Hi everyone, I haven’t written in a while. There’s been a lot going on here as we plan our move out of the temple, handing over responsbilities, finding somewhere new to live and so on. I imagine that process may produce some written material at some point. In the meantime I wanted to share some of my experience of a recent retreat…
It was the middle of the night. I was inside my sleeping bag, wearing all of my clothes. I was warm and I didn’t want to move and I needed a wee.
I was on a small campsite in Devon on a Buddhist walking retreat.
Clipped to the outside of my bag, under the small awning of my one person tent was my Nalgene. A water bottle with a big opening at the top. Khema (who had done this retreat before) had suggested I bring something to wee in.
I thought back to the previous two nights. When I’d woken up needing a wee, I’d managed to go back to sleep. Not the best quality of sleep, as I’d tried to avoid putting any pressure on my bladder, but that discomfort had weighed less than the discomfort of going out into a rainy night and I hadn’t been ready to think about weeing into a bottle.
This time the need to wee was more insistent. I sat up in the sleeping bag. “What was I going to do?” I wondered, as my hand was already reaching for the Nalgene.
A couple of minutes (and some Olympic level gymnastics) later: success! The water bottle was warm to the touch. I felt relieved and strangely proud that my sleeping bag was still dry. Everything had gone as planned. Not easy in the small confines of my one person tent.
When we walked we walked in silence. Through the rolling hills of Devon, along an old drovers trail, past a hill fort, alongside streams whose banks were overflowing with bluebells and wild garlic, into Somerset, through the levels and finally to Glastonbury Tor.
On Tuesday it rained. Not heavily but insistently. I pulled the hood of my coat up. I got too hot. I pulled my hood down, and unzipped the coat a little.
My boots swept through long wet grass, again and again. They lost their waterproofing and by mid-afternoon my feet were soaked. Squelch. Squelch. I could feel the rainwater being squeezed out of my thick insoles and then soaked back up again with each footstep.
At the campsite I unzipped my coat completely. “Look at you” Wren said. My shirt was wet through. The rain had come down through my unzipped collar, and through the inside of my unzipped coat pockets.
My tent, already damp from the last night’s rain, was in its bag on the ground next to me. I had a moment of feeling miserable. I could feel young part of me despairing and asking who’s going to rescue me. I looked around. Everyone had wet feet. Everyone’s tents were damp. Some were soaked through. We were all in the same boat.
No one was coming to rescue me. That was okay. I knew that I was more resilient than I used to be (some friends will find this hard to believe but they should have seen how non-resilient I was years ago). I knew how to proceed. Just focus on the next immediate job.
Unroll the tent, slide the poles into the inner tent, pop the inner-tent up, throw on the fly sheet. I was grateful for a small tent that only takes a few minutes to put up. It only got a *little* more wet in those minutes.
Put on dry clothes. Go and make a hot drink. I started to feel better.
The next morning Johnathon gave me two plastic sandwich bags to put inside my boots. I’m grateful to Johnathon, and to the past version of me who packed plenty of spare socks. Thank you Johnathon. Thank you past version of Kaspa.
That whole week was full of moments that have stayed with me. From weeing in a bottle, to the beautiful chanting we did in the tower on Glastonbury Tor. From being soaked through to the beautiful views and a deepening connection to the land we walked on.
I’m deeply grateful for the practices and experiences that have increased my resilience over the years. I saw the fruits of those practices on that retreat week, and I’m grateful for that opportunity to find out that resilience was there.
How are you doing? Do these experinces remind you of anything from your own life? Let me know in the comments.
I read weeing as weeping at first sight. And was truly intrigued. Have to say weeing is much more down to earth.
Tbh, I have to admit I am less resilient than a former me - it seems a lifetime of undiagnosed ADHD has left me quite depleted. Though I am working on widening my 'window of tolerance' - which has got scarily narrowed 😕.
Go you!