The rules for the weekend were as follows:
CRAP. What the heck had I gotten myself into?
Or at least that’s what I was thinking as I sat through the orientation of a 3-day silent retreat. It was held at a huge estate and was facilitated by a bunch of smiley and warm Catholic nuns who, if forced to undergo carbon dating, would probably be identified as part of Earth’s first group of upright hominids.
The nun who was doing most of the facilitation that weekend had hair with a blue tint to it. It was the kind of white hair that is in its final stage of whiteness: it can’t get any whiter so it has nowhere left to go but blue.
Every few hours throughout the retreat, the 30 or so participants gathered into a circle while the blue-haired nun spoke a few powerful and profound spiritual thoughts. We sat on the edge of our seats as we listened, hanging on her every word, pretending like we didn’t just have the wind knocked out of us by her insight.
In between these short sessions, we were free to silently roam the estate. I meditated by the lake, strolled through the surrounding woods, browsed the library, wandered through the mansion, and laid out with a blanket in a field surrounded by butterflies and the Spring sunshine.
The three days of silence, meditation and rest rocked my world. But what surprised me was how long it took to quiet my mind. In fact, it wasn’t until the third and final day of the retreat that my head was clear, present, calm, strong and ready to receive.
Our thoughts dictate how we feel during any given day, and those feelings dictate our actions. Our lives are ruled by the words we don’t say. We are slaves to our worries and fears, and to the sad stories that play on repeat in our minds. We tell ourselves tales of how terrible we are and how terrible others are for causing our pain.
But if when we are freed from these chains we can accomplish difficult tasks and live out impossible dreams. We can have all the things we need in life while helping others have their needs met, too.
I will never have cool superpowers. But having a quiet mind, a humble heart, and open arms is just as good.
The most immediate impact that silence had on me was the way I ate throughout the retreat.
I have always struggled with overeating. I eat when I’m tired so that I can stay awake. I eat while I watch TV because it makes it more fun. I eat when other people eat, even when I’m not hungry, just because it feels good to bond over pizza, wash it down with some ice cream, and slip into a carb coma. I eat unconsciously.
But as I ate silently and mindfully at the retreat, my head was free of the thoughts that usually control my eating habits. Instead, I was focused on my body and the rumbling of my stomach. I ate when was hungry and I stopped when I wasn’t. (What a novel idea!) And I ate with gratitude for the nourishment I was receiving.
I had never eaten so little in a single weekend, yet I had never felt so full.
During one meal I looked to my left and saw the blue-haired nun walking slowly, prayerfully and mindfully to her cafeteria table… holding a big-ass ice cream sundae with sprinkles on top.
That made me happy too.
I consider this silent religious retreat an adventure of a lifetime. While it wasn’t skydiving, camping in Africa, or some other adventurous thing I’ve done in the past, it was an experience that belongs in the same category. That’s because adventure is anything that begins with openness and courage, and ends with personal growth.
So if you’re ever feeling brave enough to get an honest look at who you are and who you could be, try a silent retreat. It could be a wild ride.
Copyright Kimberly Eclipse
Read more of this writer's PG-13 antics at A Brave Life.