In my sophomore year of college, I attended a week-long silent retreat. A group of fellow students and I came back from holiday break a week early and piled into an old dormitory on the grounds of what had once been Villa Maria College in Erie, PA.
The retreat consisted of sessions in the morning, afternoon and evening, teaching us about self-reflection and prayer. In between those sessions we had time to digest the content, as we walked about the grounds in silence. We could go for walks, nap or meet with our spiritual directors.
I’ve read before that silence leads to reflection, that reflection leads to appreciation, and that appreciation looks about for someone to thank.
While I believe this notion to be true, my first experience with extended silence felt like someone knocked over a fire hydrant in my brain because I suddenly had ALL OF THE THOUGHTS.
ALL OF THEM.
Which is, I suppose, why the retreat was guided, and why we each had a spiritual director because SO MANY THOUGHTS.
Sr. Mary was my spiritual director and she helped me manage the time in my head as best as she could, but ultimately, it was a quiet moment with a 1970’s clock radio that gave me some relief.
During one of the breaks, I put on the radio and the Beatles song Let it Be came on. For whatever reason, it was that song, that mantra that helped me settle into the silence. Ultimately, that silent retreat was one of the most impactful experiences in my life up to that point.
But the practice of letting things be is just that - practice - and something that I have let get away from me more and more over the years.
I’m not sure there is anything much harder in this life than just letting something be, and I was knee-deep in that learning lesson.
I was reminded of both the retreat and the mantra/song last Saturday when I tried to follow some advice from my therapist.
Shut off all of your screens, she said. From 12-8.
I asked what I was supposed to do with those 8 hours and, predictably, she said nothing.
“Just be.”
My hobbies these days include doing work, because I love my work. Writing, taking classes for personal development, making ridiculous videos that sometimes are about fitness - I enjoy these things. But they also drain me.
My original plan was to go for a hike, but it snowed, because spring in Maine. So I didn’t shut down for eight hours, but I unplugged for a few hours.
I rearranged my office, hung up a few pictures, but it wasn’t very long before I found myself sitting in front of the blank screens on my desk, almost rocking back and forth, figuring how to just be in the moment. I looked over at my book shelf, trying to decide on something to help distract me and I happened to pull out one of my favorite, yet forgotten books.
“Wherever You Go, There You Are” by Jon Kabat-Zinn. I flipped through the book and landed on a sentence that I’d underlined several years ago when I first read the book:
“Meditation is the only intentional, systematic human activity which at bottom is about not trying to improve yourself or get anywhere else, but simply to realize where you already are.”
It is so hard to just let it be - whatever your “it” might be. Because there’s such a compelling need for all of us to make something more. It’s hard to just be in a moment, especially right now when so many moments feel heavy and suffocating.
Meditating and prayer is something that I’ve gotten away from in recent months, but something that has often helped me fill my tank.
I looked up from the book and at the framed Beatles’ album on my wall. And for just a few minutes, I just let everything be.