Closing Ceremony

The eyes of my eyes are opened

e. e. cummings

Ending your retreat with conscious care is as important as beginning it. No matter how small the amount of time you’ve spent retreating or how slight your shift in perspective feels, you have been between worlds. There is a tendency to want to stay in the retreat space, to live within the archetype, especially after an intense retreat. But you can’t. You must summon yourself back. Remember the women emerging from the menstruation hut to a feast—they didn’t drift back into their lives, they were hailed, acknowledged. Consciously stepping back into ordinary space and time brings self-acknowledgment. It helps you retain the energy and integrity of your retreat, your faith in the retreat archetype, and it delivers the riches you have found into your daily life.

Prepare

You will need all or some of the items you used in your opening ceremony.

A talisman to remind you of your retreat.

An offering of thanksgiving.

A closing reading (could be the same one you opened with).

A Few Guidelines

• Scan the guidelines in Opening Ceremony, or recall what worked for you when you opened your retreat.
• Review your retreat. Ask yourself, “What had heart and meaning for me on this retreat? What do I wish to bring home?”
• Find or make a talisman that symbolizes what you wish to bring home—the feeling, belief, or memory you will wish to recall. This talisman will remind one or more of your senses that, indeed, you did take a moment for yourself, you do have faith in your inner knowing. Marcie said, “I count on my senses to help me not talk myself out of it.” Once home, it is incredibly easy to begin to doubt your experience. But if you can use your senses for the “immediate apprehension of the mystery,” as Mircea Eliade wrote, then you will be less inclined to dismiss your reality. Bernice, a dentist, wears “a purple knit beret on retreat. If I’m facing a hard day, or feeling ugly, or stressed, I wear my beret.” Candace, a therapist and retreat leader, plays the same sonata she listened to on her first retreat when she needs to touch the peace of that retreat. I always bring home a piece of rock, shell, sea glass, or other small object. I collect these in a bowl where I can see and touch them often. Over time, I have forgotten which pieces are from which retreat, but I am inspired by the glowing whole.
  
  Scents and colors make effective talismans, too. Amie has wrestled with anorexia on and off for years. She anointed herself with sandalwood oil during a week-long guided yoga retreat. “Since then, when I am in battle with myself and starving myself, I reach for the sandalwood. The smell touches something in my body, and I just melt into that place I was in on retreat; I actually feel more self-accepting.” Randi has a permanent shrine at home. She brings back an object from each retreat to place on her shrine. “That collection comforts me. And when I want to retreat but I can’t, I look at my collection of talismans and think, ‘I did it once, I can do it again.’”
• Repeat your metaphorical action from your opening ceremony, perhaps by reversing it. If that isn’t possible or appropriate, find an action that symbolizes completion, containment, and rest to you. Lola Rae Long, retreat coordinator at the Ojai Foundation, suggests that retreatants say, “I am ready to step back into my life” as they step over a line drawn in the earth or through a gateway or as they emerge from a bath, a lake, or the ocean. Lucinda Eileen, a ritualist and Unitarian youth leader, stresses how important finishing is. “Say something like ‘I have done this and this is why ______ (fill in the blank). I honor this space. It is accomplished.’” The power of speaking aloud your own truth, as you see it and believe it, should not be underestimated.
• Make an offering of gratitude and thanksgiving for your retreat. Make this offering to the Divine and/or to your family, partner, friend, retreat coordinator, sponsor, therapist, and to the place you have been retreating. Allow a spontaneous expression of your gratitude to flow forth. On a retreat at the Ojai Foundation, I left a small crystal and tobacco prayer ties in the crook of an old oak that had sheltered me the day before as I wept. On a shared retreat in a tiny canyon, my women’s group passed around a lump of clay. Each of us shaped it a bit and pressed flowers, leaves, and odd natural items into it. It looked like nothing recognizable, but it shone with its own sacredness. We left it to decompose under the root of a pine tree. If you wish and have time, you could make an offering to leave behind.
• Repeat your reading from your opening ceremony, or choose another passage.
• End with energy. Sing along to a gospel song, take a brisk walk in the wind, om (Aum) three times while stretching your arms over your head, take a shower and use rosemary bath gel or oil, or simply wash your face, brush your teeth, and study yourself in the mirror for a moment. What will leave you feeling energized, ready to sail into your life? Do you dare grab the energy and bring it home?

See Resources.

