The view from the New Camaldoli Hermitage on the Pacific Coast of California
© Meredith Mullins

A Memorable Labor Day Celebration

Happy Labor Day —the unofficial end of summer and, for many folks, a transition to the action-packed days of autumn.

School. New friends. New adventures. A farewell to lazy beach days. TV season premieres. Fall fashion trends. Back to work. NFL kickoffs in the U.S. The rentrée (return) in France. A change in weather. A change in light.

A time of new beginnings.

Before the action starts, it is sometimes good to pause and take a deep breath. As for me, I decided to shake up the cultural traditions of the Labor Day holiday and travel in search of silence.

Senses awake to some of the most beautiful meeting of land and sea on the planet.
© Meredith Mullins

In Search of Silence

I chose to treat this summer transition as a mini New Year’s and travel to a remote hermitage on the Pacific Coast to just “contemplate,” however that might manifest itself . . . and to take good deep breaths of clear, quiet air.

The New Camaldoli Hermitage rests on 900 acres of the California Central Coast, where rugged hills and rocky Pacific shoreline meet dramatically at the twisting edge of the continent.

Welcome to the hermitage, where land, sea, and contemplation merge.
© Meredith Mullins

While the hermitage is not too far from civilization, it boasts the enviable perks of no cell phone service, no wifi, no TV or radio, magnificent natural surroundings, a welcoming community of Benedictine monks, and dedication to silence.

(It was also only recently re-connected to the rest of the world after winter rains caused mudslides that crumbled the highway to the north and south.)

The roads are fragile and often succumb to the winter elements of rain and moving earth.
© Meredith Mullins

This is a place where listening takes precedence. Where contemplation is the norm. Where you are not pulled out of yourself by external stimuli. Instead, you turn inward, and your senses come alive. You see and hear things in a different way. Magnified, yet simplified.

Benches that invite opening the senses
© Meredith Mullins

Ready for Reflection

As I drove from town down the winding coast road, I knew I was ready for reflection. My mind was already shaking things loose. I was leaving the “to do” lists and the practicalities of daily life on the road behind me.

A parade of random thoughts began to form, broke ranks, and then bounced around for awhile without structure. I conjured things from past, present, and future. I saw the coast road as I had never seen it before. Everything was dancing.

On the coast road
© Meredith Mullins

I did, however, notice that, in my reverie, I was talking to myself. Out loud. I knew I would have to thwart that impulse once I arrived at the silent hermitage. There would be no talking . . . not even to myself.

I admit to having trepidations. I had never been for a week without links to the external world. I thought perhaps I would wither from boredom (although I knew I could always jump in my car and head for town). I would be wanting for news and social interaction.

I didn’t wither. Instead, I found new life. A gift of time and freedom, where everything was a discovery . . . everything was a memorable “Oh, I see” moment.

The sun dial at the hermitage reads Carpe Diem (Seize the Day).
© Meredith Mullins

A New Way of Seeing

I spent hours in the secluded garden behind my room, looking out toward the ocean and the sloping ridge that would become an everpresent friend.

My ridge: the first sunset over a coastal fog bank.
© Meredith Mullins

On the first day, the fog was thick. I looked out toward what would have been the ocean, but the fog, sky, and water had turned into simple blue immensity. The mixed elements seemed to glow with hidden light.

On the next day, my focus went from distant to close up. I became aware of the rocks in my garden. I studied the layers of time evident in the colorful striations. I memorized the shape of the leaves on the plants and trees.

Every detail of nature was magnified.
© Meredith Mullins

Some days, I moved to the benches perched on the edge of the road, each of which had its own view of the land and sea.

Some days, I walked the trails or ventured down to the remote beaches.

Remote rhythms
© Meredith Mullins

On sunny days, I saw warmth. On foggy days, I saw mystery. And, each evening, a spectacular form of sunset occurred, most often through a layer of fog or clouds.

I was never bored. As Annie Dillard said, nature is so brilliant that all you have to do is show up. Showing up proved quite rewarding.

Each sunset was unique.
© Meredith Mullins

A New Way of Hearing

So what happens when you live a week in silence?

You listen. Sounds that are often lost in the noise of everyday life can now be heard. Your shoes crunch the earth. The birds become distinct personalities. The trees start to talk.

In the silence, a buzzing bee sounds like a jet engine, scurrying quail sound like giant bears crashing through the brush, and the gentle wind becomes a dominant instrument in this new world symphony.

I often felt rudely loud just chewing my cruciferous vegetables (a staple in the hermitage vegetarian food).

I sat near this tree, which was humming loudly. I finally realized that it housed a nectar convention
and hundreds of bees were partaking.
© Meredith Mullins

Labor Day Resolutions

While the monks of the New Camaldoli Hermitage embrace living in solitude and silence, it is not so easy for the average person when returning to normal life. All I could do was to make some silence-inspired resolutions.

1. I will choose a day a week to unplug. I will leave technology behind and attempt to return to the eloquence of silence that I experienced on the Big Sur coast.
2. Instead of checking email first thing in the morning (a bad habit I have), I will spend 15 minutes in silence. Whether this is “meditation” or just letting my mind wander and my senses awaken, the time will be well spent.
3. I will try to live more often like the zen bumper sticker says—“Don’t just do something. Sit there.”

The silence of a sunset
© Meredith Mullins

Silence and stillness are truly art forms. These ideas are not new (practiced for many years around the world in a variety of cultures and religions). But they are a good way to shake up the current trends and cultural traditions that continue to increase noise and distraction.

In this world of constant movement and information overload, silence and stillness become important.

Changing perspectives
© Meredith Mullins

We shall see what these new beginnings bring. One thing I am sure of is that I have now experienced travel writer Pico Iyer‘s definition of an amazing destination—a place that sends one back home a different person from the one who left.

For more information about the New Camaldoli Hermitage, visit the website and Facebook page.

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