Retreat

Saturday I spent a day at my old college at the University of Toronto for a retreat. Once the Jesuits have you, they never let you go. So, I was told. Anyhow, the retreat was led by previous students I studied with who now teach there as well. It is always nice to reconnect and Regis is like going home to visit. I have mentioned this before, but what the heck, many of you don’t know, because I wrote about it in bits, here in there. After completing my psychology degree at York University, I was determined to continue full time studies in a Masters Program. I wanted another university because I heard it is best to continue studies at different universities. I applied to Ryerson for their psychology program and University of Toronto for their Masters of Ministry and Spirituality with the idea of incorporating Pastoral Counselling with the School of Theology also at the University of Toronto. I had emailed the Director of Psychology at Ryerson and was invited to their open house. There were people from all across Canada and Psychologists from the different programs. I spoke to all. It was a new program at the time. At the same time after sending my applications I was invited to attend Regis College at their old location for an interview. I asked a man on the street for instructions. He was the President of the school and suggested I accompany him. I had exchanged some emails to one of the professors and her friendliness drew me to the school. Anyhow, as I enter the school, I feel that warmth of a sense of familiarity. I am led to where I am supposed to be and then I get the interview. I am informed that I have been approved to be accepted as a student by a body of profs, but he has the final decision. After the interview where we also spoke in the Italian language (he studied in Rome), he brings me to the professors lounge and introduces me as the new student. That is how I knew I was accepted. A week or two later my acceptance letter came and so I emailed the Director of Ryerson stating that I was going to UofT. It was as simple as who wanted me first. I had always intended to go to the University of Toronto and only missed going there because when I contacted York University, I was told to hurry and submit all my documents because the deadline was the following Monday. I met the deadline and was accepted. Sometimes, things just happen and fall into place eventually. I sometimes toy with the idea of studying for my doctorate. In the past I had no interest in research. I couldn’t get away from it completely and did take a course requirement at the University of Guelph where I wrote a proposal for a research study regarding pedophile priests. I keep forgetting to add it with my transcript. I should have been included in the transcript but I won’t get into politics or biases. I retired from York in December and began my studies in January. I have been working part time since I was 13 and going to school to the present time. Someone said if you enjoy what you are doing, than it isn’t work. Retirement for me would mean just writing books. I do love to travel, however I cannot go too far right now at this stage. So, I graduate from all programs which includes qualifying as a Registered Marriage and Family Therapist. I begin my practice and now I also blog all my notes from undergrad, grad and current conferences, seminars and retreats. Anything that may be of interest for you. Since new conferences and educational seminars are beginning, I don’t want to delay so here goes about my retreat day. As soon as I am invited by my old school, I check my calender and if I am free, I go. Since I now work Saturdays as well, I do not book off the day once I have appointments. Because of that, I will be missing a two day event I was interested in attending. However, I always make the needs of my clients a priority, unless it has to do with self care. So, I do need lots of notice since I book ahead for a couple of weeks. At the retreat, I sat in the student lounge. I had stopped at Tim Horton’s before going for a coffee and biscuit with egg and cheese. I decided to bring some Timbits for the people. There were 40 of us. I didn’t realize that the retreat was going to be a reflection of silence. I am not good at being silent. I love to talk and interact and socialize with people I know and don’t know. I find people very interesting. I was shooosh twice during the day because my enthusiasm was louder than silence. Remember those days in grade school when you were supposed to keep quiet? Well my jokes usually got me into trouble and I remember once the teacher put tape on mouth. This was when they could do things like that. Another time I was sent to the corner and remember having books placed on both hands and having to keep my arms extended and not droop. So this method did not work, because even now after post grad, I still love to talk and make jokes. As one fellow student once told me years after our Masters program she used comments like she loved me or liked me, I cannot remember exactly because I was spirited or words to that effect and not at all lobotomized as the men from…………….were. Of course that had me in stitches. I used to love carrying my York University binder around because the stuffy ones thought York University was inferior. Aw, I have had fun. So, I am watching everyone come in and there is a student asking for names and a donation box. I donate and would have given much more with a donation receipt. I feel a tad bad, because since my bill was the first, others donated the same amount. However, the event was worth much more. The Theme was: “Come to the Quiet.” I am going to pay much more attention to the themes in future. One woman identified herself as Mister or at least that is what I thought I had heard. The student repeated her name and she again added Mister to her name. I took another look at her and thought she was female, but if she wants to be known as Mister so be it. The prior weekend I was at the Montgomery house with a friend having tea and