The Power of Invitation

 

Most every transformative event, workshop, or experience I have had along the spiritual path started with an invitation from someone I knew.  Beginning with participating in the Delphi Methodist youth group because my church didn’t have one up until last week’s silent Buddhist meditation retreat, I have had a steady supply of expanding experiences I could never have found on my own. I’ve had my heart blown open chanting at a Hindu ashram, come to new understanding of the Creator in a Native American sweat lodge, and discovered some difficult truths at a Benedictine Monastery. I was transformed living with a Muslim family for a summer, re-oriented through three workshops with Robert Kiyosaki, and have been tutored on daily decisions through Abraham-Hicks.  Almost weekly my experience in 12 Step meetings opens my heart, as well.

This history of seeking truth wherever it appears has shown me that there are many paths to the deep heart. Maybe I’ve taken so many routes because I never had children, and most people discover love, kindness, and the power of connection through raising a family.  For me, someone’s suggestion, invitation, or nudge was the stepping stone to another arena for discovery and growth.

So how often do I invite others to something sacred or significant? It certainly is vulnerable to ask someone to share an experience you find profound. What if they don’t? Yet I am so grateful for those who risked my rejection by inviting me to so many wonderful experiences, including the adventure of marriage. As I head off to Santa Fe for my third retreat this month, I want  to be on the look out with a ready “yes” for the next invitation to open, receive, and become more alive.

 

Saying Yes to Discipline

 

I’m off to my second retreat this month, four silent days of Buddhist meditation.  I’m pretty sure I’m going to be stretched because, although I’ve been meditating for 30 years, I never meditate on my own for days at a time.  I’m a corner-cuttter by nature and so sitting until someone else rings the bell will be a discipline. Feelings I’m not used to will no doubt come up, and I just need to remember that they won’t kill me.

This morning I had some intense body work done so that I will be able to physically sit for several days (actually I use a prayer bench and kneel rather than sit cross legged during meditation).  I’ve also been reading John O’Donohue’s book Eternal Echoes to prepare for so much time in stillness.  He writes “Deep below the personality and outer image, the soul is continuously at prayer. We need to find new words to help name the unusual and unexpected forms of the Divine in our lives.”

 My hope for this time in contemplation is to be surprised by what I find within, by the Divine moving in my life. However, I plan to lean into whatever emerges--my resistance, my judgments and my fears as well as any delight, discovery, and joy.

Retreat into April

I’ve just returned from the first of three retreats I’m attending this month.  It’s a bit of a busman’s holiday because I create and lead retreats for a living, yet not running the show is a treat. To be a participant, to follow instructions, to room with a stranger provide rest and a stretch, which is, of course, a key reason to go on retreat. Not being in charge of the schedule helps cultivate openness, wonder, curiosity and acceptance.

I also go on retreats because I crave more silence and open-ended time than I have in regular life. I suspect I could be quiet more frequently in the car, but I tend to listen to books and music and have regularly scheduled conversations on my Bluetooth in order to use my commuting time wisely. A retreat reminds me that silence is also a good use of my time. Retreats shift me from the need to be productive to the experience of simply being.

I go on retreat to be with emptiness. My default position is to schedule something every spare moment. I’ve been this way since high school when I joined every club, performed in nine plays, and had a part time job at the nursing home. I don’t see that tendency changing.   In a retreat context, the person I sit with at lunch surprises me with her friendship, the woman behind me becomes a spontaneous walking partner, and the little suitcase of clothing becomes enough.

I go on retreats because I’m willing to grow. I want to grow as a person, as a spiritual being, as a teacher, meditator, writer, student, friend and wife. I am willing to grow not because I’m broken and need to be fixed. I am willing to grow because that’s what humans do.  Some people grow their compassion and ability to love through connections to grandchildren. Others grow their intellect and sense of justice through advocacy and public service. I’m willing to grow along spiritual lines, which means sitting still with myself, my Higher Power, and others just as we are and embracing what that is today with kindness.

Saying yes to the invitations to go on retreat was the beginning of growth in April. I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.