I Didn't Go

Yesterday my friends (most of whom I'd never met before today) left for Crestone without me. I went to the Conoco station where we always rendezvous on the way out of town and I got to see them off.  (Hey Dancing, one couple was from England - delightful people.)

There is some sadness here, but I'm mostly over that.  I feel like I grew up a little.  My decision was a 100% selfless, going against what I wanted for me.

There will be other times that I can do what I want.  This is the one time that I can be here for my parents as my dad is born into his next stage.

My new friends are taking a piece of me with them.  I am so very lucky to be so loved and supported.

Amazing.

Retreating

I will be off of the intertubes for awhile.

Never have I left for Crestone with such a wiggly mind and body.

A bird is singing outside my window.  I don't recognize the song.  A toot-toot... toot-toot sound.

Yesterday when I went to visit my dad at the skilled nursing facility that is his new home for the moment, I saw a beautiful dog sitting next to the long front desk.  As I asked the man behind the desk how to find my dad's room, I felt something nudging the back of my leg.  I knew what it was.  I turned to see that sweet dog, who looks like the Buddha dog but heftier, smelling every dog-nose-height wrinkle and fold of my pants.  Awwwww... you don't know what that did to my heart.  Or maybe you do.

The dog at the skilled nursing center looks a lot like Buddha.

 
I used to give massage to people in hospice.  I loved that work.  Now that I'm no longer able to do that, I have often thought that I would like to be a person who brings visiting dogs into hospitals and hospices.  Our Buddha dog has never been the visiting kind.  He's somewhere on the Asperger's continuum and I know that he would rather duck a hand reaching out to him than to be loved up by anyone.  He's just that way.

Maybe someday a dog of the right temperament will find its way into my life and heart, and together we will be able to play with strangers while they find acceptance and love from a four-legged kind of friend.

Now, though, I'm just looking forward to listening to the coyotes punctuate the silence while I sit and do nothing.  Maybe that will happen and maybe it won't.  Maybe the trip will be shortened by events, but maybe I'll sit in the sun for days with no cares.

We never know what the next second will bring, let alone the next ten days.  I like to pretend that I know, but right now, pretending isn't even possible.  I'm aware of the "best laid plans..." and "If you want to see God laugh, make a plan" lines of wisdom.  I can't "not plan", but I guess I might as well have a little sense of humor about having my best laid plans come crashing down.

Thinking about it, just what's so bad about hearing God laugh anyway?


Goodbye for awhile!

The Amusement Park

It took me until I was fourteen to begin to LOVE riding roller coasters.  My friends and I would go to the old Elitch Amusement Park or to Lakeside Amusement Park (which still exists, I think) and roller coaster until we were sick of it.

These days, I don't need to go to an amusement park in order to ride a roller coaster.  Roller Coasters R Us (how do you make a backwards "R" on this thing?)  I am Roller Coaster.

It's been a little over a week now and my dad has been on a roller coaster whose high points have gotten lower and lower and whose low points have done the same.  I'm pretty much okay with that - it's what happens under these circumstances - but it's my mom's emotions which get to me as they go along on the ride.   I mean, think of it - over 60 years of never being apart.  She was just a baby (not yet 21) when this story began.

Wednesday:

On the way to qigong class, I made a left turn onto a side street.  A big, dark truck was coming from the opposite direction and was turning west like me.  It turned first and I followed.  I don't really know how it happened. All I know is that suddenly a man about 60 years old with a long beard and a skateboard (yes, that's what I remember) was right in front of my car.  I slammed on my brakes; he stopped in his tracks.  I mouthed, "I'm sorry."  He motioned for me to go on.

That was my last straw.  I parked and sat in the car and bawled.  And even though I didn't want to, I had to go to qigong because Mr. CfP would be there and would wonder if something happened to me.

Something DID happen to me.

For two days, I was a little girl.  Previously, I had been trying to hold everything up, but I now could no longer do that.  That is, I could no longer even try.  The truth is, it's impossible to hold things up anyway.  It's all bigger than me.

In many ways, it was a relief.  And in some ways, it felt like grief.  And it was about time.

Sometimes I wonder if that man was really an angel sent to help me become more real.  I had been trying to be the one in control of herself.  What a crazy act!


Today:

Months ago, I signed up to do my 4th retreat in Crestone.  If I could only do one nice thing for myself each year, it would be to go to Crestone and spend a week mostly in solitude and silence.  This Thursday is the day we retreatants are scheduled to head south to the San Luis Valley and the tiny village of Crestone.  Over the last week, the roller coaster has given me views where I saw myself going, but it has also gone so low that I couldn't see anything - there was no view.  Today I will clean my house (I have a guest coming before the retreat) and pack - after all, I only have four days until I leave.  If I leave.