we were asked if we were in agreement to share a table with two others. I had just mentioned to my friend that I‘m having difficulty at times distinguishing between genders. Hold and behold we sit with two students from U of T. I assume they are undergrads because they look very young and I also assume one is male and the other female. After some discussion, I stupidly ask if they are in a relationship. They deny it so vehemently that I assume they are not boyfriend and girlfriend. I am female the woman I thought was male states as her face turns a beet red. I stammer that it is the haircut and am wishing my mouth can stop. I then say I am so sorry and it is me not being able to distinguish between genders. I am forgiven for my stupidity and also for thinking they are undergads. They are International students (which means their education costs a double fortune from us Canadians) and they are studying for their doctorate. I am wondering where that teacher that used tape for my mouth is? At the time the teacher wanted to know what I had said which made people laugh and I could not say that the falls she was depicting was pouring urine instead of water. I was in junior school after all - Geography. The two students were brilliant and though one wants to stay here (should be no problem at all), the other wants to work in Asia, their gain and our loss. I learn that the perfume they put in diffusers has an ingredient that is very unhealthy. I asked about that since someone gave it to me as a present. We need to start holding our government more accountable to have them put their foot down when corporations sell these products. Anyhow, going back to the theme of quiet, we enter the chapel and in a monotone voice, my previous classmate and now prof, who shoooshes me when I cannot be quiet, is talking. I have a four page handout but I won’t do this to you. I shall save it however in my paper file just in case I decide to torture someone else in future. At break time where we should be sharing is my first shoosh. The man I am with indicates that we should be sharing, so I listen to him share. He is a very nice older man. His voice cannot be heard by others as mine can. We return to the chapel and continue with our contemplative prayer. My thoughts turn to a one month baby who had been stabbed several times by his mother and is in critical condition. Nothing bothers me more than babies being hurt especially by those who are to protect them. In my mind, I am holding the baby carefully and closely and by the end of the day, I am kissing the baby’s face. In my mind I want the baby to know what love is. I want the baby to have a chance to live and be given to someone who can actually love, as a baby should be loved, all children for that matter. It is now time to share and so it is back to the lounge and I share about my holding the baby. I am somehow hoping that my prayer will help the baby. I still don’t know if the baby survived. Yesterdays news? We are permitted a long lunch and so I am so excited that we now have an outdoor lounge and I go out and bathe in the sun. I raise my face up and soak in the vitamin D, I have been lacking all winter. Mr comes out to join me and we have a conversation. I am mindful, that I am not supposed to say anything stupid. I have learned from the weekend before with the two students. She tells me she is retired. She tells me she works with refugees and the poor etc…..I then ask if she is a sister and she says yes. Stupid me thought she was saying Mister. She was only addressing herself by her title. Now I have to get my ears checked. There is a protest going on and droves of people with signs and their children with signs are heading a block away to the parliament buildings. They are protesting cuts to education. We talk about politics and I wonder if the politicians wanting all teachers to pass a math test, though they don’t teach math, can pass a math test. Someone suggests that the premiere cannot pass a math test and of course I find that very funny and begin to laugh. We think lunch is over and return to the lounge however it is not and so I grab my elderly man and tell him to get his coat because it is so nice outside. He of course complies and now we are back on the lovely patio, I wish we had when I was there. We moved to the new building in my second year. This manor used to belong to the Christie family. You know the cookes, “Hey Mister Christie, you make good cookies.” It is supposed to be haunted, but I never saw anything, nor any of my classmates. Story goes that the original owner of the house had a separate area for his mistress and she hung herself there. Apparently she never quite left. Good story for “Open Doors.” The demonstration is getting louder and the emergency sirens are now heard as well. “ I feel like I am in a war zone,” I blurt out. My companion chuckles. Anyhow, after lunch we return to the chapel and it is taking everything I have to stay awake and quiet. I want so desperately to lay down and go to sleep. During sharing time, I share that I feel my brain has been washed. This is all followed by mass and when I say my goodbyes and walk to my car, I think I will pick up a pizza. However, I am so tired that if I stop I may just fall asleep waiting for the pizza. As cars cut me off and etc…..I do not react at all. I am too calm to react. I ponder and realize that I have never had a tranquillizer. I have never had a sedative. Is this what it feels like? I am useless the following day. And now, I am back to normal. I think this is a great experience for once in a life time. It is also good for a lobotomy replacement. I do spend each morning with nature. I spend each morning in a quiet space and so for me this was overkill. However, though this may not have been a good fit for me because I do practice this daily in a much smaller scale, I saw how many felt the benefits of this. And so I do recommend this type of quiet retreat for those who like to have some silence. For myself………give me life. What do you think?