I’m sitting at the desk in my hotel room in Hilton Head, South Carolina. I have an ocean front room and all the comforts that should make me feel specially treated. I’ve come by myself, this December, to attend a five day conference on the mind body connection. Considering how little time I’ve had to myself since my son was born, I had really looked forward to this trip. Before I met my husband seven years ago, I luxuriated in solitary living and did some significant traveling on my own. So, when presented with the idea of attending this conference, I knew I needed this time. When I shared my excitement with people, they thought going on my own meant without Peter, “You’re going with girlfriends?” When I let them know that I was actually going alone, I consistently received quiet bemusement. As I sit here now, I look back on those awkward silences as if they were premonitions. This trip has ended up being the most uncomfortable that I’ve ever taken. Everything has seemingly been just as it should. I have a comfortable room, the conference speakers have been engaging and everyone I’ve bumped into superficially friendly. But underneath the surface it’s as if I have been on a multi-day silent retreat. I have been (as is being) with myself for the first extended period of time in twenty months. I am not uncomfortable due to anything regarding the mechanics of the trip. The extreme discomfort comes from being with myself. This is oddly ironic considering most of the conference sessions are about mindfulness. The unpleasantness is exactly why almost all of us do anything we can to avoid being alone with ourselves. No matter how uncomfortable I am, I appreciate the power of this time and am grateful for it. It is showing me where I am in life and what needs attending in order to continue in my personal and spiritual growth. So as to leave me completely alone in my head, God has not directly spoken to me on this trip. However, his presence has been obvious as he guides me on this five day journey.
My emotional and physical resistance towards entering the spiritual portal of solitary being started on the drive. Most times I relish quiet time in the car, but on this trip I quickly escaped into an audio book. I was so zoned out, I only saw a metal wash tub in the highway just before blowing it to pieces. Yes, a metal wash tub. The randomness was not lost on me. Despite hearing some odd noises from my car, I didn’t pull over to take a look at the damage until I was forced to by a phone call. I knew the tires were alright, I just didn’t feel like slowing down to look under the carriage. I don’t think I understood the power of that metaphor until I just wrote it.
After getting to the hotel and checking in, I went into a fight or flight survival mode. It is important to mention that I’m an introvert, who doesn’t enjoy mindless, small talk with strangers. Needless to say, I was between the “rock” of my room and the “hard place” of the conference halls. I felt trapped and frantically began strategizing exit routes. The first thing I did when I got into my hotel room was plug in my laptop. In doing so I discovered the hotel doesn’t have free internet connection. The rip off $12.99 daily charge was instantly recognized as God’s sign that I was meant to be unplugged. When I arrived at the hotel it was a balmy 75 degrees. After I checked in, the temperature immediately began dropping; landing 30 degrees lower for the rest of the trip. This meant no escaping into nature. I would be held to my room more than I’d feel comfortable. After settling in, I quickly left the hotel to get dinner. I rarely drink alone, but on this night I ordered a cocktail. I was glad for its strength and disassociating affect. My meal was heavy; leaving me bloated, unsatisfied, and under nourished. When I got back to the room I took two nighttime Advil and looked forward to going unconscious.
The next day of my God imposed silent retreat was a really difficult one. There was a conference networking breakfast that I could attend, but in no way would. My first two morning sessions were very interesting. Yet despite my interest, the anxiety from feeling trapped made it difficult to relax and pay attention. Both had ten minute periods for mediation, during which I couldn’t close my eyes. I was being present with myself as much as I could. I couldn’t bring myself to show up for the third session of the day. I was feeling out of my head. I felt drunk without drinking. I thought I’d get out of the hotel and get some air. When I got to the car, I realized that I was too zoned out to drive. I went back up to my room and fell into a two hour coma nap.
When I woke up I still felt disoriented and not fully grounded. Knowing I was seriously off kilter, I set a strong intention to find myself, “Dear God, please help me figure this out and please help me find the clarity and peace I need before I have to leave Sunday.” I then began to look for the metaphors in what the atmosphere was representing. That way I could unplug the triggers. I let my raw mind go to the ugly places it needed to. The first thought was about the mass of attendees, “Who are all of these people?!” I didn’t want to associate myself with the masses, on a deeper level the human race. The hotel was nice, but not nurturing. I could see the calming ocean from my room, but had to look through the concrete and steel bars of my balcony to find it. All of these represented a lifetime spent in relationships that have looked wonderful but have been devoid of nurturing. As I laid in my extremely comfortable hotel bed, with goose down pillows and comforters, I felt all alone. Not alone for a few days, but alone in the universe. I felt a depth of existential loneliness that I’ve never experienced before. The emptiness isn’t filled by my marriage, my son or my incredible professional work. It was horribly powerful. I laid in the emptiness for awhile. The power of my resistance in experiencing it, let me know the importance in allowing myself to feel it. Underneath all of my feelings and thoughts, in the deepest corners of my very being, this is how I feel; existentially alone.
I got up out of the bed, took a very hot bath and made my way to the late afternoon session on sleep. While the whole session was interesting there is one point that really stuck with me. The presenter shared that most people stay awake at night despite the signs that they are getting tired. People push themselves beyond tired so they’ll fall asleep instantly after hitting the pillow. The presenter’s insight was that people do this so they won’t need to spend the 15-20 minutes alone in the dark transitioning into sleep.
A sociological perspective of our increasing personal isolation was given by three other presenters. They all shared that the industrial revolution has been the cause of the break down of community, as well as our identification with machine over spirit. For the most part, we no longer live in extended families, know our neighbors or go to community gathering places such as church. Due to transitory living we don’t live in the same town with many of our closest friends. When we do, we rarely see them. Since being in competition with machines and computers for jobs, our existence has become about productivity. The priority in our country, and increasingly the world, is money over people. Our dog, eat dog mentality, creates a world where we don’t fully feel safe.
