Deep-dive into Quietude

 

Sunset from the cabin

"There is a voice that doesn't use words. Listen." 

- Rumi.

While I was staying at the cabin I had lots of time to sit and stare, to think, and to not-think and just listen to the feelings and ideas that arise in the absense of distraction - in the quietude. It is my favourite part of being there and I wish I could bring that state into my "normal" life more often, but that's a topic for another blog. 

I have always been drawn to religion in general and Buddhism in particular, completing a degree in Religious Studies (and Art History) about 15 years ago. But I've never felt able to dedicate myself to one religion in particular, I appear to have some form of commitment phobia when it comes to my spiritual life! I struggle to see past human involvement in the divine as it is reported to us, and I don't think any one system of belief or ethics can apply to all humans. 

Black and white image of the stupa at the retreat centre

But I've always said that if I HAD to pick one, I'd go for Buddhism. I like the chameleon nature of it, how it incorporates the local beliefs of the places it arrives in; and I like that (depending on the particular flavour of Buddhism you choose) you can sidestep the whole deity question entirely. I appreciate that the responsibility for our spiritual growth is essentially left in our own hands, and I like the focus on meditation and karma. But as someone who prefers solitude in spirituality I find the focus on Sangha (community) stressful, and I'm not able to get my head around some of the foundational beliefs either. 

And how incredibly lucky am I that I can stay at this retreat centre, knowing there are people there in case of difficulty but for the most part experiencing days of perfect solitude. I know that's not for everyone, but for me it's heavenly. I can experience deep quiet, walk for hours on the forest trails, and come home to a warm shower and comfortable bed. I spend my days in meditation and contemplation, finding myself staring at clouds or watching the trees. I cook everything from scratch and try and do things intentionally, staying present to the sights and sounds and smells and feelings of my daily tasks. It feels peaceful and authentic, and has come to be an increasingly important part of each year. 

Early morning moon setting over forested hills

I think as someone who spent far too many years worried about what other people thought of me, how I look, how I live, and who has struggled with self-acceptance, the solitary nature of retreat is a balm. I worry far less now, and have found a wonderful level of self-love, but there is still something in being alone for days on end that makes me feel entirely myself. I'm careful to avoid the news, and I'm mindful of the books I read while I'm there. I spend the evenings listening to historical fiction and knitting, and the days with just the birdsong to listen to. 

After a couple of days I find myself slowing down, becoming super interested in ideas around spirituality and how to live simply and authentically. My attention span increases, and I'll take an hour to read a page in a book as I'm stopping every few sentences to write in my journal about whatever ideas are popping into my head. I can see things more clearly, can review my life and plan ahead in a calm way. I've had a few huge breakthroughs and faced up to some uncomfortable truths. It's not always easy but it's never dull.

A hand holding a cup of coffee, with the forest in the background

I'm writing this a few months since my last visit and feel like I'm glued to my devices again. There is nothing actually stopping me from living every day how I do when I'm on retreat, but for some reason I just don't. It feels like a life's work, incrementally moving my everyday life closer to my retreat life, but I'm trying not to be too hard on myself about it, and I know that every time I'm there another piece of the puzzle slips into place and, after all, it's the journey not the destination, right?! I think this last trip showed me the value of having chunks of time without input - no music, podcasts, tv etc. Not even reading. Just walking and listening to my footfalls, or doing the dishes with no distractions. I've worked hard to create a life that I DON'T want to distract myself from, so it's important to exist within the moment, even if I'm not Meditating-with-a-capital-M. 

I'm a long way from feeling the expansive awareness that I feel on retreat in my everyday life, but I know that life is about experimenting and figuring out what works for us as individuals, and I'm happy to keep plugging away at it. I don't have to become a nun or meditate for two hours every day to have a spiritually fulfilling life, but I DO need to be honest with myself about which of my actions bring me closer to Quietude, and which of those take me further away from it. 


I made a YouTube video of this blog: you'll find it here.

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