Fall is touching the Valley. Since I got home from retreat (I’ll write about that soon), I’ve been writing and revising, a lot, to prepare two short collections of writing to submit for a chance at publication.
Along with all that writing, I had to go to work at the book co-op, catch up on an editing job, catch up on marketing matters, attend a couple meetings to plan for some events I’m involved with, and take care of my home and my own body (that part fell by the wayside a bit).
I was staying up late and trying to wake up early so I could get the writing done, make it to work on time, and fit in morning yoga and walks. My body’s persistent need for sleep won out, though, and I did not get in as much yoga or walking as I planned.
This is one of the challenges of retreats, for me, and I’m sure for many others. While my retreat in Utah with Yoga of Kindness was my first guided retreat (aside from what I did as part of my yoga teacher training), I’ve taken myself on solo retreats before. I find some quiet place surrounded by trees and with limited WiFi access and I write, read, and hike. I do yoga and meditate. I cook simple meals for myself. I move slowly.
I think, “I need to keep doing this when I get home.”
And then I get home and life slams into me. I have to make choices about the activities I’ll do every day, because now I have a work week to deal with. Now I have laundry. Now I have meetings. Now I have to travel to get to the places in the trees, instead of simply stepping outside my door. I didn’t miss television or the internet. I didn’t miss having cell-phone service. I didn’t miss the loneliness of my daily life.
Moving more slowly, beginning my day with meditation or mantra, doing yoga twice a day, having fresh-cooked meals for every meal, learning with others in community, having plenty of time to reflect, to rest, to sit on a bridge over running water and write or simply close my eyes and exist… there’s a lot of privilege in a life like that, though it really is the life many of us need.
There are so many choices to make, in terms of how I use my time. I have to lose sleep in order to finish writing projects, or get up early enough for asana or a walk. I have to turn down social events in order to work. I have to be unavailable to friends and loved ones in order to take care of myself. I have to cut back my travel and other expenses in order to afford leaving my job at the college. I have to accept my loneliness until someone who doesn’t leave me feeling more lonely somehow finds their way into my life and possibly into my bed.
On retreat, it was a break from making decisions, because our days were set out for us. It’s a good break from decision fatigue, it’s refreshing. But it’s also difficult to come back from that and be thrown back into “normal” life.
Last week, I asked my students in my yoga class to think about how we can capture moments of retreat in our day-to-day lives. How can we slow down a little bit? How can we create moments of quiet, calm, and reflection, in a world that wants us to move quickly, to react immediately?
I’m not sure I have an answer on that, beyond resisting my habit of answering immediately, of springing into action the second someone asks.
Listening, without feeling the need to respond.
Ink and Vein 