A sublime experience extracted from [0] by a monk, living for 100 days in complete solitude doing sadhana (meditative practice) in a makeshift hut on icy Himalayan mountain/forest (2011), attaining realization during this final phase of his sadhana:

> I had to learn how to absorb the powerful energies flowing through me. Thus, I decided to enter strict solitude for a hundred days. I needed this time to absorb the vision.

> I informed Pradeep about my plan and his meticulous management made it possible. I changed my routine and began meditating from 7 p.m. until 4 a.m. If, once or twice a month, the villagers passed this way for hay, Pradeep would tell them to keep absolutely quiet. They maintained both distance and silence. During this period, I neither met nor saw anyone. Pradeep would wake up at 1 a.m., take a bath, say his prayers and prepare my meal before 4 a.m. He would come to the little temple near my hut, ring a bell and hide behind the temple wall so that we did not see each other.
I would then step out and go to his hut for my meal. Eating would take me nearly an hour because it was nothing short of a ritual for me. It was an opportunity to express my gratitude to Mother Nature, to the farmers who produced the grain and to Pradeep who cooked it. The digestive fire in the stomach is called vaishvanara. I would offer every bite to this fire, akin to the fire offering in a yajna. I still do, for that matter.

> While I was gone, Pradeep would wait for me quietly or refill the water bucket in my hut. He’d also fix the tarpaulin on the roof in case a storm had blown it about at night. If I needed to communicate something, I wrote a note and left it in his hut.

> Towards the end of March, I felt a shooting pain near my kidney. I was startled because I had already perfected my posture and wasn’t expecting any more pains. I’d already been through excruciating knee pains, severe backaches, a tired body and aching arms and shoulders. What was this new pain? The middle plank of my bed had completely sunk, making it an uneven and unsuitable surface to sit on; perhaps my posture was the cause of the pain. I placed my pillow on the plank but this didn’t help. I took an hour out of my sleep time and did some yoga asanas to stretch my body; this alleviated the pain just a little. It was becoming impossible for me to sit still for hours at a time, which is what I needed to do. I wasn’t going to give up on my 150-day meditation though; I had to get rid of this pain.
Reflecting on the pain, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen the sun for nearly two-and- a-half months. I took my morning meals when it was still dark. I used to step out occasionally during the day, but I hadn’t been out at all in the sunlight for nearly ten weeks now. I had been living in an extremely cold hut and didn’t use a fire to warm myself. The next day, instead of yoga, I spread a mat and sat outside with my back towards the sun. That night the pain subsided to a large extent. I repeated the process for the next few days and the pain disappeared. I would never know what really caused it, but sitting in the sun relieved it.

> Enjoying the sweetness of solitude, diving deep into the ocean of a still mind, I passed my days in deep meditation and crystal-clear awareness. I was acutely aware of everything around me: the sounds of hornets and wasps, a spider crawling on the wall, every drop of rain that fell. Any thought that emerged in my mind would not go unnoticed. This was truly an extraordinary level of awareness.
My intuitive faculties entered a new dimension. No matter what question I thought of, an inner voice gave me the answer. One day, during meditation, the same inner voice instructed me to visit Kamakhya temple. I would get sarvoch tantric diksha, the highest tantric initiation there, it said.
I was reminded of Bhairavi Ma who had foretold this in Badrinath. I decided to visit Kamakhya after the completion of my sadhana. But, right now, I simply lived in the present moment. I was the a boat sailing in an ocean of bliss; actually, I was the ocean of bliss itself.

> The silence within me was beyond description. Just as you churn milk and it turns into butter, and that butter can never become milk again, my mind had reached an irreversible state of peace and joy. I felt that to remain unaffected, no matter what the circumstances, to be unmoved by someone’s birth, death, acceptance, rejection, praise or criticism—this sense of dispassion and detachment was arising from within me, without any effort.
I opened my notepad and scribbled in it: ‘Self-realization is not an instantaneous act. We may have an aha moment but it is mindfulness that allows us to navigate the world with the utmost awareness of our verbal, mental and physical actions. It is one thing to grasp that we are not just the body, but it is another thing altogether not to react when someone hurts us. We may recognize that anger destroys our peace of mind, but to remain calm, no matter how strong the provocation—that is real realization.
Why did it take the Buddha six years to achieve liberation? If it was an instantaneous thing, he could have had it in the first month. It took Mahavira ten years and Ramakrishna Paramahamsa twelve years. The experiences, lessons, insights add up, finally bringing one to the point of realization. Water boils at 100 degrees Celsius but it takes a little while to get to that temperature. The flame that heats the water already holds the potential to burn as powerfully as the sun, but it is the water that needs to come to a boil. The soul or consciousness is ever pure; it is the conscious mind that needs to reach boiling point, while the subconscious has to imbibe the insights and the learning.

0: https://www.amazon.com/If-Truth-Be-Told-A-Monks-Memoir-Om-Sw...