Life is the past,
the present and the perhaps.
You haven't packed a bag and road-tripped to a condo overlooking the bay. Or jetted to an ocean-side cottage to write your novel.
You don't have the means, the time, the energy or the courage to meet a bunch of strangers to share your passion. People that likely you will not see again.
Here's an alternative for you.
Today my husband left early for a long road-bike trip with some friends which wouldn't bring him home until late in the day.
Today would be mine, my At Home Retreat.
Saturday mornings are usually rushed, you might have read about our yoga class earlier. But today was different, I made my tea and returned to bed to read Annie Proulx's Barkskins: A Novel.
It is a heavy 700 pages and needs to be propped on an extra pillow. Ah, today I could concentrate on the tangled story that spans several decades. It allowed me to think of the various kinds of families in the world, how each has the potential to create or destroy the members. Retreat equals drink tea in bed and relax.
Distracted into thinking, my unfinished jewelry pieces caught my eye. What would they look like with mixed colour beads? Bending and twisting with ease. No rush. Retreat equals time to be creative.
Hunger. Baking. Blueberries.
Yumm! A favourite recipe given by a colleague from a long time ago, Ann B. No fail, she told my 22-year-old self.
And she was right. Not once over the decades in between has this muffin recipe failed. Blueberries, chocolate chips or almonds and poppy seeds. You can add whatever you like! No fail. Thank you Ann B. wherever you settled on Vancouver Island. Retreat equals reminiscing.
Retreat does not mean not doing for me as you can tell. It doesn't mean sitting for endless hours in front of a television or swiping on Pinterest. Retreat means pausing, feeling the thoughts I put aside on Monday, Tuesday and during the rest of the week. Retreat means moving slower, picking up, cleaning up, wiping down. Slowly.
Retreat means turning on the fan, pointing it towards you because you notice all of a sudden that it is hot and stuffy and mid-afternoon.
You are quiet, and you can hear your heartbeat, you remember You.
You re-charge, you re-call, you release. You make peace.
You know more about less. And less than you thought you knew.
You hear the fan and it sounds like an ocean, you smell the muffins and you could be at a Paris bistro, you heft the book you are reading and you are on the cliffs in Acadia.
Your At Home Retreat has taken you everywhere and brought you to the center of Alone. It has returned you to your heart.
If you give an At Home Retreat a try, let me know what you find out. (Tweet This)
This is what my At Home Retreat gave me. (Tweet This)