Solitude

Monday Evening

I am on my fall retreat; a twice a year occurrence where I go away to one of my favorite natural areas. When I first started taking these retreats ten years ago, I would go with another person. It made for lively conversation and camaraderie, but having someone around, gave me permission to neglect the issues that I wanted to ponder. Over time, scheduling conflicts provided me with a graceful way out to change these retreats from a girls’ weekend away to one where I was forced to be my own best friend.

In the past, I would go to a beautiful little cottage at the eastern end of the Upper Peninsula. The owners are wonderful people that I have come to call my friends. Cottage Number Two was my home away from home, fully furnished with all the conveniences I could ask for including television. But it was that dreaded boob tube, whose presence tempted me away from the purpose of my trip and I would find myself sitting there watching it. My retreat had become just another weekend at home, except in a different location.

So this fall, I changed the destination. My cabin has fewer modern conveniences. Yes there is a fully functioning kitchen, but there is no television, limited cell service and the closest ice cream shop, a half hour away. The only distractions are stoking the fireplace that provides the heat in my cabin and the myriad of birds and wildlife that keep me company.

I’m settled in now; belongings put away, food in the refrigerator. The logs in the fireplace are blazing hot and I’ve brought in enough fresh wood to last me through the evening. The rain that accompanied me on my journey here has finally ended, replaced by a brisk wind and overcast clouds. I have seen a couple of eagles despite the chilly conditions. My camera is assembled and ready for morning.

The cabin is quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the crackling of the flames as they pull up the chimney. Even for someone like me who loves silence, I find this quiet disconcerting and I look around the room expecting to see someone walk in the door. But there is no one here and no one is expected.

I think about purpose of this retreat. The last six months have been hectic despite my lack of employment. I have plenty of concerns, fears and questions to choose from. Yet I have found that these retreats often unfold much differently than how I originally plan them.

It is getting dark outside now with only the western horizon showing any sign of sunlight. In the distance I hear geese honking. Perhaps they spend their evening in the protected waters in front of the cabin. How wonderful it would be to arise tomorrow morning and find a flock of them preparing for their long journey south.

For being such a long day, I am not tired. The solitude relaxes me and I rather like the calm that envelopes this place. Maybe it is not the act of contemplation I need but the solitude.