The Eagles were in concert in the Dunedin stadium on Saturday night, so even at 7 am the next day, the roads were clogged with cars being driven cautiously homeward by people in their 50s - mum and dad rockers who'd been livin' it up at the Hotel California. I was on my way to a six day silent retreat in the Maniototo and it was slow going. I stopped for coffee in Palmerston and in the Pig Root there was thick fog, so thick I drove past the turn off by the Kyeburn Bridge. I found it again - it's not as though there were lots of other options - but the last 20 minutes were spent on gravel roads wrapped in a damp, opaque white blanket, quietly wondering if I was where I thought I was. Spiritual lesson 1. And then there were the familiar old buildings looming up amongst the trees.
People arrived and found themselves a room. We gathered and talked about what they might expect. After lunch the silence began, for the retreatants anyway. Those of us who are guiding them - John, Judith Anne, Barbara and me - met in one of the rooms of this sprawling place to talk and plan and try to notice what is going on. For us it's a week long journey as powerful as that of the retreatants, but it's a different path.
After lunch, despite the heat, I walked, over dressed, up into the hills. Warm. Dessicated. Dry - well, not me, so much. I'm going to have to find the laundry before the week is through. Spiritual lesson 3.
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