My personal retreat: keep looking in the direction you’re going

As soon as I read Carlos Saba’s account of his personal retreat, I knew that it was the perfect timing for me to try it. I started planning it — starting from Carlos’ recipe but tweaking for what I need right now, and what would work for me.

I knew that what I wanted to focus on was being clear on the things that are important to me, firming up my vision of my life, this year and beyond. There was a lot of change last year, like a very joyful mid-life crisis (which was accelerated by going to the Happy Start-up Summercamp that Carlos co-founded), and I wanted to consolidate this change to be sure of what it means for me, and that I’ll act on it.

And Carlos’ comment on feeling better when everything is ORGANISED definitely resonates with me (though in semi-following his retreat plan I realised, wow, I am definitely not as systematic).

I realised that it was unlikely my brain would work in the right way if I tried to do my retreat in London. Which quickly escalated to me booking a stay in a shepherd’s hut at the foot of the South Downs. It was perfect.

As soon as I arrived, I knew that my well-ordered timetable would need to change — it was a beautiful day, and the hills were calling.

But I did the first exercise first.

I skipped Carlos’ advice to ‘manage the monkey brain’ (in his case by doing some colouring) pretending that my train journey and lunch stop would have been enough, and went straight to ‘reflect on the past’. Thinking about the events and routines of the last year, and whether they were positive or negative. I just went with green post-it notes for positive, and orange for negative. I was surprised how quickly the orange of the start of 2015 moved into tearing through the green pack. And especially that some things that at the time seemed pure orange actually had green that I hadn’t appreciated at the time. For example, at times when I felt my work had been making no impact, had been futile, I didn’t appreciate at the time that I was still making a positive impact on the people I worked with. I’ve since learnt how colleagues felt supported and inspired by me — which helped me realise that even if change is impossible at the system level, it’s always possible at the personal level.

Then I got my wellies on and threw myself up a hill.

And it felt instantly like a switch had been flipped in my brain. Sunshine, birdsong, green hills, blue sky, the sea. Perspective. Freedom. A visceral reminder of how important being in the countryside is to me. Even the smell of sheep shit makes me smile.

Gleaning insight from the mind vomit

Back to the hut, a pot of coffee, lighting the woodburner to get cosy for the next instalment.

Next on my agenda, based on Carlos’ plan, it was time to ‘Glean insight from the mind vomit’ (possibly my favourite phrase I’ve ever written on a post-it note).

Rather than following his ‘eliminate, reduce, raise, create’ categories, I just grouped my positives and negatives into categories. With my brain rebooted by the hills, it seemed very natural to see clear themes emerging, about what’s important to me, where I should be spending my time and energy, what kind of relationships I need in my life, how I see myself, what kind of work makes me happiest. I sort of bundled in the ‘define your motivations’ step to this bit as well. It seemed to overlap.

I ended up with a couple of pages of very clear notes on what’s important to me, and what else I learnt. One that I hadn’t put my finger on at all before was how I can ask for help when I need it. I’d realised that when I find a work situation tough, I’ve tended to see it as some kind of moral failing if I have to tell someone I’m struggling or could use their help. Despite experience showing me that this is when some of the best things happen.

Then I moved on to an exercise that Andy ‘Mindapples’ Gibson suggested — thinking about who I was at the ages of 0, 7, 14, 21 etc. He’d said that it can be a really useful way of understanding what’s important to you. So I tried it.

Crikey.

It should have come with some kind of advisory warning — it’s powerful stuff. It was amazing how easy I found it to tune in to who I was at different points in my past, even times I hadn’t thought about much. And how the important stuff just jumped out as clearly as a clunky plot device. Very helpful. Very hard.

I also did the ‘writing a letter from the future’ exercise here, and another page of notes on what I’d learnt from looking back and forward in time. Phew.

