Rhythm of Place, Part 1 San Damiano

 Thanks to San Damiano's noisy, but quite efficient Keurig coffee maker, every morning this week I brewed a cup of coffee at 6:00 a.m. I would then go and sit under the oak trees at the San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville. Facing north, I would watch Mt. Diablo slowly being revealed as the sun rose. I grew fond of this mountain. The always busy 680 corridor was between us, but I was high enough and far enough away from it that the pre-dawn traffic seemed like a strand of jewels reverentially placed before the mountain. On the morning when I took this picture, tule fog was obscuring the freeway, and at one point almost covered the mountain. I was so captivated by this slow moving wave that I missed the 6:30 meditation.   

Being able to gaze daily upon a mountain is a blessing. I feel no need to climb a mountain, and I really do not care for the phrase, "bagging a mountain." I bag groceries, not mountains. While I like to think that mountains are indestructible, I know this is not the case. Regardless, mountains do inspire a sense of stability and permanence that seems to resonate with my soul. Then again so do prairies, but that is a subject for another time. 

There was much that I loved about this five day silent retreat led by Father Laurence Freeman.  While we gathered for meditation several times during the day and evening, the early morning meditation was my favorite. It reminded me of my spiritual direction intensives when we would gather every morning and evening for a contemplative prayer service. It was a collective rhythm that took root, and I think that will always be a part of me.  However, being silent at communal meals usually feels uncomfortable to me. My father seldom talked during meals unless company was present. While I seldom have a need to chatter incessantly while I eat, extended silence when I share a meal with others sometimes gives me a sense of loneliness. I was able to speak with Father Lawrence about it, and he suggested that I think of it as an extension of the Eucharist. I am still pondering that. However, this retreat was loving, and by the time we were coming out of the silence, I was adjusting to sitting at the table with others and not speaking. My last meal at San Damiano was breakfast on Friday, and our silence had ended that morning. Ironically, I found myself at a table with three women who were all very hard of hearing. Our conversation was limited, and I am still smiling about that. Perhaps that is what Father Laurence meant - just leave it all to God. 

I read and wrote very little at this retreat, but I did take pictures and scribbled some notes so I would remember. These I will share in the upcoming days. As always, you are welcome to read, or not, as you feel called.  

   

Love and Blessings,    

Sue Ann