I carefully researched the setting for my retreat, calling a number of B&Bs within driving distance but beyond my familiar turf. I located one in the woods of Wisconsin, near the tiny artist village of Stockholm. The B&B owners made a policy of keeping themselves scarce, except for the brief time when they serve your made-to-order breakfast at the time you specify and in the location you specify. This was my place!
My experience there was magical. I went through the requisite dip in mood initially, feeling the emptiness of leaving Clutteria. I settled into my small suite with its spring-cleaned freshness: four-poster bed, white linens, windows looking out to the tiny road and surrounding woods, and big, generous towels and candles waiting by a whirlpool tub. I was happy to have a little desk for my books and journal.
The house was quiet, so I could freely snoop in the sitting room and kitchen.
What to do? I could go into town—I did need something to eat. I could sprawl out on the bed and read or write. I could go for a walk outside. I felt a brief panic, a reverberation of my entrainment to pressured rhythms: "Decide. Make the right choice. You've been waiting for this—it had better be good."
The panic washed over. I entered boredom. I slowly started to hear the silence and feel the space. I became a captive audience to my quiet inner voice—that soothing NPR voice that gently notes the profound simplicities of life. I wrote. I lounged. I went into town and savored dinner and dessert alone. I sat by the fire pit that night, tended by the resident singer-songwriter and housekeeper. I saw stars like I had never seen, and ever so often, one would drop from the sky. I had a quiet conversation with the young woman, with much space in between. The next day, I walked a trail through the woods to a place they called "the point"—a huge rock jutting out over a vast glen, a pristine lake in the distance. This room with a view was mine, and I settled there, shedding my backpack and shirt, pulling out my journal and pen, and reclining on the warm rock in the sun.
After lingering there for a timeless time, I packed up and started walking back. As I reentered the woods, I spontaneously broke into a run, feeling a lightness and energy I had never experienced. I bounded into a broad meadow and gleefully reclined in the cool, tall grass, creating another room. I thought of my mother, who had died two years before. I remembered her hanging clothes on the line, and the wonderful feeling of a damp sheet kissing my cheek. A poem spilled out of me into my journal. During my next trip into town, I found a lovely handmade book for my poems. I told the woman helping me about my memory and, upon her request, I read the poem to her. Tears streamed down my face. I hadn't grieved this until now.
WHAT IS A RETREAT?
As the term implies, a retreat is a backing away, a withdrawal, an experience in the realm of yin, an act of introversion. A retreat can be a ten-minute break or an extended escape—such as Paul Gauguin's two-year artistic sabbatical in Tahiti—but we usually think of a retreat as a weekend or vacation-length trip "away from it all." For an introvert, retreating is the ultimate indulgence: an inner life binge that fills our depleted energy stores. Retreats, whether contemplative or adventure-oriented, provide a sanctioned and temporary way for us to step away from our worldly pursuits. This stepping away provides a perspective that we cannot obtain while in the midst of things. This is particularly important when we live in an extroverted culture that, like Clutteria, pressures us to keep buzzing and to stay unconscious. Retreats can also help us draw from a greater source of sustenance, whether we see that source as nature, a higher power or the inner self, or all of the above.
HOW DO I KNOWWHEN TO GO?
Going through the Motions. When you feel like you're living on automatic pilot, when pleasures diminish and life feels dull, it's time to retreat.
"Too Many Notes." If you've seen the movie Amadeus, you probably recall the scene in which the king complains about the complexity of Mozart's new composition: "Too many notes." Now this phrase comes to me whenever I feel overstimulated. When the clutter of life has confused your priorities, when you don't know what you're doing here, when it's too noisy to hear your thoughts, it's time to retreat.
Decision Time. When you're about to make an important decision in your life, and you're having a hard time knowing your own mind, it's time to retreat.
Worn out. When you find yourself tired, susceptible to illness, you can't sleep or can't wake up, when your energy is depleted, it's time to retreat.
Burned out. When the creativity is lacking, apathy sets in, and you feel you have little to give, it's time to retreat.
Just wanting to go. If you retreat in response to desire rather than deprivation, the deprivation may never come.
It's the season for your retreat. Recurring retreats become a touchstone for renewal. When the time comes, you are ready to retreat, and the retreat is ready for you.
A SOCIETY IN SEARCH OF INTROVERSION
Perhaps our society's need for introversion is best reflected in the explosion of retreat centers across the United States. The website www.findthedivine.com lists over 1,700 retreat location in the U.S. and Canada, and www.retreatsonline.com provides a listing of over two thousand retreats worldwide. The tricky thing is, as retreats become a commercialized cultural phenomenon, they run the risk of losing their "away" quality. Many retreats are marketed as high-end luxuries providing spas, classes, health-related programs, and special diets. Getting a little pampering may be just the thing: who wouldn't welcome a massage and well-prepared food? But some of these programs have a decidedly extroverted feel, and others transform retreating into another goal-oriented investment—lose weight, get healthy! I am reminded of an episode of Sex in the City in which the girlfriends gossip all the way through their yoga session, even as they hold their poses. Beware of extroverts in retreat center clothing!
