I am sitting in the Forest Refuge dining hall eating my breakfast oatmeal. I’m 4 weeks into a 3-month silent meditation retreat. My mind, however, is anything but silent: I’m in a fierce argument with the estate of songwriter Jimmy Webb.
By most standards, I’m a fairly experienced meditator. I meditate daily, and have for years. I’ve spent months at a time immersed in silent practice. I study it, teach it, and write about it.
I can still wonder if I’m doing it wrong.