A silent meditation retreat, Monastery of Christ Our Saviour, Turvey, Nr Bedford
The words of the great Persian Sufi poet Rumi speak to each of us – and to humanity as a whole – just as urgently as they did nearly 800 years ago.
We will gently explore what his arresting insight might mean for us, individually and collectively, as we open to Father John Main’s wise affirmation that “meditation creates community”.
What is it that brings people to a silent weekend such as this? What do they want from it? What do they experience? What do they take away?
If there is anything as conventional as an aim in play when we go on retreat, it is surely a preparedness to push away from the safe grab rails of language, the words we use to tame reality, the stories we tell ourselves in order to give shape to everything that keeps on threatening to be shapeless.
Life is difficult and scary and in the face of this challenging truth we opt more often than not for ways of finessing the situation, blurring the outlines of reality with one form of denial or distraction after another. The issue here is not alcohol or drunkenness per se. It is our readiness to have our attention fully absorbed by that which promises us reassurance, comfort – even numbness. You can effortlessly get drunk, and stay drunk, on all the commodities that surround you: social media feed (significant word), shopping, food, drink, drugs, status, self-image, ideologies – in short on possessions of every kind. And our biggest, most tightly grasped possession of all is our self.
At the beginning and the end of the retreat we heard something of each other’s stories. One of the retreatants wrote to me some weeks afterwards describing it as a ‘detox’. It’s extraordinary how 48 hours of shared silence amplifies, deepens, transforms and then takes us far beyond those words. We learned something barely describable, but utterly central, from times of sitting on cushions and chairs in meditation, from eating together in silence, from washing up together, looking after the guest house, practising walking meditation in the birdsong-filled silence of the Abbey grounds… If I had to describe it I would borrow the words of one of the participants in the retreat: “We are simply learning about this business of being human together”.
W.H. Auden in his poem “The Age of Anxiety” seems to be offering a similarly urgent diagnosis of our problem, 700 years after Rumi:
We would rather be ruined than changed,
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.
My profound thanks to Brother John, Brother Herbert, the Sisters of the Abbey and all those who continue to make Turvey a rare and precious place of welcome. Here, in pain but also in joy and friendship, we discover that – again and again – we can indeed climb together the cross of the moment and share life – life in all its fullness.
Words from Jim Green
‘Why had we come to Turvey?’
Turvey always draws me back and the opportunity to participate in another retreat led by Jim and Ed would, I knew provide the answer to this question. I was seeking deeper connection – connection to all that is… The silence would yield this connection for that is what silence does.
‘There is nothing so like God as silence’, said Meister Eckhart.
So there were many connections arising out of the silence… This seems to me how God works, by Grace. He re- connects that which has become separate and makes us one-whole. Jim spoke movingly about the life of Etty Hillesum who seems to me to embody this ‘patient heart’ and a life spent eradicating ‘self’ and surrendering to God. And of course, the supreme example of this is Christ. And so we rise and we fall, we rise and we fall – every day, in life as in meditation. Yet as Jim said, ‘Every day is Easter’. Every day we die to self and rise to new life. Every day brings the opportunity for ‘at- one-ment’…
Julian of Norwich, who accompanies me on every retreat, offers us encouragement for this in those oft quoted yet ever relevant words: ‘Finally, all shall be well…’And how do we do this? We sit down and are quiet. This is how Etty describes it: ‘I’ll “turn inward” for half an hour before work, and listen to my inner voice. Lose myself. You could also call it meditation…. But it’s not that simple, that sort of “quiet hour”. It has to be learned. A lot of unimportant inner litter and bits and pieces have to be swept out first. So let this be the aim of the meditation: to turn one’s innermost being into a vast empty plain, with none of that treacherous undergrowth to impede the view…
So that something of “God” can enter you, and something of “Love” too.
I left Turvey seeking to be attentive to the small, everyday things and to love them with a patient heart …and trying not to mind what happens.
Words from Sue Pexton
I attended the silent retreat at Turvey Abbey organised for us by Jim and Ed, who held the silent space for us in a welcoming and caring way. Turvey Abbey is a Benedictine Abbey based near Bedford in beautiful surroundings and we could walk around the ground and further afield if we wanted to. The retreat had several silent meditation sessions spread through the weekend, using the Maranatha prayer. We also did walking meditations outside through the grounds. There were also brief talks and practices to settle us in, such as “Meditation declutters the soul”. The accommodation and food were simple but kind. Coming from London it was easy to get to on public transport. We could also attend the daily prayer and offices spread throughout the day. Sitting in silence over the weekend, I was struck by a number of things. We are all welcome to join the retreat and how silence works to builds community amongst us.
Then I found washing up in silence together could also have that effect too!!
Words from Peter Musgrave