I Went to Be a Monk for 7 Days in Sarawak, And I Still Think About It

It was an impromptu trip.

My shifu was going to Sarawak for a 7-day retreat, and before I could fully process what that meant, I found myself there too, dressed in robes, head shaved, surrounded by fellow monks from different nationalities. Majority of them were from Vietnam, one from Indonesia. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t know what would happen. But I knew I had to keep calm and stick to my practice.

And that’s when I truly understood: this path is not about instant peace or enlightenment. It’s called a practice for a reason.

Living Like a Monk

I followed the precepts. I ate only vegetarian meals. I woke up before the sun. I chanted sutras until my throat was dry. I walked mindfully. I tried to speak less, feel less, want less.

I didn’t use my phone. I shaved my head. I dressed in the same robe every day. I sat with my breath and watched thoughts drift in and out like leaves on water.

It sounds poetic when written like this, but the reality is much harder. There were moments I felt bored. Restless. Tempted. I missed scrolling. I missed meat. I missed cracking jokes and speaking freely.

And even more than those… I missed being someone.
In robes, with my head shaved, stripped of status and labels, I wasn’t “me” anymore. No style. No screen. No Spotify playlist to curate my mood. Just... awareness. And in that space, something softened.

What I Learned (And What I Didn’t)

There was no big enlightenment. No lightning-bolt moment of awakening. But I did feel peace. Not loud, Instagrammable peace, but the quiet kind that settles in your bones when you're not trying to be anything.

I learned that spiritual practice is like sweeping leaves in the wind. You sweep, the leaves return. You sweep again. The practice isn’t in the perfection, it’s in the sweeping. But when I returned home, conflict came too.

The Struggle to Let Go (And Why I Haven’t)

I still think about that week often. I miss the routine. The stillness. The simplicity. But the truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever do it again.

Because the other truth is: I like worldly things too. I like nice clothes. I like well-designed phones. I like being part of the world.

There’s a tension in me, a quiet war between the robe and the hoodie jacket. Between chanting sutras and checking my phone. Between the part of me that longs for liberation… and the part of me that still enjoys a great cup of bubble tea.

But maybe that’s the point.

Still Walking the Path

What I learned from those 7 days is that Buddhism doesn’t demand overnight transformation. It invites you to walk. Slowly. Honestly. With awareness.

You don’t have to throw your whole life away to begin.
You just have to take one step. And then another.
And when you fall, you return to the path. Again and again.

That’s the beauty of practice. It waits for you.

So for now, I’m here, in between both lives.
Still shaving my head occasionally. Still meditating. Still scrolling. Still walking.

One breath at a time.