The presenters’ ideas were reinforced when I got back to my room and noticed a survey card that read, “Please tell us how we can make your stay more productive.” Interesting considering this is a resort hotel at the beach. As I thought about it further, I pondered how many of us live lives surrounded by people but have little real nurturing, loving connectedness. Few of us can name more than a handful of people we can count on to be there for us in emotionally deep and dependable ways. If we do have a handful, it isn’t enough to make us feel connected to the wider world and universe. In order to avoid feeling this extraordinarily powerful void, we spend every living waking moment doing. We spend time alone doing things but rarely spend time being alone. When we are alone with ourselves, we get lost in our fantasy thinking about what has past or what might come in the future. We don’t spend time really finding out where we are in the present moment.
After what you’ve read about my time in Hilton Head, I’m sure you wonder why you’d ever want to experience a silent retreat of your own. It has been a truly uncomfortable and mostly unpleasant five days. The irony of my experience is that its backdrop was this conference on the mind – body connection. The premise is that in order to avoid ourselves, we have to become more and more unconscious. All of the feelings and thoughts we don’t allow ourselves to experience have to go somewhere. They manifest in our bodies in the form of injury and illness. Everyone who has chronic pain, illness, depression, anxiety and compulsive behaviors have some deeper emotional inventory to discover. Those of us who have injuries, such as strained muscles and broken bones, or medical conditions, such as flues and diarrhea, also have issues that need to be addressed. Isn’t that all of us? Our body is serving as our guide. It is letting us know what needs tending. The longer we resist, the more the physical pain and discomfort persist. In the past, I have had chronic shoulder pain, a huge uterine fibroid, curvature in the spine, and foot pain. All of these conditions disappeared after the emotional issue connected to each was healed. Now, whenever I have any medical issue come up, I turn to my resources (listed below) to find out what is going on. By embracing the discomfort and processing my existential crisis at a 4 star resort, I avoid needing to have it in the hospital or after a more serious life incident.
I also believe that the relationship we have with ourselves is the foundation to everything else we create in our life. If we hate ourselves we then welcome relationships and experiences that treat us as we feel we deserve. If we can’t be with ourselves. how will we feel comfortable with others being with us? The expectation for others to be fully present wouldn’t even exist. If we can’t look deeply into our own eyes, we won’t allow others to look either. Unless we are comfortable being, we can’t truly appreciate nature. God is discovered in silence. It is only when we are present that we can hear his voice. Our ability to be alone, influences all else.
After the extreme discomfort that led me to the dark bottom of my existential loneliness, the intensity of my silent retreat began to loosen up. God didn’t let me completely off the hook. The television offerings were so horrible I couldn’t stomach watching. The weather turned colder and wetter. I still was held to either the quiet of my room or the community of the conference halls. It took two more days of metaphorical experiences such as over priced, under nourishing meals before my energy began to come back. Despite the winter cold, I took myself down onto the beach for a walk. The beach was extremely wide and desolate. As I walked into the wind, the space between the tranquil ocean and the civilized society seemed awfully hard to reconcile. After walking a ways, I got it. This is where I am. With this realization, I allowed myself to turn around so that the wind could be at my back. In greater insight, I walked back towards the hotel. During the last day of the conference, the resources needed for my continued healing became more apparent. I picked up a couple of new books and audio tapes. My energy really began to surge when one of the presenters felt like God incarnate. I was transfixed. Her every word seemed to be just for me. Last night night I still needed the Nighttime Advil, but not the cocktail. God doesn’t just strip us down to let us know where we are, he gives us a hand to help pull us up into new levels of existence.
Today was the last day of my God imposed silent retreat. I was still antsy in my sessions, but I was able to enjoy a solitary swim in the heated pool. I lingered in the sauna in peace. I enjoyed and felt nourished by my food for the first time since arriving. Tonight I will sleep in peace without the cocktail or the pills. I will lay in the dark with myself until I fall asleep. I feel a sense of positive energy surging again. Despite this energetic turn around, I can’t wait to go home tomorrow. I’m going to sneak out early, claiming to have to catch a plane. I anticipate that my welcome home hug from my husband may be the sweetest I’ve ever received from him.
Someone asked me today whether I’d be back for next year’s conference. While I politely shook my head, my inner voice said, “Hell no.” However, while hearing my defiant inner voice, a deeper spiritual one acknowledged that, while it might not be Hilton Head, I will need another extended silent retreat to help me see where I am in my growth. When it is time, God will show me the venue and I’ll be willing. Until then I have another section of my life’s journey to hike. I have asked God to show me how I can grow into a greater sense of belonging in the world and universe. I want to feel embraced rather than isolated. This goes deeper than merely making a new friend or two. I am definitely fearful of what I might encounter down this portion of the trail. The fear has had me avoiding this area of growth for some time now. However, these last five days has let me know it is time to begin new exploration. Along with becoming connected with an outer source, I have set an intention to return to being with myself on a regular basis. I know first and foremost, if I don’t fully embrace myself, then I truly am alone in the universe. The relationship we have with ourselves is the foundation to our health, our relationships to others, nature, God and the universe. We have little power to manifest much in our lives without being with ourselves.
Resources
Heal Your Body: The Mental Causes for Physical Illness and the Metaphysical Way to Overcome Them By Louise L. Hay
Frontiers of Health: How to Heal the Whole Person by Dr. Christine Page.