Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Arriving at the Ancient Monastery
After months of planning, the day had finally arrived. I stepped off the train onto the remote platform, my backpack feeling heavier with each step. A light rain was falling, dots splashing on my glasses as I peered around the empty station, wondering if I was in the right place. Just as doubt started creeping in, an old sedan rattled up, a bearded man waving from the driver's seat. "You must be Taylor!" he called out in a thick Scottish brogue. "Welcome! I'm Brother Hamish, pleased to make your acquaintance."
I climbed into the worn backseat, my nerves tingling. We bumped down a narrow dirt road, the village and station disappearing behind misty green hills. Sheep dotted the countryside, huddled beneath twisted trees. Brother Hamish kept up a steady stream of chatter, telling me about the history of the monastery, life as a monk, and his role as guestmaster. I nodded along, only half listening as I took in the dramatic scenery speeding past.
After 45 minutes of driving, the sedan rounded a curve and there it was - the monastery. My breath caught at the sight. Built of weathered stone, it was nestled at the base of towering cliffs, looking as if it had grown straight from the rocks. A thin stream of smoke rose from one of its chimneys. As we crossed an arched stone bridge over a rushing stream, I saw monks in their dark robes crossing the courtyard, deep in conversation. My heart was hammering as Hamish parked the sedan and helped me with my backpack. Was I really doing this?
Hamish led me through an ancient wooden door into a dimly lit passageway lined with flickering candles. My footsteps echoed off the stones as we climbed a winding stair to the guest quarters. He showed me my simple room - just a narrow bed, wooden chair and table under a small window, with a vase of purple wildflowers by the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he said. "Come down to the refectory when you're ready, Abbot Gregory is eager to meet you."
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Meeting the Wise Abbot
After settling into my modest quarters, I descended the winding stone steps to the refectory. My footsteps echoed in the cavernous hall as I approached a long wooden table where a group of monks sat eating in contemplative silence. At the head of the table sat an elderly man with piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right through me. As I drew near, he smiled warmly and rose to greet me.
“You must be our guest, Taylor. I’m Abbot Gregory,” he said, shaking my hand with a gentle but firm grip. Though he walked with the aid of an ornate cane, his back was straight and his gaze steady. This was clearly a man of great wisdom and strength. “Please, join us for some tea.”
I sat down on the bench beside the Abbot, nervously glancing around at the other monks. They were focused on their meals, paying me no mind as they ate in perfect silence. Abbot Gregory poured two cups of steaming tea, his weathered hands steady as he carefully placed the fragile cup before me.
“Drink up, my child. This brew will warm your soul.” I lifted the cup to my lips, the earthy taste instantly soothing my rattled nerves. The Abbot studied me thoughtfully as I sipped.
“You have questions, I can see it in your eyes,” he remarked. I flushed, wondering if my doubts were so evident. “Do not be troubled. Many who come here seeking wisdom are filled with uncertainty. Perhaps I can provide some small measure of guidance.”
The Abbot patiently listened as I haltingly described my struggles with anxiety and purposelessness. Though I tried to avoid complaining, months of pent-up feelings spilled out of me. Through it all, he simply nodded, his penetrating gaze never wavering.
When I finally finished my emotional dump, he was quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled gently and patted my shoulder. “You have endured much, but the path forward begins here. The week ahead will challenge you in ways you cannot foresee, but trust in the plan that brought you to our door.”
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Waking Before Dawn for Morning Prayers
The piercing clang of the monastery bells dragged me from sleep while the sky was still inky black. I fumbled to light the oil lamp and peered out the window. The courtyard below was filled with the bobbing lights of monks making their way to the chapel for Matins, the pre-dawn prayer service. My first impulse was to roll over and go back to sleep, but I had vowed to fully immerse myself in monastic life. With a sigh, I splashed cold water on my face, threw on my robe, and headed downstairs.
The chapel was lit only by flickering candles that cast dancing shadows on the soaring stone walls. Head bowed, the monks silently filed into wooden pews worn smooth by centuries of use. I slipped into an empty seat, uncomfortably aware that I didn't know the proper protocols. An ancient hymnal was tucked into a slot on the pew in front of me. I flipped through it awkwardly until Abbot Gregory appeared at my side.
At his signal, the monks rose and began to solemnly chant psalms in Latin, their united voices resonating through the chapel. Utterly lost, I stood stiffly until the Abbot leaned over and translated the verses for me. After an hour of call and response singing and reciting scripture, it was time for silent meditation. We sat with eyes closed, the only sound the sputtering candles. My mind kept wandering to mundane worries back home until the Abbot gently tapped my arm to call me back to the present moment.
