Letters and reflections from after the retreat:

Dear Dear friends,

        Last night my sister asked me about my retreat, and I told her I would write to her about it when I felt the urge.  This morning, I sat down to write, and this is what came out. I wanted to share with all of you as well. And to thank each and every one of you who supported this experience for me. I treasure all of you, as the retreat seemed to have it's energy and magic made up of us all.   So anyway, here is what came out:

        I am sitting here with my tea and cereal trying to put words to my retreat.  So far, I have no idea what to say.  I will see if my fingers know the words.  Here goes.

       Retreat for me, is a time to stop being Peggy. To stop all of the work that it takes to keep this story going, and going in a way satisfactory to Peggy. To simply stop all efforts, and see what is there without all of the struggle. Retreats are wonderful, in that all of the needs are provided, and so there is nothing at all to do.  And then the expectation is that you sit down and shut up for 5 days, and see what happens. For someone who always felt that she needed to be in control of all situations that even tangentially touch her, this is enormously refreshing.  
     
        The first few days of the retreat my meditation was very interesting, especially in retrospect. What happened was that I sat on my cushion for almost 2 days, and disappeared into this space where there was only blackness and space. It was not radiant, boring, exciting, peaceful, joyful, painful, or ANYTHING else. It was simply blackness and space.  Sometimes I seemed to be aware of the blackness and space, and sometimes even awareness seemed to blink out. At the time, I really did not wonder too much about this experience.  I figured that I was really tired, and I was resting, if not sleeping. Maybe sleeping. But I was sitting upright on my cushion, back unsupported and my head did not drop, and I did not fall over. Sometimes I drooled.  

After a time, several days, I noticed that a  joy started to emerge in my experience. My experience of the last few years has been quite flat, without alot of joy, or suffering. This joy for no reason was something that I have been missing for a long long time. I wrote a little poem, that went something like this:

Sitting, sitting, still sitting
There is only blackness and space
No problems,  no radiance,
Tnen even the awareness blinks out. 

I must have fallen asleep
Or mayby that is the unborn.

Who knows,
Who cares

The joy follows
quite unexpectedly.

        I came out of the dark, and a dancing joy suffused my experience. A joy that I have not known for a long, long time.   A joy that loves everyone and everything, and sees poignancy in what used to look like suffering. A joy with no cause, and no needs. 

      That in essence was my retreat experience.    

I trust it. It was so real.

  Now I am home, with all of the Peggy stories arising every day as they have for 54 years. I am starting to realize that the stories are just what they are, but not the essence. They may be happy or sad, painful or jubilant, but they are just the stories. They are mostly silly and poignant.   

    The first slug of the season is making his way slowly across my deck, in the rain. Hello old friend. Hope that your way is not hard.   

     What I now understand is that all of the difficulties I face, with my confused administration at work, and the deeply confused administration of our nation, is just more of the stories. They need their due, as in when Jesus said , "Render unto Caesar that  which is Caesars, and unto God (translate the Tao) that which belongs to the Tao." I really know the difference now. I can give to my work, and to our world that which is demanded , even in it's full insanity, and still remain untouched at the essence, for there is that nothing at the essence. And that nothing is fully magic.  

        So today, I go off to an irritating meeting at work, and realize that there is no need to fight it. There is no need to find it irritating. It can arise along with everything else, and  just be part of the light show. No need to separate it out, as being something to be judged  in any way. In the judging is where the misunderstanding begins.  

       We'll see if I can remember this all thru the meeting.

  I don't know where this is leading me.  I do seem to continue to crave absolute silence and solitude. Somehow, in my new understanding, too much noise in my world is distracting. I need my hermit life to solidify this realization. Otherwise, I get so confused again. The rest that came on the retreat needs quiet for it's sustenance, and it is still fragile.  

     So my withdrawal from the world continues. Sometimes, I think it will continue for the rest of my life. But who knows.?  

        Love to you all, and I would love to hear more of any experience that anyone wishes to share. There is so much to learn here.  

                Love,

                        Peggy

Dear, dear Patty,

I have a novel written to you, in my head, to tell you so much about 4 and a
half short days I recently experienced. But the hands have not found the
keyboard since I returned home. There has simply been too many other
beautiful priorities to attend to: spending all available waking moments
with my family, seeing how wonderful they are, helping my husband cry lots
more, feeling what it feels like to work spreadsheets and manage projects in
sweet contentment, happily watching my normally neat house settle into a
lovely mess, etc., etc.

I do not have time even today to write this novel. I must get outside during
my break and walk and breathe and dance. I must immerse every cell of myself
in this cost analysis that stares at me from a pile on my desk. I must send
to and draw love from every face I encounter as I walk around the office. I
am very busy!

I hope to see you at the Kripalu Center next weekend. You will read the
novel on my face, thus saving me all that typing!

Thank you so very much for all of your help. You were quoted and referred to
many times during the retreat. You gave us our retreat motto, in fact, which
was "There are no problems." And you were right, there were not. So thank
you for being there with us, in spirit.

