On retreat

Being at everyone’s beck and call wears us all out after a while. Some people, no doubt have a higher tolerance for it than others, and the scope we have to retreat varies a lot too. I spent years in a situation where the only place to retreat was into my work, or the odd, snatched few hours of walking. Other druids would announce that they were off on retreat and I would feel quietly envious and wonder how they got away with it. Quiet, peace and space are essential for having any kind of relationship with yourself, or any chance to hear your own thoughts. The continual running around feeling busy can become less and less productive and more unhappy without the space to step back and get some perspective. I spent a lot of years feeling threadbare and disorientated for just these reasons. What makes it difficult to step back is that there are always people who want you to be somewhere else, doing something else and who are not very sympathetic to demands for time out. Employers infamously being the worst culprits for this. Part of the price we pay for participating in modern life is that you can’t just sneak off into the woods when you feel like it. Even as I am now, with the ‘improper’ job can’t always hide, because there’s the child and the school run to honour. There are people who fear silence, peace and solitude and go to any length to avoid them. Standing on the outside, it sometimes feels like a lot of modern living is designed to do just that. The bright lights, the tiny boxes capable of making ever more sound, the ways of staying ‘connected’. Which means available, plugged in, on demand and never able to fall into any kind of peace. For some, that silence is apparently threatening. What do you find, within yourself, when there is no rush of stimulus, no distraction? There is often emptiness in silence, but the deeper, slower thoughts surface, profound ideas have the space to form. I suppose if that doesn’t happen, the silence is just an empty, scary place where you stop feeling like a person. Like everything else, much of it comes with practice, and the less habituated we are to being quietly with our own thoughts, the harder it is to do. I was 19 when I first found the space for proper solitude, and it was a revelation. One of the things I love about the boat is the ease of moving. There are lots of spots on the canal where you’re miles from the nearest bridge, foot traffic is right down, car traffic nonexistent. No one knows exactly where we are. Phones were mostly turned off, and on Saturday I didn’t even open the computer. I feel calmer and more myself. The more time I take for mindfulness and contemplation, the more simply and effectively I work when I get there. It cuts away all the faff and doubt. In the quiet spaces away from most people, I feel my druidry much more keenly. Now comes the challenge of gathering that into myself and bringing it back to the noisy places, where I need it most, and perhaps others do as well.

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