Sacred Presence Recap
The silence felt loud with the presence of our Divine Maker as we soaked in Sacred Presence…
When Kimee and I began dreaming up retreats, a silent retreat was one that was added to the list. A day with a focus on silence and solitude, where those in attendance would gather together in the same space, but each having their own individual experiences with God in a time of extended silence. This silent space would be filled with an invitation— to explore with God where God is leading, to simmer in the silence of what is rising into awareness, to rest and retreat away from the noise of the world that seems to keep us in a continual state of ingesting podcasts and music, advertising and agendas.
A visit to Penuel Ridge by Kimee left her enchanted with the space and had us committing to a date in early June to invite women into this space of silence. A labyrinth, hiking paths, a small lake, a house filled with books and beds and an intentional lack of clocks was the space that held our souls craving this day of silence.
*Curious about experiencing your own moment of silence? Click HERE to discover this soul nourishing practice.
As we arrived on June 7th to dew-soaked grass that wet our feet and instantly made us feel connected to the land, we enjoyed a kind welcome from Dorothy, who works at Penuel Ridge, who told us about the space, the land, and gave us hand-drawn maps of the property that we were invited to explore. This warm welcome was echoed by the sun whose arrival through the curtain call of clouds cheered us on as we entered into silence via our opening yoga practice and labyrinth walk.
When planning this session, there were 2 main things that guided me; a desire to allow the silence we were placing ourselves in to give us the unique opportunity to listen more deeply, and respond with more love, to our bodies as they cued our movements, and to have the labyrinth walk be featured as a prayerful continuation of our mindful movement.
When we don’t press play on music, and we let the breath become the song that cues our movement, it’s often easier to hear what the body is saying. Without outer distractions, we can focus our awareness inward. This guided the class as small transitions led us to mini flows where time was given for each participant to explore as their body asked. For example, after moving through a few traditional rounds of cat cow, there was space to play and explore. The encouragement given was to listen to your body and to move in a way that responds with love, and to move in ways that would enhance their experience. People could stick with cat cow, or they could move from cat into a child’s pose, they could do what we call in aerial ‘disco kitties’, making circles with the torso, or they could even take it into downward facing dog. Whatever their body was asking for, they could do. No right. No wrong. Just eyes closed, tuning in, moving in a way that felt good in their bodies.
I am continually reminded of our virtual advent soul care yoga series this past advent season called Embodied Advent. The reminder that we are not at war with our bodies, that God made us and gave us the bodies we have— that Jesus literally experienced life in a body— always feels so needed in a world that often encourages disconnection. That encouragement to listen to our beautiful, God-given bodies, was spoken to those circled on their mats around the labyrinth as they moved and breathed.
The labyrinth walk invited those to release whatever they felt they needed as they walked to the middle. Perhaps imagining releasing these things to God so they could make their time of silence especially spacious and engaging. Upon arriving in the middle, a time of prayer of gratitude, and then enjoying God’s presence as they walked out. The bricks of the labyrinth embedded into the grass already grown long from the rain of the week made for slow steps of discovery as the path was walked— perhaps the very invitation that was needed as we began the retreat.
As our final movement led to our meditation, I relished the moment of stepping into the labyrinth and winding the centre over and over as I guided us into a moment of resting in God’s presence in our imagination, acknowledging that the Spirit within already knows the words we would want to say, and to embrace the intimate moment of time together without words as a call to deepening relationship.
As the final breaths were taken in community on our mats, around the labyrinth, in the late morning sunshine that graced us, the silence continued. Participants went on their individual ways to whatever would most nourish their souls. A hike in through the paths that surrounded the property, reading books, napping, journaling, or just being. As hunger set in, a vegan lunch was available for each participant to enjoy, packed in a simple brown paper bag with a prayer and mindful eating exercise inside. The beauty of this time was bearing witness to each woman doing what she needed. From luxurious naps in quiet spaces, to watching birds, each woman knew why they came and took time to embrace it. From processing grief, to finding a space of calm, to being inaccessible for a day, the silence took over and the Spirit had their way with those hearts open to be moved.
During the silence, I personally took some moments in nature. From eating lunch while gazing out at the rows of orange lilies and listening to the birds sing their calls, to sitting by the water watching the slow drizzle of rain make ripples in the water, listening to a bumble bee rumble and buzz as it floated from flower to flower, I had my own moments in sweet solidarity with God. A reminder of how both playful and delicate the Spirit is felt nourishing to my own soul.
As our time inched closer to our final session led by Kimee in the well, my trusty bell and I wandered the grounds to call our participants to our final session. The rain was steady and umbrellas were brought out as our feet, once more, stepped through the wet grass. The well is a building made of organic material that is round, making it a lovely space for us to circle up and engage in the final practice. Breath and movement filled the space as stagnant energy was moved up and out of the body and a freshness was invited in. Renewal.
In full disclosure, a silent retreat wouldn’t be my pick of a retreat to attend— my daily life is quite quiet. From silent mornings of journaling, to working from home at my desk, to evenings of reading and working on my computer, I live a life that is familiar with solitude. My call is more to play, community building, laughter, and connection with others. Because of my daily life how it is, I understand the value of silence— the richness of sitting on a patio with no agenda to watch and hear the birds and let that be enough, the value of having time and space to be without anyone asking much of me when I’d rather not be doing anything, of the power of rhythms of silence. To those who came, whose lives aren’t filled with silence as a regular occurrence, Sacred Presence was just that— a day of Sacred Presence with self and with the Divine.
The gift of silence is that we make space to hear from God in the silent spaces deep within where we might often miss it when the noise of the world beckons for our constant attention. In these moments, silence can even become something we avoid for fear of what may arise when we finally strip away the noise and allow our depths to bubble to the surface. The beauty of a silent retreat is that we have our individual experiences, but we acknowledge we are not alone in them. We make space for the silence, and feeling surrounded by others keeps us rooted in place— we are not alone, God is here, we are here for each other.
As the silence was broken and people chatted on their way out of The Well, across the field, and to their cars, we heard of how the nervousness of a day in silence transformed into a sense of calm, how rejuvenation filled hearts, and how a desire for even more silence was cultivated. For all this, I say ‘Thank you, God, for the silence’.