For Experienced Retreatants

You may find yourself using the same talisman over and over again. You may also find yourself not needing a talisman for each retreat and preferring what my friend, writer Randi Ragan, calls a “snapshot of the heart,” an emotional or physical sensation to carry with you. It could be a healing image of a blooming lotus you received in meditation, the comforting heaviness of a rock you sat on in the sun, how your couch supported you as you sat and prayed, or an expanded second of heavenly connectedness that washed over you. To make a snapshot of the heart, step back during such a moment or sensation and, using each of your senses, record it as if you were a camera. Tell yourself, “I will remember how light my body feels, the smell of this pine tree, the taste of this tuna fish sandwich, the prickle of the pine needles under my neck.” As you etch it into your senses, touch your thumb and forefinger together and hold for a minute or two. Whenever you need to recall your snapshot, press your digits together and recall what each of your senses recorded.

A Sample Ceremony

Here is one way to leave retreat space.

• Read aloud what you read in your opening ceremony. Spend a moment seeing if any new feelings or insights arise from this reading.
• Restate your intention. Think about how you have explored it, answered it, lived with it. Perhaps record an expression of where you have roamed—a list of what you’ve learned, a mandala of your emotions and impressions, a spoken litany of where you’ve been.
• Decide on a talisman. Hold it, wear it, hear it, or smell it. Close your eyes. Visualize or sense the Divine: Jesus Christ, the Goddess, Mary, Buddha, Krishna, God, or a brilliant fountain of light. Ask the Divine to consecrate your talisman, to make it alive with the power of your retreat. See your talisman being blessed and infused with unconditional love from the Divine. You don’t have to do anything to receive this gift except accept it. Energize your talisman by chanting a vibrant om.
• How do you wish your retreat to grow into your life? Articulate a very simple statement of how you wish your retreat to manifest and remain in your daily life. “I seek daily perspective.” “I will be present with my kids for a few moments each day.” “I will take twenty minutes for myself each day to simply be.” “I wish for this peace of mind I feel now to grow in my heart.” This is not about change but about planting the seed of your retreat. Close your eyes. See your wish written in glowing script across your heart. See your Divinity blessing your wish in whatever way feels appropriate.
• Close, clean, pack up your retreat container. If you need to dismantle your shrine or clean up the bathroom, do so lovingly and consciously, thanking the space for containing you. If you are at home, consciously release the space so that it can return to ordinary living space (this is especially important if you live with others). Pack with care any retreat supplies you will use again, and store them someplace safe yet convenient.
• With your talisman in hand, step over the threshold of your retreat space—whether that is your bedroom door, front door, car, yurt, sacred circle, or tent. As you do, say out loud something like “My intention on this retreat was to ________. I honor my self for locating a piece of my truth. It is true. So be it.”
• Ground the energy of your retreat in your body by drinking a cup of hot tea, walking around the block or down the mountain, eating something wholesome, touching the earth, or hugging a loved one.

Stories

This is Patricia Hart Clifford’s account of the last meditation period of a week-long Christian Zen retreat.

When the gong rang for the last time, we made deep bows, touching our heads to the floor in a gesture of gratitude. Then we stood and at the sound of the little bell bowed to each other and to the cross on the shrine. Everyone filed out to go to the chapel for the closing mass. I stood rooted to my spot. Sunlight streamed over me through the windows, lighting up the shades of blue in the carpet and the shapes of rocks in the sand…. At lunch, the dining room filled with a riotous explosion of gleeful voices, although any conversation at all seemed superfluous…. We made our good-byes swiftly. Then I was outside bidding farewell to the Iceland poppies, their parchment petals gleaming in the midday sunlight. I drove out of the gates not anticipating or rehearsing what was ahead. My one thought was, “I can’t believe I almost didn’t do this.”

Sandy did a one-day retreat in her home.

My retreat was about meeting my authentic self. I had married myself in a ceremony several years before, and I decided to repledge my vows as part of my closing ceremony. I played the “Long and Winding Road,” which I had played the time before, and several more songs, including Holly Near’s “Sing to Me the Dream.” I thanked my authentic self for coming. I put my ring on. I had written vows to myself—these were wiser than the ones a few years ago, and I read those. Then I played “Hymns to the Silence” by Van Morrison. I thanked the qualities of play, forgiveness, and freedom for being with me, as well as Buddha and the others I had called in my opening invocation. Then I blew out my candle.

A closing ceremony leaves you wanting to invite yourself back again and again. Will you? Can you? Must you?