Tag Archives: retreats

Squirrely

I stumbled on a rare silent retreat the other day; so very unusual in this nation of convivial, chatty, sociable sorts of people. It was remarkably pleasant not to have to make small talk with everyone.

New to (silent) retreats? Here are my tips:

In my experience, charity allows for a simple smile and nod as you interact with someone — for instance when passing in a doorway, or if you need to cross in front of them to get to your seat. However, the eye contact and smile can trigger conversation (since to acknowledge someone and then fail to say hello and ask how they are doing would be extremely rude). If that happens a friendly bigger smile and nod while moving on will reassure the person that you are not angry at them, that they are safe and okay, and that you are just moving right along because you aren’t supposed to chat.

Another charity is to just gently ignore the people who can’t stop talking. Shushing them really doesn’t help, because they talk out of nerves, and aggressive gestures or looks will just add to their anxiety, making them more squirrely.

If you can’t hear a particular talk very well because of the chatty couple nearby or the loud fan or the bad microphone, don’t worry. Your Guardian Angel is taking notes, and if you really need to know anything, it will be presented to you in some form in the future. I didn’t believe this when I first heard it, back when I used to frantically take copious notes lest I miss some treasure of wisdom being spouted by an admired speaker, but it really is true. Just ask for whatever you need.

No matter how good or bad you are, take advantage of confession at retreats! You will have plenty of time to ask questions, not be sure what to say, get advice on steps to take to untangle complicated problems, get encouragement from very experienced priests, find out how easy some supposedly complicated problems are to solve, and so on. Confession in your parish is usually fairly restricted – short time available, long line, not much privacy, have to make an appointment, and so on. So sign right up when you have a chance during a retreat!

Take advantage of convent gardens for walking in between other activities. Keeps the blood flowing, good for the head, gets out the nerves, gives your poor mind time to process what’s being taught, and so on.

Sleeping quarters can be like summer camp in the 1980s (uncomfortable mattresses, ill-fitting sheets, mosquitos, loud fans, weird roommates, not enough hot water, and so forth). Keep expectations really low. Remember you’ll enjoy telling the story of the crazy adventure later. It’s only for a few days, you won’t die. Don’t let the devil pull you into a sulk!

Apparently “people with squirrels” is a thing. Check out this page.

O Fan!

The new ceiling fan ran in blessed silence for a day. But mid-night it began to make a gentle groan. I grieved the loss of silence. I lay awake listening, and remembered the worst ceiling fan ever.

I had gone on another Carnival retreat. Religious groups in Brazil take advantage of the annual national street party to offer prayerful alternatives for those disinclined to stick around for the mayhem. This group had rented a portion of a convent in a residential neighborhood. It was a chunky modern four story building with a walled garden. My cell was narrow and dark, big enough to hold two dormitory beds, one against each wall, giving the hall door just enough room to open and let us in. A shuttered window and a wooden door led to a small balcony, though mosquitos and thieves provided an excuse for shutting those at dusk and not opening them again til the sun was up.

February is one of the hottest months in Brazil. Temperatures hit 100 or more with frequency, and evening downpours may provide some temporary relief, but also keep the humidity up. I was overjoyed to see that the room had a ceiling fan. I turned it on.

Kerchunkadunkadunkadunk kerchunkadunkadunkathunk kerchunkadunkamunkablunk.

It was a rather loathsome retreat for other reasons, but the fan was the icing on the cake. The first bird to sing each morning received a whole heaping heartful of gratitude and joy.