Retreat! (a.k.a. Run Away!)

Back from our silent Lenten retreat. It could not have come at a better time. I had just lived one of the worst weeks ever -- school really sucked last week, and I just got completely overwhelmed and had a meteoric meltdown (at home, fortunately), such that Friday I was a complete zombie. I was never so ready for a retreat.

This was my third silent retreat, and it took me more time than usual to quiet my restless mind and noisy heart. Our focus was sacred listening, and it was really an exercise in lectio divina, the ancient method of delving more deeply into scripture, and we did it through several of Jesus' parables. In addition to the guided meditations, I also continued reading, writing, and reflecting through The Cloister Walk, by Kathleen Norris, which I somehow up to this point had managed never to read. I am always amazed, even though I know it's going to happen, at the interplay and overlap of the things I'm reading, thinking about, and discussing with others. This whole weekend meshed and melded that way.

Our retreats frequently offer the opportunity for confession. I've always shuddered away from that in horror. Why would I ever want to do such a terrifying thing as telling my sins to another human being who is sitting in the same room as I am?! It's one to thing to confess to God, because God already knows the state of my heart anyway, but it's entirely another thing to tell someone who's blinking and breathing right in front of me.

I wasn't going to do it. I did not want to do it. I was feeling a push to do it. Oh darn; all of the slots were signed up for. After lunch Saturday, I felt terrible. I couldn't tell if it was what I ate, how much I ate, how quickly I ate it, or something else -- vestiges of my anger and frustration of the week? Or a different kind of blockage? I lay down for a nap, but when I woke, I did not feel any better. So I got up to walk. I grabbed my camera and headed up the hill. I didn't take a watch, so I am not sure how long I walked -- it was probably two or three hours. I walked fast, I walked slow, I stopped to take pictures, I stopped to just look, I did some yoga stretching, I prayed or I didn't, I laughed at the barking dogs, I spied on birds from hawks to hummingbirds, I enjoyed the views of hills and clouds, I luxuriated in the light and angle of the sun. I started feeling better near the end of my walk. When I returned to our silent meeting place in the library, more slots had been added to the confession sign-up list, so I signed up. I felt even better.

I did it. It was nerve-wracking . But it was useful. I have a lot to think about.

More later. The time change makes me sleepy. Oh, yeah, and so did the great conversation I had till three o'clock this morning! Back into the frying pan tomorrow. I still have a lot to say about the retreat, Kathleen Norris, Mary Oliver, Dante (of all things), and others. But not tonight.