed many heads of these faiths have come and practised this technique under Goenka. A large number of Catholic priests and nuns, with the approval of the Pope, have come knowing it is a non-sectarian path, to learn how to live a more happy harmonious life.

And so I can recommend Vipassana, which has so much to offer if one is prepared to put in the hard work and come with an open mind.

I have been asked what one finds up at Vipassana Meditation Centre and my reply is best left to a profound quote from an unlikely source, the Star Wars films, when Luke looks into the dark cave and asks, "What will I find in there?" and Yoda replies, "Only what you take with you."

May all beings enjoy real happiness.