After an entire year of planning, the day had come for the retreat. It was about the time that people should be arriving, but it was quiet downstairs, so I went out to the check in area to see what was going on. Apparently the very narrow, windy road that led to the retreat center was blocked by an overturned truck and everyone was either stuck behind it or about to get stuck.
Of course our whole schedule got thrown off as people started to stagger in. My lecture was going to start a hour or more late which meant I was going to have to cut it down to 30 minutes max or else everyone would be going to bed in the middle of the night. But as I looked at my lecture notes, I took a double take. I had only prepared about 30 minutes of content for that evening. I had no idea that the truck was going to block the way and throw off the whole timing of the first day. I had looked over those notes so many times, but never noticed I had only prepared a short opening lecture. I got one of those chills up my spine when the divinity infusing everything winks at you from between the curtains.
There were other moments like that throughout the weekend. A fellow meditation teacher I wrote to months ago about the retreat accidentally had my name come up on her phone when trying to reach her child's parent. Out of the blue she wrote me without any idea the retreat was starting that day. I invited her and she came.
These kinds of incidents remind me that I can't get it wrong. That letting go of attachment means not just attachments to outcomes but also timings.
We all seem to have this innate desire to get from A straight to B. We just want to get there. But then we get there and realize there's no there there. It's just more sequence.
If we remember life is more like a sequitous river and that the bends and twists are what we're here for, we can float along and enjoy not only the gentle parts but the rapids as well.
