If you ever want to sit in deep quiet, go on a silent retreat. I did my first one in 2017, just six weeks after major abdominal surgery. It was a challenge for me on many levels. I was still in pain and not able to do much. That retreat also marked the return of my migraines after a two year hiatus. Walking in silence through a migraine to end all migraines for four of the six days on retreat was lonely and extremely difficult. But coming out of those days in silence, I marvelled at my resiliency and of the value of being bathed in deep quiet out in the wild.
I went on a silent retreat again in 2018. After a solid 18 months of migraines, I had a diagnosis of chronic migraine by then. By definition, chronic migraneurs experience at least 15 migraines per month. I was having 20 – 25 migraine days each month by November 2018, and this required a level of determination and stamina that was beginning to wane. I found refuge those few days on my retreat, even alongside the headaches. To have found peace in the middle of such deep suffering made me decide that this really need to be an annual gift to myself.
Why? For me, retreat is an opportunity to withdraw from life and sit with God in a deeply profound way. You’re not known by anyone. You aren’t anyone’s wife or daughter or sister or friend. You’re just you for those few days. You’re by yourself, with yourself, for yourself, and accountable to no one but yourself. It’s a precious, sacred time.
My retreat this year was an opportunity to go silent and sit up close and personal with all that had been churning beneath the surface since my episode on September 4th. It was such a blessing to walk in silence on beautiful land beside the ocean. If I felt like crying, I cried (actually, I wailed, and not very silently). When I needed a nap, I took a nap. If I was thirsty, I drank; hungry, I ate.
Being in silence puts you in touch with yourself so deeply that you can no longer ignore the subtle cues that are easy to miss in daily living when a hundred different things are clamouring for your attention. For me, the deep quiet of retreat also provided a safe and well-facilitated container to get in touch with the emotions I’ve been walking with since September 4th. I had no choice but to face all that the busyness of life had allowed me to stuff beneath the surface.
Nights are always the hardest on retreat, and this year especially so. Things caught up to me in the dark that I didn’t realize were lurking. And without the nourishment AH’s comforting words to reassure me and carry me through my tears to daylight, nights were very long. Silence is so very loud in the dark.
My last post perhaps made it seem as though I have what happened back in September all sorted and tied up with a nice bow, and that I’m on to all the deeper meaning of life stuff now that I’ve put it behind me. That’s not the case. The reality is, I’m still walking with what happened each and every day. Some days, I’m peaceful and just thankful to still be here. Others, I’m on the edge of tears all day long, struggling through flashbacks or worries about whether the migraine I have is going to turn into another episode.
One thing I know for sure: silence and quiet are very good medicine. For me, sitting in meditation on retreat forced me to be still and train my mind to do the same. Listening to teachings that felt like they were written just for me (they weren’t, but my teacher is kind of amazing that way) and applying them to my present challenges gave me potent material for writing and reflection. Being guided gently and lovingly through yoga practice with reminders to breathe, and beautiful poetry being read over us was like being bathed in grace. And having healthy meals appear as if by magic three times a day to nourish and feed my healing spirit was perfection. When this is all you have to do, all day for several days, it’s potent ground to walk on.
One of the best parts? My phone remained in my suitcase, brought out only twice each day to check in with AH (by text, because, you know, it was a silent retreat!) and reassure him that all was well. Even if you can’t go on a retreat, try taking a break from your phone for a few days. It’s pure magic!
Very few people know the full extent of what happened to me back in September. I’ve been walking through my daily life as I normally would. Nobody has any reason to believe that my world has been turned upside down. But my inner reality is another thing altogether. And the deep quiet of my silent retreat this year was a big step towards putting myself back together again.
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