Retreat, Silence, Listening with the Heart
Close both eyes see with the other one. — Greg Boyle
I spent last weekend on a silent retreat. It was filled with many insights and new sensations. Even though I’d been on dozens of silent retreats, this one was different in that I was well-prepared with guidelines, resources, and a time schedule for prayer — more than I’d ever had before — I slipped into the space with a heaviness of heart and soul that was unrelenting.
And something else about this experience. I immediately recognized that though I was by myself; I was not alone.
Needless to say we are living in a much different world since my first silent retreat twelve years ago—it seems as if there is more chaos, suffering, division, and overall anxiety. I’ve matured spiritually, but always with a sense of three steps forward and four backward. Be that as it may, I seek opportunities in which I can acquire a deeper knowledge of my relationship with mySelf.
And as usual with these holy excursions, I was encouraged to leave behind my paraphernalia of inspiring books, CDs and poetry—only a Bible, journal, a healthy lunch, water, and open heart accompanied me this time. I wasn’t quite sure how I would manage without music, my habitual support for soul-searching. In this particular instance there was plenty of holding space for God and the weather forecast of all day rain enforced the containment.
I spent the time pondering this scripture verse: For he is our peace; in his flesh he had made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us (Ephesians 2:14).
In this I wasn’t quite sure the eye with which I was supposed to be seeing, but imagined it was the eye of the heart.
Perhaps, I was blind and didn’t know it. Perhaps, I was being insanely naive (there’s that word again), I keep using to wonder of my sanity. Or perhaps spending 36 hours in silence was terrifying and the potential for change that could profoundly affect perceptions of my specific situations and the world in general was really more than I could bear. If I were to allow the Divine, the cosmos, something much larger than myself to work through me what could happen that was way beyond the scope of my present state?
Whatever manners and behaviors we are carrying on our pilgrimages in this world; we are all masters at avoiding change or even looking at ourselves in guilt or shame — however, it’s very clear a seismic shift is occurring worldwide. One in which we can fully participate with the wisdom we have acquired in learning to live as brothers and sisters practicing justice, peace, and love. . . or of course, we can also choose something different.
With so many of my imperfections falling at my feet, at this point I’m quite willing to let some of them go. The burden has been heavy and wearying, the masks are too numerous to keep track of and the constant shifts have become more than I care to monitor. Am I in peril? Perhaps! But at the very least, in those moments when I’ve given myself permission to be consciously aware; a bit of heaven drops down in front of me. And I am filled with awe.
Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr states succinctly:
Without a very clear struggle with our shadow self and some form of humble and honest confession of our imperfections, none of us can or will face our hypocrisy.
St. Paul says it another way, I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but the very thing I hate (Romans 7:15).
In those moments of forced reckoning, if possible, I dance wildly until a calmness or tiredness overcomes me. Then, I sigh . . . thinking not again! — before another deep dive into excavating the egoic self.
Is it necessary to remove myself from society and those things that distract me from the spiritual work that I must do? Perhaps, especially in this particular instance. The brief respite had been calling to me for a while. As if living 37 miles from civilization isn’t enough!
I must admit that this time I was not prepared for the insights I received in the silence. Boredom never set in. I did take an hour in constructive rest position (CRS) and walking in a figure 8 for an extended period of time. The rest of the retreat was spent, well, in silence. The writing that occurred was without technology. I retrieved a legal pad and pen. Later in the day still recording insights that I received it was clear that the tasks given me were not daunting or beyond the scope of my capabilities, but amazingly creative. Well, of course, I’m a sacred dancer! They are opportunities that spring from my artistic expression, bring me joy, and can be shared with others seeking a harmonious and balanced life on a higher frequency!
In closing, I have had many experiences of turning inward and turning myself out so I have to admit that I was a bit ambivalent about entering quiet space this time. However, this encounter with silence was definitely special.
This is what Isaac of Syrian, 17th century ascetic and theologian had to say about silence:
Love silence above all things. It brings thee near the fruit which the tongue is too weak to interpret. Out of your silence will arise something that draws you into deeper silence. If you practice this, inexpressible Light will dawn upon you.
May you find a quiet place away to drift into silence and experience the gifts of the Divine!
By the way, the sun came out later during the longest day of my retreat and I walked the sensory garden embraced by joy and peace. . . and a bit of heaven.
Thank you.🙏