What Will You Do?

Whatever the timing or the place, then and there she is able to drift into her own being, listen and hear her own voice. Whether it speaks in whispers of love, in screams of pain or anger, in shouts of joy, or in silent thanksgiving, the voice is hers, hers alone. She finds the depths and limits of her own emotions, the clarity of her thoughts. She finds courage in her strength and ebullience and resolution to inner turmoil.

Virginia Beane Rutter, Woman Changing Woman

My friend Jodie called me one day, caught in one of those harried cyclones of dashing, driving, doing. “I want to know about that retreat you just did. I need to get away,” she said. As I explained what had happened on my retreat, Jodie kept interrupting to ask, “But what did you do on this retreat?” The allure and the apprehension of a woman’s retreat is that span of hours stretching before you in which you will follow your inner knowing.

What will you do?

You don’t need to do anything.

And besides, you already know how you need to listen and care for yourself. You just may need a little help drawing that knowledge out.

Ways to Choose What to Do

Investigate with a fresh mind what you might explore on retreat, using your intention as your guide. Here are a few ideas.

• Sit still and ask yourself, “What do I yearn to experience on this retreat?”
• Using clustering, or webbing, a technique used by Gabriele Rico in Writing the Natural Way, write your intention in the middle of a piece of paper. Circle it. “Now simply let go and begin to flow with any current of connections that come into your head. Write these down rapidly, each in its own circle, radiating outward from the center in any direction they want to go. Connect each new word or phrase with a line to the preceding circle. When something new and different strikes you, begin again at the central nucleus and radiate outward until those associations are exhausted.” Create a map of all the associations that spring into your mind around your intention. Fill the paper up. When you are finished, it looks like a spiderweb. Read it. What patterns do you see? What are the connections between your intention and possible action? Jot down a list of things to do and another list of things not to do on your retreat. When Rhonda plans a retreat, she does a cluster on the inside of a file folder, then fills the folder with a list of possible things to do, poems, maps, photos, and journal pages: anything she may need for her retreat. She can also put what she gathers during the retreat in this folder.
  
  With nascent ideas, ask yourself, “How can I make this into an action that supports my intention?” and “What could I avoid doing because it does not support my intention?” When you’ve gathered together lots of ideas (don’t worry about having too many right now), take your ideas to the next section.
• If you have some idea of what you wish to do but these have not coalesced into an intention, jot down one or two descriptive words for each of your ideas. Use a pencil. Don’t do this in list form. Dot your ideas all over the page, moving quickly, adding whatever occurs to you. When you are done, circle the ideas you’ve written and connect any that relate to each other. Erase any ideas that don’t feel right. Working backward, see if the ideas you’ve recorded suggest any intention. You might want to refer back to Intention.
• If you have a clear idea of what you wish to do, such as astanga yoga and journal writing, consider how you can arrange that practice to explore your intention. Let’s say your intention is “How can I recharge my creativity?” How does your yoga fit? You might ask yourself, “Should I practice alone? Should I attend a retreat? Or take my usual class? Or a new class? If I choose a class, what kind of environment do I crave? What kind of teacher?” Ask yourself the same questions about journal writing. Then ask yourself, “What else do I need to explore my intention?” You can do this with timed writing or by flipping through the book and seeing if any of the practices meet that need.
• Choose a design from Retreat Plans, adjusting it however you like.
• Use the Intention Chart to locate practices that fit an intention similar to yours.
• Include elements that appeal to you from Good Ways to Listen.
• Complete the sentence “I never have time to _______ anymore” fifty times. Then see which of these things nourishes your intention.
• Keep filtering your ideas through the question “Does this support me in living the question of my intention?” or “Is this what I need right now?”
• Look over Resources and see if any of the books, videos, tapes, or other things listed there inspire you, including a retreat led by someone else. Sometimes a self-led retreat is not what you need. If, while giving thought to what you want to do on retreat, you are drawn to work with someone or your intention feels too big to explore alone, by all means, find someone to study with. Be aware of the “smorgasbord phenomenon” as you look for a guided retreat. It is easy to get seduced by all the luscious settings and teachers. But if you know why you are retreating and what you are looking for, you can find exactly what you need instead of being swept away by the richness. Remember, too, that going on a guided retreat is not an invitation to give up responsibility. It is still necessary to check in with yourself regularly and to be sure that what you are doing fits your needs and is guided by your inner knowing.
• Do not feel you have to read this entire book! There is enough here for fifty retreats, and some of it won’t fit you at this time in your life—skim only what you wish. Jump into your retreat whenever you feel ready. Remember, there is no one way to do this! Be guided by your inner knowing.

