Stopped

I drove 209 miles and then stopped.  Just like that. 

No…for all of you who heard about this trip in a 53-year-old car and immediately said, “good luck,” it was not a breakdown.  Not in the automotive sense of the word. And I didn’t have a physical or mental breakdown…my mind was very clear and my body working pretty well.

On the first day of my trip, after visiting an art museum, a historic mansion and gardens, and a beautiful town in the Berkshires, I got out of the car, locked the door, put my maps, guidebooks, and electronics away, and focused on the here and now. For three days.

This might seem an odd start to my epic road trip but it was the perfect way to begin this journey.

Most days, I am constantly moving. I have to-do lists that need review and action, recipes I want to try, ideas I want to write about, books I want to read, people I want to gather around my table, places I want to go, things I want to learn…you get the idea. This spring, there was even more to do: I had this trip to prepare for. And while I say I am on a work break, I did plan some visits to arts and cultural organizations during this trip for an article I am writing.

So, a few months ago, in the midst of the craziness (at one point my to-do list had 150 items on it), I had the idea to stop before I began. I wish I could say this just came to me naturally, this instinct to step back and slow down, but it came at me sideways, as so many things often do. I was planning the first few days of the trip, which happened to coincide with Labor Day Weekend. I started to envision holiday congestion on narrow country roads. I searched hotels and saw the holiday premium prices. In my mind I saw the lines of people at restaurants. It didn’t seem like the best start and I asked myself, “Should I postpone my trip until the Tuesday after Labor Day?”

Then Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health and its “Retreat and Renewal” experience came to mind.  It is just where I wanted to be, both in body and in spirit. As my to-do list dwindled to the single digits after months of preparation, I needed a re-set, a re-centering of my thoughts. A stop.

And I got one.

Silence

The immediate and unequivocal description of my weekend that comes to mind…silence. The no-technology policy created a new world devoid of people chatting on their phones while walking to dinner, or face-timing in the lounge with no earbuds and the sound at full volume. On the terrace in the mornings, people were quietly talking with others, writing in their journals, sipping coffee, and watching the sunrise as the morning mist dissipated.

In the afternoons, a group practiced Qigong on the grass and I wanted to join them; they seemed immersed in the natural world around them, noticing the blades of grass underfoot and every molecule of air around them. But I had other, equally wonderful things to do.

Paddleboarding on Lake Mahkeenac on Saturday morning, our group of 12 was quiet as we heard the birds singing overhead and saw a bald eagle swoop along the trees at the shoreline. I was mesmerized by the ripples of water refracting the light as I rhythmically moved my paddle through the lake.  

At the end of a gentle yoga session in the afternoon, we all breathed in deeply and let out a collective “om.” The experience reminded me of the prolonged shofar blowing during Rosh Hoshana, the Jewish New Year, when the sound unites the entire congregation and encompasses an entire universe. The “om” vibrated within me…a deep resonance that calmed my mind, bonded me to the group, and set me on my way for the rest of the day.

Perhaps the best and most surprising part of my weekend was Kripalu’s tradition that breakfast is always a silent meal. In the dining hall, I quietly lined up at the stations to get my food and then sat at a communal table. No pressure to make conversation, be interesting, talk between bites. Other than the gently clinking of silverware, the vast room was quiet.  My focus was on my food…the color, texture, and taste.  I tend to eat my first meal of the day quickly; breakfast at Kripalu was enjoyed slowly and intentionally and gave me time to review my hopes for the day and set my thoughts in order.

My last morning, a woman I had met at Friday night’s dinner came and sat down.  We had bumped into one another regularly over the weekend and shared good conversation. During the meal, we each reached for our pens at the same time and silently laughed as we traded contact info and then managed to communicate our gratefulness for having met the other. All without words.

Beyond

Those three days without technology, with time and quiet, opened a floodgate of feelings and ideas within me. I do not practice yoga or regularly meditate (although I always have good intentions) but this didn’t stop me from enjoying the benefits of stopping and listening carefully to my thoughts and to my body.

This is what I want from my creative break. From this road trip.

I am not sure if this break is retirement (from planning, from just consulting, from all work) or something else.  My mention of that word elicited horrified responses from my three children, ages 18-29. For them, at these early stages of their lives, the word “retirement” somehow conveys their mother is old, stale, unproductive, perhaps not even interesting any longer. Horrors!

How I perceive this break is almost certainly not “stopping” in the traditional sense of the word. I am clearly not putting the brakes on (I couldn’t resist using that word), but ironically, stopping at the start of my trip most closely resembles my desired state of being this year and every year. Creating a quiet space around me, amidst the travel, the Instagram posts, the new experiences. Quiet space to spy the mural in the alley of some downtown, to check out a recommendation for new music, to stop and talk to someone who admires my car and maybe get a great restaurant recommendation. Space to listen to myself, be creative, soak up the joy.

And full disclosure here in case you may, at this very moment, be worried the Susan you know is no longer here. At Kripalu, I went back to my room once to grab my phone to take a few photos of the spectacular sunrise.  I was furtive about it and felt more than a little guilt as I walked away from the buildings and terraces so as not to disturb the peace.  Just once.

I think I kept the spirit of the place and found a balance. May it continue…

Susan Silberberg, mile 191,390