retreat2

My hotel room was very comfortable and I slept well, after reading a few pages of "The Lessons of St Francis". According to the schedule Mark gave me, breakfast would be preceded by an hour of silent prayer at 7, for those who were interested. I was very eager to integrate into my new surroundings in such a peaceful, contemplative way. I envisioned sitting in a monastic chapel of some kind.

The retreat center was only a couple of miles from the hotel, but the craggy dirt road to get there took 10 bumpy minutes to navigate, so I was glad I'd left a little early.

My first impression of the center was that it was very small, however the buildings turned out to be considerable deeper than they first appeared. Indeed the entire settlement seemed dwarfed by the mountains surrounding on every side, at eye level. We were up very high.

RETREAT THOUGHTS PART 2

I entered through the front door and found the building complex dark and empty. The only signs of life were outside on a porch that adjoined the two main buildings, where several men were sitting in rocking chairs and chaise lounges, looking in silence toward the mountain range out back. I quickly surmised that this was the prayer gathering and joined them quietly.

The view from my deck chair was magnificent and the morning temperature was perfect. The layers of mountains went on so endlessly that all 3D perspective gave way to a flat matte-like background. A foggy mist inbetween the layers added to the ethereal effect and you could imagine yourself looking out over all creation from the heavens.

In the foreground was a short nature trail with trees and park benches. One path led to a large mosaic cross which was rather pretty. I would venture out later for a better look but for now was content to sit and wake up with the birds.

I'm not a big nature person as you know so to have any appreciation for a mountainous view affirmed instantly that I've found a place where even I can stop and smell the roses. Calming my mind, however, was a different story altogether and it didn't help when periodically someone would emerge from their quarters and enter the patio area in conversation. Silence, I discerned, was not a hard and fast rule, though most of the distractions never rose above a loud whisper.

I tried to pray, meditate, contemplate, whatever, but my thoughts were in high gear, eventually concluding that if I had a week alone in this place I might develop the skill to commune with the scenery, but on demand on this porch it might not be possible. I was content to realize that even a moment of pleasure initiated by an outdoor setting was an achievement for me, and took that to the bank.

The dining hall, which was only occupied during meals.

Everyone sat wherever they chose and I made a point to move around with each meal to eat with different people, not just the ones I got to know. I met the fellow named Rick who I probably would have been bunking with under other circumstances and he was very pleasant. We probably would have gotten along well but we were still grateful to have private rooms.

Others I met early on included a psychiatrist named Carlos and his wife Elizabeth, a couple in their 60s who it actually felt good to look at because they always projected an attractive dignity and grace. We had nice conversations and seemed to gravitate toward each other more than the rest. Almost everyone there was in their 40s or 50s, though there were a very small handful of teens and twentysomethings too. One young man reminded me a lot of Chris and I made a point to sit near him on one of the last days. He was a student and a computer enthusiast who played guitar.

Though a small number of the people there were indeed musical, artistic, poetic or otherwise creative, I was surprised by how many were just there because they thought themselves as being uncreative and merely wanted to learn something about it. Some were celebrating birthdays and had been given this getaway by their spouses as a gift. Mostly we were united in being spiritual seekers who have an appreciation for Michael Card, and wanted a few quiet days away, with a sense of direction attached to it.

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The view from the porch. It is only mountains you see beyond the trees.

I would find out later that there was a Mass going on during this time in a meeting room which I hadn't seen yet. I regretted missing out on any structured activity but I was already in a good place no matter what. I had wondered where the rest of the 50 attendees were and I guess that was the answer, though some of them did sleep in.

Around 8:00 the bell tower signaled breakfast and we all converged in line toward the dining hall where I saw the staff for the first time; all nuns and monks wearing habits and robes. The decor of the buildings was fairly generic, reminding me of what I imagine a moose lodge to be, or a VFW hall. The attire of the staff is what gave it a religious flavor, and I appreciated the constant reminder that this was a place with a holy intent.

Meals at the retreat were plentiful, creative and healthy, with most of the vegetables grown at the nearby Hermitage by the same people who were serving us. A typical meal was spaghetti with green sauce, salad and rolls, or breakfast such as this one, with ham and cheese omelets, fried potatoes and a variety of cereals, fruit and muffins. There was always either coffee or lemonade to drink.