I ARRIVE at Abbey House, in
the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey, in pitch-black darkness. The
house's gothic windows and castellations are slightly spooky, but
the greeting at the door could not be friendlier, and I am ushered
in to the grandly elegant diocesan retreat-house.
I am here - among the
high ceilings and muted colours of this former country gentleman's
retreat, built in 1830 - for two days, on retreat with God: no
structured programme, just daily meetings with the resident
chaplain, the Revd Simon Small. "Don't have any expectations," he
says to me after a delicious meal. "A retreat is about connecting
with the truth of the moment. Come with an open mind."
I say that I would like
to go a bit deeper with contemplation, which I have been exploring
recently. He explains that, when we make time to be still, things
can bubble up: "You might find that lots of stuff surfaces." That
is my biggest worry: how much "stuff" have I got lurking? I'm
pretty sure there is plenty.
I am also, I explain, at
a crossroads in my life. I am 42, and face a possible future
without children. At times, I feel that I am carrying an unresolved
grief; at others, I see vistas of child-free adventure opening up.
It is a confusing season of life to be in. I hope that this retreat
does not reduce me to a gibbering mess.
It feels odd confessing
all this to a stranger, but also, in saying it aloud, it is
strangely liberating. Simon assures me that I will be supported. I
hope, however, that all that "stuff" stays in its box.
REST is important, he
says; so I am in bed by nine. They have put me in the newer wing of
the house, alone, and away from a group of meditating Finns. The
silence settles on me heavily.
In the morning, I am not
ready to sit still. The house has spectacular views over the abbey
ruins. I wander around the melancholy skeletal structures, soaking
up the echoes of ancient belief. Some say that Joseph of Arimathaea
and the young Jesus built a chapel here. It is more likely that
there has been a church here since the second century.
The abbey was founded in
the seventh century, and grew to become one of the most powerful
monasteries in England. It was torn down in 1539, and the monks
were driven away; the Abbot was executed on the Tor.
Next, I encounter the
spiritual smorgasbord that is the high street. "Glastonbury
attracts people who are seeking something," Abbey House's warden,
Liz Pearson, says. Wicca, witchcraft, shamanism, goddess worship,
tarot, regression, sound-healing - it is all here. As the taxi
driver who dropped me off said: "This is the one place in Britain
you can walk down the street in Arthurian costume and no one will
bat an eyelid."
SIGHTSEEING over, it is
time to knuckle down. There is a cellar chapel in the house; so I
head there. Built from stone purloined from the abbey, it has a
charged atmosphere: you could almost touch the silence. I sit on a
sheepskin rug and wait. Now, it is just me and God.
I offer silent apologies
for ignoring him so spectacularly, and for treating him like a
divine Father Christmas. God, can I have a better job/more money/a
good day/a baby? Instead of an angry response, I seem to hear a
small voice responding with kindness and love.
Later, I try a spot of
lectio divina with a passage from Sue Pickering's On
Holiday With God. Despite the terrible title - I picture me
with God, and buckets and spades - it has a great deal of helpful
advice and ideas if you are alone on retreat.
ABBEY HOUSE, in Glastonbury,
is the diocesan retreat house for Bath & Wells. It welcomes
groups and individuals, and runs a varied programme of quiet days
throughout the year. For individually guided retreats, phone to
discuss your requirements on 01458 831112.
www.abbeyhouse.org