Retreat

I wanted make some sort of tribute to Jessica’s passing three years ago and so this year I decided to focus on my own spiritual growth by committing to a silent meditation retreat. What came after was just as profound as what came during and so here it is. Enjoy & God Bless.

Inhale, exhale… shhhhhh. The narration fades away as thoughtless silence consumes my being. Consciousness, utter quietude… the rejuvenating kind which serves to expand my physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual limitations. It’s fresh, empowering, sympathetic, invaluable sustenance for the spirit. Ten days of utter silence; no spoken, read, or written word… no gestures of the hands, body, or face… no physical touch, not even eye contact… ten whole days. Pure silence shared between 90 other people all meditating twelve hours a day while observing a monastic lifestyle. No distractions beyond my mental luggage and Joshua Tree’s multifarious complexion. Scorching death in one moment, vibrant spirit in the next. My senses are heightened with the absence of my own physical and inner voice. I notice enriched colors, hidden details… inhale sparse, floral aromas… taste the arid winds… overhear burrowing creatures and relish in birdsong as I surrender within the sun’s restoring embrace. I feel the heartbeat of this torrid desolation pulse from within. My perception has shifted, I sense what isn’t more than what is. And I feel her spirit as she accompanies me along my inner journey, her footprints beside my own before a desert wind unites the two and whisks them away. This was my intent, the purpose of my voluntary withdrawal, to re-establish myself within what I once only discovered while retreating from an unwanted reality. Liberation free from escape.

I adjust the backpack strap hanging over a sole shoulder and place a dusty weekend bag at my feet. An unwelcome feeling surges in my chest with physical strain, hesitation. I stare into the musty, hollowed out apartment as if inspecting some derelict dwelling. I find my heels backstepping through the door behind me… I’ve stepped into a stranger’s home. Someone else lives here, not you. This can’t be where you live… it’s too, too quiet. A different kind of silence now, the darker kind… the kind that creeps in around you like shadows navigating the walls of a horror movie. My mind breaks the silence with crushing desire, “Joey? Is that you my Beloved?“ I can hear her call out for me, a tinge of excitement with a dash of uncertainty. Her dulled voice rings throughout this barren dwelling just as it would have. She frantically ceases whatever task was occupying her attention before dashing from the bedroom, the balcony, or the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen… she was always focusing her talents within that space. I hear footsteps pitter patter along the flooring in quick succession, giggles escape her gaping smile just before our eyes meet, just before we reunite with her leaping embrace.

The silence battles back, a chill ripples over my being as my shoulders instinctively shudder. Escaping the torrid desert heat could make the coast feel a bit chilly but this seems hostile. Countering my retreat and holding a breath I place my first footstep forward. The flooring moans beneath the gradual pressure, it’s louder than it should be, almost accosting. I scan the barren walls, free from varied portraits of friends, pets, family, my Jessica. None of the furniture, none of the sparse decor is ours, or rather mine. Internal narration returns, rubbing my nose in the obvious lack of a warm homecoming. I shake my head as to snap free from the melancholic atmosphere and silence rebounds, evicting my thoughts. The war wages between the two forces, neither of which bear my support. I walk with care along the flooring, tightly gripping my backpack strap like a child clutching a stuffed animal. I inspect the remainder of the apartment finding it to be as expected but somehow not… there’s an unfamiliar stillness, an almost rude idleness. It feels fake, like a staged home lacking any charm or ambient spirit. The silence thickens until a wave of emotion washes over me like a frigid tide swallowing a jagged shore. The loneliness is palpable… how I haven’t missed this hollowed feeling during its lengthy absence. This is just the beginning, I know this all too well and I must escape. I must evade the brewing storm. Should I flee this place, go back to the desert? I look to the door but know from experience no reality will keep me safe. Sleep, the only escape.

