A Special Day
A participant's personal experience at the one-day Silent Retreat at the Quiet View, Kent.
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A Special Day
Larry Culliford
"Be still, and know that I am God!" (Psalm 46: 10)
Quiet View, a 'Centre for Contemplative Spirituality' in the village of Kingston near Canterbury, is run by Anglican priest, Lizzie Hopthrow and her husband, John, on onetime farmland adjacent to their house (www.quietview.co.uk). It features a large, well-appointed, circular, Tibetan-style tent (called a 'yurt'), with a wood-burning stove, catering facilities and a small library. The sizeable grounds offer spectacular views over rolling Kent countryside, a stunning 20-foot wooden angel, carved from the upright remains of an ash tree, a classical, Chartres-style, 7-circuit labyrinth, a burbling stone fountain, and many secluded spots with well-placed benches, ideal for contemplative reflection.
I went there, one beautiful Saturday in January, for a silent retreat aimed at people working in health and social care, held under the auspices of the Janki Foundation, a charity that promotes spirituality in health care. Lizzie and John were there to welcome us and share in the day. Julia Ronder, a child psychiatrist who had been my trainee thirty or more years earlier, was our retreat leader. It was a joy to see her again after such a long break.
We were twelve gathering in the yurt at the outset, mostly healthcare chaplains, psychiatrists and psychotherapists. After brief all round introductions, Julia, before leading a guided meditation session, read a poem about how emotional pain and suffering may lead a person to develop compassion for themselves, essential protection for avoiding exhaustion when compassionately embracing others. Here was a useful theme for reflection during the silence that was to follow.
After a walk around the grounds, I found a seat in the full embrace of the kindly sun beside the stone fountain, where it was enough to simply pay attention to nature; a robin singing loudly in a nearby tree, a flock of blue tits in the adjacent bushes, a kestrel high in the sky, crows, blackbirds, a chaffinch, and that burbling fountain. Time passed effortlessly. The still air held a chill, but I was warmly wrapped up.
After a bell rang at one o'clock, we re-congregated silently in the warm to eat the packed lunches we had brought, make ourselves tea and coffee, and sit quietly, a relaxed like-minded fellowship of no longer strangers, smiles of recognition being commonplace.
After a while, I returned to the blessed outdoors, visited the angel, chose not to venture into the labyrinth. which 'serves as a bridge from the mundane to the Divine', as a leaflet stated, and resumed my chosen spot presided over still by that boisterous robin. I had a book about Sufi mysticism with me, but it could not hold my attention for long. I did not want to do anything. I wanted simply to be.
Back in the yurt, soon after 3.30pm, we came out of the silence to share reflections and comments about our day. One participant admitted she'd worried that five hours of silence would prove more than she could tolerate, but had surprised herself, thoroughly enjoying the experience. The most memorable story came from Nina, who had said earlier that she was suffering from a painful frozen shoulder. While focusing on compassion for herself, amazingly and unexpectedly, her shoulder had gradually thawed. The pain had evaporated and, as she demonstrated, movement was fully restored.
When my turn came to give feedback, I said truthfully how filled I had been with gratitude throughout the day, thankful simply for being, aware of God's presence in nature and the Holy Spirit within. Then I shared a haiku-like poem that had come into my mind earlier, as we all sat wordlessly, calm and happy together. The poem is called, 'In the Yurt'.
Serenity... Joy
Compassionate sun
Twelve soulful hearts become one
A special day, with highly agreeable fellow pilgrims, newly-minted spiritual friends, in such a magically welcoming place; I bask still in the loving warmth of it all.
