Retreat: Day 2
As I made my way to breakfast the first morning, I felt uneasy with the silence I was experiencing. It felt odd sharing a room with of others, strangers, and not talking. Quietly moving. Not a “thank you” or “excuse me”. Not even a smile, as we were asked to just remain with ourselves.
It’s goes against our nature to ignore others. I see others. I’ve taught myself to take notice and acknowledge others for the whole person they are. But see… this is where I’ve come to learn that I’ve also put myself last. Squeezing my own desires, self love and self compassion into a box I couldn’t even find anymore.
The day unfolded in ways I would have not predicted. The rain came in sometime after lunch and continued throughout the day and night. It poured. Now the distraction of being able to enjoy nature was snuffed out. I had to sit. I sat for hours. l learn to listen to my breath. Each inhalation offering something new, getting out of my own way. Allowing. No more hiding from myself.
The guided meditation from my teacher that afternoon broke me into pieces. Slowly bits of me began to fall off, leaving me feeling raw and undone. Going silent allowed me to finally be with myself, facing what I’ve been pushing down, covering up and flat out ignoring. By mid day, I now had more questions then I came with. I had feelings I couldn’t push away anymore, tightness in my chest and throat and I needed a little guidance.
To my delight, a quick note to my teacher left on the bulletin board resulted in a fifteen minute meeting. It was just what I needed. I asked my teacher if she could give me a mantra to work with. A repetition of a word or phrase to work through my heart.
After our chat, she gave me:
“I give myself permission to grieve.”
Words that have more then one meaning, I came to realize.
Grief arrived in waves that swallowed me up. The grief of my father-n-law. Will people forget about when I’m gone? What will fall away? The grief of the way I thought my life would look with my own children, my expectations, dreams, friends that disappointed me. I’ve disappointed myself. My aging parents. The list goes on.
Grief is internal.
And it’s not linear. It’s more like a Dr. Seuss staircase of ups and downs with spirals and trap doors. And doing something without your loved one is just a reminder, again, that life has changed and it hurts.
My heart had been open to others, maybe too open …but not to myself. I lost self compassion in my own heart. I lost my joy.
I sat and sobbed throughout the silent meditations. Sharing space with others, some whom also let the tears flow. We are the walking wounded, with injury of a life that has left scars.
Yet, Rumi says, “scars is where the light enters.”
How beautiful a picture that is.
How is it that some of us loose who we are? Numbing and covering over, trying to prove our worth? Running from grief and fear? Not giving ourselves permission to pause, to feel.
At the end of the day, the guided meditation from my teacher invited in a deep sense of self love and care that I hadn’t felt in a long while. She asked us to think of someone who offers unconditional love. That could be a loved one, friend (past or still here on earth), spirit or devoted one. I thought of Jesus. She asked us to imagine them sitting with us during the meditation. But I felt Jesus kneeling at my feet, holding my hands. Right there. There He was. Asking me to trust Him, telling me that this is what real trust looks like and feels like. Trust I thought I had turned over - I was wrong.
I softened the edges of the tightness I felt in my chest. I allowed myself to sit with it, feel for as long as I needed to. I put my hand on my heart and asked myself again and again and again, “what is here?”
I went to bed feeling heavy. Then… everything changed on day 3.
Until next week…
May you be well. May you be safe. May you be happy.
〰️
May you be well. May you be safe. May you be happy. 〰️
All my love for you,
Allie XO
