“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my Soul…
I account it high time to get to the sea as soon as I can.”
– Herman Melville
Moby Dick

I just got back from a five day personal retreat at Windermere. It has been too long since I was there last and I was beginning to feel like Melville’s Ishmael. I accounted it high time to drive up the Santa Barbara Mountains to the little paradise off of Hwy 154.

It was blustery cold when I arrived and threatened rain. I quickly settled into the pretty little Garden House for my brief stay. The staff offered me some rain gear but I had already determined to wait out the coming storm snuggled up with a Discourse in front of a cozy fire.

It started raining seriously at 6:00 AM the next morning. A goodly supply of firewood was already inside and I wasted no time in lighting in a fire in the cast iron stove to take the chill off the room. It is such a basic task, the ancient art of preparing a wood fire in a stove. Yet few of us city folk have the patience for it. I relied on my Boy Scout training and soon the fire sprung to life. There is a glass panel in front of the stove so it was possible to watch the flickering flames lick at the Oak and Manzanita wood that I fed it at intervals.

At the same time the scudding clouds rushed up the hill releasing the life affirming gift of rain. For four hours I sat transfixed meditating on the elements: fire, wind, water and the quenched earth outside.

By afternoon the rain dissipated and I ventured outside into the cleansed world. Mists played off the ground and the oaks dripped the last of their liquid treasure.

That night the clouds came and went alternately revealing the twinkling lights of the city below, a shimmering firmament at my feet. The next moment the wind-propelled clouds rushed back up the hill and the city was hidden once more from view. The glow of the flickering fire in the stove continued to comfort me with warmth and a sense of awe.

After the rain passed, I began the task of helping out around the ranch. It has always been my wish to be useful when I am at Windermere and the staff gave me some chores to do. After my enforced idleness during the rain it felt good to be outside moving about in the sun doing jobs that would in a small way assist the staff in their labors. At the end of my work day, I was back in the Garden House tending the stove and conjuring the little fire to life once more. It was very satisfying to be warmed by its radiant glow while preparing a simple meal.

The rain had worked its wonder on the land. Everything glistened and sparkled. The trees, rocks and grass all seemed to shine. I took a few walks about the property in places that I had been many times before but new beauty was revealed to me. Vibrant green moss clung to freshly washed rocks while spindly trees grew improbably between them all under a canopy of sheltering oaks reposed in an eternal silence of being. The Japanese take great care to recreate scenes such as I was seeing in nature without the help of the hand of man. I wonder if this is what is meant by a Zen experience?

I have been to Windermere many times before and have had wonderful times there but this time was a little different. When it was time to leave, I felt as though I had had a sacred experience beyond my ability to relate it. Words fail me but, as it was sacred, so perhaps I should just hold it in my heart. I can say this much — I was in a place of peace, with myself and with the world. That peace is with me still. I am forever grateful for the opportunities I have had to share in this little piece (peace) of paradise.