Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.
~Rumi
I have been back from my week-long retreat with Mindful Schools for almost a month. Despite others' urging, I have procrastinated writing about that experience because I wasn't sure I could do it justice, or convey the depth, fullness and uniqueness of the experience. I am going to write about it anyway and accept that what I write will not be perfect.
In February I wrote about my resolution of not committing to any endurance events for the first time in over a decade. This was foreign territory that I didn't quite know how to navigate. I wanted to create more time and space to be more spontaneous, adventurous and giving. One outcome of this was accepting my 14 year old daughter's invitation to do a Spartan obstacle course race with her. Finishing that two and half hour race with her on a hot August day was one of the most memorable moments of my life with her, perhaps that is a topic for another post!
Another resolution I made was to work on my mindfulness practice, which, I suppose, could be considered an endurance event of another kind! I wanted to open myself up further, to dig deeper, to find more courage to explore what makes me vulnerable. I wanted to be more fully present with myself and, as a result, with others. While I did try to make a little more time for sitting and guided meditations this winter and spring, my commitment really began in earnest when I was accepted into the
Mindful Schools year-long teacher certification program. This program is a continuation of the Mindful Schools training I received three years ago, and began with a week-long, kick-off retreat at
Pumpkin Hollow Retreat Center in Craryville, NY in August, coincidentally the day after completing the Spartan race with my daughter!
I had never been on a week-long retreat nor experienced more than eight hours of silence in a retreat setting. Many won't have the luxury of doing a silent retreat; they will not have the time, resources or desire. For example, I found out upon my return that not even my therapist or physician have been on silent retreat. Often when people find out that I did my first three day silent retreat, they respond "I could never do that!" I don't try to convince them that they could; I simply smile and try to acknowledge their belief. My expectations for this week-long retreat were very few. I expected some days of silence, some volunteer work related to my scholarship status, and some days of curriculum training. That is all. I was blown away by what was offered and what transpired!
The week began with three days of silence with a group of about 80. I was expecting and wasn't worried about the silence; I was looking forward to my first multi-day silent retreat. Obviously I wouldn't be talking or using my cell phone and I was okay with that. What I wasn't expecting were the other instructions of no looking or smiling at or holding doors for others; no journaling; and no reading. We were instructed to go within, to work on deepening our own well, and to sit with whatever arose. These long days began at 7am, ended at 9pm, and consisted of group and individual sitting and walking meditation, shared silent meals, rest periods - time to walk the labyrinth, swim in the stream, rest in the hammock, etc. - and talks from our teachers. That is all and it was a relief - a relief from the feeling that I needed to fill my time with something seemingly more worthy like reading about the practice I was engaged in. I simply needed to do the practice, to be! The not looking at or smiling at others when we passed was a little awkward, but otherwise the silence was, for the most part, good and restful and peaceful and freeing.
Not much emotional "stuff" arose for me during those silent days or, rather, the little bit of stuff that did come up was familiar territory. The physical sensations I experienced were somewhat challenging. In the beginning, even just sitting for 30 minutes for several periods a day brought pain to my back and then a bit of anxiety (an ache in my gut, a crawling-out-of-my-skin sensation) related to not knowing when the closing bell would finally ring! And there were the few beginning sits when I felt more sleepy than I had in a very long time; I sat and struggled and fought the repeated urges to fall asleep and fall over on my meditation cushion and the person peacefully meditating beside me! Eventually I settled in, felt less pain, anxiety and sleepiness and had moments of pure presence, calm and joy.
I was truly surprised by how my relationship to food transformed during these days of silence and for the remainder of that week. Pumpkin Hollow has an organic garden and serves only vegetarian meals. I thought I might not eat as much since I wasn't exercising, and restricting food is a familiar, although sometimes tricky strategy for me. But when the delicious, healthy food prepared lovingly by Chef Paris and crew kept arriving, I accepted it; I welcomed all of it like a nourishing, joyous gift with very little struggle. In the absence of other usual activities and the presence of deep, inner work, I began to crave the full experience of enjoying food. When I came out of silence, I tried to convey to Paris and the rest of the kitchen crew, some of whom I had been working with during my volunteer duties, what a surprising gift and blessing the food was. Paris smiled, gave a slight bow and said, "The food is made with a lot of love." Indeed, I felt I was consuming and being filled with love!
Finally after two and half days of silence, our skilled teachers, who guided us through the silent days, facilitated our coming out of silence with meaningful, deep questions that sometimes led to painful reminders. There was a sudden, breaking open of stuff that I didn't remember was in my well. We were confronted with questions, reminders and discoveries about violence, rejection, chronic illness, depression, suicidal thoughts, abortion, miscarriage, eating disorders, lack of self-compassion, discrimination, unworthiness, disappointment, worry, fear and more. It was incredibly powerful to be sharing these discoveries with others. Our teachers instructed us to look around the room and ask ourselves if someone here might support us, if we could be vulnerable enough to allow that support to happen. At times it was difficult, and sometimes impossible to speak because of the intensity of my emotions, my sobbing. I was not the only one who was completely exhausted at the end of that third day and then thought more days of silence looked good about then! Alas, remaining open and curious, sitting and moving non-judgmentally with all of this, with whatever arises IS the practice!
On the last day, all 80 of us sat in a large circle in a big, red barn, passed around one ball of green string, circled it several times around our wrist, and passed it along. Our neighbor then quietly cut the string and tied it to our wrist. We each spoke our intentions, what our little string bracelet would remind us of. This string I still wear represents this beautiful community that was created in just one week, and holds the shared reminders and intentions of all those in the group. For me, it speaks the following words - spaciousness, healing, relax, "I love you, keep going." (Thanks for those latter words, Vinny!)
I am deeply grateful to the
teachers - Megan, Chris, Vinny and Pam for creating a powerful space where a beautiful, vulnerable, loving community of human beings, of educators can come together and learn to be more mindful during that week and throughout the year. I am deeply grateful for those who showed up at this retreat with all of their courage, honesty, ideas, sense of humor and support. And I am deeply grateful to Tina for making it easier for me to take this time away from home. What a blessed gift! I'm curious to see what will unfold over the next year!
Beyond ideas & expectations,
beyond judgment.
Silence is where we can rest
and experience the fullness of everything
and nothing.
~dawna
