Offline Time in Nature: Reading, Writing and a Reset

It took a retreat with strangers to get me outside, disconnected and refocused on what I want from my writing

Last weekend, I went “camping with strangers”.

That’s what my mom told people after I told her I was going to a retreat in Algonquin alone.

“You won’t be alone for long,” she replied. “You’ll talk to everyone.”

And she was right. By the end of the weekend, I’d forged connections with all of the other participants and we were no longer sixteen strangers.

My intentions really were to reconnect with myself though and to write. I was craving the stillness of being disconnected and being in full control of my time. Last year, I was more intentional about writing. It was easier to do before I was working full-time, and I really wanted to get back into a writing practice that could fit with my new schedule.

I was also yearning to sit by the lake and go to sleep with the wind rustling the trees overhead while the crickets sang. We didn’t get to our bunkie this summer, and I missed this time in nature more than I knew.

The retreat was on Kawawaymog (Round) Lake, the first access to point to paddle into Algonquin Park. Fun Fact: Tom Thomson spent time on this lake, and every morning I drank my coffee while gazing out at the islands and hills that inspired several of his paintings.

The sunrise every morning over the lake had all the vibes of Tom Thomson’s “Round Lake -Mud Bay”.

While I knew the retreat was going to be offline, I stressed a little when I arrived and saw the “SOS” on the corner of my phone. I hadn’t noticed I lost signal at the edge of town, some fifteen kilometres back, and wished I’d let Chris know and that I’d arrived. So rarely are we truly disconnected like this, I couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved.

To put my mind at ease, I ended up calling him after supper and left a message. It felt kind of old school, like calling home from basketball practice in high school, except it was on a VOIP service on an iPad. I learned the lodge did have Internet and you could connect for limited situations. I didn’t see a need. I was not needed at the restaurant and there wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until I was back online Monday. I intended to be offline and so I was going to be.

“Intentions” were a theme throughout the weekend for me. When we registered for the weekend, we had answered a question about what we wanted from the weekend, and Wendy and Louise, our retreat facilitators had used those answers to plan the itinerary. They crafted a statement:

“Nurturing our souls in a setting saturated with nature and peaceful energies we explore our sense of adventure while grounding, connecting and relaxing.”

At the opening circle, I was pondering all the things that were on my mind and troubling “my soul” when I left home that morning. Our eventual move, a new home, the need to find restaurant help, a website launch at work, upcoming Council decisions, the end of summer, our hospital situation, my friends’ health, my marriage, another friend’s marriage I was going to miss.

Even writing it out now, I’m reminded how much we try to carry, often on our own, and then wonder why we’re so tired and don’t have energy to pursue the activities that bring us joy.

In the circle, surrounded by strangers, it all felt like a messy, ball of yarn, not just knotted together but actually stuck, like it was coated in the Modge Podge glue we collaged with later that weekend. I wasn’t sure how I was going to untangle it coherently without getting stuck in the mess.

But instead of inquiring about what we’d left behind, Wendy asked us to share what was “lighting us up”.

Writing was the first thing that came to mind. I wanted to write more and that was why I came, so I shared this.

It felt odd to not talk about anything else in that introduction - restaurant, council, work. So often we let ourselves be defined by our jobs and not who we want to be so this felt freeing in a way.

And with my intention out there, the rest of the weekend fell into place. After dinner that night, I picked “Writing Down the Bones” by Natalie Goldberg, off the retreat bookshelf. It looked familiar to me. I think my friend Miranda had recommended it too.

“That book is so good!” Wendy exclaimed when she saw me flipping through it. “I write a little bit too and it was so helpful.”

Done, I thought. I carried it with me everywhere all weekend, and now I think that it was actually the book that found me. It was exactly what I needed to guide me through the weekend and find the reset I was looking for.

So many things clicked for me as I read it. I did feel called to write. It was a feeling that nagged at the back of my consciousness when I neglected it for too long. And having lost the practice of daily writing that I had started two years ago, I realized how important this was for me, even if it was just journal writing.

For me, writing is like meditation. And the book made me realize how important it is to not just write when I feel like it’s all there ready to say in a tidy, little post, but to write all the time. Write messy stuff. Write without editing. Write when I hit the wall and when I have questions I’m trying to answer. Write thru the questions and keep writing until the knots start to untangle.

