The Beautiful Unknown: Retreat Poems and Prose 2009 - 2020

 

The Beautiful Unknown: Retreat Poems and Prose 2009 - 2020

During this time, our Baby Crone discovers the joy of silence and solitude by taking sojourns along the California coast. These poems, prayers, meditations, and love spells were woven at various silent writer’s retreats, including Mission San Antonio, St. Columba’s Retreat in Point Reyes, and The New Calmodese Hermitage in Big Sur.

Empty Place

Right now, besides for a few tatters of gray mist,

The sky is empty, gently sun-kissed,

Streak of salmon in the west,

Peaceful blues paint in the rest.

Even the red-tailed hawks and gulls are gone,

Not a spout or a sail out on the horizon,

The ocean seems empty, flat, glassine,

Teeming with life only in the depths unseen.

The field below is quiet and clear,

Except for the scuttling of rabbits, quail, and deer,

Buzzing bees, ravens, the squawking of jays,

Hummingbirds coming to visit the velvety sage.

There's just a circle of chairs in the chapter room,

Filled with a scent of Easter lilies in bloom,

Deep red roses, white daisies and baby's breath,

In the center is the altar honoring life and death.

My cup is dried, bowl washed and put away,

Floor is swept, the bed has been made,

Nothing to do, but enjoy this sacred space,

Think I'll call it, "My empty place."

Sunday Eclipse

I was the Priestess today, arriving at the Chapter Room early, and then going back out to the main entrance. I greeted each retreatant with a hushed whisper,  “Would you like to see the eclipse?” while handing over the protective glasses. 

This was compassion, offering the first look to the random gentleman who came down the path, making eye contact, smiling, sharing whispers of ancient secrets. Self-compassion - taking in the sun and the moon's energy in Libra straight into my heart, my solar plexus. Feeling my Libra relationships, as I smiled and shared my childlike Joy with each person.

Marianne had tears in her eyes, Sarah grinned ear-to-ear, and Catherine gave me a warm hug. I felt loved and appreciated. I'm so glad I brought them to share and not just for myself. feeling that Venus aspect of self-love, self-care.

I made sure everyone got a turn, but somehow one participant slipped in without me seeing him. This Eclipse will not be seen in North America again until 2039. Truly a Celestial experience. I felt humbled, in awe, and privileged.

Ring of Fire

Sun streams through slats,

Blinding white.

Almost hostile,

Stabbing my eyes,

I reach for the twisty thing.

    Dust motes twinkle,

    As I spread Mom's old quilt.

    Tattered blue jeans, ripped, frayed,

    Sewn together- look! It has pockets!

Comfort zones come,

At a comfortable pace.

Ginger peach turmeric tea,

Sipping tangerine neon sunsets.

    Sure, the eclipse kissed the sun,

    ate her whole.

    Celestial travelers, clearing,

    Solar systems, solar plexus.

Perfect alignments,

Orbits and conjunctions,

Oppositions and trines

    Never still, never still.

Tell-Tale Heart

I forgive myself lazy days on the couch,

All the times I just acted like a slouch,

Eating frozen pizza instead of making a meal,

Every single time that I ever ate veal.

The years I used Roundup cuz I didn't know better,

Or how much child labor went into that sweater

Times. I smoked too much, times. I cursed,

Drove intoxicated, It could have been worse. 

I forgive all the breakups, all the disappointments,

Divorces, lost friends, all the estrangements.

Emails not sent. Phone calls not returned,

Losing trust when it had been so hard-earned. 

It wasn't okay, it isn't now,

But it no longer has to affect me somehow,

Because I learned my lessons, I learn them well,

This is the tale my compassionate heart has to tell.

The One Question

 

Here at the retreat

My life revolves around most

What's for lunch today

Last Day

Monday morning, the last day of the retreat. It is quiet in the chapter room, besides the flipping of pages as we try to find our list of intentions from Friday's session. I have the taste of ginger cookies in my mouth - every day there was some kind of fresh baked treat but today was the first day that I indulged.


The white roses are faded on the altar, but the sunflowers and showy Azalea are still bright and cheerful. I can hear the cooing of quails outside the window as they scratch through the underduff looking for seeds and bugs.


