The Gifts Within Discomfort.

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.