Fear No Rain

I have been meaning to take another stab at retreat. I had the flu on my birthday, so my trip to the art/yoga studio at Herrbrook was a different experience than the one I envisioned. So I booked another stay. I brought my computer along. I was open to inspiration but my list of possibilities included: work on my novel, journal, write some letters, perhaps do some impromptu art, walk the labyrinth, plan my upcoming workshop, read Moosewood cookbooks, read a magazine, do some sun salutations, drink herbal tea. The day started off with sprinkles, but that didn't even come into my consciousness. I like the rain, and it pushes me to the interior world that was my destination anyway. So, armed with a cup of coffee, an oatmeal cookie, leftover potato leek soup, my computer, journal, and stacks of books, I entered the cottage. There was a chill, so I turned on the space heater. Took off my crocs and put on some snugly slipper socks. Lit a candle. Arranged myself under a blanket on a wicker rocker with a great view of the rainy garden intending to spend my first 30 minutes in journal mode.

This cottage is loaded with art supplies and books, but the one thing that was prominently displayed was a book entitled Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland. I know the owner of Herrbrook has peered at my blog, but did she peer into my soul? Who knows who put the book right near my candle, but I picked it up and read over 60 pages sitting in that chair. I also journaled 21 pages--enough that my hand couldn't hold a pen to sign my kids' permission slips later that evening. It was as if the book was written for me for this particular time and place. I went to a deep place. Some of it I absorbed immediately. Some I must sort through. I borrowed the book and will continue doing a chapter a day until I finish. And hopefully, I can reveal some of what I learned in these musings.

There was a mid-day break in the clouds, and I used the time to walk barefoot through the wet grass 11-circuit labyrinth on the property. I gained even more insight from this exercise. Waiting for me in the center of the labyrinth was a cat. I am not a cat person, but this cat seemed to know I needed a guide through the process. In the goddess tradition, Bast is an Egyptian cat goddess of play. Maybe that is more symbolism than is necessary here, but I did feel a kinship with this animal. It started to rain in sprinkles, but though I entered the labyrinth walking with my hands dug deep into my pockets, my arms loosened on the way out. I noticed that they were outstretched to feel and accept the rain. It was a reaction that was intuitive. I didn't think about the fact that I was doing it until I was almost done walking.

A little wet, I returned to the comfort of the studio. Sipped my soup. Ascended into the yoga loft where I could simultaneously read, journal, and hear the rain hitting the roof. This blog entry is about the physicality of the day. I will get into the insights later. But I slept well last night. That always a testament to a day well spent.

Old Year

After a somewhat hectic Christmas, I have to admit that the the celebrations leading to the New Year really surprised me with their flow and enjoyment. Friday night we had an impromptu enchilada party with our neighbors. It was casual which meant there was no pressure. The next night, Saturday, Mark and I met friends at a new brew pub in Lancaster. I am not usually into the whole bar scene. I'd much rather have close friends over to share a meal and a bottle--or so--of wine. But we had a wonderful time going out with friends from Michigan (In-laws of in-laws--which means our association is totally voluntary and falls under the dominion of friendship.) We were celebrating our friend's engagement. Bring on the sunglasses. She had serious bling.

After a night of socializing, I went the other direction and went to church and then to visit a friend who lives in a farmhouse that is situated in the middle of a spiritual retreat center: complete with labyrinth and art gallery. Jodi and I are new friends, but we found our commonalities to be startling and a little euphoric. How great is it to look over someone's bookshelf and recognize all of your own books? Those books you don't own, you want to borrow. I left with an armful. I was particularly enamored with the the on-site art/yoga studio that was carved out of an old chicken coup. I may rent the space as a birthday present to myself.
Speaking of birthdays--Jodi took a look at my astrological chart. According to her short analysis, I am a great spiritual teacher (the words Dalai Lama were uttered) with a stubborn streak and strong appetite for pleasures of the flesh. HMMMM? She didn't mention my sense of humor! Anybody with that combination of traits would have to have a sense of humor.

Back at home, my brother and his wife showed up. We had a dinner of Pittsburgh steak salads in Jasmine's Lounge. Have I ever mentioned that we name the rooms of our house as if they are restaurants? That's a blog for another date, but Jasmine's (named after a beloved pet) is the bar in our family room. We dim the lights and play jazz music.

Maybe it sounds like New Year's Eve would pale in comparison to our social schedule leading up to the event. We were low-key. Mark had to work on New Year's Eve. We met friends to see the movie I am Legend. While we were watching Legend (a compromise film to accommodate all four tastes in film), I realized it was the first theater movie in 2007 that I hadn't attended with my kids. I wasn't feeling any pain. A big screen and my Netflix, and I am good to go. After the movie, we had dinner out. I was home and in bed before 11 PM, but some midnight fireworks woke us from our sleep and we were able to utter sleepy grunts of New Year sentiment.