How can we really live in connection with others? How can we embrace a challenge? We have become increasingly atomised in modern life, with isolation in society at an all time high following a post-pandemic surge. The World Health Organisation has declared it a global health crisis, such is the impact on mental and physical health. Many of us are locked in our own bubbles and even our own views, further driving our loneliness. In a world that insists of individualism, here’s how to resist.

​Satykavi writes: It’s single room request season at Taraloka – the period when, after we open bookings for next year, people get in touch asking for single rooms on our retreats. Unlike a lot of the more high-end “wellness retreats” you might find, we have a very limited number of single rooms, meaning that unless you have a medical need for one, you are likely to be sharing.

Room sharing has been part of the culture of Taraloka – and retreats within the Triratna Buddhist Community in general – since the beginning. Some that come here can’t share a room for medical reasons or otherwise and we always want to accommodate that. For most, though, it is a new adventure. So what’s it all about? We can imagine some people shaking their heads at this point: “Oh hear we go… A polemic about how sleep deprivation due to snoring is highly spiritual!” I’ll try not to go there. In fact, unashamedly, we believe far from being an ascetic practice, sharing a room can be joyful, countercultural and connecting.

​The Unexpected Joys

Over the years of going on retreat, I’ve shared rooms with all sorts of people: Older women who get up in the night. Younger women who come in past the time when I’m ready to sleep. Women who shout in their sleep. Women who barely get out of bed for the entire retreat. A retreat leader who stays up late writing talks and eating biscuits. And, of course, women who snore like truck drivers. I’ve shared rooms with friends (some of these overlap the previous categories!), become firm friends with roommates even though the retreat has been in complete silence, and shared with people I never spoke with, who made no impression whatsoever, and who I don’t remember. I’ve had sneaky late-night giggles that reminded me of being 13 years old. I’ve been ill, and the other women in my room have kept an eye on me. I’ve shared with a dear friend, and we’ve left special gifts on each other’s pillows when the retreat was in silence. I’ve made a ritual of bringing my roommate tea, first thing in the morning. And sometimes, I’ve just appreciated knowing I’m not alone on the bumpy journey that a retreat sometimes is.

Connecting with Others

In our increasingly atomised culture, we are so used to staying with the confines of our own bubble. Retreating to “our own space” at the end of the day, dropping our mask, and finally having some time to “focus on me.” Having to share our space with others challenges that. It says: “I’m actually not an island. I can’t get away from other people. And maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe other people can cope with whatever I fear is so bad about me that I want to have my own space. Maybe they’ll be caring towards me, and I might feel more connected by being caring towards them. And maybe other people aren’t fundamentally threatening.” One of the most surprisingly enjoyable things about sharing a room has been getting to know my roommates’ quirks. This one goes straight to bed and makes funny noises in the night which are initially a bit weird, but which I become strangely fond of, given time. That one stays up drinking a cup of tea and reading. That other one has Thomas the Tank Engine bedsheets (true story). Another one has brought her own battery-powered tea lights from home, and wears pink, silk, monogrammed pyjamas. There’s something incredibly endearing about getting to see these little habits, and to allow my own habits to be seen.

Our Top Tips

That said, sharing a room might mean you don’t get the best quality of sleep, especially on the first night. You have to get used to sharing space with someone you haven’t yet relaxed into being around. This is a process, and here are some tips from the Taraloka Bookings team:

1. Pack an eye mask and ear plugs. Silicone ones are really pretty good. If you’re a snorer, you might want to bring some for your roommates, and hand them round at the start of the retreat. It’s an act of acknowledgement and kindness.

2. When you meet your roommate, take a bit of time to find out about them. Maybe sit together at supper on the first evening. If you go to bed before your roommate, you could switch on their bedside lamp, so they can see when they come in (this is where the eye mask comes in handy).

3. In the middle of the night, if you find your body going tense for whatever reason, see it as an opportunity to bring kindness towards yourself and others. Remember that being on retreat is being on an adventure. Wiggle your toes and take some deep breaths. Do a loving body scan. We’re all in this together.

4. Take naps. Our retreats aren’t about ‘the grind’ or your inner drill-sergeant. Retreatants often arrive tired from busy schedules and complex lives. Relaxing in the day and taking time for yourself is also crucial for your practice.

5. Set an intention for sharing a room to be part of your practice. This might look different for different people. Some might use it as an opportunity to cultivate compassion for themselves or their roommates, others to develop patience, and others to see if they can embrace a challenge. Whatever your intention is, approach it with curiosity and an open mind.

Since our radical beginnings, sharing rooms with other women has been a core practice on our retreats. It can feel daunting, but it is in our resistance that we have the chance to growth. Comfort isn’t freedom. Ease is not connection. Embracing the unknown is what brings us closer to those goals.