The meditation was challenging, but profoundly peaceful. The stillness calmed my anxious, overactive thoughts and brought me fully into the present. As we filed out of the chapel, dawn's rosy fingers were stretching across the courtyard. The monks dispersed to begin their daily tasks, while I returned to my room for a bit more sleep before breakfast.
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Finding Peace in Silent Meditation
Finding inner peace is no easy task in our frenetic modern world. With a constant barrage of emails, texts and notifications demanding our attention, simply sitting alone with our thoughts for more than a minute can feel uncomfortably foreign. Yet at the monastery, I discovered the profound power of silence.
Twice a day, at sunrise and sunset, the monks would gather for an hour of silent meditation. At first, I struggled to quiet my racing mind, which jumped from random thought to thought like a hyperactive monkey. But Brother Hamish taught me a simple technique: focus all your attention exclusively on your breath. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Gently bring your attention back whenever it starts to wander.
After a few sessions, I noticed a remarkable shift. The relentless chatter in my head began to soften to a whisper. I became aware of each breath, and started to notice subtle sensations in my body - the pressure of the floor beneath my legs, tightness in my shoulders slowly dissolving. Anxiety that had felt like a knot in my stomach unraveled.
Other newcomers described similar experiences. Marie, who had recently lost her husband, said the meditations gave her glimpses of “profound peace” she hadn’t felt since before the traumatic loss. Jim, a busy executive, was stunned by how quickly it melted away the stress he'd been carrying for years.
By the end of the week, I too had touched a deep sense of calm and contentment that had previously eluded me. Of course, the peace faded the moment I stepped back into regular life. But I now know what’s possible, and try to carve out time for brief daily sittings. While it's difficult to maintain outside the cloistered environment, those meditative moments are an oasis that keep me grounded.
Neuroscience backs up these subjective experiences. MRIs reveal that regular meditation shrinks the amygdala, the brain’s emotional control center. This reduces anxiety, reactivity and negative thinking over time. Other studies have found meditators have lower cortisol levels, blood pressure and heart rates.
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Cooking Simple Meals with the Monks
In our era of decadent recipes and Instagrammable food porn, preparing basic sustenance can seem dull and unfulfilling. Yet as I learned cooking with the monks, there is beauty in simplicity. Devoid of pretense or excess, these modest meals nourish body and soul.
Each morning, I'd join Brothers Hamish and Caleb in the kitchen as soft dawn light filtered through the ancient leaded windows. We'd silently chop vegetables plucked fresh from the monastery garden - earthy carrots, cabbage, and beets. Large pots of water were set to boil on the massive wood-fired stove, flames crackling merrily.
At first, I longed for elaborate flavor combinations and spices. But the monks aimed only to create wholesome, nourishing food. They showed me how letting fresh ingredients shine required no complexity. A sprinkle of salt, flick of olive oil or squeeze of lemon was all that was needed to coax out subtle flavors.
As we ate in contemplative silence, I began noticing nuances I'd never appreciated before - the way the creamy potatoes enhanced the beets' earthiness, the pop of dillcomplementing the cabbage's sweetness. Chewing slowly, I savored textures and tastes in a way my rushed meals back home never allowed.
Others who came to the monastery also found meaning in its simple meals. Marie said focusing just on eating without distraction from cellphones or TV allowed her to truly taste again. Jim realized he'd been seeking fulfillment in decadent restaurant meals, when it was here all along in basic but lovingly prepared food.
The secret, Brother Hamish told me, was being fully present - engaging all your senses, paying attention to each bite. Mealtimes became meditations, as nurturing for the soul as they were for the body. Even washing dishes became imbued with mindfulness, the warm soapy water soothing.
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Hiking the Rugged Scottish Highlands
The craggy, windswept splendor of the Scottish Highlands has beckoned adventure seekers for centuries. While many visitors drive or bus between picturesque lochs and castles, the most immersive way to experience this mythical landscape is on foot. Over centuries, hill walkers have traced rugged trails across heather-clad moors and granite peaks, finding freedom in the timeless vistas.
Hitting the trails helped Marie, Jim and I appreciate the landscape's brooding beauty in a whole new way. Early each morning, we'd lace up hiking boots and venture out with Francis, the monastery’s outdoors expert. He brought the Highlands’ history and secrets to life, regaling us with stories of roving clans and mythical creatures said to still roam the mists. We felt infinitesimally small beneath the towering mountains, dwarfed by their ancient enormity.
