A Vacation of One's Own

Cat takes a bath break.

Go on vacation alone. I put it on my bucket list because I knew that it would be a challenge. And I knew I needed it.

Three days in, I can clearly see that the challenge is a gift. I’m writing this from a meditation and writing retreat in the Colorado Rockies. It’s breezy but sunny and I’m at a picnic table in the “downtown” area of the Shambhala Mountain Center. One of the center’s cats is keeping me company.

It’s “writing time” during the retreat and we can go anywhere and write about anything. We can go for a walk, do a bit of reading, sit around and think, whatever gets our juices flowing, as long as it doesn’t involve talking. That’s a challenge for me as well. In general, I’d like to do more thinking and writing and less talking. Those around me would probably like that as well.

We started the day with breakfast, meditation and free-flow writing, where we handwrite in a journal three pages of something, anything – pretty much a stream of consciousness. Then, there are two and a half hours of writing time, which puts me where I am right now. After lunch, there will be more meditating and more writing, a group tea, a discussion on Buddhism or meditation, dinner, more meditating, reading aloud our works and gentle critiques from the group, and then 10:30 p.m. curfew. It’s a six-day program and I tacked on a day before and a day after. That makes for a lot of alone time. And that is something that just a few years ago, I couldn’t imagine ever putting myself through, much less considering it a gift.

Aside from a three-month internship one summer when I was in my 20s, I’ve never lived alone. I went from the Connecticut house where I grew up to college dorms and then apartments, where I always had roommates. After graduation, I spent some time in LA, renting a room in a house. Then, I moved in with the man who would become my husband. When we divorced after 16 years and our then 10-year old began spending two nights a week with him, it was the first time I was ever alone on a regular basis. I was so ill at ease that I would pick up the phone the moment I got in, would obsess about someone breaking in – was generally uncomfortable in my own home. In therapy at the time, I ended up working as much on that as I did on the end of my marriage.

I learned that it was my skin, not my house, in which I was uncomfortable. I learned to allow – even welcome – the thoughts and feelings and memories that slip in during moments of quiet. And I learned to create those moments more often, to take time away from the phone, e-mail, the Internet, the jam-packed schedule that for most of us is the status quo. Now, I actually look forward to having time alone, to think, to putter, to write, to meditate, to just be. In short, I’ve come to appreciate the pleasure of my own company.

But there still is that bucket list, so here I am in Colorado. In addition to the fact that I have my own room and hours of free time that I must spend alone, there is no music, no television, no cell phone service and Internet only for occasional e-mail checks and of course, to upload this post. (We’re not animals after all.) It’s a big change from how I spend most of my days back at home. It’s a big change from how I spend most of my vacations, too.

View outside my room.

I’m reveling in the differences – the breathtaking scenery, the grace and wisdom of the bestselling author who is leading the retreat, some creative vegetarian and vegan meals (I’m going meatless the whole time) and the company of interesting folks on paths similar to my own.

While I’m here, I’m reading the latest book by the author who is leading the retreat, Susan Piver. This retreat center is one of her favorite places and she wrote some of “The Wisdom of a Broken Heart,” while she was here. I just finished the chapter on meditation. A couple of lines could have been written for me, at this very moment: “Meditation is the noble act of making friends with yourself, just as you are. ...When you sit and meditate, you are agreeing to hang out with yourself, exactly as you are.”