A few miles from the Maenllwyd I telephone home. I squirm like a little girl as I sign off with my partner who reassures me that I'll be OK. Going up the track I pass a departing taxi driver who clearly feels a kindly amusement at my foolishness. I pull into the yard and draw up my handbrake as I look at the seated men in my rear view mirror promising myself that I am not going to get out. With my best sociable face on I drag myself into public view and across the yard greeting them all uncomfortably.
Circulating the group. Hearing who, where, when and how. Feeling reassured by the people, and anxious about the glimpses of what's in store. Perhaps I should have trained up? Remembering, with faith, the encouragement of my trusted supervisor who suggested that I come.
Around the fire, feeling the first warmth and security of John's presence. Knowing things will be safe. Why have I come? How can I be honest and not hide behind some distant academic interest, yet not seem bizarre? Feeling stupid. Giving the wrong impression. Silly girl.
I accept the outlined plan of the retreat, and have a desire to learn, to wait and see. Some trepidation that we may have to sit forever, and that I would dissolve. Yet there is faith that being part of a long and grand tradition this has been done so many times before. I find it's surprisingly easy to calm the mind somewhat; surprisingly good to sit still. Relief from the pressure to talk and adjust myself in the face of others' needs. No tension. Permission to be free.
That night, so tired and in pain that I'm sure I'm being tortured. So angry at seeming to be made to sit again. So annoyed that two people bowed out of the retreat at the final hour. How dare they - when I'm such a good girl?
Put your question under your pillow! NO!! Only four days to go. Dig in. A test of survival. Next morning, shake off anger and emerge early regaining a sense of calm. Sit again until invited to talk in an interview. Can only report how my ego has been calm, bruised, calm again. Don't know who I am. Want to go back and try some more.
Sitting, challenging my mind to respond to "Who am I?" That is; "WHO am I?" Ah yes, the WHO done it! There is no WHO. The WHO is my evaluator. Is it Him? Her? Mum? Dad? No, I am I. That's all. I am I. I just am. That's all. Ahh, there it is; my response. The internal monitor, the evaluator, they just fall away. No longer relevant. No Eureka! No fireworks! Just quiet realisation. Feel like a vessel through which Sensation simply flows. Later, a walk up the hill. The warmth of the sun. The beautiful view. Suddenly, distracted by three birds above. Totally absorbed. Hear the beating of their wings through the air as though my ears are theirs. I'm not flying, but I'm experiencing their flying. It lasts ten seconds or so, and then I'm excited. What was that? I feel such immense happiness. Such bliss. I've never felt this feeling before. I literally beam. I'm alight. I grin. I am warmth and sun and happiness. I want to ask, have the others heard? If they did - wasn't it amazing? If they didn't - was it magic? Irrelevant. I heard it. I experienced it. I feel happy. No matter about others.
Keep asking "Who am I?" and discover that I can feel so deeply. Can be with my every rising sensation. Can hear others and share 'our' feeling rather than the transference of their emotion. This is not projection onto my cold, blank self but a sharing between us of a feeling that originates with them. Like droplets of water colliding and becoming one. A prickly feeling passes over me as their painful feelings emerge, and tears come to my eyes.
At first, I feel that the newfound feeling is separate from my old persona. Then they integrate. Feel kind of fond of my persona. Feel that my persona is changed by the realisation of "I". Redraw the map. Terrain feels different. Want to sit. Want just to be. Next day, go and talk to John and Jake. See that Johns nods; he understands my experience. He knows that I know. I'm sure too. Reassured that I don't feel that I'm clever or a good girl for doing so well, and answering my question, and having marvellous experiences. Just enjoyed them. Just enjoy this knowing. Just feel happy with it. Not for anyone else. Just like it.
Decide to ask "How is life fulfilled?" This fits, because through asking "Who am I?" I start to wonder "What now?" - for others and for the world. Unlike before, I don't NEED to answer the question. Not persecuted by it, just intrigued. Soon realise that the warmth that I feel within myself can just be turned outwards to shine on other people and things. A free gift. Sit with my first cup of tea in the day, and realise that I love my tea! My tea! Realise that I love the windowpanes that I clean each day. Want to stroke them and give them love. Realise that I'm completely loved-up for all. Can feel warmth towards every other person. Can wait patiently for them to be whoever they are.
