November Retreat 2024

This retreat has been a powerful one. At a Franciscan retreat center about two hours (of a very pretty) drive from my current home, I had managed to secure three nights in a single room. There were some wonderful synchronicities… like the fact that I arrived just as a major group was finishing their silent retreat weekend, and that the door to my room is next to the especially large painting of St. Francis and the wolf of Gubbio. (I pathwalked with an Order of Ecumenical Franciscans years ago, and the ‘Wolf of Gubbio’ was always the one Franciscan story that stuck with me. At the time I took my novice vows with that lovely group, I was even writing a blog called ‘A She-wolf of Gubbio’).

The wooded retreat center is gorgeous, with a main building that holds 20 or so rooms for guests, an indoor chapel that looks out into the woods, a small library, little bookstore, lounging and meditation areas, a dining hall, and some larger meeting rooms. Outside, they have a few cabins for smaller groups, a beautiful labyrinth, walking trails, and an outdoor chapel in the trees that is mostly glass. This is my third visit to this place, and it almost seems even more charming each time I come. I only realized yesterday that they have a columbarium that I have never seen.

I was musing over a question: were my past, powerful spiritual feelings the prior two visits because of the groups I had come with, or because of the environment? Very quickly on this retreat, I realized that it was the latter. I ‘opened’ the retreat with a labyrinth walk on Saturday, near dusk. I was alone. There was quite a bit of wind that caused some of the tall pines to rack against one another’s trunks. I was not too far along the beginning of the walk when I felt it – a sense of the heart opening suddenly, an overwhelming surge of understanding/unity/oneness. It’s been a long time since that’s happened. Maybe not a full ‘cracking of the Matrix’, but certainly a wonderful flash of Truth.

Now, I am afraid I am not cool enough to have that happen right as I reached the center of the labyrinth. I don’t know how long I stood still, feeling and knowing Life in, on, through me. But then, the small still voice inside said simply: “I am found.” And my mind was kind of blown. For all of the goal-setting and hoping to ‘become the person I’m meant to be’, and ‘striving towards being (insert whatever here)’, there I was. One, with Dao. Just unearthed by the forest wind, solitude, and some very slow, meandering steps.

The rest of that labyrinth walk was very fruitful. There is so much I can’t quite put into words. Thoughts and feelings between me and Dao/Goddess/Spirit. It was such a deep, unexpected experience, especially as the beginning of my retreat. I did feel a bit dizzy after the labyrinth, and it was getting close to dark, so I wound my way out of the forested area and back to the main building.

I promptly wrote down some of the spontaneous thoughts and flashes that I had just heard. There was a wealth of gratitude for being able to be at this retreat. And then a simple: “I am the gnarled tree/useless timber.” (A little Daoist reference there). After dinner, I did some interesting retreat exercises, recitation, and dived into some spiritual reading. I consulted the I-Ching, and the resulting core sentence that came from the reading said: “Don’t remain locked in a conventional view of the way things work.”

I figured I would probably need some rest, so I attempted to turn in early. Saturday night’s sleep took a while to happen, though I am not certain why. All said and done, I was in bed for more than 12 hours.

Sunday morning’s breakfast was a brunch not served until 10:30, which was a good thing for me. I got up, performed morning recitation, did some Qigong warmups, and Shibashi 18. I went down the hall, and realized that the group doing their Silent Retreat had gone. Gone with them was the large sign noting that the building was in silence. New visitors were arriving and checking in, and they were not silence-oriented. I was glad that I had brought earplugs for sleeping.

It has been my retreat experience over all of these years that at some point, something goes at least mildly sideways for me. Often times, this is a great opportunity to do some deep/dark work, rooting out the sources of discomfort, boredom, anxiety, etc. It can be insightful. But this time, similar to as happened a few years ago, it was a totally bed-binding pain & fatigue flare. The dizziness the prior day should have tipped me off. I honestly can’t point to what the cause was. The drive was scenic and chill, and the labyrinth walk was so slow and gentle that a turtle could have passed me.

Regardless, I made it to lunch, went back to the room, sought some pain killers, and devoted what energy I had left to research and reading. I felt pretty rotten. I eventually gave up trying to read (or rather retain) anything meaningful. One of the new visitors, in a room down the hall from me, was being fairly loud, and I was hurting, fatigued, yet unable to sleep. The drugs weren’t really helping. I had almost every textbook grumpy thought and frustrated feeling. And if this had been the first time this happened, maybe it would have even frightened me.

But therein was the lesson. One I have apparently needed to have repeated at least seasonally: my spirit is willing but my body is weak. No matter how enthusiastic, dreamy, determined or excited I get, I have to stop ignoring the fact that my body isn’t capable of leaping into action. Even something as light as a labyrinth walk… a scenic, 2-hour drive… some simple stretches and Taichi… these can have consequences. The last month or so, living in a wonderful place we moved to, with water walking and such, I have been feeling some improvement. As a matter of fact, I was somehow aghast when I had my first real flare recently, as if some part of me thought that I had “fixed” my health issues.

While I don’t want to go back to letting those issues take so much of my time/life, and I still love joking about ‘have you tried yoga’?, the biggest medical gaslighter in my life continues to be me. And at this point, the quest for answers has entered hibernation. My new neurologist, after reviewing the brain lesions and such with me, wants to wait until at least Spring to run a new MRI, to really be sure to catch any changes.

Ultimately, I ended up losing about half of my retreat time to the flare. I was able to do one more labyrinth walk, which was nice. I was able to enjoy some Zuowang meditation. But I also had to nap, deal with the pain and the fatigue, and other unpleasant things that accompany a flare/crash. I learned to remember that these flares and such can and usually do pass. But while I am in one, wow, I am not fun to be around. I am glad this was a solo retreat. And I need to sit down and realistically assess how much I am actually able to travel and do alone, at this stage.

Soon, I’ll be attempting to sleep again for tomorrow’s drive home. It has been a wonderful retreat, with some powerful feelings, lessons, and inspirations. And good timing, going into the week of Thanksgiving.