Day 29: Dawn Treader

Stumble through the night, still half-asleep, for dawn meditation.  The room is in darkness, except for one candle.  Gradually more blanketed figures shuffle into the room.  Faint outlines in the candlelight, we sit in silence.  Alone but together.  Half an hour passes in five minutes, as the blackness outside subtly shifts to dark blue to pale grey.  The candle is blown out, and one by one we leave in silence, crunching across the gravel to showers and breakfast.  Muesli.  (Not Pop Tarts.)

I'm beginning to get to know my fellow retreaters.  We've sat together in silence, and in discussion/fact finding at last night's shared supper. (Red Bean and Root Vegetable Pie, with Salad.  Not a Bargain Bucket.)  Five of our seven know each other, and have been on three retreats together.  Two of us are interlopers - one with previous (an experienced meditator who also teaches) and me - the wild card.  After some initial mistrust (why has a greenhorn been allowed to penetrate the inner sanctum?), and some pack hierarchy (I happily turn belly-up and adopt the role of open fool), everyone is friendly and fun.  Despite this, there are undercurrents that are so apparent.  Sadness rolls off two of them in waves - deep, visceral isolation.  I feel for them, but their fragility scares me.  My initial animal instinct is to keep my distance, in case it's catching.  I'm not proud of this.  On the other end of the scale, there are two who are heart-strong - vivid and vital and solid.  I want to stand near them, to warm my hands by them.  Interesting. 

The woman who runs the retreat is extraordinary.  This sort-of stuff always feels like guff when you articulate it, so I'm not going to say much - but her approach is entirely centred on energy.  And everything she says (and does) resonates completely.  You know when you hear the same thing coming at you from different sources?  And you get the feeling that whether you like it or not, that message is going to KEEP COMING until you LISTEN.  This is one of those times. 

During the meditations, where we are given so much freedom (thankfully - I'm scarred by 'Your arms are heavy, heavy as lead'-type experiences), every so often my monkey mind takes over, and I wonder whether I'm doing it right.  I am advised to 'sit with it', rather than trying to switch the monkey off.  'Sit with it' is heard so frequently, it becomes a constant refrain.  (Later, I advise the person in our group who does not like raisins, to 'sit with' them for a while.  Not rejecting them, or trying to like them.  Just to be PRESENT with the raisins.  We laugh a lot.) 
 

Free time in the afternoon, so a trip to Charmouth, and a very underwhelming (and therefore strangely enjoyable) 'Craft Fayre'.  I am particularly taken with the concept of the 'yarn necklace'.  Mainly because of the word 'yarn'.  As I say, it's the concept, not the actuality, that appeals, but even so...  Watch out, those people not receiving tractor cushions for Christmas (see Day Twenty-Four). 

'Oh...  Lovely...  What is it?'
'A yarn necklace.  Yes - you heard right.  YARN.'

More meditation, after which we share our experiences with the group (feel myself retch slightly as I type that).  However, I am not going to get away with anything here.  My normal tactics are not working.  She sees my shortcomings and calls them.  I am cross. (But secretly impressed.) 

Supper.  Stuffed Marrow, Winter Salad, Red Cabbage.  (Not a Zinger Meal Deal.).  I thought my Vegan experiment had ended.  It would appear not.