Where have I found myself these past two days? I simply don’t know. And where have I found God? I’d love to say everywhere but I am not certain about that either. I brought with me a giant suitcase filled with some clothes, many journals for transcription and a deluxe folding crate with wheels packed with an abundance of art supplies (like I’ll even use any of them – I haven’t used them in years, but miracles do happen you know.). Yet bigger than the suitcase and folding crate are my dreams of writing my entire story during a one week retreat. And as my writing muscle shriveled up and died as soon as I walked onto the property, don’t go searching for the day one entry.
Mariandale Retreat Center. Photo credit, Lisa Zuercher, 2016.
I walked the grounds like a caged animal searching for freedom. The cage too small for the girth of the creature and the pacing making him ravenous. That’s me. I can’t find my place here. I can’t find a place to plant my rear end, meditate and write. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of places to sit. Quite lovely spots indeed, however I haven’t managed to find the spot where bird poop wasn’t prevalent and where large biting ants weren’t looking for their next victim. Me and biting ants – God’s creatures I am well aware – just don’t get along. So I’ve been prowling the property praying, begging the angels to help me find my place.
This brought my thoughts back to my years at St. Joseph’s Retreat House in Cohasset, MA where the ocean would sing to my soul and the large boulder upon which I sat day after day became my rock, my foundation. The veranda overlooking the grounds and ocean was my solace and I felt every inch of creation down to my soul while I was there. And not finding “my” spot the first day at Mariandale is concerning to me as this is a time for me to quiet myself (although this isn’t a silent retreat) and get in tune with my words and vision for taking steps into my dreams.
So dearest God, what do you have planned for me? What is in store for me during this retreat? Why the anxious feelings? To what are you pushing me to contend? What demons are tugging at me? Why do I not feel free in the open spaces of this place?
I know you are anticipating the answer, right! Here is the message Spirit delivered to me at 9:30pm. I feel quite myself, my true self, when I am near the ocean where I can sit and take in its strength day after day. The words roll out of me as each wave dances upon the shore and as each seagull caws my name. Since I don’t have the ocean at my beck and call right now I need to face myself head on. I am stuck. I am afraid to post my writing and my thoughts. I am agonizing over this. I am being charged with searching for new ways to create, to write, to be me. This morning I put my heart to the challenge at hand. I got up early, showered, dressed and began my search for God. Why was God not making this easier for me, after all the only thing I want to do is find God in the everyday while sharing that waltz with the world.
The every-day is messy, a pain in the arse at times, it’s wonderful and thought provoking, and it is challenging. And my grandiose ideas of settling right in, creating inspiration in lightning speed, transcribing journals, writing books and changing some website info while I run from giant biting ants has fallen just shy of my getting in the car and driving back home. So I needed to recalibrate.
“God, oh God, where are you today? Lisa wants you to come out and play,” I whisper loudly within the confines of my frustration. And the answer came through the whisper of God’s breath as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the maple and oak trees creating for me a love song only God could sing. He dove into the depth of my soul urging me to continue on the journey and explore lavishly the peace of being still. Could it be this easy?
I took a seat on the trunk of my car – for sure the giant biting ants wouldn’t find me there. I sat and continued to delight in the whisper of the wind, the gentle caress of my soul. I sat there and when words didn’t pour from my heart to my pen to the paper I said, “Hello, I need assistance here.” Something caught the corner of my eye. There was squirrel about two feet from me. It was a cute little brown squirrel holding some type of round nut in his mouth. He had the most gentle, brown eyes. He gazed up at me and what did I do, I swished him away. This city girl thought this gentle eyed, killer squirrel was going to attack her. I swished him again. He takes one tiny step forward. “Go on now, scoot,” I say. He looks at me lovingly and probably saying to himself, “Hello, you asked God for something and here I am. You wanted a message and I appeared. Dopey human.” And as soon as he passed me I knew in my soul that a messenger was placed before me. I felt the gentle, playful and loving spirit of Fionn (my current border collie companion) and Liam (border collie companion in heaven) touch me as the squirrel passed. I allowed my fear to get the best of me. So I took a deep breath, centered myself to my foundation, and I quickly looked up the meaning of squirrel messengers: playful, perseverant, don’t let obstacles impede progress.
Just when I felt like packing it in I am reminded to add playtime, persevere in my wanting to find God in the everyday while sharing that waltz with the world, and not allow obstacles of fear to impede my progress.
Not bad for day two.