There’s a lot going on at the Rough House these days. Along with trying to keep some sort of social life in tact and weeding the garden, the launch of my new website took much of my time. I felt anxious about getting it up, feeling I’d never understand the technological stuff behind it. Thank goodness I had lots of help.
I’ve also been cranking away on my memoir. Most of the time I have a clear view of the road ahead but occasionally I get lost, winding down picturesque side streets, looking for the perfect beginning or ending for a story I’m particularly keen on. And when I write about the tough stuff, like my Mother’s last years of life, sometimes a thunderstorm is set off in my brain and I need to take a break.
In the past when that’s happened, I sat around bemoaning the fact that I didn’t feel like writing or revisiting the past. I’m a very happy person right now, living a tranquil life, and though I’ve dealt with most of my s%#t, I can sometimes find it uncomfortable to go back to a time that was particularly hard for me. But you can bet that I’ve always learned something new about myself in the process of visiting those dark days.
That’s what happened last week when I was trying to complete a chapter on the dynamics of my family of origin. I sat in front of the screen, rereading what I had already written. I couldn’t find a place to jump into a new thought or paragraph. And I was unable to find words to describe how I felt when I thought my world was falling apart, bit by tiny bit. All I wanted to do was take a nap, read a book or see a movie that would make me laugh or inspire me to go off on some new adventure to a place I’ve never been before.
So instead of sitting around fighting my lack of written words, I took action. I went to see the movie, Francis Ha, about a young woman trying to figure out where in the world she belonged and with whom. It was funny, and occasionally a bit depressing. But it was also about the serendipity of life and provided me with something I needed to be reminded of … that Francis would just have to trust that she would eventually find her path, by being open to whatever came her way. And so it is with me. This is a lesson that I often forget, as I try to control everything around me.
This past weekend, I did what felt like a spa weekend to me. No, I didn’t get a facial or a massage or a pedicure. I went to a one day Insight Dialogue Retreat taught by one of my favorite teachers who lives right here in Central Virginia, Sharon Beckman Brindley.
Insight Dialogue is a practice developed by Gregory Kramer, co-founder and president of the Metta Foundation, and author of INSIGHT DIALOGUE, The Interpersonal Path to Freedom. Sharon has studied with him. And this was my fourth one-day retreat with her.
If you go to the Foundation website you’ll read that, “Insight Dialogue is an interpersonal meditation practice. It brings the mindfulness and tranquility of silent meditation directly into our experience with other people. As humans, we are relational beings; as we begin to wake up, clarity and freedom can illuminate our relationships with others.”
And though it draws upon traditional Buddhist wisdom, it is not necessarily a Buddhist practice. People of any faith and belief system would find it useful in building more meaningful relationships with the people in their lives.
During Saturday’s retreat I partnered with another participant; someone I didn’t know well or at all. We sat facing each other, and with eyes closed, were led in a guided meditation, concentrating on our breath, the way our bodies felt, relaxing, pausing, and opening to the process. We were then given five or so minutes to silently contemplate our own generosity, something some of us rarely speak about because we’ve been taught that publicly showing that we are generous is bragging.
When the bell rang announcing the end of the contemplation, we opened our eyes. One of us became the speaker and the other became the listener. The speaker’s job was to tell the listener about his/or her generosity or lack thereof, pausing, relaxing and regrouping when the body felt a sudden tightness or discomfort. The listener was to listen deeply without judgment to what was being said, noticing how her body was reacting. The roles would then be reversed. Further discussion can follow with the partners telling each other how it felt to talk about themselves and their kindness.
In the second half of the day we partnered with new people, this time working in groups of three. We continued our contemplation, this time about our virtues, another topic most of us rarely speak of. It was a freeing experience, especially for those of us who haven’t believed we have much goodness within us.
At the end of the day, we spoke to the entire group about what we had learned about ourselves and what new thoughts came our way. I can’t speak for everyone, but I left feeling relaxed and pampered. What could possibly be better than being listened to deeply, without judgment.
During the retreat I came to the conclusion that this tweaking this practice would be helpful in my writing process, especially when I feel blocked and unable to forge ahead. In taking a few minutes to relax and have an inner dialogue with myself instead of another person, concerning the difficulty of the situation I’m writing about, I’m now finding words, where none existed before.
The weekend was topped off on Sunday by an hour and a half of Restorative Yoga, taught by another gifted instructor, Christine Davis. For me it was a perfect weekend and one I hope I’ll be able to participate in again sometime soon.
What about you? How would you spend a perfect weekend?
