“Whether we understand it or not,
Sometimes we know that Someone is moving us.
To know this is to be known.”
From: Coming Home to Myself: by Marion Woodman and Jill Mellick
I’m three weeks into my “retreat” at Stone Barn Inn at Floyd, Virginia. Few distractions – no television or phone – no dates on the calendar – little human connection. In my need to fill the long daylight hours (5am to almost 10pm) I created my own distractions – internet, skype, kindle books, trips to town for supplies.
FILLING THE DAY
There are many things I could do. It was a perfect opportunity to get into an exercise routine. There are clothes to alter, art supplies to explore, writing to do. Instead I have done lots of reading, a little walking up the hill. Sometimes the big event for the day was simply doing laundry. I am happy to report that I have gotten into a routine of preparing three real meals a day for myself, taking advantage of the wonderful local produce.
I’m grateful for any human contact. My young neighbor, Grace, invited me for a morning walk. It happened to be my birthday, so it was a special treat to have something to do that day. A week later, it was a pleasure to have my sister, Shelley, and her husband, Paul, come for a Saturday of playing tourist in Floyd and then coming back to visit my “barn.” When they headed home, it was up to me to fill the days again.
This retreat seems to be about getting acquainted with myself – hearing the less than complementary voices in my head – acknowledging fears, worries, questions. Why am I here? Where am I going next? I seem to be feeling some guilt because I am not making a contribution.
Then the internet went out – a big space of time to fill. So I explored the local book store where Ginny Brock’s By Morning Light “jumped off the shelf.” It is the story of her communication with her son after his death. I cried all day – for her, for me, for life – perhaps old grief rising to being released.
Ginny often asked her son for a sign he was near – a dove, a zebra, a pirate. They always appeared – usually in threes. So I asked my husband, JC, for a sign from the “other side.”
Could you send a bird to land on “that spot” on the porch rail?
The next morning as I was writing, a little wren landed on the porch rail directly across from me. He hopped and sang until he was sure he had my attention and then bounced over to “that spot” on the side rail. H e visited a bit and then flew away. He has not been back.
Wrens were a regular part of our Texas life, and after JC died I sometimes would glance up to see one looking at me through the back door. I wondered then if he was paying a visit. This is the only wren I have seen at the Stone Barn.
Melissa Menard from the Blue Ridge Center for Chinese Medicine, came to make an acupuncture house call – our second appointment. While I “cooked”, she did gentle cranial sacral healing. It was a Holy experience. I am changed.
I am more and more content just to be. My mind is quieter. I’m breathing more deeply. I’m kinder to myself. I seem to be learning to surrender to the moment- especially enjoying the beautiful nature all around. I ‘m not so anxious today to have to know what will happen tomorrow.
I only know that Someone is moving me and that is quite enough for now.