I woke up at 6:30, got up, and went to the bathroom, and went back to bed. The silence was restful.
When I read The Seven Story Mountain in high school, I thought I would love to live in a silent community. In my twenties, while in graduate school in Wisconsin, I read about an opera singer that had a throat problem and had to give up all speech and singing for a year to heal. She retired to a small cottage in the county and only had contact with her mailman every day. I thought, “Ah!” Those who know me must think, “She’s kidding.”
In my studies of Buddhism, I learned some people spend their lives living in caves meditating. I had a positive reaction to that too. What can I tell you? I am full of surprises.
In my late forties, I found a Buddhist meditation retreat that involved 10 days of silence. I grabbed it. Mike freaked out. He thought it might be a cult, and I would never come back. It’s nothing of the sort. There is no effort made to convince you to spend your life living in the retreat center, giving up your regular life, or even contributing large sums of money. In a concession to his fears, I made a 3-day retreat, which they no longer offer. I made arrangements to make the more extended retreat as soon as I got back. Mike was assured that I was safe and would return home. We were good.
A woman I knew from school commented upon hearing that I was going away for a silent retreat, “No way! You won’t make it.” I said, “Just watch me. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a teenager.” Go figure. How can someone who talks as much as I do crave silence as much as I do? There was another woman at the 3-day retreat who spoke as much as I did. She didn’t make it. Hidden depths? Whatever it is, I often have had people not see me clearly. I have no idea why.
This morning, I lay in bed, thinking about how I feel more and more reclusive. I should take advantage of this enforced retreat from the world, embrace this silence, listen to the radio less, meditate more, and write only when I want to. I find I have less to say. I’m writing more about daily activities, cleaning, gardening, grooming Elsa, walking, etc., and less about thoughts and feelings. I have no idea what this means.
I have always been afraid of this aspect of myself. Even now, I fear that I will become a total recluse and want no one around. Where has all my curiosity about others gone, my fascination with the human condition? Where has my interest in seeing the world in new ways? I have decided to follow this to its logical end and see what is at the bottom of this.
I must say as I resolved to make this change as I lay in bed this morning, a feeling of total relaxation and peace surged through me. Now, that’s a good sign.
I wrote to my niece Shivani yesterday. I have been meaning to call her but haven’t been able to get over the speedbump of my resignation to retreat. She wrote she had the same experience. She is alone with her three-year-old son. Their situation is a good one. She is a great mom, and he is a great kid. She writes they are getting to know each other better. I’m thinking what a profound impression this time is going to make on that child. She’s not a jealous mother who wants her children to see her as their only resource for safety and comfort. This time together can only be good.
I thought I was walking faster today, but the circuit still took me an hour. However, my step was more spritely. I’m getting more stretch in the left inner thigh muscles and more relaxation in the left outer thigh muscles. It will be interesting when I get back to Bikram and work with the great PT, Katie, to see what the differences in my body are.
After feeding Elsa, I packed up the razor Judy lent me, a book she had lent me and $12.50 I owed her, put them in a Safeway brown bag, and walked up to her house. Paulette came out to greet me. Unfortunately, so did the dogs. They made a racket and probably woke up Judy and Howard, who were still sleeping.
On the way back home, I passed Ronen, who runs the farm next door. I commented on a patch by the fence awash in haole koas. These are invasive weed trees. I was told they were planted as possible food for some animal. I think the story is the animals didn’t eat them, and they proved to be unstoppable in their growth. They are also almost impossible to kill. You have to pull them out by the root, and still, Good luck. These trees will take over all of Hawaii, given half a chance.
I jokingly made some comment to Ronen about having planted them. Every growing thing in his yard is eatable. Much to my surprise, he told me they were. He says you can eat the young shoots. People in Africa consider this a staple. Okay. If that’s the case, we here in Hawaii are set if a problem with food delivery sets in.
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MUSINGS:
There’s a lot of talk about loneliness right now because of our isolation due to the pandemic. It talks about the importance of intimate relationships in our lives and loose relationships. I think we all know what intimate relationships are. They have to do with people we feel close to, people we think of when we want to share the good and bad moments of our lives, and people we can call 24/7 if there is a need.
The last item can be part of loose relationships too. I live in a neighborhood where I know most of the people on my street. I know that if I’m in need and have none of my usual support around, I can call on half a dozen others and expect them to help me.
In fact, I had the opposite experience. I had a few pleasant conversations with a woman on my walks. We exchanged telephone numbers. Out of nowhere, she called me and asked me to sit with her while her husband was out. She was just recovering from a stroke and didn’t want to be alone. All the friends they had called were not immediately available. I dropped everything and went. Did I find it somewhat peculiar? Yes. But I also know that many people on the street would do the same for me.
These are all loose connections: people who only have brief conversations with in-passing, people I run into regularly on my walk, people I see at mass every week, people I see at the yoga studio, and people who work at the stores I frequent regularly. Sometimes those conversations are only the scripted hello/how are you ones. And there’s the music of those little ritual exchanges; those are foundation stones.
They say those who do well with loose relationships are physically the healthiest. In that case, I have reason to anticipate living forever. I’m an ace at loose relationships. I’m also pretty good at the intimate ones. It was the ones that fell between those two that I had difficulty with. I’m doing quite a bit better with those now too, but I have a way to go before I can say I’m actually good at it.
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