I'm all packed and ready to go. Part of me wishes these were seven-day retreats, another is ready to get back to the Chip and the cats. I’ve put my phone in airplane mode so that I have a smooth transition back to Santa Cruz, and to give myself another couple of hours of silence before being subject to text calls and emails.


Yesterday, after the morning session, I spent a hours painting my rune stone tiles. I chose jewel tones, with gold and copper accents. This was one of my weekend intentions simply to do art. Of course, I wanted to do more, but it was great just to focus on one project for a long time rather than multitasking, being interrupted, or even hearing music, let alone the television.


I also wanted to read, I finished one book and started another but felt too distracted this morning even though I had plenty of time. It was easy not to drink and I definitely had plenty of food. My only complaint was sleeping poorly as it was too hot and I kept being interrupted by the sounds of the fridge.


I walked every day, actually, I hiked every day. The paths are so steep here I fell once on the way back to the trailer. There were tons of little rocks in the path. I didn't have hot water in the trailer and when the maintenance people came I noticed they walked on the other side of the path which was less rocky so I took that route from then on.


My heart leaped with joy when Amber asked for a volunteer to pack up the altar, rather than having us remove our various treasures. I was sure this would be the last retreat, and I’m curious about what time of year we will be coming back in 2024.


Blessed be.

October Silent Retreat

The drive went well despite Route 1 being washed out past Lucia. I went to Cafe Ivita for a feta spinach croissant and a mocha for breakfast, plus a muffuletta sandwich for a picnic lunch later. I stopped at Nepenthe for a pricey beer and poked around the Phoenix gift store.

The monk who registered me was very kind and complimented my earrings. I unpacked, made my altar, went for a walk around the loop, picked up supplies from the kitchen, and read my new book This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal Rl-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. 

I saw plenty of quail, and the crickets were so loud this evening that I thought someone was playing heavy metal music nearby. I ate Pringles and cheese for dinner, along with the other half of the mocha. My word at the moment is “excellent” and my intention on this retreat is a connect with the lunar eclipse in Libra, taking in balance, moderation, diplomacy, justice, and harmony.

The three cards from the Goddess Power Oracle by Colette Baron-Reid and three runes (from the Ralph Blum set) I pulled for my heart, my soul, and my mind for today were: Ma’at- Justice with Berkana - Birch; Skuld-Future with Sowelu, The Sun; and Freya- Radical Acceptance with Wunjo - Joy.

The Cloak

Young and naive, she thought there was something wrong with her because she was sad all the time. Either she needed fixing or she was broken beyond hope.

She wore her depression like a cloak of invisibility. Desperate for attention yet hidden away. Unable to release the clasp at her throat. Let go of the heavy wet wool dragging her down.

She could take it off but she was afraid of being naked cold, vulnerable. Seen.

She would cry herself to sleep every night. The cat, her only comfort, licked away salty tears, purred reassurances, listened to all of her secrets.

When was it that someone would finally say,

"You're normal. 

You're different.

And that's okay."

Treading Lightly

 

I'm careful not to step on

The periwinkles by the front

Of the trailer while on my retreat

They seem so brave, so vulnerable

Little heads nodding in the wind

So easily crushed.

Yet they survive last night's hail storm

The fallen branch

Somehow better than I

Maybe it's their

“Tendrils of belief”*

Keeping them anchored

How do I unfurl

Trust the sun will shine again

And turn my face towards hope

*Quote from Adrienne Rich

Empty Place

Right now besides for a few tatters of gray mist,
The sky is empty, gently sun-kissed,
A streak of salmon in the west,
Peaceful blues paint in the rest.

Even red-tailed hawks and gulls are gone,
Not a spout or a sail out on the horizon,
The ocean seems empty, flat, glassine,
Teeming with life only in the depths unseen.

The field below is quiet and clear,
Except for the scuttling of rabbits, quail, and deer,
Buzzing bees, ravens, the squawking of jays,
Hummingbirds coming to visit the velvety sage.

There's just a circle of chairs in the chapter room,
Filled with a scent of Easter lilies in bloom,
Deep red roses, white daisies and baby's breath,
In the center is the altar honoring life and death.

My cup is dried, bowl washed and put away,
Floor is swept, the bed has been made,
Nothing to do, but enjoy this sacred space,
Think I'll call it, "My empty place."

Window of Your Soul

Imagine for a moment, 

This is the window 

To your soul.

Now ask yourself, 

Are you looking out,

Or are you looking in? 

