by Kate Gerwin
“After the Ecstasy… the laundry.” – Jack Kornfield
This past weekend, I went on a retreat—or perhaps more accurately stated, this past weekend, I came back from a retreat.
The retreat itself was one of the most soul-touching experiences I have ever had. I showed up on Friday, resistant and jaded (just the right temperature for cooking, my teacher would say) and left on Sunday with deep new wells of life. It was humbling, empowering and one of those rare moments where you realize you are watching your life change.
So overall, a pretty good weekend.
To give some context, I am somewhat familiar with retreats; I’ve been on more than a few and led many more and perhaps most importantly, I had finally learned the art of fitting a sleeping bag, pillow and all my clothes into one tiny duffle. My experiences have run the gamut, from deeply meaningful and life-altering, to extraordinarily empty and stale.
One thing about retreats that has always intrigued me is coming back home, as the experience is always different. At times I have been so raw and broken open that coming home has been like waking up under harshly lit florescent lights. Sometimes I have been so deeply moved that my attempts to share my experience have been totally futile. And on other occasions, I have been so frustrated, cynical or bored that I haven’t been able to make it to the car fast enough; impatient to get back to the distracting business of my ‘real’ life.
I think the greatest gift that this particular weekend gave me, was the gift of coming home.
Jack Kornfield, beloved author and meditation teacher, sums up the beauty of “coming home” in his book, “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry.” Kornfield writes about how moments of transcendence can be so powerful and life-changing; and yet, after such realization, we are faced, or gifted, with the day-to-day-living of our lives. These are the real moments of miracle and mystery. For Kornfield the moments of ecstasy and enlightenment are worth very little if they do not help the laundry become a luminous or sacred task.
As we were about to leave the retreat, my teacher, mindful that we would all be returning to our proverbial laundry, left us with this quote by Buddhist meditation master, Thich Nhat Hanh, from his sermon about the life of Jesus:
“The real miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth, dwelling deeply in the present moment and feeling truly alive.”
I am off to do some laundry!