Posted on

Gaia House: Insight and intentions

I’ve recently returned from a three-day silent retreat at Gaia House in Devon.

I was last there in 2015 for five days – a long time ago! Whenever I go there, I leave with some insight and intentions.

Insights

  • We have the answers inside us. We just have to spend time looking within and connecting to the breath and bodily sensations.
  • Surrounded by silence and 57 other retreatants, it’s possible to feel totally supported and loved.
  • When we speak, we craft how we come across. We perform, we construct our persona. When words are taken away from us, we are ourselves in our purest form. Our true nature shines through.
  • Spiritual practice nourishes and grounds me in a way that no other activity can.
  • My mind will seek written stimulation wherever possible – intently reading the small print on teabag boxes in the absence of phones, books or the ability to write notes.
  • So many of my thoughts are linked to words. Conversations had and imagined, paragraphs of text drafted before pen even hits the paper. These thoughts and plans take me away from the present.
  • Stillness allows me to notice the small things. During a standing meditation practice in the gardens, I had the honour of simply watching two mice going about their business collecting grass, ducking in and out through the grass paths and tunnels they’d created.
  • I could speak less. The rule of 50/50 in conversations: spend 50% of the time listening, 50% speaking.
  • Intense practice opens me up in such a strong way. Lots of emotional vulnerability and increased sensitivity on leaving the retreat.
  • Feelings of loving kindness or ‘metta’ towards strangers – compassion towards the farmer who shouted at me when I accidentally trespassed on her land. An opportunity to witness the impact of the exchange on my mind in subsequent meditation practices.

Intentions

  • Create silence where possible. Turn the radio off, enjoy silence in the car when I’m in it on my own
  • Awareness of the daily trance – put my phone down
  • Sitting or walking practice
  • More asana practice
  • Get back into the habit of listening to podcasts by Buddhist teachers
  • Be kinder to myself. We all make mistakes. Lessen the self criticisms and perceived shortcomings
  • Visit Gaia House every year
  • Start teaching yoga again…
Posted on

Mind and body with Martin Aylward

I’ve recently come back from a silent meditation retreat in Devon at Gaia House with Martin and Gail Aylward. We spent lots of time sitting, and the meditation practice was quite unlike anything I’ve done before – no need to chant my Sanskrit mantra until I’ve obliterated all other thoughts. This was far more gentle and offered the chance of actual insight linked to body.

Over the five days, all 50 of us met with Martin in small groups of eight or so people in what was called a ‘group interview’. Having never done anything like it before, I didn’t really know what would happen.

I was in a room with comfy armchairs in a circle, and oak panelling on the walls. Martin sat cross-legged on an armchair in front of a grand fireplace. I’m slightly in awe of him. He’s wise, incredibly knowledgeable, yet approachable. He’s spent time living with monks in Thailand, yet he’s very at home talking about the realities of Western living.* But he’s got these eyes that make you feel like he’s looking into your being.

“What’s come up for you?” he asked me in the group interview.

Martin
Martin

I didn’t want everyone looking at me. I hadn’t spoken in three days and now I was confronted with having to talk about my inner thoughts and feelings in front of a group of people who I’d been living around – maybe we’d helped ourselves to the breakfast porridge at the same time, or walked into the meditation hall behind each other. But that was it.

I casually answered, “Oh just mundane stuff really, and thoughts around planning for the future.”

“What else?” I felt those eyes on me.

“Er, songs. I’ve got songs going round in my head. That’s all.” Florence and her machine had been plaguing me for days. I was squirming. I wanted him to move onto the next person.

“What else?” His eyes. I shrugged and squirmed more.

“What about all this embodiment stuff we’ve been talking about?” He pressed further.

My response was short: “I don’t know.” In my head I was wanting him just to gloss over it and not look any deeper. But he wasn’t having any of it.

He sighed. “Ok, how do you feel right now in your body?”

I paid attention to the sensations. I was sitting in an armchair, one sole of foot pressed into the seat and my hands tightly gripped the bent knee. I noticed an incredible heat in my body and I was actually sweating. All my muscles everywhere felt engaged. I could not move.

I told him all this, and as I told him, my body physically released and relaxed.

“How do you feel now?” he asked. I replied that I felt calm.

“THAT’s what you need to work on!” he exclaimed, pointing his index finger at me. And he moved onto the next person.

Some people cried as they talked about their fears and anxieties and people slid a box of tissues across the floor to the next person. And you know what? It was all ok.

But after that point, for the rest of the retreat, I was able to go deeper in my meditation. I was more attuned to sensations in my body.

It’s weird because when I’m on my mat practicing, I’m able to notice more. I find it easier (‘easier’ not ‘easy’) to observe the tension and soften.

But when we’re under pressure, when we get caught up in our thoughts, it can all go out of the window. And that’s when we need it the most! I was transported back to school and being scared to speak in class in case I said the ‘wrong’ thing. It’s fear and it manifests as anxiety. We contract around our experience.

Since returning home a week ago, I’ve found it challenging. I’ve felt overwhelmed by all the communication – emails, voicemails, whatsapp messages, texts, TV, radio, speaking and listening… but I’m trying to notice how that contraction manifests in my physical body and seeking to soften.

I would recommend everyone looks up Martin Aylward and I’d love to spend time again next year with him and Gail at Gaia House. There I go again – planning for the future…

 

*My favourite retreat moment was when, during a talk with Martin in the main hall, a phone sounded the arrival of a text. Phones aren’t encouraged at Gaia House. Martin stopped mid-sentence, reached inside his pocket, pulled out his iPhone and looked at the screen. “It’s a text from my son,” he announced to us all, smiling. His wife Gail, sitting to one side, looked down at her lap and stifled a giggle.

Posted on

The golden silence at Gaia House

I went for a walk last week. I was making my way along a country lane and I took my phone out of my pocket. I turned it on and started typing a reply to a text. I wrote a couple of words and realised I’d taken a handful of steps without noticing. I put my phone back in my pocket and carried on walking.

Where was I? I was on a five-day silent meditation retreat at Gaia House in Devon. I had gone to spend time sitting, moving and learning with Martin and Gail Aylward.

This ‘noticing’ is really what Gaia House is all about. Everything you do there is set up to cultivate awareness.

Every day we practiced walking meditation. There’s a large room with creaky wooden floorboards and a huge bay window containing houseplants that were just as huge. In a marble fireplace sat a skeleton reminding us of our immortality. I slowly walked back and forth noticing what arose in the space between bones and leaves – the dead and the living.

But it was the outside walking practice that I enjoyed the most. You chose a space in the beautiful grounds and you paid attention to your every step:

I noticed

the way my feet made contact with the ground

the golden hues of early autumn leaves

the restriction in my left big toe joint due to an old sprain

a plane soaring overhead

a softening of shoulders

the occasional weed sprouting for victory

exhaling breath on top lip

the heat in hands from clasping a mug of peppermint tea

the cacophony of cawing crows

sash windows with wobbly panes of glass catching the light unevenly

the warm sun on face

the subtle smell of peppermint

the inhaling expansion of rib cage.

 

It’s often said – I believe – that women are brilliant multi-taskers. I’m sure many men would disagree. But is multi-tasking such a great thing? Trying to do ten things at once?

I’d rather do one thing very well.

At Gaia House, everyone spends an hour every day doing seva or karma yoga - an act of generosity. For those washing up everyone's plates and cutlery after meal times, these words sat above the sink.
At Gaia House, everyone spends an hour every day doing seva or karma yoga – an act of generosity. For those washing up everyone’s plates and cutlery after meal times, these words sat above the sink.