Retreat and what went wrong

Before I give this rant, allow me to save an inch of my dignity. So, before you proceed to the next paragraph, please read this article first: http://www.gallup.com/opinion/chairman/191426/millennials-live-work.aspx?utm_source=Viber&utm_medium=Chat&utm_campaign=Private

I truly recommend you to visit the site. It will enlighten you. But for those who are lazy like me, and hopes for salvation by reading the title instead, here you go: Millennials: How They Live and Work

Now that we've gotten over that part, let's proceed to the rest of the disclaimer.

I am not name dropping anything. Partly out of respect, whatever remains, and the majority for my future. 

Moreover, I do not represent any group, squad, block, etc. This is my own opinion, based on my experience. This isn't in any way written to personally attack anyone (facilitators, institution, religious order, etc.), but rather to criticize the manner how it was organized and accomplished.

I am not happy.

To me, such retreat is supposed to be peaceful. However, this retreat gave me so much anxiety that I feel the need to talk to a "real" expert to put my pieces back together. 

On your perspective, perhaps you view me as a misfortunate idiot. A girl of childish reasoning, unable to comprehend the application of the event.

I'll be honest. I am not religious. But I do believe in a higher source of power, I just don't call Him by name. I was brought up a Christian, so did my parents. I practice the ordeal of the religion, and I have nothing against it. What I felt towards my religion is always Indifference. My parents, my friends, and my relatives expect me to attend church every Sunday and I oblige. Out of the tradition of tradition, I follow.

But I do not understand. To me, it didn't carry any bearing. I sit amongst the people attending mass and have to wonder if they take every word out of the ritual as gospel. Lucky for some who can manage to point which part of the bible did the readings taken out of.

How many understood what every songs meant? Or realized every symbolism in every part?

Sometimes, I question my own questions, and how I come up with them. Wherever part of my brain formulates these disrespectful questions about God and Christianity. But at the end of the day, I make sense of everything. Unless I understand it in every angle, my heart will never be present. I will forever be questioning the weight and value of everything.

Let's start from the very beginning. What went wrong. 

We are professionals. We hold bachelors degree from respectable institutions. We are not kids. Some of us have worked. Some even support ourselves in this endeavor. 

I repeat, we are not kids. We chose to be here. That means we are capable of making decisions. Our minds are molding, perhaps some already molded. It wasn't the same as getting our undergrad degree, where society dictated us to be there. It was obligatory.

This time, is a choice. (generally)

What we are now is the result of our past. Whatever kind of thinking we hold now is the sum of experiences from years prior to you. And we embrace that.

Let me paint a clearer picture.

When a child begins to enter school at an early age, he is incapable of writing. 

But an older child who has mastered the art writing (from another mentor), must learn more.

Otherwise, he will not listen. 

After all, he was taught writing.

In a different technique, perhaps.

But writing nonetheless.

To quote the bible, "No one can serve two masters."

Do not sway me away from myself, I will rebel.

And I suppose this rant is my revelation.

To get more concrete, this is where it went wrong. (such a long introduction, sorry)

The way they talk to us wasn't right. It felt degrading. Inappropriate. And in a way, disrespectful. 

I have to apologize for the absence of humility there.

To get even more concrete, let me give you an example.

Prior to leaving, we were assigned to take separate buses. Their goal is to divide the girls from boys. But we rejected the idea. We simply did not listen. 

A moment later, we heard this, "Get on board now. When the boys' bus arrive, you wouldn't all fit. If that's the case, we'll be leaving you behind."

Who says that? Is that suppose to scare us? Kneel and beg for them to get us on board?

You have to remember my statement above. Out of the tradition of tradition, I follow.

Out of requirement, we follow. Out of respect, we obliged. We were willing to cooperate. Yes, it didn't help that we pushed on the idea of sharing one bus, but how they reacted to it is child talk.

Again, let's go back to my statement above. We seek sense in everything. I mean on my part, I do. So when they told us to get on board separate from the boys, it simply didn't make sense. Hence, we rebelled. 

(We are such adults, lol)

Here's another example.

The conference room we stayed at was air-conditioned. That means it's enclosed. That means it echoes. So when two or three people talk at their normal voice, it will echo. It will magnify the sound. Or to the facilitators' terms, we were noisy.

This is how they reacted, "Stay quiet. Don't shout, it's getting too noisy. If you don't shush, you won't be getting your meals."

Who says that? Is that suppose to scare us? Kneel and beg for them to feed us?

Unbelievable. 

Draw random dots on a piece of paper and it wouldn't make sense. Draw then next to each other a certain way and it will take form. 

Make sense of this.

The room was enclosed. Small enough for 100 people to stay there. Get them to talk normally and you'll get the noise you were referring to. 

Excuse me, we are not shouting. Get your facts right. 

Let's dive in further, because it runs deeper.

There was a point, post lunch, when we were instructed to take a nap because apparently we'll be doing strenuous activities later that afternoon (which by the way is an exaggeration). However, a few of us chose not to sleep. Instead, we decided to bond, which in my word bank is a major part of a retreat. When a few of the facilitators saw us, she told us to sleep. We didn't make sense of it, so we replied with silence. She took notice of it and told us this, "If you weren't going to sleep, that's okay. But please stay in your dorm. You'll need the energy for later."

