The Morning - Retreat in the woods | 14.11.2017

The following short story is inspired by a retreat course that I have taken part in 3 times (once as a student, once to train to 'become a supervisor', and once co-supervising). This is a great Retreat in The Woods, called the Foundations of Natural Intelligence. It's held in the Chisholme Insitute, located in the Scottish Borders.

To find out more about the course click here

Morning | Retreat 

Short-story | 14.11.2017

I hear the pitter patter of the gentle morning dew, dripping off of the tree branches and landing on the canvas of my yurt. The sun has been up for a few hours, softly encouraging me to get up. I can hear the birds happily chirping away, probably greeting each other and conspiring how they’re going to steal our food. 

I groggily lift my head from my pillow and shiver, as the cold damp air caresses my neck. I bury my face back into the pillow, trying to find any residual heat. No luck, the cool morning air took it’s chance as soon as my head left that pillow. 

I lie there, staring at the design of the yurt roof. I can see the silhouette of the leafs that have landed on the canvas, and I ponder, just for a second, what it would be like to be a leaf on a canvas, what a simple life that must be. 

I huff and puff, and swivel myself upright, my jaw tightens, and my limbs shiver, I scramble to find a pair of trousers, and layer on two jumpers and a coat. I look at my ‘yurt mates’, still sound asleep. They must be so warm. Soon they’ll be waking.

I grab my, now damp, towel and slide on my welly boots. I open the doors and sigh in relief; It’s warmer outside. I step into a ray of sunshine, and pause, absorbing the sunny, much needed heat. Closing the Yurt doors behind me, I walk down to the shower block.

The shower fire was up in flames roaring, cracking and snapping away all night long. This should be a good shower. I go into the first stall out of three, it doesn’t have the benefit of a view, but it is larger, and not having a view means not having a cool draft to accompany you in your showering endeavours. Once nearly undressed I switch on the shower so I can immediately seek refuge under the hot stream of water when I’m ready. I proceed, doing the ‘outside shower dance’ AKA constantly rotating around, so your whole body benefits from the heat. I ablute (clean) myself, and start considering my ‘plan of action’ as soon as I turn off the water. The prospect of standing around in the cold for even a second longer than necessary is unbearable.

I can hear the movements of my fellow students, sleepily making their ways into the shower blocks. My body now warm, and my mind slightly more awake, I leave the shower behind and trudge up to my yurt. 

I don’t even bother entering my yurt because that would mean taking off my wellies, and in my somewhat lazy state, that just seems like too much of a bother.
I semi-gracefully throw my, now wet, towel onto my bed. Ignoring the consequences of that action completely. I once again close the yurt doors and quite happily trot up to the outdoor kitchen. 

I lean down and scan the pile of wood next to the elevated fire pit on which we cook. First grabbing some small wood, then medium and finally one large. I place them delicately on the fire pits' rim as I stick my arm into the big bag of kindling, I’m not even sure if I need any kindling, but in this cold, I don’t want to run the risk of having a fire burnout…

Like a woody-firey architect, I go to work to construct my carefully considered pile of wood. I imagine how the air is going to flow through the wood, visualising it feeding the fire. And then. I pause…Laugh, and realise that the reality is, is that I have no actual clue what I’m doing…I strike the match, set the ‘fire-starter’ a flame, and hope for the best.

After emptying my lungs of all oxygen and replacing it with fiery smoke multiple times to get the fire to actually burn, “all proper like”, and such, I pick up the filled kettles and pop them on the grill , then I grab the biggest heaviest pan we have and fill it with porridge oats, I pour the oats in from a distance so I can see the beams of light that are reflected into the woods make their way through the oats. I find myself mesmerized by the beauty, and suddenly realise how much I miss technology. 

Not being able to capture such a beautiful image hurt in that moment. I breath, and realise I should just appreciate it for what it is. I add the water to the pot and hang a tea towel over it, so no bugs or birds can get to it during the morning meditation session. I look up to the clock, 10 minutes till meditation, I stand there waiting, with a semi-elegant spin, I now face away from the fire, feeling the heat penetrate my coat, and filling me up with so much comforting warmth that it makes me want to never leave that position. I stand there, waiting, quite content, with the gun in hand, shouldn’t be long now…