You ever have one of those nights where you wake up in the middle of the night, go back to sleep, and then wake up again a few hours later? And a few hours after that? And you're not entirely sure of what's going on, but you're wary that your idle state of consciousness isn't anything worth stressing over? And then you wake up again, when you think you're supposed to, but it's not really when you need to wake up?
Yeah. That was Saturday.
The retreat from Friday ended on an amazing note.
But Saturday was even more powerful.
"Ten minutes before call," one of the guys who was familiar with the retreat staff announced. We'll acknowledge him as RO.
The morning was foggy - very much so. I could hear birds from the last time I woke - one of those sporadic instances of consciousness I had inquired of earlier - and it was relaxing, to say the least. The library was more of a cozy environment than I had expected - I suppose the same could have been said for the guys in there.
Because I had woken earlier than most, I got ready. And when I was ready, I just sat on my sleeping bag.
Also, while I am writing this, a few people have popped in to converse; Alex recoiled from his link spammage to say hello, and My Garrett wants me to tell you all that he says "hi."
Very well, then.
So, I'm sitting on my sleeping bag, and I'm thinking. Just because it's a library and I wouldn't really get all that distracted; I didn't want to touch any of the books because I'd end up forgetting where I got them from. Plus I probably wouldn't manage to read them without maiming them in some shape or form.
With the dormant books were the dormant dorm-mates, I suppose you could call them.
RO came in and looked around, surveying the conscious. He warned us to cover our ears.
I did so.
I felt and heard the door slam shut; granted, I was the closest to the door. Regardless, it was quite the wake-up call.
If anyone's still tight about that wake-up call, you might want to get over it. It was RO, true, but it wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't like you were waking up to a tractor rolling over you or were having a splendid dream that was absolutely excruciating to leave.
That's why we have our imagination.
The last note for the morning is, "yaaay - day starts."
I suppose that must have been facetiousness inspired by the tendrils of emotion that were permeating the library with the woken beasts.
The speeches we had that day were pretty impressionable. Their themes revolved around Love, something that would come back to impact the entire day's experience.
But, before we did anything, we went and grabbed grub.
Best bagels I've had to date, most certainly.
I don't think there was a meal that we went without an AME. And they were all pretty ridiculous. Best part was that CT participated in them, along with RO, LI, and Mr. Rose.
There are "The Four Fs" when dealing with love - loving others, loving yourself.
- Freely
It's not an obligation; it should be merely by your personal incentive and desire to be with an individual. Not because of their looks, not because of their social circle, but because of what that person can do for you and what you can do for them - how you can exact a symbiotic relationship while also reflecting the love that we've experienced with our friends, family, and, namely, God.
- Fully
Nothing else should detract from this love. The connection should be as strong as can be, and it should involve every fiber of your being. Simple as that.
- Faithfully
Incorporating the aspect of faith seems to be a bit shaky for individuals, but this is not only biding in the love that it will stay true and whole, but that it will reflect the path that we are led to follow to love.
- Fruitfully
As with most other things, production is usually preferred. Having something produced of this love - great edges brushing against outside influences for their betterment or producing a greater bond between the two in love or what have you; it is all innate in the criteria for love.
We then migrated into the gymnasium, where we had done our icebreakers the night prior. Assembling into the lines of our small groups on the baseline. We were to watch CT as he explained a game to us. It was refreshing, to be in the gym, lively and excited for this game with ping pong balls and pitchers.
Basically, we were supposed to toss the ping pong ball from a hula-hoop on the ground into the pitcher on the ground, as a relay.
It was a bit more difficult than it sounded.
When we first received the ping pong balls, we were instructed to write our sanctuaries on them - the things we do to escape the problems and challenges of the real world. Mine was generic - entertainment. Music, acting, writing - anything to get me thinking about something other than what's going on.
Music was a popular one.
When we had successfully tossed our first into the pitcher, the first individual was allowed to help and hold the pitchers so we could have a more convenient experience. My team should have been declared the winners, but it's whatever, really - the Plum Sloths will always win.
When we were back in our lines, anticipating more excitement, we watched as CT collected our pitchers and rummaged through them. We learned of the anonymous sanctuaries and - while my eyes didn't tear from CT - he held us captive. His voice boomed in the open gymnasium.
The small groups were about ten or so individuals, so ten ping pong balls wouldn't exactly fill up an entire pitcher.
"Does it look full?"
He called the sanctuaries voids.
A vacuum of space - nothingness, emptiness.
The voids we have attempt to fill that formless shape inside us - attempt to resolve whatever it is we are missing inside of us.
He filled up a pitcher with another pitcher of ping pong balls.
"Now is it filled?"
Of course, ping pong balls will leave space between one another, so our answer was automatically a hesitant "no."
He squinted, as if he were inspecting it. "Hmm, here's what I can do. I can get a bigger container - I need more voids!"
And so he did so. Running to the bleachers, he plucked up a bowl and dumped the pitchers in as he pleased. The clattering of the ping pong balls retained the light ambiance of the game we once played, though the message CT was sending was starting to settle in.
These voids wouldn't fill us.
"Is it full now?"
We watched him, shaking our heads.
"No."
He started to berate himself, declaring the need for more, and so he fetched the remaining pitchers of the other groups to pour them in as well.
