From this Side of Silence: Reflections on my Week-Long Yoga & Meditation Retreat

Since returning from my week away in Brooks, Maine where I went on retreat at Rolling Meadows Yoga and Meditation Centre (http://rollingmeadowsretreat.com/), a number of friends have asked me to tell them about my experience. "Sooooo . . . ?" they begin, eyebrows raised as they wait for me to fill in the blank space left in the wake of their query. And I've noticed that I've been typically replying in vague tones, something to the effect of, "It was good. Really good." And then wandering off topic as I turn the subject over to what they've been up to for the week. 

It's not that I've become completely socially inept (though there have always been times in my life when I've felt exactly that way!), and I'm not looking to take a vow of silence for the rest of my life (while stillness nourishes me at times - see my post on 'Stillness' - I love connecting with friends and family). My reticence when it comes to describing my retreat from my daily routine may be linked to the advice from some in the field of meditation and retreats, including one of my instructors at Rolling Meadows, as well as writer and mindfulness-guru Jon Kabat-Zinn. In his book, "Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life," Kabat-Zinn pretty much advises the person who's bursting with the temptation to tell all and sundry that they meditate, not to. Period. A part of me may be holding back because I don't know that some people will truly understand my desire to go where I went. Or perhaps they'll misunderstand what I'm saying about it as I describe it. Or maybe they'll think I'm getting preachy about it. There may even be a part of me that feels as though I need to protect the experience, and that the only way to do so is to keep it locked up safely inside. Even here, in writing - a forum in which I'm usually more clear and eloquent than I am verbally - I'm obviously having difficulty pinning all of this down. To put it mildly!

I suppose what all of that rambling boils down to is that perhaps there's a part of me that fears judgement of some kind or other, whether it's made by those who think I went off to a luxury spa where I was essentially pampered all week, or those who think I'm spiralling towards becoming a meditating zealot of some kind. So, I thought I would use this space to outline what a typical day in my life on retreat looked like. To reiterate, that's MY life - not everyone there necessarily chose to use their time as I did. But here's a glimpse into a day in the life of Julie while on retreat at Rolling Meadows Yoga & Meditation Centre.

My day tended to begin rather early, which isn't an altogether new phenomenon, as I am an early-riser at home as well. But being one of 13 people lodging in an 1840's renovated New England farm house and having a roommate does put a new spin on things. As a result, I usually lay in bed looking out the windows waiting for the faint streaks of pre-dawn light to creep into the October sky. This seemed to me a socially acceptable time to rise and was my cue to oh-so quietly begin stirring, getting dressed and making my way downstairs. I did my utmost to be extra-mindful of how I opened and closed the front door seeing as a lovely but very sensitive set of bells hung on it decoratively. Seriously, we're trying to be silent here and though aesthetically lovely, the bells felt like a bit of a booby trap at times :).

My bedroom window on retreat and the view beyond.

One of the barns was visible from the quaint little dormer window in our room as well.