What energy? We sat the whole afternoon off!

Please oh please make sense of everything! If we weren't going to sleep, what are we suppose to do when everyone else is? We'll be talking and they'll be restless. 

Another thing that didn't make sense was the seating arrangements. Now I may not mean it in a literal way, but we were grouped with people we don't know. Some of us have to share a table with a stranger for dinner. I don't know with you, but to me and my experiences, every retreat is centered on one section. A retreat is supposed to be shared with the block section, as one group.

That part we didn't get, that's why for the most part, we are making excuses to stay together, even going around their pathetic rules.

Here's another thing: Is this a retreat, or a seminar? Perhaps a rehab facility? 

It seriously felt the latter. Again, I don't know with you but I was brought up differently. I was introduced a different approach. I had a different master who taught me the basics of writing.

Let me explain.

During my undergrad, we were given three recollections and one retreat. One each year. Recollection on the first three, and a retreat as the last. Each one carries a theme, and every activity or speaker revolves around that theme. When I was a freshman, the first recollection was about myself: intrinsic. Later on, the retreat was about how you stand in the society: extrinsic. 

Now that to me, made sense.

However this time, the retreat was entitled, "Peace". And yet where is peace there? I was worried. Annoyed. Betrayed. And lost. The speakers all had their "own" theme, and in the end, you ask yourself, "Where is this heading at?". The thoughts were scattered and it was all around the place. The first night we had the sacrament of confession and then the next day we were talking about our parents, and then by afternoon we were talking about Jesus. 

It doesn't make sense.

Okay, next point.

Although I understand the concept of detachment from the outside world, by taking away our phones and watches, searching our bags outside our presence was a complete mess. Whoever thought of that idea should get sued. That is invasion of privacy. 

We may have "agreed" to the whole thing, but we at least expected respect. No one in their right minds should go over someone's belongings without the owner around. 

Explain this to me too: "Why do we need to surrender our earphones and chargers if we have already surrendered our gadgets to plug it to?" 

What is the main purpose of earphones without the music player? Or the chargers without the phones? We have no use of it for heavens sake. Why do we need to surrender that too?

MAKE SENSE OUT OF IT I BEG YOU.

But above all else, this is where it was so so wrong.

This is where I lost it. This is the part I decided I should write this down, because it was the last straw for me.

I am a writer. My mind is a capricious thing. Whenever I lose it, writing becomes my therapy, obviously here. So imagine my agony not being to write down my frustrations because they took away my phone. (We also weren't allowed to bring pens and any reading material)

But I'm okay with it.

I lived with it.

After all, it wouldn't kill me.

I understood everything. 

Of the very corner of my head, dangling from the cliff, is me trying to understand all the bullshit they made us do. 

But this thing, this very thing is the end of it.

A backstory.

Last night, they briefed us of what to expect in the morning. They told us they will wake us up around 4am, and although it was completely shocking for the most of us, we accepted it. 

Came that 4am and they did woke us up. 

But here's a catch.

With a song.

They were singing. With guitars and perfectly synchronized harmony.

That's annoying.

But that's okay too.

Then this happened. 

They poked me, several times, to apparently give away a morning prayer. Imagine it with me. Barely awake at 4am, you're supposed to reunite with your thoughts to formulate a prayer. I can't even understand where I was at that point. My soul and body were still searching for one another, among the crowd. Lost in dreams and in desperate desire to go home. 

But that's not even the worse part.

Let me share to you this.

Growing up, my Mom always told me, whenever she'd wake me to get ready to school, to not get up right away. That's why when I'm supposed to wake up a 5am, I alarm at 4:50 at least, always beforehand. My Mom told me that getting up right away would give me headaches, and it will last throughout the day. So I always spare a few dead minutes before I make sense of the world around me.

Not only did they gave me a headache, they pissed me off. And I had only an inch left of my annoyance bucket.

The worse part however is the poking.

Goodness gracious, I just hate that. Despise it actually. Maybe it's a psychological thing, or maybe everyone else feels the same, but I just hate it completely. 

Again, imagine this.

An already annoyed me getting poked, over and over, forced to come to my senses and draft a prayer. (a prayer that on my behalf, should make sense at least)

It was like the death of me.

More so than that, it felt like an invasion of my thoughts. 

Most of you may know this, if you exist, that my thoughts is very sensitive. I take it so highly I almost obsess over it.

Make me do pointless things and I wouldn't mind following them. But if you, ever, make me think what I should think and how I should think in manner of timing you want me think, I think you and I should never be friends.

I gave away my everything, but do not steal my thoughts or else I will rebel.

Even my own Father and I went against each other when he butchered my thoughts, or at least a reflection of it. And you are no exception. 

I hate you and it makes me hate everything that is a part of you.

That part I'm still working on.

xxx

I may have ranted long enough, so I'll stop here. I hope you don't hate me as much.

Thanks.