The diversity of the terrain kept our outings exciting. One day we'd carefully navigate slippery ridges, testing our balance and resolve with each step. The next we'd meander through peaceful glens dotted with grazing sheep, breathe clean air scented faintly of heather. Though the hikes were physically taxing, the stunning scenery made the effort worthwhile. Vistas opened up around each bend - craggy ridgelines streaked with waterfalls, reflections of majestic peaks rippling across lochs tinted deep blue by peat.
Each evening, muscles aching but spirits soaring, we’d return to the monastery and gather round the fire with mugs of steaming tea. Swapping stories of missteps and small triumphs, an easy camaraderie sprang up between us newcomers. Marie said the casual socializing was a balm after months of isolation. Out here, distinctions of age and background didn’t matter in the face of nature’s humbling enormity.
But the highlight for me was learning to find focus and presence on the trail. Francis taught us techniques for walking mindfully, taking in all the subtle details of the landscape. The springy give of moss underfoot. Tendrils of mist gliding silently between stands of fir. The otherworldly cry of a diving peregrine. My hyperactive thoughts would settle as I tuned into the peaceful rhythms surrounding me.
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Connecting with Nature and Self
Immersing myself in the rugged beauty of the Scottish Highlands showed me how reconnecting with nature can profoundly reshape our relationship with ourselves. By fully engaging our senses, we tap into a vitality and presence that often lies dormant within.
Marie found these introspective qualities emerging during our long days rambling over windswept hills. At home, her stress and anxiety drowned out any self-awareness. But gazing at an endless horizon of heather, hearing nothing but the cry of circling hawks, it became possible to detach from those worries.
"It's like a reset button for the spirit," she remarked one golden afternoon as we paused atop a rocky tor. Gesturing to the sweeping vista around us, she added, "How can I stay anxious when all this exists?"
Jim reported similar insights. An ambitious finance executive, his focus was always directed outward - on profits, competitors and appeasing shareholders. Rarely did he look within. But while balanced on a narrow ridgeline, nothing visible for miles except silver lochs and green valleys, something shifted.
"It hit me that I don't need to constantly scramble for more money and power," he explained over dinner one night. "Just experiencing the majesty around me made me realize I already have so much in my life to appreciate."
Brother Francis encourages this sort of introspection during our hikes. He views nature as a gateway to greater spirituality and self-awareness. By paying attention to our surroundings, we access a meditative state that books like Ekhart Tolle's "The Power of Now" aim to cultivate.
Personally, I found my hyperactive thoughts settling whenever we ventured out. The silence and wide open vistas seemed to unlock something primal within me. A sense of belonging arose, like recognizing an old friend. Ancient Celtic stories took on new resonance as I traced the paths of ancestors over rocky trails.
Soul Searching in Scotland: My Week as a Monk on Spiritual Retreat - Returning Home Transformed
After a week fully immersed in monastic life, I was surprised by how difficult it was to leave the monastery and return to regular life. The simplicity, presence and connection I'd found within those ancient stone walls did not instantly carry over once I stepped out the towering wooden door and began the long journey home.
On the train back to Edinburgh, I stared forlornly at the speeding countryside, already missing the quiet contentment of mornings filled with silent meditation and prayer. Marie voiced similar feelings as we shared a cab to the airport - she was struggling to hold onto the hard-won sense of peace she'd found during long hikes over the rugged green hills. Jim too seemed anxious at the thought of diving back into the relentless pace of his finance career.
But Brother Francis had prepared us for this difficult transition. During our final hike together, as we paused to savor one last sweeping vista of loch and glen, he smiled knowingly at our somber faces.
"Do not despair, my friends. What you have found here, you carry within you always," he said, placing a weathered hand over his heart. We just needed to learn techniques for accessing it again amidst the noise and chaos of daily life.
Upon returning home, I aimed to follow the monks' simple but powerful practices. I committed to a short morning meditation, taking a few minutes to be present with my breath before diving into emails and chores. On my lunch break I'd head to a quiet park and walk mindfully, tuning out distractions to appreciate the trees, sky and chattering birds.
Cooking dinner became another opportunity to cultivate presence, focusing fully on the process instead of rushing to multitask. Keeping my phone in another room, I found peace in chopping and sautéing, letting the aroma of garlic and sizzle of oil captivate my senses. Lighting a candle transported me back to the monastery's tranquil refectory.
Have I attained nirvana? Far from it. I still wrestle daily with stress, frustration and negativity. But while the intensity of the insights gleaned at the monastery has faded a bit, incorporating even basic mindfulness practices has made me calmer and more appreciative. The simple beauty of a faceted grapefruit for breakfast can bring me fleeting joy. Feeling the sun's warmth while walking the dog grounds me in the moment.