He grew frantic. He had proven his point, but now the desire to fill his void with more voids was immanent - he would have his way.
And when he realized he couldn't, he turned to us.
Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life."
John 4:13-14.
CT got the urge to fill it with water.
He grabbed a 5-gallon bottle and lugged it over to the display, before us all.
Over he tipped it. The sound of the water pouring into the bowl filled the room's silence, and we all watched the mess he made.
Though, as each drop of water that went into the bowl did, the ping pong balls rose and eventually spilled out, as did the water.
When the last ping pong ball fell out, I had followed the line of thought; CT hadn't recited the scripture just yet, but to provide a better understanding, it was presented for you to read and follow and such.
All in all, we learned that we don't need these voids to try and fill us up, because it'll be a cyclical decline into wanted and needing more materialistic voids that could be seized from our capacities at any given moment.
He kicked away the wet ping pong balls, threw them backwards in handfuls at a time, hollering of their uselessness and attacking what we had guarded ourselves so well with. He then ushered us back into the talk room, and I put my apple back on the tree.
Oh, I forgot to mention. With LN's "In the Beginning" talk, the theme of the Garden of Eden had already been presented when we went from the darkness of the gymnasium, into the light of the talk room. The error was pinned with a metaphorical defiance against God, and so the gesture of removing the fruit from the apple was more... impenitent initially due to the ignorance and humility experienced.
Replacing the apple was the gesture that would not absolve it all, but be the first step in the right direction, as Mr. Rose said.
We would do this when a moment during the retreat sincerely would touch us and open our eyes in enlightenment.
That was the moment I went to hook one of the apples back onto a branch.
The next talk was from QL about family.
She gained the most respect from me, although I rarely spoke to her any. But the things she's endured, the struggles she's had and the person she's evidently become to date is more than commendable; just like the rest of the retreat leaders, she's a trooper.
Also, just had a very nice conversation with my friend, Leanna. Everyone say hello to Leanna! =D
The vast majority of our Saturday afternoon was spent playing games. Like, running around the vicinity to play games and collect pieces of an anagram.
With each group, however, an individual was assigned a handicap by the team's retreat leader; my handicap in particular was being mute. And, as we ventured to each place, we had to do one of the items on the list; we didn't get through all of the activities, but we got enough to figure out what the anagram was.
"Today is the Day"Back into our small groups we were hustled, and we assembled our anagram without two letters. "H" and "A" were the ones we were missing.But we had long since figured it out.We talked about the games as an entire group for a bit, figuring out what we learned from each game. It was a rough start, but soon enough we thought in respect to the retreat.Then we got a personal witness. Their life was basically the surreal "edge of existence and then pivot and salvation" - it was absolutely captivating. To think that an individual could go through all of that, and the reason for their existence hasn't morphed in the slightest.Interestingly enough, when CT had mentioned that we were not in it alone - the communal aspect of faith - this witness account exemplified the other community present.Those invisible hands, that unseen nudge - "the other community present."The evening was pulled into the talk room, wherein we found mirrors on the ground. We found a spot and did a nice little exercise. MK, as I will identify her, instructed us on what to do, and the prose she recited to us would instigate the thought processes and chain into our consciences.It's basically what you would do every morning when you looked into the mirror if you stopped to stare at yourself for a good ten to fifteen minutes and just thought things. How you looked, how you felt about how you looked, how you felt about other people and how they think you look. All the buffs against our esteems and confidence that allows us to make room for a more valiant recovery.Into the small groups room we went, though we wouldn't chat it up just yet. We were to do the same thing we had with the mirrors - this time with a paper and marker.
We were going to make timelines.
Mine was pretty chaotic to say the least. The events that happened in our lives were all over the place in comparison to the prose, though the did bring back some memories that made me smile - good times. [ Coincidence or no? Refer to prior post for the mention of good times being in the past. ]
We left them at our tables after talking about them, and made our way back into the talk room.
Our next talks were of love versus lust and foundations. Earlier in the day, JN had spoken of his turmoil and turbulent years, the desires and the experiences that he endured. It actually caught me off guard, because he's so jovial and genial that he wouldn't seem like the type to have any inner demons.
Perhaps because this was a thing of the past, and now, with Christ as his foundation, he can be as carefree and gleeful as he would allow himself.
It was a really delightful thing to see him laugh the day after.
A spirit that stays buoyant, even after the trials and tribulations that it endures is always an inspiring thing.
Love and Lust were a tag-team by RN and CL.
Interestingly enough, their "defects", going back to LN's key terms, were circumvent of confidence - self-image.
How much they loved themselves.
How much do you love yourself?
Truthfully - do you let what others say about you change your entire outlook on life or does it bounce right off your chest?
I'd like to brandish the fact that everyone is capable of standing strong and letting the world roll off their shoulders and into the palms of their hands.
All it takes is a deep breath.
After another round of small talks with the Plum Sloths, we were invited to grub it up.
I'd pan to the end of the night, where the most impressive part of this entire weekend came into play, but where would the fun be in that?
Besides, now that I'm out of school, I've got all the time in the world to type these up.
So, keep your eyes peeled!
4/21/2012 - Part one.
<3 ~ Monty.
=]
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