Vim’s Retreat

I had put my home in order, food in the refrigerator and backups in the freezer, done all the laundry and ironing, watered and trimmed the plants, delegated instructions, packed my belongings and managed a late night Skype call with my TT Friends…

My husband drove me to the airport, with a last minute exchange of practicalities and responsibilities before our final embrace…

Through immigration and security controls at Heathrow airport, everybody watching everybody, guarding passports and hand luggage with the new care that the treat of terrorism has taught us…

The golden expensive liquids from the tax free, super made-up beauticians who appear all fake with bitchy smiles for whom kicking off their shoes and snuggling into something comfortable and not doing a job they did not like on a week-end would be more appealing…

Boutiques groaning under luxury wares whom nobody can afford or would want to purchase at the airport now that better discounts can be found elsewhere….

Long corridors to my departure gate… uneventful flight.

My nephew at arrivals with my brother awaiting me by the car with balloons and the biggest grin to welcome me and genuinely impressed with my transformation. Home to a family gathering, lots of wows, thoughtful foods and family warmth, late night talking and only a little sleep.

My bus ride on my own to the retreat was calming and a gentle transition from the boisterous family get together.

The convent’s comfort is modern though it is centuries old and just as traditional in its form. A sister welcomed me and verified my booking, my dietary requirements and confirmed the reason for my stay. A novice took me to my room at 09:45 and she looked after my needs during my 10-day stay, a little like her own transition from the common world before taking her final vows. My room was about 14 feet by 12: under a simple cross, a comfortable bed with a warm duvet/comforter, two good pillows, bedside table, lamp, medium-sized simple table, solid, comfortable chair, a hand-woven blue cotton rug on the polished floorboards. A small wardrobe with a few shelves. The medium window was framed by simple embroidered curtains. On the table was a little vase with freshly picked branches and moss, a jug of water, and hand-blown glass, a basket of convent-baked cracker bread (Ryvita type), all of which were changed daily, a bowl of sand and the Bible. The overall impression was white, light and airy. The window looked onto the cloisters’ courtyard. The sand, I later found out, was intended to be handled, helps one to think as it sieves through one’s fingers. Indeed that proved true!

Within moments I had unpacked my few belongings, laid out my notebook, pencils and fountain pens and set myself up in the en-suite shower/wc room. I would be collected from my room at 11 am for prayers and lunch. So, here I was again, with an hour to go and “nothing” to do. I lay on the bed, to rest as a means of catching up from my previous lack of sleep.

My novice led me in silence to the chapel and assigned me a seat. Five other non-convent individuals were seated randomly. The sisters were seated at the front. One got up, read from the Bible and sat down. A good quarter of an hour or so later another sister got up, read something else and another two more did the same. Throughout the hour, having taken in the décor of the chapel and spent time wondering what our meal would be like, I was very stimulated when the prayer session came to an end.

Lunch was a very sociable occasion with good conversation and getting to know each other. The five other women were about my age or older, one an over-stressed professional, one a widow, another an annual retreater and the other two first-timers. I had been to the same convent retreat three years ago but only for 4 days then.

The meals were typically Swedish in composition and served at 11 am and 5 pm with simple snacks in between. Porridge for breakfast, cold herring variants and potatoes in different form for lunch, fish or meat with vegetables for supper. The nuns had very kindly contemplated my gastric bypass condition and adapted the same foods for me. All went most beautifully down! I was fed on time, delicious homemade, fresh food with prime ingredients – bliss!

After lunch each went back into our rooms for four hours in total silence. The first 3 days were difficult without sounds. Mornings were taken up with waking at 6am, breakfast, prayer, quiet time, prayer, lunch. At some stage every afternoon a nun came to our room for 15-30 minutes to either talk, pray or sit in companionable silence. Communal evening prayer before our meal and back into our rooms for the night at 8pm. Electricity out at 10pm.

I was told of the timetable on the day of arrival but had no clock or visible time for the duration of my stay. A bell rang to wake us up and a warning bell a few minutes before lights out. Initially sitting in a neutral room with “nothing” to do was an anti-climax but quite quickly one learns to appreciate small things. Looking out of the window and appreciating the shapes of clouds, studying the branches and the buds maturing, listening out for birdsong, watching the squirrels’ behaviour, anticipate when the rain would come.Early to bed and early to rise. I did get quite enough sleep. It was deep and restful. I had a regulated life for 10 days, no responsibilities, was fed and looked after. What more could a girl want?!In my free time I sat and thought, superficially at first, then with more and more precision and debated within me the pros and cons of my self-arguments. The topics covered anything in my life, be it easy or sad. I forced myself to think and to be honest with my responses. A heavy period of introspection. It was demanding, tiring, disturbing, uplifting, freeing and still now most liberating.

I valued my time of simplicity. The sisters who visited me in the afternoons were very discreet, we spoke a lot or a little about the soul. The second week, having “calmed down” I spent some of my time helping the nunnery: scrubbing floors, teaching computer skills, mending and used my language skills to write to their counterparts in other countries across the globe.

I was immensely busy in my solitude. I went inside to places where normally I would avoid and met face on with uncomfortable truths, came to know my enemies.After 24 hours without internet, telephone, a clock or other domestic gadgets, I slipped quite comfortable into the world of comfort in simplicity – something that I have always tried to keep true to at least one week in summer each year.

I have returned enriched, empowered, strengthened and with joy in my heart. 10 days is as long as I can take at the moment to lock myself away by choice. As a chid I was sent to my room to think about the naughty behaviour I had done so the retreat aspect was familiar.I was brought up as a Protestant with a Catholic convent schooling but have transferred my allegiance to the Quakers (Religious Society of Friends). From my Quaker Meetings I am used to the silent worship but I often miss ecclesiastical music, hence I am to be found in both the Meeting Rooms and the Anglican Church.Leaving the convent retreat and facing the world again was difficult – the outside world is noisy, rushed, false and out of touch with the inner self. Just sitting quietly for a few minutes per day is rewarding and refreshing.