I love mornings. There's something so full of hope and promise about a new day unfolding before you. The morning's stillness creates an air of calm and mystery, and to be one of the few people out and about during such a secret time of the day gives me a little thrill. Plus, you get to see things that those who rise later miss out on. Like the flock of wild turkeys I befriended. Well, okay, "befriended" might be a bit of a stretch; it may have been a one-sided friendship. During one of my initial dawn outings I chanced upon a sizable group of these large, somewhat comical birds in a meadow adjacent to a forest. They were mere silhouettes when I first spied them, and I stealthily inched closer and closer to get to know these interesting fellows, more than twenty in their brood. They, however, weren't that keen on meeting me and quickly stumbled over one another in their eagerness to disappear into the treeline of the forest, a long line of feathered soldiers with much to learn about moving furtively, the larger ones urging on the naive small ones with wild clucks. It was, after all, Canada's Thanksgiving Day and I figure they sensed that I was Canadian and that this was a dangerous day for poultry to be flaunting themselves. And what do they really know of vegetarians? Each morning thereafter I made sure that this stretch was on my morning route. They appeared in the meadow only one other time, but guess where I found them several other mornings? Up in the trees! You may very well know that turkeys roost in treetops, a perfectly logical place for a bird to sleep safely away from predators. But to be walking through the woods on a peaceful morning and to discover this visually is a completely different matter. I was first alerted to their presence by their shrill clucks and softer coos. They were obviously telling each other, "She's near! She's coming! She's here!", and they're not terribly good at whispering. Scanning the forest floor, still shadowed in the dim light of dawn, I searched for my gobbling friends to no avail. Until I obviously got too close for comfort to the trees that several were roosting in, and they took to the sky in a jarring cacophony of shrieking clucks amidst a massive upheaval of branches, leaving me with mouth agape as the autumn leaves shaken free by their flurried flight rained down upon me. Now that I knew where they were I peered skyward and, sure enough, began spotting these plump, dark bodies sitting most improbably up in the tops of the trees surrounding me. Each time that I got too close for their comfort, several more would take flight, until I surely scared off the entire flock. I realize it may have been somewhat cruel to repeat this effort, but I entered into this game of hide 'n seek with the wild turkeys every morning for the duration of my stay. How they must be rejoicing now that I've left!

Morning sky.



The wild turkey sightings happened in both the field and forest ahead and to the right.

Sunrise

 

As part of the organized schedule of the retreat, our first session was our morning meditation which began at 7:30, so I had to wrap up my walk and be back at the house in time for this. The ringing of a singing bowl was used to alert us to the start of all sessions and meals, in addition to being rung as a wake-up call at 7:00 for those participants not playing with the wild turkeys. They were also used regularly within our sessions to signal the beginning and end of our meditation periods. Morning meditation was a half an hour long and was a silent time of quieting the body and mind, to create a space in which to simply be. Without getting into my experience here in too much detail here, I will admit that just being does not come very easily to me. My mind tends to follow each thought like a helpless young duckling is pulled along by the currents of a stream, and mama duck has to nip my focus by the tail feathers and pull me back behind the veil separating me from all of the chaos. There's no doubt, however, that even through all of this, the quieting was beneficial to my overall sense of wellbeing, and the exercise is patience-enhancing, which is a positive effect in any case.

A wonderful breakfast was served shortly after this session, consisting of steel-cut oatmeal and a vast array of condiments to spruce it up. A chunky apple cinnamon sauce, containing apples from the property's orchard, was available, along with other oatmeal toppings such as raisins, bananas, coconut, granola, prunes, almonds and both a dairy and non-dairy milk option. All meals served were vegetarian and many of the ingredients came from their own gardens and orchards.

After breakfast followed a stretch of free time. Once I began to sense the flow of everyone's day, I decided that this was a good time for me to peruse the house's library (overflowing with books on meditation, mindfulness, yoga, compassion, and nature), use the washroom for the purpose of showering (sharing only several washrooms between 13 people can be a challenge, but this time worked without fail for me), and to relax in our bedroom, usually reading or journaling. My roommate and dear friend, J, tended to use this time to go for a long walk and preferred to be in the room during the afternoon free time, so this routine worked well; we both knew full well that the temptation to talk would be far too great if we gave ourselves too much time together in our room!

My side of the room: a cozy spot for reading, journaling, and reflection.

The singing bowl announced the next session, which ran from 10:30 - 12:30. During this time we engaged in both meditation and a variety of styles of yoga. Our two instructors, an incredibly skilled, experienced and compassionate husband and wife team, took turns leading the sessions, but were often both present. Throughout the course of the week, we were exposed to what felt like a beautiful sampling of practices, including but not limited to meditation, asana, classical hatha yoga, yin and restorative yoga, yoga nidra, pranayama, continuum yoga, and metta meditation which we often practised through a series of prostrations (metta is the concept of compassion and universal loving-kindness). Within this session we also engaged in a fair amount of dialogue, a time for questions and a sharing of feelings, reflections, intentions and issues which may have brought some participants to this place in their lives. This was an unexpected aspect of the retreat for me. I was caught off guard by the element of counseling that transpired during some of the sessions, but it was an incredible process and experience to be privy to. That we had all created such a space of trust and comfort, enabling openness and the sharing of emotion and pain, gave me a sensation of true privilege that I will always hold dear. While a positive experience in the grand scope of things, I did find this part of the sessions to be both emotionally and physically exhausting. I tend to feel others' pain quite viscerally while hiding it fairly well, and I'm certain this was a large part of why I crashed into my cozy little bed each evening immediately after final meditation. Well, that and the hours of yoga, early mornings, pure country air, and the freedom from all electronic distractions!

