THE JOURNEY BEGINS – the players    

We may have Armistead Maupin’s “Tales of the City”, and the eight million stories in television’s “Naked City,” but I am guessing there may be just as many stories (if not nearly as salacious but always fully clothed) at Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Trappist, Kentucky. Many of the tales may lay hidden and never be spoken. Others yet will slowly unwind as the dance of silence between monk and retreatant slowly evolves from a mere head nod to a full-fledged conversation.

Last week, I had the pleasure of my fourth retreat in ten years to Gethsemani (as she is named in shorthand by all who know her). Each retreat experience has been different, not so much by whom I happened to be traveling with at the time but much more by where I happened to be on my own journey. Before we get to that however, I will share some information about this year’s traveling companions.

When we began planning this trip, we had about 7 or 8 men who had expressed an interest. It was a very diverse group of folks whose sole bond of commonality was knowing me. We worked with a tight schedule and had to make some adjustments which ultimately caused us to lose a prospective retreatant (or several) along the way. In the end, there were 3 of us who journeyed out of Chicago, down the length of Indiana and crossed over into Kentucky.

Retreatant A. is a long tenured Art professor at an Illinois state university who specializes in Central African art. But A’s life experiences and ceaseless quest for knowledge (not to mention unique knick knacks) gives him a broad background that he freely shares with others without seeming pedantic. Always cheerful and ready for an adventure, A. spent 15 years of his life as a Jesuit before marrying his charming wife, raising a family and now basking in the glowing faces of deeply loved grandchildren.

Retreatant D. is a senior massage therapist at a very popular and classy men’s spa in Chicago. He is a spiritual seeker who has learned to trust his instincts as he creates his own map for his spiritual journey. (Believe me, there’s a map – I’ve seen it on his SmartPhone!) D. is also an adventurous sort. I knew when he said he wanted to come that I would need to find a way to get a camera into his hands as he would walk and walk for days all over the grounds and see things I’d never see with my own eyes. You will witness the truth behind this if you stick with me (and if the words agree to flow out of my fingertips for a few days longer).

And then there is me.

That’s enough for now. Stay tuned for more on this amazing retreat experience soon...

RETREAT IN CLEVELAND

I'm just back from a men's retreat in the Cleveland, Ohio are this past weekend. Years ago a wrote a couple of poems after a retreat and I always enjoy reading and re-reading upon my return even years later, so here they are:

RETREAT

I went out to the woods
because their was a fire
in my heart that needed tending.
I know that words alone
cannot contain or change
the shape of this sacred flame.
And so I give myself the gift
of time to listen to the sound
of my heartbeat.
On holy land I cast off false illusions
and shed plates of armor
revealing a tender place
where love and I can live
and grow and thrive and welcome
each other home.



PERFECTION


Fourteen billion
year old molecules
crashing, caroming
randomly becoming
fire, water, earth and air
heading toward
this one,
perfect morning
where truth reveals itself,
for just a moment,
to those with ancient eyes.

RETREAT SNIPPET #4

From my journal:


Integrity, or the lack of it, has been an issue for me recently in my relationships with other people. Since December, my low level depression has deepened. On occasions, I have felt a loss of control of my thoughts and emotions.


In my interpersonal relations with dear friends, they have noted an undercurrent of anger. After months of personal introspection, I was able to identify the sources of this anger. In the past few weeks, I have begun dealing directly with the lack of integrity of the people involved and also begun taking actions to "step away" from these toxic relationships.


Having identified the lack of integrity as a source of my anger and increased depression, I intend to live a fully open and honest life where integrity will be a capstone. I know in my heart when my words and actions are aligned and true. Now I must listen and heed my heroic heart.

RETREAT SNIPPET #3

From my journal:


Searching for a Heroic Heart


Why the long line of dysfunctional men in my family? I hesitate to call it weakness as I probably don't have enough facts to be so judgmental. But how have I attained almost 58 years with so few strong, positive role models. It seems the men I admire most are those I've encountered in my men's work or when discussing men's work. I may not be in regular, systematic contact with most of these men, but they are authentic and possess integrity and I know that if I needed to, I could send an email or pick up the phone and they would be there to listen to me. Sometimes we don't need answers; sometimes we just need someone with a strong, kind heart to sit and listen and send us back to the world more whole.

RETREAT SNIPPET #2

From my journal:

Why am I here? After a year of many detours and false starts, I am looking to return home. Pain and anger have fallen off my soul like scales from eyes that are now able to see. I am home in the company of men who are willing to share this journey with me. Today is a blessing long desired. I am truly blessed.

Amen.

