I took a 5 day solo retreat in early August.
I was scared– so much time, what would I do?
Just me and myself– what would we talk about?
I sensed I shouldn’t make it a “production” retreat.
I needed to recharge.
I would do my standard amount of fiction writing for Friday and Monday to stay on track– that was it.
I read two YA novels.
I sat by the lake and did nothing– was blank, like the stones I sat on.
I swam often because it was hot.
I paddled my kayak to the Palisades, one of my favorite Boundary Waters spots.
I listened to loons.
I listened to my own strange circuitous, critical, whimsical loop of thoughts.
I slept about 12 hours a day.
I loved it.
I ate blueberries, half-crouched and grazing like a bear (in a pink bikini).
I talked (aloud) to myself.
I lived without pressure, hurry or expectation.
It reset me.
It brought me back to myself: