A silent retreat is about much more than not talking

NEW CHAPTER

When I announced earlier this year to my friends and family that I would be attending a silent retreat in the fall, I should have been warned about what would follow. Eyebrow raises, cock-eyed looks, polite nods accompanied by underlying thoughts that I’d finally gone off the deep end.

But mostly, people had questions.

What would I be doing? What was the point? Could I really not talk at all? Did I think I could do it? How did I find out about this? And the questions continued; to none of which I had answers.

When I registered to attend the silent retreat, I made the decision armed with little information. I didn’t know how the sequence of our days would play out, and I really didn’t know if I could “do” silence, but I felt a curiosity and stirring that setting aside time for this retreat could be beneficial.

I’ve read many books written by the retreat leader, Paula D’Arcy, and her words have made a significant impact on my life, particularly through my grief. I yearned to draw nearer to that and to look deeper into myself. After losing my dad in 2015, these quiet moments are where I’ve found the most healing and understanding of God’s place in this tragic event in my life.

So, I opened to the experience with apprehension. It is daunting to walk into a situation where you know few people, and know you will spend most of your weekend in silence, and have no foreknowledge of what will transpire over those days. But I decided to take the risk and open my heart and mind to whatever was to come.

I quickly learned that a silent retreat is about much more than not talking. In fact, while some may have struggled in the silence, I found it to be very natural. I didn’t miss my words. I didn’t miss my voice. The silence didn’t feel forced on me. It was an organic experience paired with the thought that our spirit is often fulfilled when we finally allow ourselves to be still.

Very early into the retreat, I was struck by the thought of what a rare opportunity – even a gift – this was for me. How often do I have the opportunity to just be? I’m not sure I even recognize my life without the hustle. I’m used to fighting against time. Waging small little wars, doing this versus doing that, to figure out what will earn my time that day. And the to-do list always wins, most of the time, because it has to.

I began to consider my time at this retreat as valuable. My to-do list had been left with someone else. In fact, as a funny coincidence, I realized while unpacking my bag that I’d left my makeup bag at home. One less thing to worry about. One less distraction.

A nudge to remove myself from the surface things and go deeper.

In surrendering these things – my voice, my time, even my make-up – I was making a way for a deeper understanding and freedom. Sleep when your body says sleep. Take a walk when your mind is stirring. Read, reflect and write what is taking place in your heart and spirit. And most importantly, be still and take notice of how life is moving in and through everything.

During one of our sessions with Paula, she shared a story of when she was a little girl and wanted to take sewing lessons. Her first lesson was three hours long, and she was certain that she would come back from the first class with a dress or something else she’d made to show for her time spent learning. Instead, the instructor spent the first three-hour class simply teaching her how to properly thread the sewing machine’s needle.

As goes our life, we cannot be effective unless our “needle” is threaded correctly. Our hearts are threaded by our family, our culture, the world around us and the things we learn along the way. What are the chances that we’ve gotten this step wrong?

After the retreat ended, I joked with my husband that if it weren’t for him and our children, I could easily join a monastery and take a vow of silence. I loved the experience and found great value in putting the to-do list on hold. But leaving these things behind full-time would, in many ways, be missing the bigger picture.

The silence was an avenue to greater healing in my life. A relearning of how to live my life. An acceptance of my pain. An acknowledgement that even in times of grief and sadness, God’s great love is still evident. As it was said during our retreat, most of the world is at war but the stars still come out every night.

A step in the rethreading of my life’s needle.

And when your own heart begins to heal, you are, in fact, making a small contribution to healing the world around you and finding a new compassion for those who also hurt.

Stephanie Jordan is a local journalist, marketer and blogger.

Her blog can be found at www.stephanienetherton.blogspot.com, and she can be contacted at stephanienetjordan@gmail.com.