I realized that I was
overwhelmed and burning out. People have been around me constantly since last
August. If it’s not my own family or Debra’s parents who we live with, it’s
friends, supporters, disciples, colleagues. Relationships everywhere in my
life, piled up haphazardly like the boxes of unsorted papers in my
father-in-law’s garage. And I needed to get away.
So I made a reservation
for a hermitage. Yes, a hermitage. A tiny cottage off in the woods of a
Catholic retreat center. And I went to my little cottage on Thursday. Just me
and Jesus all alone without books or phones or computers or electricity or
running water or… people! Nothing to entertain, nothing to distract.
And it was glorious. Absent
of others, I easily shed the identity I derive from others. I took off the
spiritual “business suit” I wear WAY too much and put on the comfy clothes of
the immature, arrogant, whimsical, 29-year-old that I am. A humbling outfit,
but refreshing in its honesty.
There in my one room cabin
with the rocking chair before the picture window facing the verdant woods, I
began to wind down my marathon-racing mind. Bit by bit, I started to slow down,
which was kinda the point. I had nothing else to do, so I sat and zoned out,
munching on the basket of bread and cheese left for me, too pooped to be
spiritual or emotionally “productive”. Then as the sun sat down under the
horizon, I was in bed drifting away to 11 solid hours of sleep.
The next morning, I
started journaling, reading scripture, praying, listening. There was a sweet
presence, a sort of low “buzz” I associate with God being really close at hand.
Strange, but I didn’t once feel alone. I had a very simple confidence that the
Holy Spirit was there and we carried on casual conversation all day. That’s not
normal for me, but in this place, it felt appropriate. So we chatted about all
kinds of things. I expressed my heartfelt gratitude for little things like the
grass, the big screen porch, the flowers in the nearby prairieland, my little
cup of coffee in the morning, my muffin and banana. So sweet. But just a taste
of sweetness really. 24 hours is not nearly long enough for this sort of thing.
Going home, I could feel I
had slowed down. People shouting, TV on, music playing, friends texting. And I
developed a splitting headache. My mind struggled to jog back up to the pace of
“normal” life. All day, I’ve been looking for reasons to be alone, to turn
stuff off, to rest. I’ve been zoning out a lot. It’s not like me. It’s not that
I feel more sage or monastic. My thoughts are as selfish as ever. It’s just
that my affect is lower, my disposition a notch quieter. You might not even
notice, but I do. I’m already ready for my next escape to the woods. No wonder
the Jews have strict customs around the observence of the Sabbath that help
them “unplug”. I’m beginning to feel this keeping pace of life is about as
smart as eating McDonald’s for every meal. At least for me, I’m feeling amazed
that even driving past a strip of big box stores get my nerves frazzled. You
feel that way when you’ve spent a couple months in an African village. I
suppose returning from the woods is a similar deal.
I'm leaving the ending of this post unwritten. Because my traipse into solitude feels very much unfinished. To be continued...
nice
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