While I was on Galiano Island during our 3-month meditation retreat, we were given instructions to avoid speaking, which included not doing any writing. Apparently, the same mental energy is activated by putting words onto paper as speaking aloud. Here are my reflections after 100 days of solitude and silence.
Where I did use my voice was when I was exploring nearby forest trails, thanking the mosses, mushrooms, birds and various other beings. Speaking aloud in that way brought me closer to appreciating the fullness of the Galiano ecosystems and all their magnificence. Slow walking allowed me to observe minute details and patterns, and many of my photos are about quality of light. Will I be able to write about my experiences? I’m not sure yet; after two weeks at home, I have not put pen to paper (usually part of my morning practice).
I’m not worried, and I’m not pushing for anything to happen. All in good time.
This feels like a time for consolidation, since my time away allowed me to consider a bigger picture view of what I want to offer within my business, and how I want to deliver my services going forward. One thing is certain – I love hosting writing circles and supporting emerging writing projects. Some of the work I do is in groups, and I offer 1-1 support. The variety keeps me engaged and determined to keep developing my own craft.
For those who are interested, here is a high-level summary of what I experienced during the retreat:
Challenges
Managing my cell phone use, even when we had been charged with avoiding digital devices (we still needed them for communicating across the island). I decided to continue this practice back home, restricting my phone access and bringing more discipline to my devices. So far, this strategy has been working. Small changes can make a big difference, like not carrying my phone with me around the house and leaving it in a separate room from where I am, whether it’s in my office, in the living room while reading, or in the kitchen.
Emotional challenges gave me plenty of opportunities to dive deep into healing practices – not pushing away the pain, not distracting myself from it, but rather, staying present to the difficulties. A sense of opening and great possibility appeared on the other side.
Celebrations
Having several weeks of uninterrupted, unscheduled time to devote entirely to meditative practices was such a great gift. I learned to construct a daily routine according to my body rhythms and sleep cycles, something that is challenging in the world I’ve returned to. I have kept a daily morning practice, and the discipline I developed during retreat is continuing to serve me well. I am choosing silence over sound at home: no radio, no podcasts, no music playing in the background. I’m also limiting my time on social media and news sources, since my nervous system is extra-sensitive these days, and I’m choosing to titrate information about the chaos of the world “out there”.
How Do These Shifts Impact My Writing & My Life?
I’ve been searching for a writing program or mentor that will support the growth of my craft. Surprisingly, I have decided to invest in a program that will increase my capacity to be of service in the world – Death Doula training – a 9-week online program that involves self-reflection and writing, as well as group training and 1-1 pairing for accountability. Signing up for this program felt like a large intuitive YES – a great next step – building from meditation retreat content. Another way of offering service in the world, and using many of the skills I’ve developed over the years. Chances are I will report on my insights and my curiosities here in this newsletter. Stay tuned!
2 thoughts on “Reflections After 100 Days of Silence and Solitude”
Thanks Marie for your high level reflections…
Love the … all in good time…
Thanks for your reflections, Marie. Yours seems a voice from a deep experience that you can now share with others, in your own time. I find your Death Doula course decision interesting. Marlene’s sister Terri of Parksville recently completed this course.
Bev