Violent passions are formed in solitude. In the busy world no object has time to make a deep impression.
—Henry Home, Scottish philosopher
We even dare to use the word "retreat" for mandatory, task-oriented work meetings held in an alternative setting. The one time I sacrificed a weekend for such a retreat was enough—I felt trapped and restricted in the enclosed circle of work associates. Another television image comes to mind: Michael Scott, the overly zealous boss of The Office, corralling his staff into one painful bonding experience after another.
OVERRULING THE OBJECTIONS
The pleasure of retreating begins when you open your mind to it. But first, you'll probably encounter a rush of excuses. Let's look at the most common of these:
• "I don't have time!" Re-read the last chapter. Give time to a retreat, and time will expand. The retreat experience creates psychological time, the time that runs parallel to outside time—time devoted to noticing, evaluating, and finding meaning. Psychological time helps you know you are in a joyful moment or to admit that what you're doing sucks and needs to be changed. You may go into your retreat feeling time poor, but after you've submitted to the experience, time will come home with you. Go.
• "I don't have the money!" Of all the ways we can replenish ourselves, a retreat can provide the most for the least. You can pack a lunch and spend the day in a natural setting near you. Or check out Jack and Marcia Kelly's book, Sanctuaries, to locate a monastery or abbey in your vicinity. Call ahead first, but most of these communities of quiet will welcome you to come for the day—at no charge. But even a room and three meals a day is a pretty affordable luxury. Usually, though, our objections about money have little to do with what's in the bank account, and much to do with our priorities. Can you afford to eat? Retreating is a necessary form of sustenance for introverts, just as social gatherings are for the extrovert. Do we tell our extroverted friends that they can't afford to attend these gatherings? Why the double standard?
• "Other people will object." Yes, they very well may. Or, they might tell you it's about time you got away. Our challenge as introverts is to adopt the attitude, based on the introversion assumption, that your need to retreat requir
es no explanation—it is self-evident. If they argue, have them read this chapter. Of course, our right to retreat does not exempt us from managing our responsibilities, as wonderful as that sounds. By addressing what others need from you up front, you'll limit the potential for opposition. So if you do the cooking, buy extra pizzas and make ahead some easy meals. If you run a meeting at work, prepare a coworker to take charge rather than dumping the worry on your boss. A little extra effort will multiply in dividends of peace.
RETREAT DREAMS
Now for the fun part: let's plan your retreat. Retreats can take many forms, and you are the only one who can decide what fits you. One introvert may need pristine natural surroundings; another will savor the anonymity of a large city. Some introverts prefer to have everything provided—meals, maid service—and others prefer being entirely on their own. The retreat options today are as varied as our interests. Here's a partial list:
• Silent retreat
• Wilderness retreat
• Spirituality retreat
• Yoga retreat
• Meditation retreat
• Spa retreat
• Study retreat or sabbatical
• Reading retreat
• Writing retreat
• Adventure retreat
• Poetry retreat
• Shopping retreat
• Artist retreat
• Nature photography retreat
• Vision quest
• Heart-of-the-city retreat
• Beach retreat
• Ranch retreat
• Sailing retreat
• All-inclusive retreat
As you begin to plan your retreat, set practical considerations aside. You can work those in later. You may want to grab a pad and pen, or write your notes right here in the book. It's yours, after all. Now consider the following:
• What is your vision of the perfect retreat setting? Give yourself time to look around in your mind's eye. Take it in. Spend as much time as you wish.
• What do you see as you look around?
• What smells do you notice?
• What are the sounds around you?
• What is the temperature?
• What feelings do you have in this place?
Perhaps you're imagining green grass, rolling hills and a view for miles around. You might see yourself kayaking down a rushing river. Or maybe your haven is a funky café in an artsy village or bohemian borough. Once you choose your setting, think about accommodations:
• How important is interior space to you?Maybe you don't want to go inside at all: you just want to bask in nature and carry your accommodations on your back. Maybe you don't want to go outside at all: you want to lock yourself up with good books or old movies and only open the door for room service. Maybe you want the best of both: a gorgeous interior with a magnificent view or pristine surroundings.
• What interior style do you prefer? Do you envision a sleek, contemporary suite, a cozy cottage with handmade quilts, or a simple beach house with wood floors? Would you like to try something exotic or very different from your own living space?
• How do you like your meals? Would you prefer to have meals included in your package so you don't have to plan? Or would you enjoy having a variety of restaurants nearby to accommodate your culinary whims? Do you want the option of eating in? If so, would you prefer a gourmet kitchen, a fridge you can stock with snacks, good local delivery, or twenty-four-hour room service?
Now that you have a feel for your retreat preferences, let's look at some options. Retreat centers usually provide a room and three meals a day, and offer scenic grounds for roaming on your own. The downside is that there are other people around, and meals are usually served cafeteria-style. However, these centers, especially those designed for spiritual reflection, have an ethic of quiet respect for other residents. Everyone understands that you don't want to disturb someone who is meditating or has taken a vow of silence. Aha! An introverted society! Some centers offer classes for self-enrichment and others have spa facilities on hand. If you want a place to yourself, some centers do offer private cottages or cabins.
