Postcards from the Unthinkable

I have no idea what to expect.

With a topic like "Writing the Unthinkable," it could be just about anything I can imagine and probably quite a bit that I can't. 

Someone is playing "Stairway to Heaven" on ukulele and melodica. Two someones. They're sitting on the deck where I'm set up with my laptop looking out over the garden. A couple is trying to feed their tiny children dinner. They promise ice cream and suddenly there is renewed interest in the french fries and apples. Mom gives dad the stinkeye for being on his phone. He counters that he hasn't had a moment to himself since they arrived. His idea of being by himself is scrolling Facebook. My phone is off. 

I'm on retreat. 

It's good to be here. The morning began with morning pages and washing dishes, packing and a shower, doing the checklist and loading the car in the rain. Felt so good to be off and on my way. The rain came and went all along the way through New Jersey. It cleared the minute I hit the New York State Thruway.

And there were shadows of clouds on mountains.

Time to exhale deeply and relax.

I like to come to Omega Institute once a year if I can. It's a treasure of the east. If I was in California, I'd go to Esalen. You can find pretty much any kind of workshop or retreat you're looking for and there is also the option to come for a private, unstructured retreat. There's a lake and gardens, and paths through the woods. A library and wellness center, cafe and book store. A sanctuary on top of a hill for quiet reflection and meditation. There was a time here before cell phones and Internet when you could really get away from it all. 

These days you spend time trying to get away from people on their devices. I have to mind my thoughts when I see this. It's a violation of the rules to use cell phones away from the parking lots and phone booths, but few people respect them or others' desire for an experience out in nature apart from the digital world.

The WiFi does enable me to post my blog.

The cafe was once the center of community life here, with all kinds of conversations around the table, but these days most of the tables are occupied by one person on a laptop. It's interesting to see how things have changed over the 28 years I've been coming here. Of course, it's a reflection of the changes all around us in day to day life.

It's surprisingly hot and muggy, sticky and steamy. Every surface is sticky. 

I overhear someone say how well she's going to sleep tonight. I find myself longing for bed and a good night's sleep, lulled by the sounds of cicadas and forest noises. It gets my mind off how sticky my hands feel. 

The mosquitoes have come out and the children at the next table are scream-talking, so it's time to pack things up and get going.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.