When given time alone with only the sound of your breath, it can be staggering, scary, down right unreal to a parent.
On my first Mom Retreat this past January the women attending were given three hours of silence. “What can I do?,” one woman asked. “Anything,” I told her, “but take care of others, this time is about taking care of you.”
I instructed the women to go for a walk, take a run, take a nap, paint with water colors, make clay beads, write, stare out at the Puget Sound, read a book. Some women were scared by that amount of time unscheduled, all for them. But the others were excited and thought three hours wasn’t nearly enough time.
We initated the moment with a rock. I had gathered rocks from the beach and scattered them on our center table. One woman at a time chose a rock and handed it to a woman in the circle saying. “May this silence, fill your cup.” When we all had our rocks in hand or stuffed in our pocket we dispersed to find our silence.
Having been on a silent retreat before I was excited for the time. The first thing I was going to do was take a nap. But I couldn’t nap, my mind was going in a hundred directions, so I got up and made clay beads. Unhappy with my creative endeavor, I went for a walk on the beach. There on the beach, my dad showed up. He does that sometimes since he died over seven years ago. As the sun came out I was washed with the warmth of sunshine and filled with gratitude for the opportunity to hold this Mom Retreat.
Back in circle, when we broke silence every one shared about their experience. All valued the time no matter what they did; paint, write, run, sit, play.
After sharing our experience we were ready for champagne, a toast to our new found appreciation for silence. With full cups, we clinked our full glasses. Who can’t drink to that?