Taking a New Direction

Last night I opened a random page in William Stafford’s Sabbath Poems to find inspiration for this year’s writing retreat. This is what I read:

I was wakened from my dream of the ruined world by the sound
of rain falling slowly onto the dry earth of my place in time.
On the parched garden, the cracked-open pastures,
the dusty grape leaves, the brittled grass, the drooping foilage of
       the woods,
fell still the quiet rain.

I couldn’t have picked truer words if I’d tried. By the time I get to the first week of January every year, I am worn out. As a book designer, I am there for all the authors who want to have books on the shelves by Christmas. For several local churches, I produce all their Christmas service videos. For myself, I love shopping for and baking gifts for those I love. By the time Christmas and New Years are in calendars past, I am ready to pack my car and hit the open road for some needed time alone to re-find myself and remember who I am as a writer.

Going in a new direction

For the last couple of years, I have done this at the Sylvia Beach Hotel, a place for literary lovers perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean where the wind blows, the fire is lit in the hearth, and they bring hot spiced wine up the stairs every night at 8. It’s become my tradition. I even had my pick of rooms reserved for a year. To my great surprise, though, this hotel was not where my soul was pointing. This year I truly needed to be alone in a different environment. The picture in my head, instead, was a secluded cabin in the woods where I would be free to soak in the silence and let my mind wander wherever it would go. My writing, too, demanded inspiration beyond the siren call of the waves and the ocean shore. (Just see my books for all the resulting ocean references.)

Searching the internet one night, I finally settled on a surprisingly spacious yet cozy cabin nestled along the side of a river in a bordering state with rocking chairs on the front porch looking out to blue-green waters. When the time finally came to go, I packed way too many books, a few too many clothes, and my favorite canine with a black nose and big brown eyes all into my car and headed north for the first time instead of south on my annual writing retreat. Saying yes to this new direction was like saying, “Yes, I am open to new directions this coming year.” It felt like a weight lifting just to get out of an unquestioned rut and onto a new road.

Taking time for myself

When people hear about this annual tradition of mine, they tell me how wonderful it is I take this time for myself. The truth is, I am not good at taking time for myself during the rest of the year. It’s why these days are so important. This annual retreat reminds me how much I need to take those evenings or bits of time to center on me and what gives me joy every other day of the year. If I don’t, my soul will find less healthy ways to grab that time anyway such as staying up late to read Reddit or I’ll walk around the house in a drained daze. Thus, every year I have a New Year’s resolution to work on this, to take the time and to prioritize myself throughout the year the same way I save for and prioritize this personal retreat. For my own sanity, I truly am going to start doing it this year—not just a few times, but consistently. I’m also going to start incorporating a second, shorter retreat sometime in the summer so it’s only six months between the two.

An invitation

Maybe your soul, too, approaches this year needing nourishment and time to find your center. As joyous as the holidays can be, or as painful as they sometimes are, the quiet of January can serve as a welcome respite. Take it. Maybe the ways you have done this in the past are no longer working for you and your soul is pointing in a new direction. Go there. Listen to what it’s telling you. The soul is a wise counselor and it knows what you need.

I hope we are all able to fill our own cups—whatever that is for you—not just this January but as a regular rhythm to your life. None of us want to get to the end of our days having never opened the gift we were given on the day we were born: ourselves. Open up whoever that is and take the time to actively love who you find in your own skin.

Before I went to bed last night, I walked out to the front porch to just soak in the scene and to hear the river flowing over the riverbed. To my surprise and to my joy, I saw the earlier rain was now falling as white snowflakes and my parched garden opened wide and soaked it in.