Spirit Rock
Three weeks ago today, I arrived at Spirit Rock Mediation Center on a foggy afternoon. A Lyft had transported me from a quick lunch in San Francisco to bucolic West Marin, an hour from the City. As five days of silence awaited me, I questioned my decision to begin 2022 on retreat.
Spirit Rock is gorgeous. It’s a spiritual garden. Statues, prayer wheels and small temples are scattered over 400 acres. The center was built in 1985 by the generosity of members of its community. Hundreds of people donated time, money and resources to build this sacred center. The buildings have tall ceilings and large windows. The beautiful lush green landscape is visible from everywhere. The surrounding hills, forest, and creek add to the peaceful ambiance. It’s a true refuge away from everyday life and a perfect place to quiet the mind.
When I arrived, my mind was far from quiet. Nerves and anxiety pumped through my body. First things first: a COVID test. Even without any symptoms, I still worried about a positive test result. In the great hall foyer was a huge Golden Buddha mural. My yoga teacher and friend Amanda Giacomini’s project is to paint 10,000 Buddhas and this was her piece. Amanda and her husband MC Yogi live nearby in Stinson Beach. A smaller version of the painting hangs in my studio. Imagining Amanda being in that place and painting the familiar icons on that wall calmed my nerves.
Within in an hour, I had a negative COVID test and an assignment to a both a “yogi job” and a dorm room. Everyone had a single room due to COVID. I chose vacuuming the residence halls as my job passing on the opportunity to clean toilets. I wondered if being OK with cleaning bathrooms and sharing a room made me a “better” person? I noticed my ever-present compulsion to compare and judge.
We had a rigid daily schedule. Meditations began at 6:15 am and wrapped up at 9:30 pm. We sat and meditated eight times a day. Each sit was either 30 or 45 minutes. Some were guided and some were silent. In between meditations, we walked or ate. Walking meditation is different from hiking. There’s nowhere to go. The practice is to walk 15-20 steps and turn around walking slow and feeling each step. As we spread out around the meditation hall, the retreat participants looked like a bunch of monks walking back and forth. There is also a Walking Hall upstairs inside the center, but I welcomed the fresh air and break from my mask.
In addition to the meditations, the work jobs and an hour of movement (Qi Gong), we ate three delicious meals each day. I ate my meals outside by the creek and enjoyed the sounds of moving water. The food was scrumptious. I paid attention to texture and flavor of each bite. I sprinkled my oatmeal with nuts, seeds, fruit and agave and ate like at sloth speed. I chewed, swollen and paused. Several times during a meal, I’d place my utensil down and hold my tea or coffee cup. I’d feel the heat of the mug: I’d smell the beverage and then taste it. I noticed the the cool outdoor temperature on my cheek. I watched the mist cover the hillside. I watched my thoughts wander and then invited them back.
Before I left, my thirteen-year-old daughter asked me, “Mom, what do you DO on retreat?” I told her that I watched my thoughts. And then I realized at some point in this five-day retreat, that the practice is not to watch my thoughts. It’s not to think! Of course, that is impossible, so then the practice is to bringing thoughts back to the “here and now”.
A retreat center provides a container so practitioners don’t have to think. With the goal of increasing capacity to stay in the present moment we don’t chose what to do next (there is a schedule) or what to eat (everything is provided). They remove the “doing” and focus on the being.
It’s pretty awesome. I realized quickly that even though we were not talking, I didn’t experience silence. My mind is very chatty. What I did experience was a deep relaxing. A deep connection although I left without know a name of another. I felt a spirit of kindness and sincerity in the group. Fifty or more people living full lives carved out time to sit together and go inward. I felt a politeness and basic goodness of everyone around me at all times. It was a nice break from the harsher divided world that I feel when reading the news these days.
And the teachers. Oh, I loved all four of them. They were wise, funny and clear. I wanted to write down every word they said, I quickly realized that no one was taking notes. I knew from my 2020 silent retreat that reading and journaling was discouraged but I thought taking notes was acceptable. Since it wasn’t, I surrendered to listen and not write. I experienced the teachings in a more embodied way. I noticed a freedom in not writing. I felt like I was more attentive and ultimately, I was not striving to capture every concept and word. I often listened with my eyes closed.
I left the retreat filled with peace and appreciation for Dharma. I love the practice of non-harming. I love the truth that the present moment is all we have. It’s not a pass through. When I focus on what happened in the past or plan for what is next, I risk missing the moment.
The teachings are more of a philosophy than religion. The first night, my teacher said that the Dharma is not Scripture. We don’t have to believe what my teacher says. The invitation is to experience this practice and notice how it works for us. How do we feel with more space? With more clarity? Do we make different choices?
In a Q&A someone asked, “How do I know if I’m doing this right? If it’s working?”. My teacher laughed and referred to the Dalai Lama’s answer to this common question “Keeping doing this for 10-20 years and see.”
This is not a quick fix. It’s a practice. There’s a simplicity which boils down to two words: “let go.” The invitation is to let go: of story, thinking, striving planning, judging mind. Life is so often not what we thought was going to be, and that’s the fun. Being curious and noticing as things unfold is something that I am committed to. I invite you to try as well!