I’m lucky enough to have friends who always retained their sense of fun. Take the year that Laura decided to throw a surprise party for her husband Ted in Wenatchee. Laura is now the owner of Go Custom Travel, a company that focuses on adventure travel for families. She is the perfect travel agent, because she has always had an eye for cool spots and fun times, without breaking the bank.

Wenatchee is in the Northern Cascades of Washington state, a few hours from Seattle. What Laura decided to do was round up 20 of her closest friends with the directive to find a gorgeous 6,000 square foot rental house with a hot tub on the shores of the Wenatchee River. Her husband was lured up to meet us, following an elaborate treasure hunt, which sent him to the gym, lunch with his best friend, then to us with food, drinks, dancing, games, tobogganing and general mayhem.

On the first night in this huge house, all 20 of us decided to play hide-and-go-seek, adult-style. No, we did not get naked, but this game was not for the faint of heart. That’s because due to the sheer remoteness of where we were, when we turned out the lights, it was impossible to see the hand in front of your face, let alone the bodies of 19 other people.

When it was my turn (I got volunteered to go first) my teammate and I somehow managed to find everyone by swinging our arms around wildly, like drunken Frankensteins. Amazingly, we managed to find everyone within 30 minutes, but I immediately dubbed the game “hide-and-go-feel,” since that was the only true way to find people.

As it turned out, Sandy and I were the real pros at this game. Sandy came out of her hiding place when no one found her, and because, well, she got tired. She had chosen to perch herself like a cat burglar on the top, back edge of the washing machine (remember what I said about this being a group with a sense of fun?) As for me, when it came my turn to hide, I was never actually found because I used the age-old chameleon trick of hiding in plain site. At one point, after everyone was found, there were 5 people around me, with fingertips brushing my feet and arms, talking away, wondering aloud where I was, but not actually finding me.

My brilliant hiding place was in the middle of a queen size bed, where I was on my side, lengthwise, barely breathing. I knew the skills I gleaned from that 10-day silent meditation would come in handy sometime! The group actually gave up looking for me, thinking I’d gone outside to play in the snow. Finally, someone had the bright idea to turn the lights on room-by-room and Eureka!

I never did go outside that night, but the next day, we all headed out for the toboggan competition of the century.

Moguls were built, water was poured and the races began down a steep hill that dead-ended at the river. Karl went down with a knock to the head, I careened down the short, steep slope completely backwards to a standing ovation and Kim almost ended up in the river (remember, your feet are your BRAKES!)

Breathless from the biting cold and the belly-clutching laughter, the peppermint schnapps spiked hot cocoa capped the day’s adventures beautifully. Oh, well that and that night’s toga party with Scooby Doo sheets.

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Think about one day of total silence. No music. No talking. No TV. Now add to that: no reading and no writing. Now multiply by 10. I did that once and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Of all the off-the-wall things I’ve decided to do, this silent, 10-day meditation in Onalaska, Washington is the one met with the most incredulous stares, followed by a whole lot of questions. Called Vipassana Meditation, the focus was not on chanting, gurus and wishing that the hocus pocus of The Secret would bring me that convertible BMW I always wanted. This get-away placed you firmly inside your babbling, incessant, doesn’t know how to shut-up brain.

The goal? To learn how to listen to what your body has to say (instead of your brain) and to learn that your body’s sensations can be taught to understand that everything, even that pesky itch behind your right knee, is impermanent.

It may be hard to understand why people decide to do things so drastic. I actually figured I could do this since I am an introvert anyway. But, don’t get me wrong: the first couple of days were a test of sainthood. You learn to do anapana, which is basically paying attention to the feeling of the breath escaping your nostrils. I kid you not.

What happens is when your brain is deprived of interactions, you’d be amazed at what comes up—and for each person it’s different, yet I believe utterly entertaining. As for me, I actually wrote this whole article in my head while I was there. And fully edited it too. I bolted awake one night in my dorm to realize that someone across the room was talking in her sleep. It’s startling when you haven’t heard anyone talk for days. I also sang the entire Grease soundtrack in my head (where was THAT stored?!?) Wella, wella, wella, hunh!

I remodeled the kitchen of my 1918 bungalow completely. I dreamed of my first meal with meat in 10 days (it was going to consist primarily of bacon). I had some thoughts that would just. Not. Stop. And it was all part of the experience to know yourself better.

But when my mind was able to be quiet (and I had no choice, because sitting and meditating 10 hours every day, you need a break from yourself at some point), what I experienced was the stuff of legends. I learned to perform a full body scan, from the top of my crown to the tips of my little toes in a few minutes flat, feeling every twitch, nuance and inch of my body. I experienced that sensation you hear about, but doesn’t seem possible: I couldn’t tell where I ended and the air around me began. If you asked me where my arm was located in space, I would have been hard-pressed to tell you. During our vegetarian meal breaks (light breakfast with no coffee, mid-day meal and dinner of tea and a piece of fruit) I was overwhelmingly grateful for the people who prepared each delectable meal. And the day we were treated to tasty chocolate-laced dessert bars after a hard day of meditation was in itself like an out of body experience.

But when the moment came for us to ease back into the world and talk to our fellow mediators, I couldn’t do it. I ran to my bed and cried my eyes out. The thought of the interaction was too much. Obviously, I got over it and all I can say is the drive home was filled with spectacular sensations.

Ready to sign up?

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