Possibly my favourite part of my retreat was the sense of strength I got from being self-reliant. Now, I’m not going to go bragging to Bear Grylls any time soon about it, but for me, it was outside of my comfort zone. Staying on my own, in a hut, in a field. Walking alone in the countryside. Tending the woodburner (I shamefully realised that in all my 35 years, I don’t think I’d ever actually lit a fire before). And best of all, walking by torchlight and starlight through muddy lanes to the pub in a nearby village. I thought I wouldn’t be brave enough, nearly just called a cab, considered forgoing dinner to stay in the hut. But I loved it. The silhouettes of the trees against the sky. The quiet. The flabbergasting brightness of the stars. Orion in his full battle regalia, not just the belt he throws on in the city. Magic.

Of course, when I got to the pub, the kitchen was unexpectedly closed that night, so after my adventure I just had a packet of crisps and half a Harvey’s for my dinner, but that was ok. It felt slightly odd to be in public, and though I thought I’d get my notebook out and carry on with the retreat programme, I felt a bit shy. So got my Kindle out instead. I couldn’t think what to read that wouldn’t pluck me too hastily back into the real world, but then realised the perfect thing — ‘I thought I was on the way to work, but I was on the way home’, Charles Davies’ rereading of the Tao Te Ching. It chimed perfectly with the space my brain was in.

Until Tim, a happily drunk guy in his 60s, decided to make friends. He tried engaging me in conversation on sci-fi and motorbikes, and was disappointed at my wholesale ambivalence to these topics. Did an elaborate 90-second impression of asphyxiation when I told him I’d never seen Star Trek. Before getting the hint that I didn’t really want to make friends with him, he gave me a piece of solumn advice: ‘If you’re ever tempted to ride a motorbike (and you will be) make sure to keep looking in the direction you’re going.’ I pass it on here for the good of humanity.

Day two

The next day, waking up to the sunrise over the Downs, making porridge on the camping stove, throwing open the door to let the birdsong in, it felt like life was pretty good.

I started by reviewing everything I’d written yesterday. Then on to ‘the big kahuna goals’. I mashed up the Carlos approach with some input from a friend who is great at doling out life-coaching advice. He had recommended defining goals in different domains: wealth, career, relationship, spiritual, family. They didn’t initially seem like the right shape domains for me, but I tried it anyway, and found it useful. His advice was get down all the goals you can, and refine and prioritise later. He also helped give me focus by saying ‘Being clear on what you want out of the 30–40 or so years left is of utmost importance to avoid wasting that time on something which you would not in retrospect value’. Ulp. Can’t argue with that really. I know I’ve already wasted enough time.

So I wrote down some goals, and then did the ‘5 whys’ thing that Carlos suggested, to uncover whether that’s really the right goal or if there’s something else underlying it. Another one that should come with a health warning. It turns out that goals that you think are pretty innocuous might have some monsters lurking in their depths. Goals that you figure are pretty universal and straightforward (financial independence, say) can turn out to be a bit more complicated when you start looking at why they’re important to you. Another very useful, and very hard exercise.

Then getting a bit more specific about this year’s career goals, my vision for my work, and getting a bit more concrete about things.

Then time for more hills. Promising myself more countryside in my life.

Wrapping up, and heading home, I knew:

— I will do this regularly; being alone in the countryside gives me a quality of thinking I haven’t worked out how to get at home

— Not being able to charge my phone, and therefore having no option but to forego the distractions of email, Facebook, Twitter etc, was hugely valuable. I need more discipline, that’s for sure.

— Concrete goals are really hard for me. Big woolly life-long aspirations are easier. But I think that’s ok for where I am right now. And I know that I’ve had ten years of failing to achieve more concrete ‘do yoga, find a dance class, eat more fruit’ goals, so maybe starting with the fundamentals works better for me. Understanding the why.

Thanks, Carlos, for the inspiration — a brilliant retreat plan, easily adapted. Maybe one day I’ll accept that some colouring-in might be good for me.