I wake, silence has won the war against thought, replacing my shadow and extending beyond me like a haunted forest evading my escape. I find that the mind is only muted under two circumstances; when immersed within deep, mindful meditation… fully drawing awareness into the present moment or when abysmal suffering conquers all the senses, drowning thoughts in opaque waters of despair. I’m broken. It’s as if my spirit were mauled by some unseen force and ejected from my being. I brood for two straight days, feeling like a hollowed out pumpkin with deep anguish carved across its face. I miss her, long for her physical presence in this moment more than I recall doing so in quite some time. But why, I just can’t make sense of why now? Coming off this profoundly transcendent experience I would have assumed just the opposite; joy, gratitude, or at least peace. But no, only pain. It resurges and I find the return rather strange, like encountering an old friend on the street. The chance engagement makes you appreciate the relationship’s completion but the familiarity is oddly comforting. As if on cue thought emerges victoriously riding in on the coattails of my old friend.

Memories overtake my attentions like a rogue wave and wham… I’m swirling under the forceful current of misery unable to draw breath. The pain rips open old scars, flooding my mind with the darkest of memories. Times I’d wake from a nightmare only to realize my true reality without her was profoundly worse than the frightful dream. For at least in the dream we were still together, filled with hope and filled with faith as we battled back death’s advance. Craving the cruel clutches of a nightmare over reality will eternally menace my heart… or will it? Another memory emerges, a better one. Strolling down a beach somewhere, basked in sunlight I recall coming to a place of understanding from the surrealism of my existence. So why now do I find myself in this horrible place after so much time liberated from grief’s piercing clutch? The darkest hour is just before the dawn… and I sense a sliver of illumination slicing through the cracks of my self imprisonment.

I meditate on this experience, all of it… reflecting on all of the variables as to widen those radiant cracks and free myself from this insufferable confinement. One insight after the next floods my mind, each unlocking a securely fastened shackle. Every other meditator I spoke with on the eleventh day had someone to return home to. A parent to ask numerous questions, a sibling to tease, a child hugging their legs, a girlfriend to call, a fiancée to embrace, a pet to wrestle, even a weird roommate peeking out from his darkened room. A wife to love… their beloved to share this profound experience with time and time again. Subconsciously I was building desire for my own Beloved to welcome me home, expecting it even. The cold silence which squeezed my being with vice-like strength was the antithesis of that which I had relished in over the last ten days. Even the car ride home was saturated with three overjoyed friends sharing and reliving one metaphysical experience after the next. Like the warmth of a sunburn, my car’s interior glowed with the aftermath of our collected energy. And when I opened my apartment door only to be greeted with the cold realization that my desires and expectations were mere delusions… it instantaneously crushed me into nothingness. It wasn’t my home boycotting my return by emitting an ominous temperament. It was me. I stalked from room to room painting the walls with negative energy as I searched for additional evidence to deny my desire, boastfully proving my suffering to no one but myself. And as I stood in the center of the living room it was devoid of any life whatsoever… because I was empty. The illumination is building now, nearly overtaking my being. Grief never fully withdraws it merely hibernates until stirred by desire’s slightest nudge. And this was one very large nudge.

Reflection leads to analysis, which leads to understanding, which leads to modification, which eventually leads to growth… to evolution. Momentary enlightenment. I have felt this liberation upon my flesh before. I expand. My heart palpitates like silver, sunbathed bedsheets billowing in a summer’s breeze. Realization flushes out the pain like spring rains washing away tainted snow. It was merely my own desire clouding in over my reality like volcanic ash blanketing the landscape and blocking out the sun’s nurturing radiance. I did this to myself but through this unforeseen and subconscious misstep, I have ultimately benefited. I have learned about myself and grown unimaginably throughout this entire experience. My spirit recovers, rejuvenated and empowered. I feel an added density to my presence from the weight of my newly discovered understanding. My footprints seem to sink deeper into the sandy, isolated beach as I stroll along basking in the peaceful embrace of thoughtless silence… her footprints beside my own before eternal surf unites the two and whisks them away.