The Rolling Stones are playing in my head:

Time waits for no one, no favours has he
Time waits for no one, and he won't wait for me

Men, they build towers to their passing yes, to their fame everlasting
Here he comes chopping and reaping, hear him laugh at their cheating

And time waits for no man, and it won't wait for me
Yes, time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me

Drink in your summer, gather your corn
The dreams of the night time will vanish by dawn

And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me

One reason I love Crestone

Oh, Deer!

I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say because it's such a beautiful animal. There you go. I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her.
- Ellen DeGeneres

Holy Ground

I can't really say that any ground is holier than any other. As far as I'm concerned, it is all holy, sacred, beautiful.

So, if I were to obey the above sign, which is posted in the entry to the chapel of the Carmelite Hermitage where I just spent a week, I would never wear shoes. Which is fine with me, because I, Shoeless Carol, am not enamored with cumbersome things on my feet.

This sign isn't just talkin' to anyone named Moses, though. Everyone is asked take off their shoes before entering the chapel. I'm guessing that the reason has a little to do with the holiness factor and much to do with the fact that out in this desert land, it's pretty impossible to enter a building without bringing in at least a few ounces of sand with you. It's holy sand, but still...



This is the third year that I have done retreat at this Hermitage. I'm not Catholic and I don't attempt any Catholic practice while I'm there. Any Catholic symbols, candles, writings or photos around me are incorporated easily and wonderfully into the beauty of my whole experience.

For some reason this time, I felt drawn to attend the Sunday mass, even though I had been keeping to total solitude for a couple of days. Oddly enough, it didn't seem that attending mass would break my sense of solitude. There was something that was calling to me and I'm all about listening to the call.

The service was so precious! About 25 people were there. Our hymnbook was a little notebook of photocopied words - no notes. It was fun to follow along when I had no idea where "along" was leading me. Oh, and it was all a Capella, so I didn't even have an organ interlude to get me going!

The young woman next to me had on an above-the-knee-length gray plaid skirt and white knee socks. In the winter. In Colorado. At 8,000 feet. Makes me shiver just to think about it.

One of the men across from me had an almost belly-button-length gray beard and he wore gray sweatpants, with navy blue cut-off sweats over them.

Another man, who was probably in his mid 60s, wore a suit. When communion time came, he walked up to the front in his nice suit, his well-groomed hair, and some big, honkin', blue, down-stuffed slippers (Remember, no shoes on this holy ground).

When he walked, the swoosh, swoosh of the slippers sliding against each other added to the sweet disconnect of "dapper" and "lounge".

I don't remember much about the sermon (is that what they call it in a Catholic church?), even though I enjoyed it immensely. Here is what I remember most:

Listen.

and

We can live in prison, even if we are not physically imprisoned.

Amen.



After mass, I put on my shoes, walked the holy road back to my little hermitage and listened. For a very long time.

Almost Heaven

Full moon setting over the mountains

And She Emerges Out of the Desert

Yesterday, after a week of mostly solitude, except for the rising and setting of the sun and moon, along with the dust and deer of the desert, I landed in a cement desert of dust and parked cars.

After a week of being surrounded by exquisite beauty and living in a slow pace that seems to be my body's natural rhythms, I walked into an office full of people who appeared to have an urgency about whatever it was they were doing.

It was all amazingly beautiful.

I walked outside this morning on my way to my acupuncture appointment - a great way to begin my life back here in suburbia. I was immediately hit with the LOUDEST din from the traffic on streets some distance away. I remember that every time I come back from Quest or Retreat, I am amazed at how loud and foreign the din sounds. I know that a week from now, I will rarely notice that noise that surrounds me every day here.

On my way to my appointment, I waited for oncoming traffic to pass so that I could make a left turn onto another street. For some reason, an approaching car stopped and the driver motioned for me to go ahead and turn in front of him and all of the cars behind him. He had no obvious reason to do that. I drove the rest of the way wondering who that angel could have been. Kindness for no apparent reason.

I am home now, Buddha (the dog) is asleep by my feet. A few moments ago, I heard Flickers pecking on the telephone pole outside.

I used to think that desert life was more beautiful than that found in this city. It certainly is quieter. It's more pleasing to the eye, for the most part. And it feels more spacious. Still, I'm coming to understand that peace and beauty aren't found outside of myself, and in this cemented, car-infested, LOUD place full of kind people, peaceful Buddhas and wild Flickers pecking holes in anything they can find, all that I hunger for is already right here this very moment.

How did I ever get to be so lucky?

Au revoir

I'm heading out to the land of no fusses. A fussless week awaits me.

This sign hangs over the doorway in the main building in the hermitage where I'll be staying.

I'm not just leaving my fusses behind, I've bagged them up and put them out for recycling.

Au revoir, you useless fusses!


See you in a week or so, sweet blogging friends!

