By Catherine Viel, July 11, 2023
(Golden Age of Gaia)
July 10, 2023
I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea,
And the silence of the city when it pauses…
And I ask:…
Of what use is language?
~Edgar Lee Masters, Silence
Oh, how I crave silence. Mostly I wish my mind would be quiet. Perhaps because that is such a struggle, I have an almost pathological intolerance of other people’s endless nattering.
A few minutes ago, I was standing in the sun and breathing in the scent of the riotously blooming lavender, idly identifying bird calls—oriole, mockingbird, finch—when my neighbor’s loud, grating voice dropped like an aural bomb into the quiet morning scene. I came inside, the peace still tainted by her one-sided phone-call chatter following me through the open window.
*****
On mornings like this, I long with visceral intensity to be in a tranquil setting with no other people around, able to be outdoors and experience silence, sunlight, the soil of the Earth and the song of its birds.
I live within a 20-minute drive of a venerable retreat center called La Casa de Maria, in the Montecito foothills not far from the famed San Ysidro Ranch, where Jack and Jackie honeymooned back in the day. Casa de Maria holds a special place in my heart, since I spent a couple of years attending meetings at The Loft, tucked away on its grounds.
The healing from those meetings was enhanced by the setting. Walking the short distance from the graveled parking area to the steps leading to The Loft provided an appetizer of tranquility. From spring through fall, the setting sun would bathe the meadows and the semi-landscaped retreat acreage with a mellow golden glow worthy of the hills of Tuscany. In the early-dark winter, the silence of acres of deserted California foothills would be palpable, and the brilliant stars would reach earthward, almost close enough to pluck.
*****
La Casa de Maria was almost wiped out in the catastrophic mudflow of January, 2018, when 23 people died and hundreds of homes were destroyed in Montecito, California. I decided to check La Casa’s website to see the progress of restoration…and my heart sinks to discover that the retreat center is still closed and they’re “envisioning rebuilding.”
Only now, when the possibility is taken away, do I realize that I’d been contemplating attending a Casa de Maria one-day workshop or weekend retreat. Something manageable, given family circumstances, yet still refilling a soul depleted of silence.
I don’t have a Plan B. I wasn’t even aware that part of me was concocting Plan A. The sadness this engenders seems all out of proportion to the cause.
*****
Outside again, I stand by the lavender, close enough to be soothed by its fragrance and the hum of bees. I stroll across the dymondia, and when I reach the pathway, turn back and look across our small yard.
I could put a trellis against that fence, obscuring the termite-ridden facia and peeling paint of the neighbor’s house. Find a whimsical dragon fountain for the place of honor on the central flagstone. Put flower pots and a rustic chair in the wide bend of the path…
It wouldn’t quite be La Casa de Maria, but I could create my own retreat.
The neighbor has ended her phone call. The mockingbird runs through its repertoire. I take a deep breath of lavender silence, and feel peace creep shyly near.
I’m reminded that the silence I need can be found within, at any moment, simply by pausing in my perpetual busyness and taking one deep breath.
One day, La Casa de Maria will be restored. It’s my prayer and my belief that there will soon be thousands of such healing retreats worldwide, so that all who wish may partake.
La Casa de Maria, Montecito, California, www.lcdm.org