RETREAT SNIPPET #1

I picked up my friend, John, who lives in SF at a Starbucks near downtown and we headed out to Plano, IL (a suburb about 25 miles west of Chicago). When we arrived at the LaSalle Manor Retreat Center (affiliated with the Christian brothers), we were greeted as we pulled into our parking space with a big smile and open arms by Steve, a UCC pastor from Vermillion, South Dakota and co-leader of this retreat. Steve summoned his two teenage sons, Caleb and Seth to grab our luggage out of the back of my SUV. We had begun our retreat with an extravagant welcome!

MALE SPIRIT RETREAT - THE HEROIC HEART





For about 7 years now, I've attended a men's retreat organized by the Shem Center for Interfaith Spirituality. Formerly held over Dr. King's birthday weekend in January, this year's retreat was held over Columbus Day weekend at LaSalle Manor Retreat Center in Plano, IL. I have just returned from this event attended by 27 incredible men from a diverse range of places. The theme of this year's retreat was The Male Heroic Heart and was led by Brother Joseph Kilikevice, founder and director of the Shem Center, and Steve Miller, a UCC pastor, from Vermillion, South Dakota.

Over the next few days, I plan to give you a glimpse of the retreat through general descriptions of our activities and my journal entries. Stay tuned.

THE BOYS IN THE HOOD(S)

My friends know that since 2001, I’ve made it a habit (sorry) to try to make a retreat to a monastery at least once each year. I’ve made multiple visits to Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Trappist, Kentucky (former home of Thomas Merton) and to Christ in the Desert Monastery in Abiquiu, New Mexico. I’ve made one time only visits to Mepkin Abbey in Moncks Corner, South Carolina, Saint Benedict’s Abbey in Snowmass, Colorado and Saint Gregory’s Abbey in Three Rivers, Michigan . In addition, I’ve made a one day visit to New Melleray Abbey in Peosta, Iowa and Pecos Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico.

With only one exception (which shall remain nameless), regardless of the religious order or affiliation: Benedictine, Franciscan, Cistercian, Episcopal, etc., the sense I each got at each monastery was that they were truly sincere in living up to the Rule of Saint Benedict that guests should be welcomed as if Christ. But that sense is not exuded through the venerable walls of these institutions, rather through their residents – the boys in the hoods.

When visiting a monastery, whether it is for a single day or for a retreat of several Days, it is most common to encounter the Guestmaster. This is a role identified by Saint Benedict in his Rule. He is the monastery’s face to the outside world. My experience has been that the Abbott (head of the monastery) usually selects the more affable or outgoing monk for this role. From Brother Aelred at Mepkin to Father Carlos at Gethsemani, these men are charged with bridging the vastly different worlds of the lay visitors and the monks.

One of the most important reasons that I find myself returning year after year to a monastic retreat is the ability to share in the life of the community. From the very early pre-dawn service of Vigils (or Matins) to Compline at the close of the day, guests are encouraged to participate in the religious life of the monastic community.

But treasured moments on monastic retreats can spring up at the most unexpected times in unplanned interactions with the resident monks. They happen in liminal space and time when the sacred and the secular meet and wallow in each other’s goodness and grace. I hope, over the next few days, to jot down some of my favorite memories of these glimpses of heaven.

HONORING THE INNER VOICE RETREAT

CAMP RONORA

WATERVLIET, MICHIGAN

OCTOBER 17th - 19th

OM MANI PADME HUM

WORKSHOP IN ABIQUIU, NEW MEXICO

I am blessed with many opportunities to enlarge my world each year. It seems many of them revolve around the state of New Mexico. Here's a glimpse of what will be my front door view next week.

I'll be attended a weeklong workshop at Ghost Ranch Conference and Retreat Center led by J. Philip and Alison Newell, former wardens of the Iona Community in Scotland.

I was blessed to have my paths cross with these 2 folks earlier this year on Sanibel Island. They were leading a Celtic weekend at the Episcopal church on the island. It was then that I learned of their association with Ghost Ranch. Each year, they spend some time in Abiquiu laying the groundwork for what they hope will eventually be an intentional desert community (Casa del Sol)organized under the principles and tenets of Celtic Spirituality.

Here is a glimpse of my upcoming week:

"THE GLORY OF LIFE IS YOURS"

The Casa del Sol Prayer of Jesus expresses the vision and commitments of the young Community of Casa del Sol and its spirituality center in the high desert of New Mexico. One of the prayer’s phrases, "The glory of life is yours," speaks of the light of the Living Presence within every person and creature, and within every culture and nation. This integrated week between Casa del Sol and the Ranch will consist of meditative prayer at the beginning and end of each day of teaching and singing in the Agape Center in the mornings, of rest and silence in the afternoons, and of further song and embodiment of our week’s theme in the evenings.

Philip just recently published a new book, "Christ of the Celts," which gives a wonderful overview of Celtic Spirituality. I was fortunate enough to have discovered this book during my stay at Christ in the Desert Monastery this past May. The words

resonated so deeply with me. If you believe in a loving God who created us in his/her image abounding in truth, beauty and grounded in the earth, I urge you to check out this book.