If you want rustic, you'll need to decide if you want a "catered" rustic experience, with outfitters and guides providing gear, meals, and possibly transportation. A nice option for many is a rustic cabin with the essentials or a B&B in a natural setting. Some introverts prefer an outdoor "room" under the stars and others prefer a cushy bed with books strewn about. If you want something different, rent a tree house, houseboat or yurt—the modern version of the nomadic tent.
While some introverts want easy access to natural resources, others enjoy having cultural resources at hand: shops, restaurants, museums, and sources of entertainment. A city retreat can be a wonderful source of anonymity, especially for those of us who become closed-in by the familiarity of small town life. Whether you plan your retreat in the Rocky Mountains or in the heart of Manhattan, identify what resources are most important to you: a rushing stream, a place to view art, anything that feeds you. As with the five items for your room, consider the five essential resources for your retreat.
I retreat when I'm driving on the freeway, with the music going through me.
Once you have your vision and your priorities, consider how much time you want. Sure, you may decide to pare it down, but allow yourself to consider what would be most satisfying. And when you look at your calendar, be honest with yourself: how long does it take you to settle in? Easing into a retreat is like settling into sleep: some of us fall asleep when we hit the pillow; others need more time to settle down. If we've been under a great deal of stress, you'll need time to downshift. Rather than rushing to get there, allow the trip to help you transition. Feel the gaining distance.
—Cecilia, who loves to drive by herself, fast
As far as retreat length, just as each of us requires a different amount of sleep, the amount of time we need for rejuvenation will differ.
So now you have your vision, your priorities, and you've thought about time and travel. Okay, you probably haven't sorted everything out yet, which is great because the planning is part of the magic. What you'll want to do eventually is to place your vision beside the realities of your life and see what you can work out. This is where creativity begins.
As a working woman with a young family, I find that vacation time tends to go to family excursions, which I cherish. But this "time off " is not the same as a retreat. The challenge of working out both has led me to many satisfying compromises. Here are some ideas for how to expand your options:
• If you go away for professional training, workshops, or conferences, stay an extra day or two and chill. Conferences are often hosted in attractive places, and you can probably arrange a private alternative to the block of rooms reserved for attendees. When I attended a workshop in Fort Lauderdale, I soaked up every ounce of private time I could, walking among the towering palms, digging my feet into the sand, sipping a mango margarita at a sidewalk cafe. I didn't meet a single soul, but I renewed mine. Bonus: If your employer pays for transportation, you'll just need to cover the extra days of lodging and meals.
• Adding a Friday and Monday to a weekend gives you four good days. Leave after work on Thursday, and you've just given yourself another day.
• For parents, the kids' week at summer camp is a great time for a no-guilt personal retreat. Here's the week you've been looking for! Even if you want to share part of it with your partner, you'll have time for a solo retreat as well.
• Creativity and study retreats or sabbaticals combine getting away with mental stimulation, sometimes for an extended period of time. When these experiences are connected with your livelihood, you may be able to obtain a grant, paid or unpaid leave, or even work it into your job description. Sometimes getting what we want just comes down to asking for it.
Though we all have practical realities to consider, many of the objections we encounter, external and internal, have more
to do with fear than with reality. When you turn your retreat vision into a reality, you learn that you can retreat, that others can manage, and that it's really not that hard to pull off. You'll wonder what took you so long.
MINI-RETREATS
As your ideas simmer for your big get-away, let's look the kinds of retreats you can take with minimal to no planning—Breath Retreats, Daily Rituals, and Solo Dates.
A Breath Retreat is what we usually refer to as a break—a short withdrawal from activity that allows you to slow down and fill up. The pace of your breathing is a great indicator of stress, and a helpful cue to retreat. When your breathing accelerates, your chest tightens, and your heart seems to be beating faster and harder, you are in stress mode. Sometimes stress can be useful, helping us push forward and get the job done. But, more often, stress sucks. We get panicked, we feel like there's no time and we're already behind; we can't think, and life feels oppressive.
Contrary to common wisdom—which, as we've noted, is commonly unwise—we need more retreats when we are busy, not fewer. A Breath Retreat is the energy bar for the hungry but busy introvert—quick and surprisingly filling. To take a Breath Retreat, just exit whatever you are doing or not doing because you're stuck. Get up and leave. Go to a different place—a place like Winnie-the-Pooh's "Thoughtful Spot"—where you can get a new vantage point. You may just want to relax into your breathing, something that keeps going with no effort on your part. Meditation techniques often begin with a focus on the breath. You can bring a notepad or journal with you and write out all the garbage taking up valuable space in your head. Or you can simply look around and notice something new.Watch a pet or the activity of birds, or look out at the patterns made by traffic or pedestrians. After ten or fifteen minutes, you can pedestrians. After ten or fifteen minutes, you can reenter your routine, motivated by energy from inside, rather than pressure from outside.
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