The Flow of Your Retreat

What might your retreat be like moment to moment? What is a good mix of planning and not planning, of doing and being, of being with others and being alone? You want to create enough structure to aid you but not so much that you feel you have to get things accomplished. Recall the underlying purpose: to listen to your own inner knowing. Here are some retreat designs to consider:

Check Retreat Plans for templates.

• Bring little and do little. Create a simple opening ceremony and then see what happens. Nap, rock, watch the sunset and sunrise, write in your journal, read the psalms or poetry. Do what Kay Hagan calls an “intuit trip,” where you follow your inner knowing for a period of time with no tasks that must be done, flowing from one thing to the next. Interact with your environment. Let solitude and silence fill you and direct you. Locate your rhythm. This is a good choice if you are retreating to heal exhaustion, overwork, or busyness or if you have no idea why you are retreating except that you must go. Listening then becomes your main practice.
• If a stretch of unstructured time gives you the shakes, design a precise schedule. If you always have to be somewhere, forget schedules. If you are unemployed or underemployed or have plenty of free time in your life, a specific retreat plan is a good idea. Check in as you go along and after your retreat. A schedule does not mean you have something planned for every moment. Avoid overscheduling! “Less is more” is definitely true on a retreat. You don’t want to feel harried, like you are rushing to get things done. If that happens, STOP everything, sit or lie still, and do nothing for a while.
• Prepare several practices or activities you wish to do that relate to your intention, do an opening ceremony, and then see what you are drawn to do when. Put yourself in a place filled with tools that support you in exploring your intention. This pattern works well for artist retreats and for people who won’t get sucked into the void, spending their retreat alphabetizing their CD collection.
• Choose an anchor activity, like getting a massage, meditation, working with a group or a friend, journal writing, painting, and so forth. Decide how often you will do this activity—say, four specific times each day. Stick to these times, but in between, float, experiment, question yourself about what you want to do. On longer retreats, you could choose an activity or focus for every few days or for each week.
• Listen to great music, read something metaphorical aloud, move your body rhythmically, be silent, be in nature, rest, bathe, ask yourself good questions, and write, draw, or sculpt all the millions of possible answers.

See Good Ways to Listen and the section below, Check-In.

See Good Ways to Listen: Being.

See Retreat Plans for examples of balance.

And some additional thoughts on design:

• The longer your retreat, the more you need to pay attention to what you will do when.
• Experiment with different designs on mini-retreats to see what feels best.
• Ask yourself, “What is the best way for me to be fully alive on this retreat?” And, “What have I done in the past to avoid being fully alive when I had time to myself?”
• If you have ever attended an all-day or weekend workshop, when did you get tired? How long can you concentrate before you need to change your channel, take a break, eat, or nap? Keep this information in mind.
• An hour or so of inner work is pretty exhausting (there is a reason why therapy sessions last only fifty minutes). Ground yourself by alternating deep inner work with soothing activities like lying on the earth, snuggling under flannel sheets, eating icy strawberries, or sipping hot tea. Make time to inhabit your body.
• Transitions between planned activities can be uneven or feel not as important as the activities themselves. Yet every moment of retreat is precious. “Moving between activities became as important as the activities themselves. Instead of leaping up from my meditation cushion to hurry to my walking path, I let the journey itself become the practice,” writes Sylvia Boorstein in her mindfulness retreat handbook, Don’t Just Do Something, Sit There. Transition or in-between times provide regular checking-in reminders. They also allow you to realize each moment is an opportunity to learn about yourself (a truth that often makes me scream with frustration and head for the nearest Haagen-Dazs).

See Good Ways to Listen: The Smell of Your Own Sweat.

