Retreat, Reading One

Last weekend, here being defined as Friday, October 3, 2008, through Sunday, October 5, 2008, I joined a group of some 120 or so men for the annual Gratitude Retreat held at the St. Francis Retreat Center in the foothills above San Juan Bautista, California. I drove down with my beloved friend Nino; we've been roommates for 16 of the 17 consecutive years we've mutually attended this powerful gathering. (A couple of years ago Nino had a schedule conflict for the First Weekend, and so attended the Third Weekend.) This year marks the 58th Gratitude retreat (!).

Nino, at "James' Pre-Retreat Meditation Spot"

As has been the case for a number of Octobers now, a contingent of fellow Caveman Group fellows also were present, among them Ben N., David S., Eric K., Kevin G., Jim O. and Trevin V. Past regular Caveman who were missing (at least for this, the First Weekend) included Bejan F., Bill S., Brad K., Dan J., Kevin A., and Mike B. Brad, Dan and Kevin will be joining me at the Third Weekend.

Jim exercised a bit of faith by driving in from Reno, Nevada, despite having been advised that his application and money had not been sent in time, thus leaving him without a room. Fortunately (and predictably) this news was erroneous: as usual Jim's roomie was Eric, whose money was good and validated legal tender. Eric Has A Room = Jim Has A Room.

For the second straight year the retreat sessions were lead by Brian, who utilized a great deal of PowerPoint slides which conveyed a lot of good information. For my taste the best part of the "conferences" were the periods when Brian had us break up into groups (generally of 3 men) wherein we each took a turn sharing our experience on a specified topic. For the first evening session, on Friday, this was the matter of surrender. (As of this writing I can't recall any of the other topics.) For each of the conference sharings I found myself one-third of the triad composed of Nino and Jim D.'s friend John, who flew in from North Carolina. Jim, a retired lawyer who worked as a "bannister" in England for years (much to my great envy!), is a very interesting guy who I hope to get to know better via email.

My raison d'être for making the October retreat is much more to connect with my many fine fellow retreatants than it is to sit in the conferences, for it is this mutual sharing of our experience, strength and hope which has been so aptly characterized as the "language of the heart." Thus, while Brian's presentations were certainly interesting (especially the one on Relationships), for me the true essence and power of the weekend was in the deep connections I made with the men who shared their time and trust with me.

Each year one experiences the retreat differently (this true for me, at least, and not being unique I suspect this holds for everyone else), which makes sense from the perspective that over the course of a year of life's trials, tribulations, joys and and accomplishments we as individuals show up as slightly different beings than the year before. In my case, I found that for the first time in my 17 years I had very little interest in expending much energy photographing the crew and/or grounds (I did turn my attention that way after the retreat was over). Indeed I discovered, in retrospect, that although I was just as enthusiastically social as ever, nonetheless I ended up limiting my serious conversations largely to those men I see regularly back home. This was not a premeditated decision . . . however, the blissful nap I took immediately after lunch on Saturday (a nicely convenient -- and rare -- drizzly day) was Priority One before I even drove through the gates on Friday.

The Caveman Contingent has enhanced the weekend experience for the past two years (three?) by holding its own formal, small and intimate meetings: one after the Friday night's "official" schedule is concluded, and a second gathering at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon. These semi-private affairs have so far been held in the small gathering room between the library and the "Fireside Room" (formerly, not so many years ago, this space was an alcove). Last year we had on the order of a dozen men stuffed into this chamber; this year the group was just over half that and much more comfortable.

The Caveman Contingent, First Weekend 2008 Edition, plus Nino. Photo by Ben N.

Like the monthly GV Potluck dinners currently held at Eric's house in Los Gatos, albeit much smaller, the sharing is considerably more open and powerful than is typically experienced at more "public" meetings of this sort. Jim O. agreed to "chair" the Friday night group; everyone was in attendance. Jim's topic was "surrender." On Saturday Eric K. was the speaker; Ben and Trevin were "intensely working with one another" elsewhere, thus the congregation was especially small. It must be noted that Nino, who is not a Caveman but is one of the original co-founders of the Men's Potluck & GV Study meeting, has attended the Saturday afternoon gatherings the past two years. His gentle wisdom and loving insight has been most welcome, and refreshing.

It was particularly gratifying and encouraging to have both David S. and Trevin V. among us this weekend. Our hope is that they might, perhaps upon reflection, experience a taste of the freedom, joy, and priceless power of fellowship which are concrete and sustaining outcomes from the willingness to participate in events such as this weekend's.

[Updated Tuesday afternoon:]

On Friday, before packing my standard 100 lbs of books, toiletries, and a baffling (even to me) array of other creature comforts, I checked the online weather forecast for San Juan Bautista. This was a feigned effort to avoid lugging along too many unnecessary layers of clothing, should the temps be projected as summer-like. Sometime earlier in the day I'd heard rumors of rain as being a theory, and sure enough according to the web the precipitation possibilities were set to begin at ten percent early Friday evening, peaking at sixty percent in the wee-hours of Saturday morning. (So, I was compelled to pack for arctic conditions, naturally.)

Sure enough, the meteor guys got it right. Even by the time Nino and I began our traditional slow drive up the beautiful tree-lined approach to the retreat center the sky was filling with low and dark clouds. Drama was building overhead as we pulled off and briefly stood at my "meditation spot" (which I do as an attempt to complete the transition from my 75 mph drive down Highway 101 into the sedate and becalming atmosphere of the weekend) . While I have a deserved reputation as one who relishes the summer heat -- Sonoran desert upbringing will do that to you) -- I found myself joining the general consensus of my fellow guests who welcomed the wintry elements as a nice change of pace. (Let's not overdue the notion of "wintry" here: except for perhaps very early Sunday morning the temperatures were quite moderate throughout the weekend.)

