I'm going on a retreat next week, so I'm trying to think of all the things that must be done before I leave, as if the world will be in chaos because I'm not around. Well, the world will be in chaos, but I'm not doing much to stop it and my superpowers are ebbing. I need a battery recharge, and I will be a much more pleasant individual when that has happened. Leaving for the world of silence is attractive to me, as usual. Though I am a complete chatterbox at times, I do like not to have to make the effort continuously. I get really sick of hearing myself speak. And I'm shaky about my authenticity when I speak as well. Am I trying to please the other person, make them like me? I have a mile long history of that, perhaps stemming from having to move often as a child. Is there an image I wish to project? Falseness, pure falseness. My intention is to speak to connect with others and remain open and curious about the world. But that is idealized, and in fact, I babble when I'm nervous, and for many other less that stellar motivations.
So the silence will be good. I get to notice my thoughts and interior monologues and patterns. Then, if I'm lucky, I can sweep my mind clear and see what honest, genuine and hopefully useful stuff rises to the top. But I have to remember to carry along my sense of humor, because as Yogi Berra said, otherwise it's deja vu all over again. It's a struggle not to bore myself to sleep.
The silence on retreats relaxes me in a deep way, providing comfort and an introduction, yet again, to who I am underneath. Then I can go forth into the world with my intentions reset, my motivations exposed and the support of my practice propping me up, nudging me on, as I head down my path, merrily, merrily, merrily, to no where in particular.
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