In the end, you don’t need to do much. Simply reading a bit of this book, reflecting on your need to retreat, letting go of control, and allowing yourself to have it will bring your retreat to life. As Sandy said, “I had no idea at the beginning of my day that I would go to the beach, remarry myself, and play the piano for the first time in two years. Before my retreat, I thought, ‘Put on music and dance with myself. Yeah, right.’ But I did because it was what I needed to do. The retreat had a life of its own. All I had to do was listen.”

Check-In

The best way to know what to do and what not to do is to ask yourself. Check-in allows your wisdom to inform your retreat, to tell you when to sink your toes into mud, when to shoot whipped cream directly into your mouth, and when to descend into your dark, fertile depths. Check-in is a reliable way to meet your authentic self.

See Living Your Retreat Every Day: Daily Practice.

I saw the need for this inner guidance on a wilderness trip I co-led. My transformational experiences in the outdoors had come through being pushed physically, so when I led a trip, I figured the same thing would work—challenge women physically and they would have a profound experience. I was right and wrong. Mostly, the women needed to be nurtured. They pushed themselves so hard in daily life and were already so competent and accomplished, they needed the awesome comfort of the earth holding them close and the gentle rhythms of life lived outdoors to restore their own inner rhythms. Yet they also needed to be encouraged to push past what they thought they could do, physically and emotionally, because this brought increased confidence and changed their beliefs about what they were capable of. What was missing was balance: between soft and hard, between rest and pushing. I learned the importance of checking in as a group and individually.

Checking in is very simple. You center yourself (close your eyes and take a few very deep breaths, perhaps sighing on the exhale; or use your usual ways of calming and gathering yourself). Then you ask yourself a question. Any question will do. Experiment. Pick one for each day of a retreat or one for each mini-retreat. Or use one for a year, a decade, a lifetime. Here are my favorites.

• How do I feel in this moment?
• Am I being true to myself?
• Is there something else I want to be doing?
• What do I yearn for right now?
• Is this what I need right now?
• What do I need right now?
• What do I need to do to be fully alive right now?
• Am I comfortable? Why? Why not?
• What thoughts, people, etc., keep entering my mind?
• What can I change?
• Is this a good feeling?

See Contemplations for additional questions.

It takes only a few moments. It is deceptively easy. But remembering to ask and then listening to, trusting, and following what you hear without beating yourself up can be quite a challenge.

With all this talk about listening, it has probably occurred to you to ask, “How do I know if what I hear is reliable?”

Good question.

See Retreat Plans: A Half-Day Trust Retreat.

When you are in touch with a trustworthy part of yourself, you will never be led to do anything dangerous, shaming, or rash or that has consequences that would hurt you or someone else. You will not feel pushed, prodded, guilty, or rushed. You have many interior voices. You must distinguish between the critical, pushy, judgmental voices, the voices of others (father, ex-husband, teenage daughter, seventh-grade English teacher), the voices of old complexes (for instance, an unresolved need to be in less-than-nurturing relationships or a damaging desire to punish yourself), and the voices that lead you into a truer relationship with yourself. The voices you can trust resonate in your body with a resounding clarity, like a chime rung in perfect tune. The voices you can trust may bring with them memories of a time in your life when you were in balance, when you were healthy, determined, or on your own course, or when you were a young, confident girl. The voices you want to avoid listening to want the same things they always have—for you to remain in the same safe but deadening place, for you to cudgel yourself with shame, for you to be less than fully alive. One way to distinguish between trustworthy and untrustworthy voices is to ask:

• Have I heard this voice before?
• How does my body feel when I listen? Do I feel I am opening up or shutting down? (Therapist Belleruth Naparstek advises, “Go in and listen to your body. Pay attention to internal sensations. A yes is a subtle release, a no is a tightening.”)
• Am I moved to do something that makes me feel good, centered, and alive or to do something that makes me feel that I can’t be trusted or that I am bad, worthless, silly, or dumb?

This checking-in process can work in any number of ways throughout your retreat. If you are feeling stuck, panicked, or unsure of what to do, quiet yourself a bit and then ask yourself, “What would make me feel truly alive?” or “What am I afraid of?” If you are having a difficult time being present or enjoying yourself, stop and inquire, “Why am I not enjoying myself?” and “What am I getting out of not enjoying myself?”

