For years, she had suffered from severe depression—nothing made her happy anymore... What help could a twelve-day retreat provide?

After practicing The Meditation of Greater Illumination at dawn, I bathe in the Hawaiian sun. The salty breeze gently touches my face and boats sail slowly against the sea... My heart is comforted by the warmth and vibrance about me.

I am glad I can enjoy the sunshine again. I’m also glad to have reclaimed my health of body and of mind. Most of all, I am glad that I went on a meditation retreat under the guidance of Master JinBodhi. During those twelve days, I found a happiness that I'd lost long ago.

Headlong

I was an absolute princess growing up… and everyone treated me that way. I think maybe it encouraged certain embarrassing traits to come out in my personality—I was vain, controlling, and arrogant. My professional achievements further cemented these characteristics. However, afterimmigrating to the United States, I faced unprecedented challenges, cultural barriers, and difficulties in every aspect of life. As surreal as it sounds, the root of my personal breakdown came in a very unexpected form—we were robbed of our life savings by someone we'd considered a dear friend. We'd sunk everything we had into a financial arrangement, only to have it all disappear in an instant of deception. Of course, our family business required capital, so I had to borrow money, off and on, to deal with our needs. Things were very tight.

I continued to work even while I was pregnant—there was just too much pressure. I endured more than my fair share of stress during that time—it was a nightmare... I felt helpless. As a result, I became more and more short-tempered, and my health suffered considerably. I wasn't able to deal with it all and, in the end, I just wanted to run away...

Eventually, it reached a point beyond my ability to cope. One day, I drove off after downing sleeping pills and painkillers with a bottle of beer. I don’t even remember the car accident that resulted. When I woke up, I was lying in a psychiatric ward. I honestly didn't realize the extremity of my behavior until, one night, I was awakened by another patient who had escaped from her room. I looked into her utterly insane eyes and realized I could be looking at my future.

Finally, I was diagnosed with clinical depression! Likely, it had been triggered by my postpartum melancholy. After speaking with the doctor, my husband, who had always been unshakeable, suddenly took me in his arms and started to cry. It was only then that I understood how much sorrow I had caused the people in my life. I felt guilty, and cooperated with the doctors.

Unfortunately, the medicine I was prescribed made me feel sick, and didn't alleviate my condition all that much—my smiles were neither natural nor genuine. To comfort my family, I pretended to be happy, but the effort was draining. Oftentimes, I just couldn't understand why I was so sad. I had everything in the world—my children, a devoted husband, a caring support group, a successful career—why was I crying so much? For three years, I hid my unhappiness... I bottled it up. I forced myself to be a good worker, mother and wife. I forced myself to be congenial and pleasant, but this was all on the surface. Inside, it felt as though my heart were dead and all the effort pretending otherwise was exhausting me.

Returning one day from a business trip in Vancouver, my husband arrived with word of a new opportunity—the Canada Bodhi Dharma Society would be holding their first meditation retreat there, and he encouraged me to attend.

I decided to go.

First Steps

After landing in Vancouver with my son, we were taken to the meditation hall. It was my first time there, but I felt at home as soon as I entered. There was a palpable sense of warmth and comfort.

I was a little hesitant to meet with Master JinBodhi, and yet eager at the same time. I felt guilt and shame at my attempted suicide… Still, I knew that it was right for me to be there and learn what this man had to offer.

I now know that the sadness and shame I felt then were simply my “darkness before the dawn,” so to speak. I’d accumulated and buried so much sorrow, so much grief, that I couldn't stop myself from crying anymore. There was a realization that I was desperate to tear down the barriers I had established within myself—they began to topple in a liberating flow. The experience was particularly intense when I chanted. My emotional obstacles were swept away—sorrow, illness and grief were pouring out and leaving my body. I fought the instilled urge to repress and control my feelings… I wanted the mask to break.

I used to try to be tough and stoic, hiding myself from people. I thought it was the only way to get better, but in the end, lying to myself only caused more pain. I was so surprised when I realized that the release of tears made me feel as though my body were being cleansed. It was a freedom.

I can't remember the Master's words during the opening ceremony, but I do remember the gentle and supportive atmosphere that enfolded me there among the other students.

One day, while listening to the master, it occurred to me—in a real, solid and applicable way–that I had limitless options in life... that the world was vast and I had a place to find in it. I felt pure—perfect just as I was… I was starting fresh.

On the day that the master brought us to Stanley Park, one of the largest urban parks in the world, to explain certain meditation teachings: “Developing the mind is like climbing a mountain. The higher you climb, the broader your perspective; the broader your mind is, the better your prospects. Currently, you may feel like fish swimming upstream. In truth, you are more like caterpillars constructing cocoons... after you reach a certain level, your life will be completely different. Meditation is the key. From this day forth, you will feel like a different person. You will be more aware of your behavior.”

I felt that I was in the process of experiencing exactly what he was talking about—the words spoke volumes to me!

Finally one day in class, I realized that I'd stopped crying—I was actually feeling really good! Everything had changed! My body seemed beautiful to me… My voice was clear and full of life… I looked around—even the air in the room had changed. It was like breathing in a joyful and steady peace. One of my classmates noticed the expression on my face and actually told me how happy I looked! I was pleasantly surprised—I couldn't remember the last time anyone had said anything like that.

It was as though I had a voice again... I could sing! It had been such a long time. I can't express the happiness I felt! A pure joy expanded freely from deep within my heart... a genuine and carefree joy.

As for my son, well, I was concerned that the course would be a bit dull for him. Being seven years old and full of trouble, I was grateful for the positive effects the meditation was having on him—he behaved more, was more helpful... more mature for his age. I think that he started to look up to Meditation Master JinBodhi a bit.

After all the days of learning and practicing Puti Meditation, my heart, the heart that I had felt was dead, has softened. I now feel I have the key to happiness: an open mind, balanced with reason, forgiveness, and the ability to let go of the little things. Nowadays, I get up at 5 o'clock every morning to practice meditation. I am still very busy, but I don't usually feel tired, and more importantly, I am much happier. The master said that with more cultivation, all trace of depressive mindset are likely to disappear.

The retreat was a journey of renewal and spiritual blossoming… and now the rest of my life is, too.

Time really does fly—my twelve days at the Canada Bodhi Dharma Society went by very quickly. I was almost concerned about coming back to the real world, having become so enamored with the meditative lifestyle. The master seemed to really understand me, and I didn't want to lose the feeling of being newly liberated and understood.

In the end though, I knew I could step away. Master JinBodhi gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder and I felt his blessing—his hope for my life beyond the College.

I know that I still have lingering issues to deal with, so I pray now that next time I see him and the rest of the College staff, I will be able to continue on my path of meditation and self-cultivation. I pray that, by that time, I won’t carry the echoes of negative thought—that I won't feel impure; I won't feel ugly; I won't feel ignorant anymore...

I will feel illuminated.