Last week I attended a retreat at Wisdom Ways, which is located
within walking distance from our house. Because it is so close I could return home each afternoon, and I wondered how that would be. Instead of one re-entry at the end of the four days, I needed to re-enter each day. That can be challenging after a day focused on reflection and contemplation.
I had asked Bruce if he would be willing to manage the evening meal. He graciously agreed, even though cooking is not his thing. He is great at the cleaning up, but normally
I plan the meals, do the grocery shopping, and cook. How grateful I was to be relieved of kitchen duty each afternoon.
I also realized I needed to maintain the quiet of the day. Before dinner I sat in the front room we call the snuggery and read, but also closed my eyes for a short nap. I allowed the thoughts of the day to find a place within. Then after light catch up conversation as we ate, I moved into the garden where the lavender is in full bloom.
I recall so many pleasurable mornings during our Sweetwater Farm years walking the rows of lavender. The touch of my ankles lightly released the clean smell, and I pretended I was in Provence living the life of a French herbalist. I remember how soothing and meditative it was to strip the stems of excess leaves and wrap together bunches for drying. I kept some to add to bouquets of daisies and roses, also plentiful at the moment.
I know the best time to harvest lavender is in the early morning, but getting my gathering basket from the garage, I knew this was exactly the right task to carry me from one retreat day to the next.
Sometimes we have the luxury of planning our transitions and responding to what we most need in the moment. More often than we realize we can stop and pause and feel the movement from one moment to another.
I invite you to smell the lavender.
An Invitation
What helps you during a time of transition or re-entry? I would love to know.
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| Ready to Head Home |
After two weeks of fun and easy time in Florida warmth and sunshine, we have returned home. One of the purposes of traveling and vacationing, it seems to me, is to know the pleasure of returning home--in spite of the frigid below zero temperatures here in Minnesota. Even though we loved our time with our dear and generous friends, how good it was to open the door of The Little House and to be home.
Never mind that one of the smoke alarms was beeping and the battery needed to be changed, (Note to self: February, 2016, change all smoke alarm batteries.) and one of the window shades had pulled away from the top. Those are only minor "that will teach you to leave for two weeks" pokes. Our daughter had stopped by to turn up the furnace before picking us up from the airport, making the house toasty warm for our arrival. I had worked to leave the house clean and ordered, which I knew would add to the ease of re-entry. Our daughter invited us for supper and even though it was shocking to head back out into tundra temperatures, we were eager to reunite with our family. Oh, how we missed the grands! Seeing them right away was another signal that we are truly home.
Generally, we handle re-entry well. I know some people like to ease into their return, unpacking in stages, for example, but we move into action. We unload our suitcases and get the laundry going right away. We sort through the mail, even opening the bills that arrived while we were gone. I make a grocery list and if we have returned early in the day do the grocery shopping right away. If this were summer, Bruce would mow the lawn and begin working in the garden. Soon one would never know we have been gone.
For some people this kind of immediate settling-in routine might feel as if they are letting go of the pleasures, the adventures, the sights and sounds and experiences of being away, but, instead, for me re-bonding with our life here at home is part of integrating those times. For example, if we have brought any treasures home with us, I find a place for them, re-living, as I do so, the enjoyment of finding them at an outdoor art fair or the terrific independent bookstore we had read about or the beach in Sanibel.
Along with these treasures, I usually return from trips with various resolutions tucked into my suitcases--to eat better or exercise more, for example. Or I have formulated some redecorating plans or I have jotted down lots of ideas and thoughts for future teaching or writing. I am not sure what the long term effects of this recent time away will be, and not everything sticks as ordinary days take over, but I know if I listen carefully and if I plan for reflection time, I am more apt to clarify the gifts of this recent time.
In fact, I experienced one gift the first morning home. In recent months I have not routinely included meditation time in my morning quiet time. I have read stimulating and thought-provoking material. I have written in my journal and spent time in prayer, but meditating has fallen by the wayside. Ah-ha, I realized while sitting on the beach. I need to change where I sit when I meditate, for my reading chair is too cushy, and I also need to change when I meditate. Instead of doing it first thing after getting up and coming up to my garret space, I need to keep that activity separate from the rest of my devotion time, doing it after my shower when I am more awake, and doing it right before I begin my writing time. And that is what I am now doing. Who knows if this new thought about a spiritual practice that nurtures me would have occurred if I had not stepped away from it for a period of time?
When I facilitate a retreat for a group or an individual, I often end the retreat by asking the participants to consider what they might do to bring the learnings and new awarenesses into their day-to day life. I ask them to think ahead to what they might need in the first days home--both from themselves and from those around them who were not part of the retreat. What do you want them to know? What will it be important for you to share? Is there a next step you want to take now that you have had this experience, one that may have been profound for you? How will you make home even more your home because of what you have just experienced?