When trying to decide between reading old copies of the Enquirer and eating a case of frozen Butterfingers or staying with your retreat schedule, stop and ask yourself a question: “If I ____________ (read the Enquirer and eat a dozen Butterfingers), will I learn something I need to know?” Any number of things might happen. Sometimes, especially in the beginning, you practice check-in and you hear nothing. The big zero. If that is the case, you can eat the candy while reading about two-headed aliens marrying Michael Jackson, stick to your schedule, or randomly choose a practice that interests you. Afterward, check in with yourself, asking, “Did this make me feel good, better, more centered, more me?”

Or you might hear a crystal-clear “No Butterfingers.” Follow that voice, and check in afterward.

Or you might hear, “I don’t care what I learn, give me my gossip and my Butterfingers.” Stay put for another minute, see how this suggestion makes you feel. Do you feel relaxed, centered by this idea? Or do you feel guilty, uneasy? Ask more questions: “Do I feel relaxed because chocolate is a way out of looking at difficult stuff or because, for once, I am allowing myself to do what I wish?” Check how your body feels. Does this suggestion of candy (or of a nap, reading, or quitting and going home) make you feel you are being led into a deeper, more nourishing place? Is your body relaxed more by the suggestion? Or does your jaw tighten, your shoulders crunch? Descend through the levels of check-in. It takes practice to know what your body and spirit really need.

Another way to use this tool on retreat is to set a timer (with a nice low ring or beep) to go off at whatever interval feels good to you: every hour or perhaps four times a day. Or designate a sound in your environment that you hear fairly often (a train whistle in the distance, the caw of a crow, wind chimes). When you hear the sound, stop, center yourself however you choose, and check in with yourself using a question of your choice. As with the ancient practice of a mindfulness bell on a meditation retreat, you are brought back to being mindful of your inner knowing and of the reason you are on retreat.

You can also use your intention question as a check-in. Set your timer for regular intervals, and when it goes off ask yourself your intention question. See what occurs to you. You might use whatever you learn to change or add to your retreat.

Stories

This story on designing a retreat is from Frankie’s first retreat.

I didn’t want to plan things. I wanted to be able to follow myself. Above all, I did not want a schedule. I visited an incredible retreat center. I got three massages, meditated in the meditation hall, and sat by the creek. I tried to stay away from chatter. What I learned wasn’t profound, but the experience was. I came away realizing how rarely I wholeheartedly take time for myself. I came away realizing how much life is about choices, like choosing to talk to other people or not. It isn’t right or wrong, it is a choice. And I came away knowing the grieving for my divorce is going to take a long time.

Sherry, a mother with three young children, found having a retreat plan useful.

The idea of unstructured time scares the hell out of me. I needed a plan for my retreat, even if I didn’t follow it step by step. It would be there when I got scared. I found my greatest struggle on retreat was trying to decide what to do. I was afraid I would waste my time, and it was such a precious weekend alone without Jack and the boys. Especially in the beginning, I was very jumpy and scattered. Then I got angry. I thought, “Why is this so hard for me?” I got really down on myself. But I worked with those feelings, and I did a lot of movement and body prayer to get calm. I had to keep reassuring myself that I was going to be all right. After a while, I was able to get into the experience. I couldn’t believe how much calmer I felt by the end of the weekend. I made a lot of progress by being truly kind to myself.

Try using Emerging from Chaos.

See Retreat Plans: A Well-Being Retreat.

Barbra has a demanding job and also helps care for her aging mother.

When planning my day to retreat, I had to decide how I wanted to spend my day. I’m so used to taking care of everyone else, so used to being busy. I started feeling a lot of “shoulds” about how I should spend my day. I should plan the perfect retreat day. But then I stopped and said, “This is my day! I need to do what is right for me!”

I decided I wanted no real schedule and simply made a list of a few things that I was interested in doing. I spent a lot of time dealing with grief about the many changes that have taken place in my professional life and my family in the last year. Not all bad but all very big. I hadn’t allowed myself to stop and feel before, so that was good.

In the end, what I did was not important. It was the chance to spend some time with me. To tune out from others and tune in to me.