c. 2007 Religion News Service

WHIDBEY ISLAND, Wash. _ The sky is clouded but promising the first day of my solo retreat at Earth Sanctuary on Whidbey Island.

I brush my teeth and dress, ready to go for my early-morning walk. But before I can go, I must feed the four feral cats that live on the grounds.

The caretaker cautioned me not to let any of them slip into the house. So armed with a double scoop of dry cat chow, I step quickly onto the back porch and close the door. Locking myself out.

And so begins another day on the road to serenity.

As a member of the generation that went in search of itself, I’ve come to realize that a lot of us are searching again.

The number of people going on individual retreats in search of meaning in their lives is on the rise, according to the Travel Industry Association of America, a nonprofit trade group.

In a survey taken by the association last summer, 25 percent of the respondents said they were interested in taking a spiritual vacation, and more than one in 10 said they were more interested now than five years ago.

This quest for meaning isn’t limited to my baby boom generation. That’s why the number of retreats, small and large, is also on the rise _ nationally and here in the Northwest; a quick Internet search shows 38 centers just in Oregon.

My quest was rooted in something very simple: I need periodic escapes from people and noise.

As my patient mate describes it, I have a people bucket. When it is full _ too much work, too much play _ I need to empty it. Otherwise I become very cranky.

I’ve tried spa trips and weekends at the coast to no avail. While getting away is certainly a treat, it isn’t necessarily restful. There’s always too much to do and see. And when I get home on Sunday, the laundry still has to be done.

So I decided to try the enhanced seclusion of a retreat.

Retreat centers are designed to provide the setting and the tools for reflective work, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. In my case, I simply needed some quiet time alone to sample a few new meditative techniques and thought-provoking ideas to take back with me into the real world.

The best retreats are in beautiful, remote, rural areas. In addition to solitude and glorious surroundings, they generally also are priced at unbeatable bargain rates that often include meals.

I set out to sample a few:

Shalom Prayer Center: Mount Angel, Ore.

The Shalom Prayer Center is a retreat facility run by the Benedictine Sisters. The sisters’ community, Queen of Angels Monastery, is Roman Catholic, but the center welcomes visitors of all faiths. Hospitality is one of the rules of Benedictine orders.

It’s a crisp, sunny day when I drive to Mount Angel, just east of Salem. A U-shaped drive encircles a long central parkway dotted with oak, alder and chestnut. Behind the main sanctuary, the grounds stretch out for 15 acres, marked by gardens, orchards and wooded areas where guests can walk and sit and appreciate the beauty of the Willamette Valley.

As in many retreat centers that have been transformed from earlier uses, the guest quarters consist of tiny bedrooms surrounding a large common room. The furnishings, with the worn and mismatched look of charitable donations, give the place a warm, family feel. The shared bathrooms accommodate up to three, but I rarely see anyone else.

Meals _ institutional and starchy _ are included. But, of course, eating is not the point of this trip. A section is reserved for those who wish to eat in silence. In the other half of the room, sisters and visitors share tables, chatting, but in blessedly low voices.

After lunch, I head back to the residence hall. I see a yard man working on the grounds, raking leaves. He is using a rake, not a leaf blower. My heart skips a beat. I haven’t raked leaves in years, and I have a sudden mysterious urge to join him.

So we rake. Quietly. The rhythmic swoosh, swoosh of our rakes creates a duet of soothing sound that overlaps with shorter strokes that catch up the smaller leaves.

The physical activity feels good; its mindlessness is calming. But after about 45 minutes my shoulder aches and I have the start of a blister. So I stop and survey the clean-swept lawn with a feeling of accomplishment.

Mount Angel Abbey: St. Benedict, Ore.

From its hilltop perch, Mount Angel Abbey opens onto majestic views of Willamette Valley farmland. To the north, Mount Hood towers above it all.

This is home to some 50 Benedictine monks who dedicate their lives to prayer and community service and about 155 seminarians who live on campus.

The abbey’s conference center, open to all faiths, accommodates numerous groups but is also available for personal retreats.

As I expected, rooms are furnished simply _ a bed, a small desk, a chair. But this time I had a small private bath.

I find my way to the dining room for dinner. There is a large cafeteria for seminary students and resident monks, and separate dining quarters for those on retreat.

After a traditional fish-on-Friday buffet, I attend the Compline service. The Compline is the last prayer service of the day for a monastery that observes the hours, marked by several daily prayer services. I find a spot in a back pew and try to get into the rhythm of the chanted liturgy.

Attendance at religious services isn’t required at most faith-based retreats. But visitors usually can attend, if they are comfortable with the spiritual leanings of the institution.

The next day, I spend time reading “The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living” by the Dalai Lama (with Howard C. Cutler), and tour the monastery grounds. I visit the monastery’s strange little museum, an odd mix of natural history and ecclesiastical artifacts.

Before leaving, I stop at the bookstore to buy a medal of St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers.

Earth Sanctuary: Whidbey Island, Wash.

My first challenge at Earth Sanctuary, after locking myself out while feeding the cats, is to get back into the retreat center. I’m the only visitor today. Fortunately, the owner of a nearby private home allows me to use the phone.

After the sanctuary’s caretaker rescues me, I’m ready for my first meditative walk.

The Whidbey Island site represents an ambitious work-in-progress that aims to integrate spirituality and environmental science. Chuck Pettis, a successful entrepreneur and practicing Buddhist, acquired the 72-acre parcel six years ago to create a Buddhist retreat and to restore the natural habitat.

Pettis has enlisted the services of landscape artists and environmental scientists to direct the work of removing invasive non-native species and replacing them with native plantings. The land is full of promise.

As I round a bend in the trail, I encounter a large raised peat bog floating in a marshy pond. As I stop to contemplate the view, the forest glen becomes an flurry of avian activity. Finches, wrens and nuthatches flit and call from the branches of tall, willowy bushes.

With the songbird chorus and damp, mossy fragrance of the forest filling my senses, I continue my morning walk through the conifer and black cottonwood.

Later in the day I visit the labyrinth, a maze-like stone path in the woods. Labyrinths, which differ from mazes in that they have clear entrance and exit points, date back centuries. Their resurgence has been part of the growing interest in spirituality and meditation.

Slowly walking along the stone spiral, I let my thoughts drift, looking for clues to the vague questions that have simmered in my mind during these retreats.

I don’t find clear answers. I don’t expect to, certainly not right away. What’s important is that the journey has begun.

(Nanine Alexander writes for The Oregonian in Portland, Ore.)

KRE/PH END ALEXANDER

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