I probably sound cheesy now but it really was making so much sense. As I read the book, I made mental notes, took screenshots and reflected on the ideas in my notebook or journal. Sometimes I tried the exercises. I wrote a lot. A lot more than I had in weeks.

“Read, listen, write, don’t think.”

This became the mantra that stuck with me. It was practical, because I had become accustomed to the habit of self-editing while writing. This meant it took ages for me to actually get all my thoughts on the page. And it also reinforced what I already knew about myself - I could write through anxiety and overwhelm to figure things out.

I was drawn to the idea everything could be unpacked if you went deep enough in yourself and in writing.

Just as we can’t find the answers for the things we’re seeking in ourselves in a book or in another person, we can’t be taught how to be a good writer. We have to do the work. We have to write and push ourselves outside our comfort zone, try different tactics and methods.

I took in this idea and slept on it. I contemplated it on the paddleboard and during yoga. When the weather didn’t cooperate for paddleboarding, we did a little bit of crafting. I had brought my watercolour crayons and collage journal in the event I felt so moved. Wendy had printed some lines from her own writing and left them in a little wooden bowl for us to use if we desired. I picked one up.

“There is no path outside of you. All the answers you seek lay within the terrain of your own wilderness.”

How appropriate. There was the irony that a book and a little piece of paper were telling me what I needed to do. But it all felt right all the same.

Through all of this contemplation, reading and writing, I was also still connecting with the other retreat guests. For the first few days, I listened far more than I talked. I was quite content to learn about the others and resisted the urge to jump in when we had things in common.

I noticed how people spoke about themselves when they had the freedom to share only what they chose. I was selective in sharing my own story. I wanted to protect the my energy and ensure I wasn’t bringing the stress of life into the weekend unnecessarily.

As the weekend went on though, I was opening up more as I’m often compelled to do. As my mom predicted, the group quickly ceased to be strangers.

We were an interesting group, all with our own fascinating stories. Because they are not mine to share, I have decided not to write about them here but I wrote about them in my journal. As I got to know each person, I realized I was also learning things about myself.

Many of the group were from Toronto. I realized what a privilege it was to live in Bruce County when I saw how much they were looking forward to seeing a dark sky of stars. Even from our little apartment in town, I just had to look out my backdoor on a clear night for this.

On the last day, Louise and Wendy commented how incredible it is to watch sixteen strangers come together and see community form in real time. There were friendships forged over the weekend and will endure. On pointing this out, I also realized how amazing this was to witness.

Like me, others had come by themselves, wanting the chance to relax and listen to our own needs, without feeling pulled in one direction or another. And yet, in our desire to be alone among others, we formed connections and knew our experience was richer for this.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I felt all the tension and stress I had come into the weekend with had dissipated. My muscles were sore but it was from a couple paddles across the lake. The air had the crispness of fall and the sun was shining warm and bright, a million tiny diamonds dancing on the water.

I didn’t want to leave, but I felt like I had got all I wanted from the weekend. My head felt more clear and I felt recommitted to a writing practice.

The challenge now was to keep it up.

Giving ourselves time to do the work is likely hardest thing to do. Goldberg wrote “Writing Down the Bones” before we were “always on” with cell phones and social media.

It’s easy to blame our phones, but they really are such a huge distraction. I had my phone with me most of the weekend because I didn’t bring a watch, but it didn’t have the pull it has normally because I knew there were no new notifications on it.

How can we recreate this in our daily lives when it’s constant and so easy to open a social media app and lose all motivation?

Every morning I walked by this little frog and it made me smile and reminded me to be grateful and think about my intention for the day.

This week, I’ve been charging my phone out of sight and starting my mornings again with my journal or a book. When I don’t know what to write about, I now have some exercises to try and I am looking forward to the challenge of something different.

I also decided I won’t let these last warm weeks of late summer go to waste. I took our paddleboard out for a quiet evening paddle after work on Wednesday. Though September is busy, these days are waning and there are many more ahead when we will want to stay curled up inside under a blanket.

These are the intentions I’m starting September with and hope to carry forward through the fall. We’ll see how it works but I’d love to hear how you carve out that time for the activities you love and keep the noise quiet.