April 25, 2007
Wednesday

Stay in the chair.
      — productivity advice given at Bread Loaf by writer Ron Carlson

My day began with another encounter with Father Henry. “Hello, Margaret,” he said from the other side of the bread tray, apparently totally aware of who I was and why I was in the House. “Are you keeping silence?” When I told him I was, until Sunday, he said, “We’ll talk Sunday then, at lunch.”

A silent retreat is not something that appeals to everyone, not even to some deeply spiritual people. My neighbor, a woman of faith who is also highly extroverted, told me that her mother came often to programs at this House when my friend and her siblings were growing up. She couldn’t understand why her mother, or anyone else, would want to be silent, even among dozens of others who were also silent. “Of course, there were ten of us at home,” she said.

I’m an introvert. That doesn’t mean that I’m cold or that I don’t like (and need) conversation and other human interaction. It means that I process information internally, by mulling it over, and that I prefer to engage with other people in small, intimate groups. It’s why I need silence to read, why I am not the writer you’ll see with her laptop set up in a Starbucks.

The program I attended here in January was difficult for me in this regard. It involved using drawing and painting techniques to generate images as a manifestation of prayer. After being shown a process, I wanted to go off by myself to practice, but we were confined to a single room that was neither big enough nor lighted well enough for me to work comfortably, and we were expected to explain our process and share insights. It about wore me out.

The present program is a preached retreat. That means that everyone gets the same talk and is given the same suggestions for how to apply the information to their own needs. (A directed retreat, on the other hand, is designed for each individual, and the director will change and adapt suggestions as the retreatant’s needs develop over the course of the weekend or the week.) Not having to interact with others and being freed from the need for small talk helps to maintain one’s focus on the purpose for which one undertook the program.

My experience today was exactly what I was looking for. After the morning session I spent six hours alone with my own questions and concerns, worked out in writing, walking, and using the art skills I’d practiced here in January but which I had not used much at home. The anxiety I felt last night was gone, especially after my brief exchange with Father Henry over the bagels.

After supper I did some reading in fiction (Alice McDermott’s new novel) and now, of course, I’m processing my day (albeit without much specific content) all out loud for the whole world (or at least my fifty daily visitors) to read. I think this is enhancing my experience rather than diluting it. I’m relaxed, in touch with myself, and ready for three more days of the same.

And to tell Father Henry about it on Sunday.

Thanks for reading.