I look at the moon. Someone mentioned that he sees the man in the moon. I see the man in moon. Never seen this before. He has two or three faces, which swap and change; but all friendly and chubby. Could look forever at the faces switching before my eyes. Feel smiley back at him. Look at the stars. They seem to reflect the moonshine. Now see them all connected reflecting the energies of one-another.
I begin to feel an immense loss. I know that in the here and now there is no real loss, but I feel so powerfully connected with the loss of my Dad. The loss of the idea of having a Dad. The grief of being rejected, neglected, and trodden on. Can't stand, can't eat, can't breathe. Have no self, no balance, just enormous aching loss. Totally consumed. Aware of the concern of others, but can't switch off. Nothing will do except one hug. One hug and it all passes away. Did I cut the monster loose or reach out for comfort? Believe that it wasn't avoidance, but some small resolution, or control, or passing. Didn't go up in smoke. Didn't dissolve. Felt it, lived with it, had enough, sought help, felt comfort, returned back to sense of balance.
I realise so many things that I have been told about in the process of professional training and development. I understand what my supervisor has been saying for so long. Always was in awe of his ability to feel, experience the moment, stop the chatter, survive immense pain. Didn't believe him when he said that he jumps off the cliff, risking drowning and being truly frightened every time, but also knowing that he will float. Now I realise that it carries on being painful. This experience isn't a cushion to protect myself from pain, but a greater confidence that I will survive it. In fact, a knowledge that I will be no longer haunted. A respect for pain, but not a terror of it.
A talk about attention, intention and ethics. Realise the huge importance of intention, now that I have attention. Ask "What do I stand for?" Realise that as a citizen of the world I have a lot to address here, personally, professionally, as a carer for vulnerable people. Realise later the importance of the retreat rules. Intention is about developing ethics internally, but the rules are there to hold us if our internal worlds are shaken. I now have enormous respect for the rules.
Experience a continuity of internal-external. Feel that the hall continues into my mouth, down my throat, and into my chest. Later, when facing a separation, I feel incredibly sick. Again, the feeling hurts but passes, replaced by compassion and hope for good things and happiness for others and those they love back at home.
Realise something about humanistic psychotherapy. I always believed that people are fundamentally resourceful and good. I now feel more of an understanding about intimacy being beyond the satisfaction of dangerous drives and being about love. Feel even more trusting and confident in people.
Time to leave. Feel so indebted and respectful. Feel choked. Want to stay forever. Want to return immediately. So touched by the warmth of others. "You're a lovely person! Don't forget that." "You're good at being a fairy." "I'll remember your ravens' wings." I know that we feel love for one another, and feel really humble and blessed. Last embraces - could continue forever. Again haul myself across the yard and into my car.
Back at home, got nothing to say. Aware that I'm freaking my partner out. He says that my voice has changed and my facial expressions too. He doesn't recognise me. Feel like an alien. Go to Tesco's and feel bombarded by sell, sell, sell. Feel that I can see people's auras. Feel scared at the realisation that my mind is so altered, so distant from everyone else's way of being. Want to cry. Want my partner to look after me, but feel so distant from him. Want to flee back to the retreat. Want to feel safe and share the vibes. Feel very alone and stranded, but I know that my partner will wait for me, and will stay by me, keeping me safe until later.
Next day, I feel balanced again. Can feel myself 'landing' a little more, but still little to say. Desperate to see my supervisor and share my feelings with him. For so long, I've used him as a transference figure to meet the greedy demands of my ego. Feel sad that I've never been me, and never let him be him. Want to tell him this. Want to talk to someone who knows.
Later on, see newspaper stories about war on Iraq. Feel frightened for the world. People are going to die. Horrible things are happening. Feel paranoid. See a man down a dark alley and know that I'm imagining that he's got demon-like eyes, but still feel a bit freaked by it. Can tell my partner. I know he believes me. I know he's there. What if he wasn't? How far away am I from totally flipping? See our friends and feel safe again. Coming down all the time. Feel sad that the pure way of being is gone. I know now about letting go of the old moments, and feeling the present, but enjoying memories.
At work, I feel a new awareness in my meetings with families. Feel so much more able to empathise and connect on a new level. Feel that I can sometimes be really therapeutic. Feel big enough or confident enough to contain whatever comes. Believe that others can feel it too, and that they trust me enough to be themselves.
I feel so privileged to have had this retreat experience. Feel fundamentally changed. Want to learn more, to expand and grow. Want to read, to listen, to practice, to be.
