Gratitude for a scrappy Canadian retreat
or, Six Steps to Make Anything a Retreat
Chaos is my word for 2025. Everything is chaos. I have to name that because, when in the midst of chaos, it is easy for chaos to start to feel normal. Normal is having a realistic expectation of what is coming in the future, accounting for the occasional surprise. That is not what we are in right now. Right now is chaos.
When I went to Atlanta in January, three days after the inauguration, I was concerned for my safety, but even then I had no idea what would transpire over the following months as ICE squads kidnapped people off the streets and detained innocent visitors for weeks, moving them back and forth across the US in inhumane conditions. This wasn’t just people for faraway lands. Canadians started hearing about other Canadians being detained.
As we started making plans for our annual Harbor retreat, I and other Canadians had to face the fact that we just couldn’t feel okay crossing the border. It was a devastating realization. For some it was less about safety and more about principle: Canada is under significant threat of economic warfare and, yes, annexation by the US. And, just like Americans, we are a patriotic group, loyal to Canada. But there are also real safety concerns for some. Some of us are trans. Some of us are Black or Brown. Some of us have backgrounds that make us vulnerable to questioning at the border. All of these factors could lead to interrogation, which could lead to detention.
We wouldn’t be able to make it to this year’s regular Harbor retreat (which will be in North Carolina in September). But we wanted to see as much of our Harbor family as possible, so we decided to hold our own retreat in Canada.
This was not the retreat we wanted. We wanted to be with our whole Harbor family. We wanted to meet new babies and new people in person. We wanted to hug old friends. We wanted to explore a new part of this beautiful continent. We wanted to sing and pray and listen with everyone. But this is the retreat that we got. And we made it the best we could.
Since we are a small group, we met together to plan the retreat. We booked a simple retreat centre, did our own grocery shopping and cooking, and planned an outing to a local beach. We followed the cardinal rule of a Harbor retreat: Participate as much or as little as you want. I realised I can turn pretty much any getaway into a retreat with some intention and a little bit of discipline. Here’s how we did it.
Set an intention: We always open our retreats with an opening circle where we share what we are bringing with us and what we hope to receive. Although much of the retreat will be experienced together, each of us also identifies a personal focus, whether it be rest, connection, fun, prayer, or getting support.
Plan essentials ahead of time so you have more time to be flexible: Two participants planned all our meals in advance, and then we went grocery shopping. Knowing what and when we were eating meant our conversations were about meaningful topics, not “What do we want to do for supper?”
Prioritise rest: Make sleeping and eating your main priorities. We agreed to having no wake-up times. Breakfast was available, and we started the day together when everyone was ready.
Start your day with private reflection: It can be some silent meditation, journaling, going for a walk or a swim, or getting the kitchen ready for breakfast. Take some time for yourself to enter the day slowly. If you can, take a few more times for reflection each day.
Bring a few activities (but not too many): You can build a little bit of discipline by bringing an activity you wouldn’t naturally reach for. For example, I brought watercolours, which I haven’t used in months. I only spent about 15 minutes with them all weekend, but it was good to return to, and I wouldn’t have done it with all the distractions I have available at home.
Protect your attention: When we got to the facility we learned there was no internet. It honestly never occurred to us that there wouldn’t be. Later, we each admitted we were relieved. We did not go entirely offline, but being limited to our cell phone plans meant a lot less time on our phones. Protecting your attention might mean deliberately turning off all the things that are designed to pull your attention away. That is not limited to our phones, but our phones are big thieves of our attention.
The truth is, in this chaotic time, travel is difficult, and we all have to accept new limitations. Setting aside traditions, especially holiday traditions, is especially painful. Getting away seems more important now than ever so we can restore our bodies and souls. Whatever time you can take away, make it worth it by packing it full—not of memories, but of intention and care.