The time away, the time-out, has added to who we are, although it may take awhile to discover what that means, and this process of settling-in is a way to blur the lines between vacation time and life at home.
…sometimes we don't know our true home, or where
we most belong, until we leave there. The pilgrim's
journey home is an opportunity to integrate the
learning and experiences of the present with the memories
and relationships of our past…The way of the pilgrim is
essentially about fostering greater connection between our
past, our present, and our future…To become whole, we
need the journey and we need to journey home.
Pilgrimage, The Sacred Art, Journey
to the Center of the Heart
Dr. Sheryl A. Kujawa-Holbrook
pp. 148-150 http://www.cst.edu/academics/faculty/profile/sheryl-kujawa-holbrook/
Even though being away from home is not always a pilgrimage and even though travel may not be considered an intentional retreat, still, there is always the possibility for new growth and insights when we are not in our daily routine and are away from our accepted loop of life. In these first days of resettlement how important it is to pay attention and watch and listen for the gifts of being away and returning home.
An Invitation
When did you last leave home? How did that time enrich your life and what have you done to integrate that time into your ordinary life? Are you currently planning a trip, and if so, what can you do to ensure that you are awake and aware from the time you leave home till you are safely resettled? I would love to know.
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| Laundry Time |
What is your routine after you have been away from home for a few days or longer or even when you have just been doing some errands for a couple hours? We recently returned from spending several days with our son and daughter-in-love --a wonderful time, I might add, making us wish once again that we lived closer to each other. However, it is always good to get home.
We like to resettle into home immediately. Without hesitation. We each unpack and before we know it the washer is going. We find places for anything we have brought home with us and put away our luggage. We go through the mail and stack the papers. We water plants, and if it is still daytime and the lawn needs it, Bruce will mow. I may head to the grocery store to replenish milk and other necessities and figure out what to fix for dinner. Before we know it we are each in our favorite chairs, comfortable in our pajamas. We are home --and life goes on.
That's not to say that catch-up time is not needed after an absence. This week, for example, I am huffing and puffing to re-insert myself into the scheduled assignments and readings for the online writing class I am currently taking. And there are bills to pay and a long list of emails that need attention. Yes, I had my laptop and iPhone with me, but I devoted only minimal time to them. Only for the necessities. Plus, I have not seen my Dad for over a week and need to schedule more than phone time with him.
But in this case re-entry does not add up to stressful moments, erasing the pleasures of the recent days. I wondered about that, thinking about past times of return. When re-entry means a return from a trip out of the country there is jet lag to handle and maybe a feeling of displacement. Where am I? What is it I am supposed to be doing now? Did that vacation really happen? Was I really just in Paris a few hours ago? There may even be a reluctance to let go and re-enter.
Several times, when we were trying to sell our house, a showing would be scheduled for just the time we should have been driving the car into the garage. Once returning from a week in Florida, I listened to messages as we disembarked the plane only to discover that we would not be going home, but would have to camp out at a coffee shop because of a scheduled showing. All we wanted was to get home, for once the direction is back towards home getting there, being there, sleeping in one's own bed becomes the goal, and sometimes one's energy is stretched to make arriving back at home possible sooner rather than later. Delays are not appreciated.
Now, however, the schedule is ours. Bruce is not heading back to work the next day no matter what time we arrive home. Now we have the luxury to treat leaving and returning as times in themselves--time to be in that moment of anticipating the days to come or to reflect on the days just enjoyed. There is time to be grateful. To notice the extraordinary in the ordinary.
When we lived at our Sweetwater Farm in Ohio, my heart lifted and I started breathing faster as we approached home. I felt that way whether I had been gone for a week or only a few hours. I felt welcomed by that place as much as I hope we were a welcoming presence in that home for others. I always felt a sense of sacred re-entry there. I feel myself opening to that feeling here and now as well. Thich Nhat Hanh says, "The path around our home is also the ground of our awakening."
I try to remember to express a prayer of gratitude for our safe return, to do that as part of my re-entry routine, but I must admit I am often too distracted by heavy suitcases and bags as I cross the threshold. Later, however, as I re-bond with home, lighting a lamp, turning down the bed, folding the clean laundry, I know I at least sigh my deep thanks for the leaving and time away, as well as the return and re-entry.
An Invitation
Phil Cousineau quotes Trish O'Reilly in his book The Art of Pilgrimage, The Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred, "…you are now back where you started and you have to know you've come full circle." What does that mean for you? Did you bring yourself back with you? Has something shifted for you while you were on the road and if so, how will you keep that awake in you now that you are home? How can you enlarge your circle because of the time you have had away? Are you more aware that the sacred is everywhere? I would love to know.