And as you look out,

 What wonders do you behold?

As you look in,

What marvels are revealed?

Take a moment, 

To pause, to contemplate, 

To simply observe, 

The window 

Of your soul.

Empty Cup

This morning as I started together ready to go on a four day retreat up in the Russian River area, I cleaned my office. As they say, nothing gets us more productive than the last minute. I had already cleaned the crystal water glasses I have for my 3 clients a day- 3 of cups, in the tarot, mental anguish resulting in emotional distress, the traditional image of a heart stabbed through with three swords.

But now I took a moment to polish my own glass. Crystal, yes, but different from the others, larger to start - I drink a lot of water during sessions. 4 of cups in the Tarot, overcoming sorrow after grief, a card I identify with as the wounded healer.

There is a tradition in Japan where each night one drinks a glass of water, then puts it face down to indicate, "I am done, everything is complete, I could die at peace tonight." Then, in the morning, hooray! You wake up alive, fill that cup again, and start a brand new day.

So I flipped my cup over. I was done. I was ready. New moon in Scorpio, let me be transformed and begin anew. That was the unexpected gift in the bowl, a giggle from Coyote, a long look in the mirror, a decision to change my story, a decision made long ago now ready to be acted upon. A feeling of peace, a calm anticipation, a reason to get up in the morning as well as reassurance in my mind in the night.

Blessed Be.

Thoughts on Silence

How noisy I am, trying to be quiet. The scrape of the chair, the rattle of a drawer, the shuffling sounds as I dig through my bags. I take my time, like a bird building her nest, putting things away, hanging others up, making room for art supplies.

When I awake at 2:30 am with another hot flash, I think about the retreat facilitator asking about the silence inside. What is the difference between quiet and silence? I notice it easy to share silence with my daughter, while I am often quiet with my husband.

With my daughter, walking together to work, after a few comments about the cats and the weather, we simply walk, we don't talk. Sometimes she's on her phone, texting, connecting, doing what she enjoys, the more virtual the relationship the better sometimes. She is intelligent and romantic, introverted, and has been reluctant at the best to learn how to drive, which is fine by me. Here is where I am generous, if not spoiling, I indulge her capricious whims and rarely ask her to help with housework beyond putting away the dishes. However, we get along, travel well together, give each other space, and she always rolls her eyes at my bad jokes.

My husband and I can be silent, but he has much to say, and I find it easier to be quiet than to respond to his politics and beliefs, an easy way to avoid an argument. And easy not to share my own perusals, simply because I think he will not take me seriously, like times during my Ph.D. program exploring alternative healing. Quiet can be the path of least resistance, but I worry the silence could erode our relationships as it has in my past. As they say, "Silence is consent."

I enjoy putting everything in its place, it's pleasing to me that all will remain just so for these few days, not dealing with other peoples their clutter, no incessant small talk, especially first thing in the morning when I am the most contemplative, the most reflective.

When I think about generosity, I recognize the need to give myself that space - whether I meditate or mess around on the computer playing games, it's my transition time to the day. Chip always wants to talk about dreams. I always want to respond. We are good together that way, but I've had to learn to adapt. I notice it was easier to pay attention to when we only had a few precious days each weekend. His daily neediness is as much of a mixed bag as how I feel about the cats - yes, I love you, but please get off my lap and out of my face. I need this time to compose myself for a day of clients,  let alone friends, daughter, husband, the cats.

As I flutter and mutter to myself after this good putter, I do notice the moments of stillness, the inner silence, the fleeting peace. Then the gerbil in my head starts up again, "...and then I'll get some coffee and then I'll take a shower and then I'll start on the watercolors..." It's not that this is a voice I do not want to listen to, but it is repetitive and unoriginal, it wears me out with its constant need for clatter and nose.

Being in silence helps me hear the birds, the creak of the stairs, the hum of my electric toothbrush that seems so out of place. Thank goodness I didn't bring my vibrator. Even the ubiquitous sound of my electric fan has been silenced. Spacing out through the window, it's easy to hear the cacophony of a sudden burst of honking, the traffic in the distance, tuning more closely into the hum of hummingbird wings, the cry of the raven. I notice the spiderweb threads, vibrating silver in the sunlight. What sounds, what music does it make with the wind? Will I be able to hear it as I go deeper within?

Blessed Be.