Lunch followed this session. As at dinner time, we were always served a delicious and nourishing meal, such as these: lentil sambar, vegetable frittata, mung dal kitchari, Mediterranean red lentil and spinach stew, basque white bean soup, and a variety of salads and/or vegetable dishes prepared alongside, including country cabbage slaw, kale or collards in Indian spices, and simple steamed broccoli florets with olive oil and lemon juice. Our beverage options were water and tea - a great variety of flavours of tea, both caffeinated and caffeine free. You may note, however, that, in addition to there being no meat, there was never coffee, dessert, or alcohol. A number of participants noted at the retreat's end that they had gone through a definite detox process. While I don't consume coffee or alcohol regularly enough to feel deprived without them, I did experience a very strong craving mid-week: I wanted a cookie bigger than my face more than you can imagine! This obviously indicates that I consume far too much refined sugar in my day-to-day life, which probably wouldn't be a bad idea to look into a bit . . . we'll see!

The afternoon was a time to do with as you chose, with the caveat in mind that we should be being as much as possible. I felt rather rebellious on the two occasions when I took my backpack out with me containing my camera so that I could capture some of the wondrous nature surrounding us. Taking photos was most definitely doing, but I tried to do so as mindfully as possible! I spent most of these afternoons out in the woods. Rolling Meadows is located on 100 acres of beautiful rural land in mid-coast Maine. In and around the woods there are a spring-fed pond, streams, meadows, orchards, walking paths, and a pasture home to a small flock of sheep. And oh yes, to those of you who might recall my eagerness to pet a sheep while in Iceland, I did indeed pet the sheep in Maine!

Being out in nature for several hours each day was very nourishing, particularly when, as you can see by the photos above, the setting includes the forests of New England at the peak of Autumn splendour.

Our next session ran from 4:00 - 6:00, and featured both meditation and yoga once again. Dinner followed this session, and I was typically feeling ravenous by this point in the day. The sound of growling stomachs was often the background music during our meditations! I often went out for a last walk of the day before our final evening meditation, which began at 7:30. Following this very peaceful and calming session, I would invariably head to bed, sometimes reading a few pages before sleep overtook me.

Before going on retreat, numerous people mentioned to me that they knew people who'd embarked on similar journeys and had found the experience transformative. I can see how this would be the case. I found it did, indeed, affect me profoundly. In one sense, I found it reaffirming, as it reminded me of the importance of my values and of what I know nourishes me. I found it very opening, in terms of broadening my viewpoint on compassion and the beneficial possibilities that meditation may offer. And I found the experience enlightening. No, perhaps not in the "Ah-ha!" spiritual sense of a true awakening to nirvana, but using the word in a Western context, I felt that I learned a great deal and as a result grew in my thinking and beliefs.

I will be honest and say that a retreat of this nature is certainly not for everyone; I have to chuckle when I picture some people I know who've proclaimed that they cannot imagine abstaining from speech for even an hour attempting a silent retreat. But if you've ever seriously considered participating in a silent yoga and meditation retreat, if you feel that this is an experience that you would benefit from, then I highly recommend going on retreat, and specifically would recommend Rolling Meadows Yoga & Meditation Retreat Centre.
Namaste

My wonders: Does this retreat experience sound like something that you would like to partake in? What elements of the experience appeal to you? Which elements, if any, sound less appealing, or perhaps challenging? If you've ever been on retreat, please consider sharing your experience with me!