With free afternoons next week, I hope to get in some good walking, writing and prayer and contemplation. I expect that at least one day, I'll make a trip over to visit the brothers at Christ in the Desert.

Over the years, New Mexico has become like a second home to me. They say the desert will call you if you are meant to be there. I hear the song of the desert siren. Pray for me.

RETREAT

Apparently someone bound and gagged the poet and stuffed him in the closet as I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in a week. In lieu of a poem, I’ve decided to write about a recent adventure (names have been omitted to protect privacy), so here goes…

A couple of weekends ago, I was on retreat. The theme of the retreat was “Aspects of Love.” There was a nice crowd of folks – maybe 35 or so total. We began the retreat on Friday night by sitting in a very large circle on the floor and introducing ourselves. I knew about 30 folks from prior retreats, so I was feeling pretty comfortable. We were also asked to explain what came to our mind first when someone spoke the word “love.” Now, this is the part of the talking circle I hate the most. You have to figure out what you’re going to say when it’s your turn, while listening to folks’ answers, all the while hoping they aren’t going to “steal” your answer and you’ll have to come up with a new one in even less time than it took you to come up with the one that someone “stole.”

I finally settled on an answer. I wasn’t happy with it, but it was the truth. While everyone else in the circle was talking about love being portrayed by little bluebirds singing as they circled their heads with pretty ribbons, I sat on the floor with my sore butt worried that I would soon be labeled the dark lord of the retreat since my word was “pain.”

The man sitting to my right is one of my best friends. He has seen a LOT of pain in his life yet he manages to be the warmest and most compassionate person I’ve ever known. He is my friend, and yet I couldn’t bear to hear what he had to say. All I know is that when he was done, I didn’t hear the word “pain” which made my word of choice “golden.”

My turn: I can’t look anyone in the eye. I hear a voice speaking, and despite my being a bit hard of hearing, I can tell that the voice is coming from my mouth. The words sound a lot like those of the adults in those Charlie Brown TV specials – “wahwah wah wah wahwahwah…” The noise ends and I look to my left. The man who is sitting there is now speaking. I guess I did okay as folks aren’t running screaming from the room for fear that I’ll soon be asking them to drink some grape Kool-Aid.

Fast forward to Saturday morning: One of the staff members for this retreat is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). I know her. She is very sweet, very smart and very easy to talk to. Part of me wants to have a conversation with her about my choice of the word “pain” to describe love, but part of me doesn’t want to go any deeper, and so I sit, and my butt gets sore again.

Before the LCSW begins her presentation on self-compassion, we are asked to complete a self-evaluation quiz. Some of the questions seem repetitive. The second time around, I have to stop and think more deeply about my answers. Then I begin thinking more deeply about the other questions. Before I know it, I am deep in the throes of understanding that my “pain” need not be assuaged by other people, but that I have the tools to repair my “pain” through self-compassion.

The LCSW begins her discussion of self-compassion as an “Aspect of Love.” I’m sure she is wondering what is going on with me as I am sitting on the floor nodding my head at every word she says as if I was one of those bobble-head dolls. It may only be Saturday morning, but I have already gleaned my take-away from this retreat.

However, contrary to my smug conclusion, I would soon learn that only half a lesson had been learned. It would still take a heroic effort on my part to make this lesson a part of my life – a part of who I am, from this point forward.

The balance of the retreat was filled with a wide variety of creative and beneficial experiential exercises that allowed me to incorporate my recent lesson learned. But, it was an off-the-cuff cutting remark directed at me by one of the other retreatants that gave me my first true test. No purpose would be served by detailing the event, but suffice it to say that self-compassion became an “Aspect of Love” lesson put to good use and well-learned.

And so it is 2 weeks post-retreat. I’m still me, but I’m a calmer me. (My personal acquaintances should stop laughing here.) Because of this retreat and because of my willingness to listen to words about self-compassion, I’ve come to realize that while I cannot prevent it, I possess the power to heal my “pain.”

Amen.

BLESSED

I am blessed beyond measure in many regards. One of those blessings is my association with a number of organizations that allows me to take time away from my day-to-day life and go "on retreat." This past weekend, I attended a retreat whose theme was "Aspects of Love." I was asked by the organizers to compose a poem that I would read at the conclusion of the retreat. With acknowledgment to William Butler Yeats for inspiration, I present that poem now:

RETREAT

I went out to the woods
because their was a fire
in my heart that needed tending.

I know that words alone
cannot contain or change
the shape of this sacred flame.

And so I give myself the gift
of time to listen to the sound
of my heartbeat.

On holy land I cast off false illusions
and shed plates of armor
revealing a tender place
where love and I can live
and grow and thrive and welcome
each other home.