A Spiritual Kind of Day

Hello Ms J. I meant to tell you about my experience at Nina's retreat last Saturday, but I got sidetracked and distracted by the busyness of living. Very sidetracked. Very distracted. Very busy. I'll take a few deep, cleansing breaths now, and relate to you the day's events.

Nina Darrell used to be the minister at our church here in Mimico. She was well-liked by all. Nina told us one day, two years ago that she planned to leave the clergy to open a spiritual retreat with her husband, Jim. We were sorry to lose her as a minister, but happy she was following her dream.

Nina has worked first as a nurse, then an ordained United Church minister. She's also a qualified Reiki practitioner. Healing is her greatest spiritual gift. She recently sent me a brochure listing the various programmes offered at Riverside Glen Retreat and Healing Centre.

This one looked interesting:

EXPLORING ART IN DEPTH

Discover your inner artist. Designed to open you up to the creative process. Pat McPhail, artist, will lead you through exercises to interact with chosen pieces of art and stimulate you to respond with your own artwork, poetry or story. Saturday, September 25. 1:00 - 4:00 pm.

I asked my friend Frances if she'd like to go. She said yes, so off we went.

The retreat is set on seven gorgeous acres on a hilltop overlooking the Grand River near the town of Brantford. It's about 45 minutes west of Toronto. The place has a very serene feel about it. Peaceful. Conscious. Safe. Nina and Jim are lovely hosts. Warm. Welcoming. And very sincere.

There were about a dozen of us taking the workshop and both Nina and Jim participated with us. They had never done this sort of thing before. Pat McPhail is a beautiful lady who attends my church. It was she who facilitated the exercise. Jim and I were the only men.

In a large room, we found a number of paintings. Some were readily identifiable objects. Others were quite abstract. We were instructed to select a painting that we liked and sit down and stare at it. Closely. Carefully. Consciously. We noticed each tiny detail and subtle hue and shade. We examined shapes and textures. Lines. Straight and curved. Vertical and horizontal. Then Pat asked us to chose a shape from the picture and commit it to memory.

We sat then at long tables and drew our own pictures starting with the shape we'd recalled from the first picture. I was amazed at the number of permutations in my drawing as I changed my mind about what it was many times before I decided it was complete. In the end, it depicted me, imprisoned halfway between an inky, black darkness below, and a bright, yellow omniscience above. And I had no idea what I was drawing until I had completed it. Very enlightening, Ms J!

The next step was the same only this time, we began by examining the picture we had just done. This time, the outcome was not so cheery for me.

I couldn't seem to focus on the task at hand. Try as I might, my thoughts kept turning to my poor, old geriatric father and to my lost and confused young son. One is 82, the other 18. They're both struggling with Life, in their own way. My artwork depicted an angry, disappointed father and a sad and tearful little boy. I was both the boy and the father.

When I tried to explain my drawing, I became extremely emotional. I did my best to be strong, but I'm afraid my tears were quite evident. Frankie told me Nina was moved by my story. So were some of the others. One lady approached me afterwards and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you for being so courageous," she said.

I must tell you, Ms Journal, I didn't feel very brave. I actually felt terribly frightened when I talked about Dan and about my dad. I suppose that's another of Life's paradoxes. Showing fear requires courage.

Funny though. I felt I had no choice in the matter. Something, or someone was guiding me through that process. Frankie and I are certain that the same something, or someone was following our conversation in the car on the way home.

Let me post what I've written so far. I'm going to get something to eat downstairs and then I'll finish the story.