Creating place, finding spaces

So far this year,  I've been in my house for two and a half months and I leave again in mid- October.  I hope to return in February for some real winter, maybe even skiing.  I'm regularly asked, "So why do you even have a house here?"  Besides the snarky answer of "It's where I stash my stuff," it is also my home.  But home ownership also means maintenance of log structures and dealing with cluster flies, destructive woodpeckers, and pesky deer, and a pasture with invasive weeds and broken fences.  My sister and I got the bathroom "refreshing" almost finished (she does all the painting around here; I hang the art),  All the old yellow light bulbs have been replaced by white LEDs- a huge difference in a log interior. Plus the normal weeding, cleaning and fussing.  All the tasks that make a house a home.  I recognize as much as I love my home and it's become a sanctuary for others, it's also a chore list for me.  And I'm fine with that part of home ownership- especially if stretched over time.

But today I went to St. Martin's Monastery in Rapid City and as we sat in companionable silence, I realized this small Benedictine home for a few dozen nuns has become my sanctuary, my grounding space. I have no responsibilities other than showing up and enjoying my friends. We affirm one another and each express our love and appreciation for the beloved ninety-four year old nun who leads us.  We each start to stand she struggles and  glance at each other when she waves off our help. We speak slowly and loudly after her hearing aid falls and the batteries are lost.  The love flowing toward her and from her fills the small space.
http://www.blackhillsbenedictine.com/
https://goo.gl/images/VQ9GOK

The plan was for a full day workshop on centering prayer but our time is amended due to low attendance and her frailty.  After our time together,  I head up the hill behind the adjoining retreat center and walk the labyrinth.  My friend, Sandy, built it and I hadn't seen her since my return.  She'll end her summer in Yellowstone just before I leave for Ohio.  But this space she has created links us. And here's Sandy walking the prayer space.

http://rapidcityjournal.com/lifestyles/labyrinths-guide-worshipers-to-god/article_773cd125-ecfc-5ad5-82f8-eb911ff47b07.html
https://goo.gl/images/VQ9GOK

Today I walk barefoot in the soft grass and wonder about the rocks that line my path. Where did they come from? What did it take to create them-heat, time, weathering?  Now they form the boundaries of a space for slowing down, breathing slow, creating space for thought—space for the sacred.

In my home, I've created a place for myself and for others. One of the nicest things anyone has ever said was, "I feel safe here. This is my safe space."  What a blessing to have those words spoken out loud. We sometimes hesitate to say what is touching our hearts, it's too much of a risk.  Well, this labyrinth is worth my words.  For me, the space Sandy created is life giving and soul expanding. 

 Safe and stretching. 

What are your soul stretching spaces?  Where are your safe, relax and be-at-peace places?  Have you created them for yourself and others?  Are others creating for you?

Community is the junction of communication within a particular space;

 meaningful, loving words in a secure place.  

These sacred expanses, no matter the size, feed our souls and fill us,

expanding us to go out 

and be who we are called to be. 

Stay and create...

and go and find.

Both will bring you life. 

An Adventure in Silence

I returned this weekend from a ten day silent retreat in the Colorado mountains. I wrote each day I was there and plan to post some pieces in the coming weeks.  Suffice it to say, the retreat was all I had hoped and more. 

I left Denver and headed west in plenty of time but got distracted and missed my turn, twice. As I approached the major tunnel that can be a bottleneck, all was well and I sped under the mountains. A blinking overhead sign warned me the highway was closed ahead but I kept thinking it couldn't be right! Ha- accidents happen all the time along that mountain road.  So I exited and explored a town I’ve only driven by in the past. They have a community thrift store so it was a natural place for me to kill a couple of hours.  I now have “new” ski googles and a terrific fuzzy throw.

The road reopened (updates via phone) and I continued west, now through falling snow. I exited the main highway and made my way up the road toward Aspen. Then I turned onto yet another, much smaller road- could this be right? Seems a little...well, loosely maintained.  I stopped and asked a friendly woman shoveling snow, “Am I on the road to St Benedict’s?” 

She smiled and assured me I was on the right road. “Have a blessed retreat.”

The road got smaller.

The monochromatic promise of a week of silence and Presence.

Finally I was driving in the flat light of late afternoon. My headlights added no clarity so I drove slowly, assuming I’d bump off the side walls of snow. The whole area had just been hit with a major winter storm, hence the lack of plowing on the back roads.  

Sometimes you just feel your way and trust the journey.

Driving in flat light-
an exercise in trust.

But I arrived.  To a warm welcome, a cup of tea and the promise of rich fellowship. 

Home isn’t always a place you’ve been before. 

St Benedict's Retreat House
Snowmass, Colorado

The retreat center just an hour after I arrived.
Fellow retreatants trickled in all night, delayed by various storms. 

The adventure began. I hope you can join me.