I
just returned from 3 weeks away. I was on retreat at Treveni - a secluded retreat center in Arizona that was created by
Lee Lozowick, my spiritual teacher, for his students as well as for anyone of
any lineage to go for retreat practice.
I
was in “the meditation hut” which is about 200 sq. feet. It is simple, elegant and beautiful – not
really very hut-like. Last year I was in a yurt – also lovely but more rustic and
exposed to the high desert heat, cold and wind.
The general flow of my days
went something like this: I would wake up with the light at about 5 am; I would
generally do two rounds of meditation-prayer-puja-contemplation-journaling before 8 am when the thermos of hot
water would arrive at my door (delivered sight-unseen, as were the meals);
I woulod have a breakfast of fruit and whatever hot beverage I made with my hot water; usually
after breakfast I would visit the bathhouse. The bathhouse is where I took
showers, did hand laundry and answered the call of nature. It was about 5
minutes walk. After returning to the
hut, I generally wrote in my journal for a couple of hours, then a round of
practice as above before lunch appeared at my door at noon. Lunch was a 3-part
affair in a lovely stacked tin set-up. The bottom layer might be quinoa or
rice, the next layer was often a cooked veggie or two, and the top layer was
usually some sort of raw veggie or salad. All the food was simple, clean and
yummy. No salt, dairy, sugar, gluten.
After
lunch I was usually a bit VATA deranged…..(In ayurvedic
understanding, vata is the air
element and when it gets too high in a person , they become "vata deranged". Vata is at its highest in the afternoon, is increased at high altitude
(I was at 5500 feet), is increased when you are engaged in a lot of sadhana, and can make a person VERY spacey. In the afternoons I had to
work to keep the top of my head from floating off the planet. I would do things
like lie down on the floor, put my hat on, put rose-water soaked eye-pads on,
and just generally move slowly, carefully and think of elephants, chant to
Ganesh (heavy!) and pray for gravity. I would start to regain some gravity
after a while and then I would do more practice – including asana – until
dinner arrived at my door at 6. Dinner was almost always a thermos mug of
vegetable soup. After dinner I would go for a walk as it was cooler then. During the day I would always spend some time reading poetry and usually during my evening walks I would work on memorizing a poem. I
almost always went to sleep at 8 since that is when it got dark and there was
no electricity.
Occasionally
I would see another person from a distance. But mostly I saw nobody for the entire time, not
even myself (as there were no mirrors).
It
was strong work and I loved every single day. It was not truly so much a “retreat”
as it was an “advance” - an advance past my buffers, preferences, defenses and
habitual, “mechanical-me” patterns to make myself more vulnerable and permeable
to the Sacred.
One
of the things I become aware of when I begin retreat is how “thickened” and
impermeable I have become. Even with all the boons of remembrance and blessing
that make up the fabric of my daily life – things like sadhana, study, good work, a husband and family who support and
encourage sadhana and retreat – still
I become thickened in my awareness.
Retreat
initiates in me a thinning. The layers
of my being that have become congealed and dense are gradually thinned,
refined, infused with sattva, and
made more flexibly permeable to the Sacred, to my lineage, to my Teacher and
the teachings. And everything supports me in this. EVERYTHING. It blows my mind
and breaks my heart, this direct experience of being held and directed.
OK
– that’s enough words for one blog post. Tune in tomorrow for Part II. It’s
good to be home. Thanks for reading!
