Shh.

Last week, I spent 4 days, Sunday-Thursday, on a silent retreat in a remote retreat center about 45 minutes from San Francisco.

I was nervous- unsure what to expect. Ugh. Was I gonna be bored?? Will I receive a life-changing spiritual enlightenment at the end of the experience? Will it be torture, or pure bliss?

As we entered into silence through a washing of the hands (very "Last Supper"esque), I smiled, feeling liek we were playing a game. Whoever talks first loses!!! NOT ME! NOT IT!!!

Eventually, I found myself craving attention. I wanted eye contact, a hug, a friendly pat on the back, a smile, SOMETHING to show that I was being acknowledged. I longed for laughter, for a friendly conversation.

Each day we met with an assigned Spiritual Director for an hour, during which we were permitted to speak. I found myself overly chatty during this hour, and instead of talking about spirituality, I tried to make the conversation casual, just wanting to talk and laugh.

By far the hardest part was eating in silence. As a Latina, meals are a very celebratory part of my day. To eat in silence was painful for me, I stared down at my plate as I ate... like I was part of a jail. Or a detention center. Something scary. I found myslef watching others eat, looking outside, just wanting to desperately share a conversation during my meal and have some time off! Oh, sweet desperation...

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I broke silence a number of times during retreat by either phoning home or talking to one of my roommates. The challenge was too big to bear.

At the end of retreat- while others spoke about finding God in the silence, and having a sort of revelation about their faith or life through the silence, I continually asked myself, what did the silence teach me? What did I learn from being quiet?

I learned how dependent my happiness is on my contact with others... I learned how much I treasure laughing and conversing with people I care about. I realized just how important sharing a meal over a chat is.



The protagonist from Into The Wild who ventured into the Alaskan wilderness to live a life of solitude died only after 3 months. He maintained a journal, and in it he wrote, "happiness is only real when shared..." After his yearning to be one with nature and solitude became realized, he tragically learned that real happiness only comes about when you're with others...

The silence made me feel alone, and it was through that loneliness that I realized how important living in communion with others is to my overall happiness as a human being.