forced retreat

I have been living in a trailer for the last week and a half. As in, mobile home. It's in a town called Ten Mile, Tennessee. There is no cell phone reception for miles, and it's right on the lake. My parents are moving into a house, and while I look for a job, I'm with them. So, that means I'm in the trailer for now.

Being on forced retreat has its pros and cons. The down side is, I feel removed from all society. There may be things I could be doing for my career out there in the world somewhere, but I don't have access to it. And, I'm losing touch with friends. And maybe reality.

The up side is, there can be spiritual benefits to such a retreat. Especially if it's forced. Being on the lake provides a heavy dose of up-close nature. It's always interesting to confront nature.

I went fishing with my dad. Standing out on a pier, in the afternoon sun, I quietly cycled through the process. Squeezing the line, whipping the rod, and casting the lure. The brightly colored lure whizzed through the air with a whrrr, and quietly splashed into the water. Methodically, rhythmically, I reeled it back in, watching the ripples. As the lure was reeled back to its resting place, I started over. The lake looked so serene. It's not going anywhere. It doesn't have any appointments. Off in the distance, clouds were silent and still. Steam slowly rose from a nuclear power plant (no joke) and blended into the white puffy clouds above it. Birds fed, chirpped, flew. Turtles swam, creatures splashed, ducks floated. And, I fished. Over and over and over, the cycle of the cast and the reel. Of course, I didn't catch any fish, but that's hardly the point, is it?

I also saw a snake one night. Brown and black stripes. It was slithering in the shallow water next to the shore. Over rocks, under a tree root. It was fast, smooth, and quiet. It stopped for a prolonged time, several minutes. Then, continued its slithering, disappearing.

Several times, while taking an evening stroll, I've startled a bunny from its hiding place. Bursting from undergrowth, it darted across the field. I don't know if I've seen the same bunny more than once, but it looks like the same one. It stopped some distance away, facing me, and remained still. Motionless, it sat in the grass, watching me. Then, it darted away into the trees. Innocent, and so full of life.

One night I took a stroll down to the lake. I found myself picking up rocks and throwing them at fish! I would stare into the water until they swam around. Then, I would launch the rock at fastball speeds straight down, shocking the fish and sending it zig zagging away like a bolt of lightning. The rock splashed explosively, sending a burst of waves and bubbles. I don't know why I found this so funny. I guess violence toward small fish is always funny. But it also reveals something inside me. Something I can examine. Feelings, thoughts, swirlling about in the subconcious, brought to the surface through the meditative act of communing with nature.