I gave myself a gift, a wonderful gift. It did not come
from Macy’s, Tiffany’s or Target. It was not wrapped in shiny paper nor tied
with a bow. Rather it was born from my
desire to simply be more. This year I turned fifty. I told my husband I did not
want a birthday party nor did I need a gift.
What I wanted was to attend a writing retreat. As I travel into the next stage of my life I
want to learn more about the craft that has captured my interest and given me
purpose.
When I saw that
Laura Munson, the New York Times bestselling author of “This Is Not The Story
You Think It Is…A Season of Unlikely Happiness” was conducting a September writing
retreat in Montana I knew that this was where I was going. I loved her story. She shared it from the most vulnerable and
rawest place within herself. She is poetic and courageous in both her writing and
her life. I have read her book three
times and have gifted a dozen or so copies to people who could benefit from the
message. In hindsight, it was purely through
divine intervention that I was acceptance into this retreat.
As I was making
my plans I decided to travel to Whitefish Montana a few days prior to the retreat. The likelihood of me ending up in Montana
again is remote, so I carved out a few more days, booked the flight and reserved
a room.
The first few
days I was free to explore. I just drove.
If something caught my eye or captured my heart I stopped. I sat along a river bank and listened to the
water’s chatter as it traveled to places unknown. I
hiked under a sunshine shadowed path in Glacier National Park and with each
step I took I inhaled in the rich scent of the cedar trees. I felt the cushiony
softness of the earth buoy me from under my feet. I sat on a piece of driftwood on the shore of
Two Medicine Lake. Yearning for connection I placed my hands in the cool water
and lay them upon the turquois, mustard and amber colored rocks that blanket
the lake bottom. In that moment I knew that I was connected to something larger. And in each of these experiences I was present,
totally present. Peacefulness filled me.
The retreat began
on Wednesday. Check in time was four
o’clock. I had a few more hours to
explore. Stillwater State Park allowed me to soak in a little more of Montana’s
mystique. Also on my agenda was to have a hearty lunch. Vegan food is the fare for the next four days
and I don’t know what to expect. Remember
to breathe and simply relax. Flawlessly I follow my instructions.
Upon my arrival at
the Walking Lightly Ranch I was immediately greeted by a strong and able bodied
man who generously carried my overweight suitcase to my room. What you first notice about David is not his
strength but his smile. It says welcome
before he even utters a word. And welcome I felt. I settled in and ventured toward the main
house to meet my fellow retreaters.
So far five of us
had arrived. We had traveled from South Dakota, Colorado, Massachusetts and two
of us from New York. We began to share
our life stories and what has gotten us to this point. The women are open and
compassionate. I say to myself, “This is
going to be fine”.
As additional
retreaters arrive the cycle of introductions continues. The names and faces begin
to meld. With each new participant we introduce,
and re-introduce ourselves. As we circle
around I carve another name and story into my mind. There is one more New
Yorker in the group along with women from Oregon, Washington, San Francisco and
Hawaii. It is a light night, a fun night. No nervousness just connection. Exhausted
from our travels we retire and ready for the activity that has drawn each of us
here, writing.
Through the night
I toss, I turn and I turn, I toss! It is
not because the bed is nothing more than a futon mattress upon a platform, but
because my mind is racing. It is 5:13
a.m., I am unable to sleep and seeking advice I text my dear intuitive friend about
my feelings and misgivings. She is an
early riser. I know that in New York time she should be awake.
Class is about to
start and I have not heard back from my friend. “Damn, she must be busy”. I
think. With nothing left to do I slither
into class hoping to go unnoticed. Insecure, raw, underprepared, in over my
head and scared; at this moment these are the words that describe me best. I have never belonged to a writers group, nor
have I have attended a writing workshop. I just share my thoughts in a blog. What
the HELL was I thinking when I decided to fly to Montana for a retreat with a
New York Times Best Selling Author?
By trade I am a
bean counter, an accountant a controller.
I exist in a world of equality and balance. Without fail the debits always equal the
credits. We analyze all aspects of a
situation before proceeding. People speak of creative accounting, but in
reality there is little flexibility. Within
numbers everything must be in synch and balanced. At this retreat balance takes on a different meaning.
Class begins:
9:34 a.m.
My mind is racing. “What was I thinking? Really? A writing retreat, glamorous in theory, and
painfully frightening in reality! Yes
this was the fiftieth birthday gift I gave to myself. I didn’t want a party I wanted an experience. Really, what the HELL was I thinking? Right
now I could use one of those stiff drinks that would have been served at my
birthday party.”
9:40 a.m. We each have to write down the first
few words or phase that comes to our mind.
Flying away, that is mine. Maybe because this is what I long for right
now, flight. Each phrase is folded and
placed into a bowl. I just wish that at this moment I could climb on the back
of one of those squawking geese that are swimming on the lake and fly back to New
York.
9:43 a.m.
A timed writing exercise! I have ten minutes to write a story about a
subject pulled from that bowl of prompts.
Yellow Dog. Really? Great I am
not an animal person. Especially
dogs. The dogs in my life have appointed
roles. I borrow them for a period of time. I have a Thursday night dog at a
spiritual based class that I attend and a Thanksgiving dog that belongs to my
sister. Shit! I spend the first three minutes of the
exercise calming my nerves and thinking about how little I have to say on this
subject.
9:46
a.m. I know that I have to write
something. Each person MUST read aloud what
they wrote. Breathe, I remind myself, breathe. With each breath I calm myself just
a little bit more. My fingers touch the
key board and I begin. I have an idea. I
write a few words then a few more.
Before you know it I have two paragraphs. I am just about done with the third when time
is called. Whew! It is done ….but it is
shitty!
I am not a writer
that moves to the hands of time. My writing
process is just that, a process. I have
an idea. I mull it around. I examine the
different angles. Then I go out for a walk to clear my head and connect with nature. This is my practice and my meditation. My thoughts are nurtured. I let them simmer. I allow the flavors to develop. Simmer, season
and stir. That is what I do. I am not a quick thought, fast paced put it in
the microwave for five minutes and wait to see how it tastes type of writer.
Well, not at least, until this moment.
As the sharing
begins I am stunned, amazed and yes, just in plain jaw dropping awe. These women are quick witted and talented. They feel deeply. Their voices are strong. They are clear and sure of where they are on
the page. WOW, simply, WOW, and I think
to myself, “I am so screwed!”
Retreat, yes I am
on one and that is exactly what I want to do. Retreat. Retreat back into a place of comfort and safety.
The truth is, as
unsure of myself that I am at this moment; deep within I know that there is no other
place I would rather be. I am sitting here in Montana consumed with anxiety and
yet fully supported by my fellow retreaters and teacher. If I was in New York I
would be at work sitting behind my desk and thinking that there has got to be
more to life than this. Comfort has
taken on a new meaning.
But the question
continues to echo in my mind, “What I was thinking by taking this trip?”
The truth is that I was not thinking. I was listening. I
was listening to my heart. It told me I needed to go to Montana. I needed time
for me. I needed to look deeply within and stir up those things in my life that
were neither making sense nor working. And in the beauty and silence that
surrounded me it was safe to face those questions and issues. There were many
lessons waiting for me under the big Montana sky.
In
addition to the writing other activities that connect the mind, body and soul are
offered. You could hike, take a yoga class or work with a wonderfully intuitive
horse woman. I had hiked my first few days in Montana so I choose the last two
activities. Both are totally out of my comfort zone.
In her book Laura writes of a dear friend who owns
a ranch. It is where she boards her
horse. While in Montana I was blessed to meet the woman that Laura wrote about.
One of my favorite quotes from the book was spoken by Bobbi, the horse
woman. She said. “People who deal in the heart don’t see fences.” She
may consider herself a horse woman or whisperer. She is not only both of these,
but a communication expert and a kindred spirit. I wish that Colleges and Universities issued
degrees based upon a curriculum focused on Bobbi’s knowledge. Our world would
be a better place if they did.
When you work with Bobbi there are no
boundaries just open spaces in which to connect. With each one of her
instructions and nuggets of wisdom the fences that I grew accustomed to, the
ones that came from the deepest place within me simply dissolved.
It is funny how
things happen and all for a reason. Upon my return from my work on the ranch I
received a text from my intuitive friend that I had desperately reached out to
earlier in the day. She had not received
my message until recently. Graciously she
offered me some advice. After that text there
were two identical messages from her.
The duplication told me that the thought was important. It read:
“And one more thing.
Do you trust Laura? If you do,
then she knows what she’s doing. And she
picked You.”
Yes I do trust
Laura. That simple phrase summed it
up. It all comes down to trust and
belief. I believe in myself and trust the
journey.
With each passing
moment I lived into the experience. I disregarded my feeling of inadequacy and
listened intently to each instruction given and each piece read. I learned not only about the craft but about
resilience. As humans we possess the innate ability to adapt to circumstances, reason,
gather strength and move forward.
On the last night of our retreat after the
official agenda was complete we moved into a place of giddiness, laughter, and
song. A let your hair down and the good times roll
kind of time. It was the silly kind of childhood fun that memories are made of.
I will carry the laughter of that night within my heart for years to come.
Our last few hours together were spent around
a roaring outdoor fire. Many shared
their writings. Each was wonderfully
crafted and born from the deepest places within. One woman wrote a poem called “Metamorphosis”. It was about our shared experience. I listened intently and was in awe of the
talent and bravery within that circle. I found it ironic that we were sitting
around a fire. The rising and flickering
flames before us served as a reminder that a fire had been ignited and a
passion rekindled within each one of us.
With exhaustion setting
in and travel plans looming it was time to call it a night. Each of retreated to our own rooms to relax,
write and pack. The moon was full and its light was shining through my window. I could simply not stay inside. I grabbed a jacket a glass of wine and walked
to the lake. I stood on the dock and deeply breathed in the cool clear air and
exhaled. It was silent. Everything was totally
still. There was not a single sound
coming from the lake not even the sound of the water lapping against the dock
could be heard. The crickets were absent. The moon weaved between the clouds. You
could still see their puffy whiteness brought to life by the glow of the moon
light. A peaceful, thoughtful, stillness
embraced me. I was safe. I was whole. It
is in this space that questions are answered and ideas are born.
As the moon’s rays
reflected upon the lake, I reflected upon my experience. I thanked the talented
and brave woman who traveled this path along with me. In a little over three
days we shared lots of laughter, many tears and the desires that reside deep
within our hearts. I am grateful for their sisterhood. I thanked the horse whisper and the yoga
instructor. Each challenged me to dig a
little bit deeper within myself. I thanked the staff who so lovingly cared for us
during our stay. I thanked Laura who held a safe space for each of us to
create, discover and grow. And I thanked the gentleman who guided me here.
Without his whispers I would not have made the trip.
During this
retreat I put all of me out there.
Whether it was in the classroom, in the horse paddock or on the yoga
mat, I decided to live each moment fully, and not to retreat to a place of security
and comfort. Real growth does not come from a place of comfort. There may be safety in avoidance but
empowerment in challenge. I am grateful
for my place of discomfort. Within it I have discovered many gifts.
