I'm not a retreat person. By my count, it's been at least 25 years since I 've been on a true retreat, where you truly are invited to leave the rest of the world for a few days and to delve into your inner self. Sounds so "touchy-feely" when I say it here. And, in some aspects, it is.
My partner and I have spent the past few days in a meditative retreat designed to help couples find ways to identify difficulties and heal with each other. I could not possibly do the techniques and philosophy justice in words here, so I won't try. What I'd rather focus on here are a few observations that, for me, tie my inner retreat to the outer, bigger world we all live in.
Leaving Christmasland. When I first signed up for the retreat weekend in August, I didn't give a whole lot of thought to the timing: December 14-16. It was months away at the time. As December approached, I began to have vague misgivings about having obligated us to a complete "time out" during what is, for us as a family, a very busy time. As the season went into full-court press after Thanksgiving, pressure began to build: Must get the Christmas cards made; must buy gifts; must do the holiday baking; must tie up year-end details; must wrap, must mail gifts; must, must, must!
Friday arrived. we had, miraculously, gone into overdrive task-mode and gotten things done. On that drizzly, cold morning,we pulled away from the house and, unknowingly, left Christmasland behind.
Tofu & Silence. Tired from the stressors of the season, we arrived at the beautiful setting for the retreat: rural, oceanside, remote, wintry. Our room was Spartan by some standards. Beds were lumpy, small and old. But all serviceable. And, by Sunday, any concerns about the accommodations had completely given way to matters more important: matters of the heart.
Of course, there could not be meditation without silence. Without being still, how could we hear our own hearts? I wasn't prepared for the duration and intensity of the meditations. And yet, surrendering to our leaders' entreats to "be present" and do some more, I did. And I found that I could. And that I learned where I didn't expect to find learning.
My skeptical self knew the vegan meals could pose a challenge to this carnivore; and yet, we both found ourselves enticed by the aromas wafting from the kitchen as mealtimes approached; and we both ate the delicious meatless dishes heartily, but without feeling like gluttons. And we both left the table feeling satisfied.
Acceptance, not achievement. The lovely part of our work (and it was intense work!) was the permission-giving quality of the exercises. We were invited rather than instructed. The goals were framed in allowing yourself into the exercises, the yoga, the intimate conversation work, as opposed to achieving some required level of competence. It was almost as if the retreat leaders were offering up the framework, the exercises, the meditations--as gifts to receive, not achieve.
How different from the commands and stressors of our everyday lives. And what a mind-shift from the overwhelming "to do" lists of the holiday season.
And so there was peace. For many, the weekend brought clarity, understanding and re-commitment to long and loving relationships. For all of us, it seemed to me, the result of 48 hours of focused honoring of relationship brought no small measure of quiet, satisfaction, and yes, peace between us. Even as we mourned the tragedy that occurred in Connecticut on Friday, we found comfort in the humanity of our peers.
We reflected on our present and past. We mused about our futures. Emotional blocks were dislodged. Misunderstandings were cleared away.We wept and laughed within the safety of a loving group of people who, just a day or so before, were strangers to each other.
A commitment to carry on. In the end, there were no grand pronouncements or shout-it-from-the-rooftop epiphanies. But there was again, an invitation--initiated by the group itself--to stay in touch. To reconnect with this unique community from time to time in the future. To not entirely lose these special connections with special people. Will it happen? I'm optimistic that it will. I'm also mindful that, at least, for me, the "real world" is likely to creep back in with its honking horns, pushy people and my own reactions of impatience and irritation.
But, just for now, I'm inviting myself (not striving!) to hold on to the serenity of knowing there are good people out there. People who could, through mindful calm, could be strangers in that strange world out there 72 hours ago--and loving, connected people now.
Touchy-feely? Yeah, definitely. It reminds me of my childhood and every December, about this time of year, when my mom would ask, her eyes twinkling, "Have you got that Christmas spirit yet?" It was a signal that acknowledged a child's innocent glee and joy.
Well, mom, the answer now, today, is, "Yes." I have that Christmas spirit. And it comes from the depth of giving and love that came from my loving partner, Lou, and from a group of perfect strangers.
It was a most unexpected gift. You can't put a bow on it, but it's the one that means the most.
Until next time, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Blessed Kwanzaa. Whatever you celebrate, open your heart. Receive. And be glad.
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