“…words didn’t come. They weren’t needed, I guess.”
By Erin Bishop
I am a woman of many words - a hyper-explainer and an over-describer. My favorite type of word is the adjective because we can pile them on top of one another, each addition providing more specificity and distinction: The table is sturdy and blue and wide and homemade. My car is dirty, fast, sporty, and dented. My mind is active and chattery and alert and watchful and wandering. When I’m not reading or listening to words, I’m often writing them. And when I write in my journal, the entries are usually pages of explanatory detail and interrogation of my experience or a lengthy narrative that helps me process an event.
That is why I was shocked to find this entry from June 3rd:
“Retreat. One day. Innerwork, lovely property, silence.”
That’s it. That’s ALL I WROTE in my painstakingly detailed journal when I attended Innerwork’s The Quiet Power one-day silent retreat.
And that’s exactly why I was there.
For me, innerwork means overcoming the innerwords that have served me so very well in my career and networks. Words have been my currency. I’m great at talking! Great at categorizing and articulating and explaining. Great at asking the many questions that get us down to the heart of the matter. Great at creating a narrative that makes sense of things, and great at distilling too much information into ideas that are bite-sized and digestible (assuming you like the added pepper of adjectives!).
Over the last few years, I’ve begun to notice that none of this helps me when I need a solid night’s sleep. None of this helps me when I’m trying to unwind in the bath. None of it helps with my digestion or my spine or my exercise routine. As I evolve into my second half of life, I’m learning to find a new kind of currency, to flex a different sort of muscle. If you’re reading this, I imagine you are, too. It’s so hard! I’m at the beginning of my journey, and my 7-word diary entry is a victory for me (by far, it wins the blue ribbon for brevity).
Innerwork has provided much of my training so far. The brief, one-day silent retreat was a perfect opportunity for my busy, jumbled mind. Instructor Susan Wilkes led us through calming guided and movement meditations to help us settle. She then provided a series of prompts and instructions that helped us go deeper within. Susan’s instruction, the early Summer weather, and the stunning property worked together to weave some silent magic for our little group of seekers.
I remember where I was when I pulled out my journal, expecting words to arise and flow out of me in their familiar torrent. It was mid-day, and we were eating our bag lunches wherever suited us (freedom to wander and find your place of peace is a wonderful feature of the retreat). It suited me to sit in a shady spot by the quiet pond, on the dodgy end where foam gathers and algae grow among water lily stalks. I was listening to the staccato symphony of frogs and insects. I was watching a dragonfly go about its business, hovering and darting in ways far outmatching our best machines. I was breathing. I was feeling moisture evaporate from my skin, and the sharp tickle of dry grass on my ankles. I was experiencing something newish in my chest- something spacious.
That indefinable spaciousness is what I seek. What great fodder for a detailed, exploratory, adjective-strewn journal entry to better define and understand it! But the words didn’t come. They weren’t needed, I guess. Or, perhaps, they would have been intrusive and in the way.
Instead, what came were 7 words to remind me of the beautiful feeling of being without them. And remind me to show up again next year.