Some random musings as I consider the word “retreat”:
When I think of a retreat I think of getting on a plane and starting a new life.
I am stepping off of the platform, nothing but my pack on my back, no plans other than to find a place to stay. A place for me, a place where I can retreat to when it’s rainy or the language barrier becomes too much.
When I think of retreat I think of running. Red hot sun burning on my back as I pound my way down the beach in my bare feet. Hard breaths in and out as I heave. Breathlessness is where I retreat too when I need to be reminded I can breathe.
When I think of retreat I think of you. Making myself so small and tiny against you so that nothing can hurt me. I am curled up and safe as I retreat into the spaces between your heart and your brain. A place where only you can find me.
When I think of retreat I think writing. How words mix on paper to remind me this world is how I interpret it. I am continuously weaving and wondering. Placing and rearranging. I retreat to the paper when the world gets too heavy.
When I think of retreat I think of music. The kind that makes your heart so full and heavy. The kind you belt out while sobbing. The kind that fills you mind and soul. I retreat into the vibrating chords until I find a balance between myself and the sounds.