Love, love, love,

Margaret!

 

Hi Patty, Adya and Mukti

Our first White Mountain Sangha retreat ended last Sunday.

It appeared to be a resounding success. Patty thanks so much for all your help and materials. The logistics were impeccable thanks to Margaret and you.  She had lists and signs for everything. We lined up "The Mischievous Moose Deli " to cater our lunch and dinners. They delivered them before each meal period. The food was unbelievably delicious. As a group we cooked together the first and last meal when we could talk. Everyone had chores and kitchen set up and clean up duty. The love and cooperation in getting tasks done was amazing. We had the meals at my house and Satsang, meditation and Lodging was at the house next door which my sister has just purchased.

The schedule was very much like the one you sent. We added one silent hour long hike. Also I gave Dokoson for each of the retreat members.  While we only requested that the first and last meditation be attended, the attendance was perfect for all meditations and Satsangs. The group showed up not just physically but they brought great presence. This made it easier for me touch a much greater depth then I had experienced before giving Satsang. It had all the elements of a small intimate retreat that I have loved,  laughter, tears, poignant moments,  sharing from the heart, breakthroughs, poetry and each day more and more space.  I gave six Satsang talks and we had two days playing together with notes left in a box. I had thought with seven people and this much time we would have times when none would have anything to say or ask. But the Satsangs were very full. Sometimes we would even need to run over the time.  I really enjoyed it. It brought out the best in me.

[To the reader: Norman's wife Carolyn had been diagnosed with Frontal Temporal Dementia on 3/29/04]

Carolyn was an integral part of the retreat. She was the only who didn't have to maintain silence. She rests in bed most of the day. During meals she would wander in and out several times  each time looking a little intrigued about the people she saw there. She would say "Satsang people, Satsang people, Satsang people."  "You're Adya 2, I 'm Annie two , You're Adya 2,  I'm Annie 2", then she would break into a big smile. Everyone would smile with her. Then she would count, "one, two, three, four, five, six ,seven, eight. There are eight people here.  Two men and one, two, three, four, five, six, woman." Then she would count again. No shyness whatsoever.  She would spot some food and say to the participant, "what's that?", no answer, louder she would say "What's that!?" No answer. Then she would shout very loudly "WHATS THAT?!"  The participant would take a small spoonful and offer. She would taste it. "OH yogurt,   I  don't like yogurt!"  Then she would spot a Muffin which she would gobble down with great delight and a big smile. "It's Goood!"  Then she would count people again with a great smile.  "Satsang  Satsang  Satsang, Norman's Adya 2, I' m Annie 2" several times, then she would return to the bedroom to rest.  Carolyn is always content. She is friendly with everyone.  She has no social filters. She has no fear of people. She has no judgement.  She is very direct and clear in her communications. She has fresh beginner mind all the time, nothing complicated. Her love for me is unconditional and unwavering. All can see this. She is my partner in teaching. Everyone who knows her loves her.

One day I was leaving to go to Mediation. She said, "Where are you going?"  I said. "I'm off to meditation."   "I'm going too!" she declared! She started combing her hair and putting on lipstick. My attempts to dissuade her were rebuffed.   "You have to be quiet for 45 minutes," I said.   "I can do That!" she replied.  I had lost my ability to resist this kind of determination.  Who am I to stop someone that wants to meditate. She was part of the group after all and wanted to do what we were doing.  As we are walking down to the mediation room, she is saying. "Going to meditate, going to meditate, going to meditate."    "We have to be quiet," I said. "We have to start being quiet now.  Being quiet, being quiet, being quite, being quiet.     SHHHHH,     SHHHH."    "No talking as we enter the building," I said "shhhhhh."
We crept down the steps to hall. Everyone was there silent, many with eyes closed already.   I set her down on a comfortable couch.

She looks around and says, "Meditation, they are meditating, meditating.  shhhhh."    "Carolyn," I whispered, "when they ring the bell, close your eyes.  We will meditate for 45 minutes." " Ok."  The bell rings.    Meditation has begun.       Carolyn eyes are still open, she is looking around with great curiosity.   She says, "meditating....... meditating............meditating."     "Carolyn," I whispered, "close your eyes.  It's time for being quiet."   "Ok." she replies.  Then a miracle silence. Silence continues.  A thought arises maybe she can do this. Quiet for a long five minutes, then a voice.   "How long are we meditating?"  "45 minutes."    "That's too long, I'm ready to go now."  "You did very well," I said. "Let's go back now."       

Later I was told we should have kept her there to remind people they were meditating. As people would start to drift off into sleep or forgetfulness in thoughts, they would be brought back to alertness hearing a voice saying "meditating, meditating, meditating."  Carolyn is the zen stick.  Maybe next retreat.

With much love and gratitude,

Norman

To the reader:
Norman's wife Carolyn had been diagnosed with Frontal Temporal Dementia on 3/29/04
Carolyn passed away on November 11 2006