I can't clearly recall the last time any significant rain fell during these October stays at the retreat center; the skies are usually blue (although there have been many such sunny retreats which were nonetheless cold due to significant winds coming in from the Pacific, not all that distant). On this weekend I first became aware of drops falling from the sky while enjoying the Annual Cigar Chat at around 1:00 a.m. Ben N., David S, Kevin G., Trevin V. and I had been sitting in chairs placed next to the gazebo at Serenity Point, taking in the view and discussing wh0-knows-what for an hour or so. The gentle sprinkle (barely that, really) served as a well-timed call to wrap up the first day's activities, so we headed back past the "pond" (totally dry this year) and to our respective rooms. Later, it might've been around 3:00 a.m. or so, I was awakened by the gentle sound of rain falling . . . a moment as pleasant as it is infrequent at these October gatherings.

Nino and I shared room 53 this year, which is one of the "luxury suites" which comprise the block of rooms known as the "motel," or to some, as the "swamp." While I actually prefer the rather more spartan (and quit a bit smaller) accommodations of the rooms arrayed in the halls bordering the chapel, Nino appreciates the heater (!) and more expansive space in the "motel" rooms. Thus, when I sent in my application this year I included a note to Jim D. asking that he put us up in the motel, as a bit of a gift from me to Nino. Jim D. , who has given amazing service to this retreat as its coordinator for 27 or so years, came through. Little did I know at the time that this would be the last time he would so lovingly grant my request: he announced his retirement from his duties as the retreat coordinator, during the first conference Sunday morning. (I actually made another decision rare for me: while I did get up for breakfast -- gotta have my retreat center oatmeal -- I deliberately kept my time in the dining room short so as to return to my room for more sleep. Thus I missed the undoubtedly emotional and loving "job well done" chorus that must've be the unanimous reaction to Jim's news.)

Thanks for your years of excellent and loving service to us all, Jim!

[update, very early in the morning, Friday, October 17, 2008:]

Well, later today (almost exactly 12 hours hence, if all plans hold) I shall head out onto Highway 85 bound for Dan's house, where I shall add him as a travel companion for a return to the Retreat Center: the Third Weekend Edition begins.

So I figured it might be high time to attempt finish off this overly long review of the First Weekend's affairs. Some highlights, then:

Alvin was our Friday night speaker; in my view he gave a very nice talk. The main thing I remember from his story was this: he once attended a meeting where the speaker was overly profane, which left Alvin unhappy and (silently) critical of the message delivered. Ironically, another attendee of the same meeting, apparently a bit of a newcomer, enthusiastically gushed to Alvin just how excellent the (very same) talk was, and that many parts of the speech resonated deeply. Alvin's own, unexpected epiphany: that it is not all about him (or me!) -- so long as at least one person in the room finds hope, help or solace from a "chair", mission accomplished.

There are, of course no coincidences . . . although I deeply respect and enjoy the new-appointed and current retreat "facilitator", I am not fond at all of his delivery method, which largely consists of speaking to PowerPoint slides densely packed with verbiage. In light of Alvin's realization it was only natural that one of my own "understudies" approached me after the Friday night's Conference and gushed a bit about how much he got out of our presenter's method and style -- it was focused and orderly and clear! Fortunately for my pride and ego I had not yet felt it necessary to insert my foot into my mouth by offering a less-than-glowing discourse of my critique of the evening . . .

As I mentioned in my original posting on this topic, I'd armed myself ahead of time with a bit of knowledge regarding the weather forecast. Having done so I made a decision rare for me at these retreats: I chose to deliberately sleep in on Saturday, insofar as I skipped any attempt to make the 7:05 a.m. sunrise. And, although I also knew that the Sunday skies would likely be spectacularly clear and fresh, I also skipped the opportunity to see Sunday's sunrise. Consciously choosing to miss both days' dawnings is unprecidented for me, so far as I can remember. (Sunday's refusal was a consquence of visting and remaining out at the gazebo again for more cigars after the close of Saturday's Official Events, and falling into bed far more exhausted than is usual even for me.)

During the course of the weekend I was privelged to share intimate and considerable time with four men, individually: Jim O., Eric K., Ben N. and Nino. These particular meetings were mostly premeditated: Jim and I met for a vital Get-Current session, as I work with him long distance; Ben and I had some specific homework to review (he was ready for me just as the final conference of the weekend was getting underway, so he and I trekked out to the gazebo on what was a beautful morning).

Eric had made an off-the-cuff comment during Friday's "introductions-all-around" meeting which really drove home my realization that he and really need to sit down in a formal manner and review the twelve proposals outlined as the heart and soul of our purpose and participation in this common fellowship we share. Thus I arranged to talk to him Saturday and gained his commitment to do so, on Monday evenings.

Nino had approached me a week or two prior to the retreat weekend with the desire for me to accompany him to the ocean, for the purpose of burning some old writings of his. I was deeply honored to be sought out as his support for this exercise in Letting Go. As Sunday morning got underway it occured to me that, since he and I nearly always linger on the retreat center grounds until late in the afternoon -- long after the last of our fellow retreatants depart -- why not simply burn his journals in the Fireside Room's massive, elegant, and deeply familiar fireplace? He found this an agreeable idea.

So we ended our 17th retreat together after lunch on Sunday by initiating a minor ritual of burning away old memories committed to paper, followed by a brief and last visit (for he and I, this year) to the chairs and gazebo at Serenity Point where we soaked up a few final moments of peace and comfort before returning to the clamoring and chaos of everyday life in Silicon Valley.

A wonderful weekend it was, indeed.