Saturday, November 06, 2010
I long for a retreat. In the past, I've staffed youth camps and women's art retreats but never have been the recipient or at least not in a decade or more. My Aunt has gone to Italy and Wyoming to knit. With my job, I see numerous groups come through and bond. Some of them just sit on the porch in the rockers and visit, some laugh till they cry in their small group time, some sing praises of joy, and some just sit with one another on the beach, quietly supporting one another. Right now there is a group of women at the center, crafting. They invited me to join them but I felt intrusive. It's not my group and I had work to do. So I vowed to retreat at home, luckily Mark Wahlberg was available for a short period of time. He was tough as shit while I knitted my socks although I did see him cry. This retreat has a hot tub too, clothing optional. While this is not exactly the retreat I envision, it serves its purpose while I make decisions on where my retreat will be, with whom, and what kind of focus. Oh, my sock and my recliner are both calling me.