On fragmentation, silence, food and rain

I arrived home from my week's stay at Buckfast Abbey yesterday afternoon. I haven't looked at the newspapers or television yet but I have had a quick look around my favourite blogs to be reassured that nothing has changed. I'm reassured.

Just before I went away, I decided to defrag my PC because it was running slow. I tend to be a bit lazy about keeping my files tidy and only get around to it when the trusty old PC is obviously struggling with my mess. I actually enjoy watching the defrag programme run, so I don't know why I don't use it more often; I love the clear picture of what the disk looks like now and what it is likely to look like after defragmentation. I had this image of neat blocks of colour, with some irregular spaces and isolated lines in my mind as I set out for Buckfast and I thought 'defragmentation' would be a much better word than 'retrreat' to describe what I was hoping to get from my week of silent reflection. 'Retreat' suggests running away from something whereas the experience is far different: it's a getting away from the usual environment, cares, duties and interests in order to see them more clearly, to put some things in order, to rest and to come back home refreshed and in better running order.

Making a retreat is not the same as going on holiday; it is not for the faint-hearted and, in my view, not for the religious i.e. those who value dogma and doctrine more than faith and spirituality. Key features of the kind of retreat that I choose are silence, lots of stodgy food and stout walking shoes. Spending seven days in total silence, with no books or music is challenging and, at times, it can be very uncomfortable but it is the best environment for serious thought. (I would recommend a weekend rather than a week, for beginners.) For some reason, everyone gets extremely hungry on retreat and the monks provide lots of hearty, comforting meals; the long walks are necessary to counteract the calories as well as for contemplation. Unfortunately we had torrential rain throughout the week and walking was limited to short spurts between downpours.

So, I'm back, feeling fitter internally but in need of a few brisk walks to shed the pounds I put on with those pastries and potatoes. If the idea of defragmenting your life, of all that silence and solitude fail to attract you, maybe some pictures of the venue will:

Accommodation is in the rebuilt mediaeval almshouse. This shows the entrance to my room, one of four opening onto the garden.

The leat from the mill runs through the garden. The sight and sound of the water was a constant delight.

This chap flew in every morning to share the garden for a while.

This is the mill wheel, higher up in the monastery grounds.

The Abbey church. About 15 years ago, I climbed to the top of the tower and onto the roof, to look out over Dartmoor. It was amazing but I don't think I could make it up there now.