The View

In 6 days, I'll be soaking in views like these.

Westerly view

Easterly View

The coyotes are calling me to come listen to their nightly concerts. Who am I to say no?

My little hermitage with its peaceful simplicity awaits. I am being pulled into its open arms.

I yearn for long days of no computer, no requests; days that are so empty, I cannot avoid seeing who I am. I am looking forward to long days of exploring an

Inwardly View




Don't
Surrender
Your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more
Deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so
Tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

- Hafiz

Freedom

I copied the following from the March, 2009 Shambala Sun Magazine (found at the main building of the retreat center). I didn't write down the name of the article or the author. My apologies to anyone that minds. I'm willing to pay the karmic price...

We can see tremendous power of loving-kindness in the example of a great meditation master who spent 22 years in a hard labor camp as a political prisoner. After his release, when he was in his 70s, he said, "Physically, I suffered through the years of hard work, but mentally I don't remember that I ever felt sad. I dealt with the situation with two meditations. First, I accepted my misfortunes as a result of my own karma - the consequences of my past misdeeds - then I rejoiced, since the karma was now being cleared. "Secondly, I meditated on compassion and loving-kindness for those who were responsible for putting us in prison and forcing us to work very hard. Since they were responsible for the suffering of so many, I knew that they, in their future, would suffer severely as a result of what they were doing. The thought of their future suffering enabled me to generate compassion."

I can't think of any rational argument for looking at this man's situation any differently, can you? I mean, there are a few ways to respond to a hard experience, but this man's response is one that doesn't add to the suffering. Even though he was held captive, he was/is free.

I don't know if, at this point in my life, I have it in me to do what that meditation master did, but I can start practicing now with the small day-to-day stuff.

Uncurling My Toenails

On the way to my retreat, I got to face, in a most uncomfortable way, the impatience that resides within my personality.

For some reason, when I travel - unless I'm on a road trip with no determined time-frame to arrive at any destination - I just want to get from point A to point B with as little stopping along the way as possible. This is especially true when I'm itching to get from the city to my little cabin in the valley. Talk about not living in the moment!

I had two passengers, Mr. and Mrs. FunPeople, with me as we traveled to Retreatsville. First they wanted to stop for supplies before we left town; then 30 minutes later we stopped at a little store beside the highway so that Mr. FunPeople could get internet connection for his laptop; then an hour later, the hubby wanted to pull over to have a phone conversation at a point where reception was good. And another hour later, they needed a CHEESEBURGER stop! I was really trying to be a laid-back good sport, but by the time we hit the cheeseburger place, my toenails were beginning to curl.

As I sat in the truck, on a beautiful Colorado mountain day, I remembered some of the teachings that were the reason I was going to Retreatsville. I remembered that all there is is this very moment - right here, right now. And even this moment has no stability, because it is already gone and now there is only THIS moment. All along the highway, I had been pushing for a future when I would "be there".

With that realization, I let go and arrived where I was.

And I felt the cool, clean mountain air that I so love.

Chop Wood...

OK. I was spoiled. I didn't have to chop wood during my almost-heaven retreat. And I didn't have to carry water, either. But I did need to build an early morning fire a couple of days and I tried to live each moment with simplicity and "in-the-momentness".

Do you know how much space is in the day? I mean, really, do you KNOW how much space is in the day?

An example of my days on retreat:

Awaken
Bathroom stuff
Drink tea while watching the light take over the sky
Cook oatmeal
Eat
Sit and watch the light that took over the sky
Take a walk
Sit some more, read
Eat
Sit and read or think or pray or watch the wind - for a very long time
Nap
Sit - maybe listen to Ram Dass or Peter Fenner
Eat
Watch the sun color the western sky
Watch the big, dark, star-filled sky
Read or think or pray
More bathroom stuff (did you ever notice how much time is spent bathrooming?)
Go to bed and listen for coyotes
Sleep

The days were long and delicious.

The days ARE long and delicious.

Days are timeless when we live simply and we're present in each moment - when we put down the doing and relax into the being.

"Time is what keeps light from reaching us. There is no greater obstacle to God than time." - Meister Eckhart

Who is the painter that created this magical work of art?

Home Again and UnRetreated?

On my retreat, I did a lot of reflecting on the nature of things.
Here is my reflection in the window of my little cabin.

Ahhhhhh.....

"I cry, Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind!"
- William Blake

It's That Time Again

Last year about this time, I was on retreat in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Thursday, I leave to spend a week there again - among the mountains, deer, and coyotes.

Here is what I'll be looking at for the next week:


To my east:


To the south:


Right in front of me:

I'll have no computer or phone. Just solar heat and a wood stove. (OK. There will be electricity and running water, so I'm not totally roughing it.)

And quiet. A lot of quiet.

Adios!