An Island in Time

A mountain retreat opens into reflection, connection, and a gentle return to Shabbat as sacred pause.

This past week, I traveled to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina to spend a few days at a meditation and retreat center. It was a new experience for me. I arrived curious, open, and perhaps a bit skeptical. My natural inclination leans toward more vigorous, physical forms of renewal, yet I felt drawn to explore a different path.

As I drove higher into the mountains, the landscape shifted. The road narrowed and curved, the air thinned, and the vistas opened wide. Layer upon layer of blue-green ridges stretched into the distance, wrapped in mist, quiet and expansive. There was a sense of being held, suspended between earth and sky, in a place that invited both awe and stillness.

Shortly after arriving, I met three women who would become my companions for the duration of the retreat. We came from different places and carried different stories, yet something drew us together. We shared all of our meals, our reflections, and, over time, a sense of trust and friendship that deepened with each conversation. (Note: the image for this post was taken by one of my new friends, Julie McCaskill. Thank you, Julie!)

Our retreat, The Deep Unwind: Rest, Renewal, and Radical Worthiness, wove together teaching, gentle physical practice, and mindfulness. We were invited to slow down, to listen inward, to release what no longer serves us, and to imagine who we might become when we focus with intention and compassion.

It rained steadily throughout the entire second day. And then, that evening at dinner, the rain ceased, and a magnificent double rainbow appeared, as if to remind us that even in life’s storms, God’s promise of hope and renewal is always present.

At one meal, one of my new friends shared the five mindfulness practices with which she begins each day. I found them both simple and profound:

  1. Take deep breaths, allowing the exhale to be longer than the inhale.
  2. Become aware of the present moment and the presence of God, setting aside worries about the day ahead.
  3. Practice gratitude, even for the smallest blessings. Use this time to pray for loved ones, and even for those yet to enter your life whom you may not know.
  4. Ask: Who do I want to be today? Are my thoughts rooted in the past, or are they guiding me toward a future aligned with God’s will?
  5. Envision the day ahead in a positive and purposeful light.

I shared that before I go to sleep each night, I recite the Sh’ma along with my own personal prayers. In that moment, it became clear that although our languages and traditions may differ, our longing for meaning, connection, and presence is deeply shared.

In our conversations, we reflected on the role of religion and spirituality in our lives, and on the practices that help us become more attentive, more compassionate, more whole. I found myself thinking that if more of us lived with this kind of intention, our world might be gentler, more just, more loving, more kind, and more at peace. The relationships formed in those few days felt genuine and enduring.

Though the retreat center draws from Ayurvedic traditions, so much of what we practiced felt deeply familiar. These rhythms of mindfulness, gratitude, reflection, and rest are woven into the very fabric of Jewish life. As the sun sets this evening, we enter Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, our sacred weekly invitation to pause, to breathe, and to return to ourselves, our community, and to God. So in that spirit, I offer this Shabbat meditation:

All week long, we sail on the restless seas of our lives.
The winds of obligation push us in many directions.
The tides of responsibility pull us toward work, toward tasks, toward the demands that fill our days.

And then, every seventh day, the horizon shifts.
An island appears.

It is lush with stillness, fragrant with peace, and shaded with the sheltering presence of the Holy.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel teaches, “Shabbat is an island in time… a sanctuary we build with our soul” (The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man, p. 29).

It is not made of stone or wood.
Its walls are woven from moments of rest and prayer.
Its gates open with the lighting of candles.
Its beauty is shaped by joy and gratitude.

On this island, there is no need to hurry.
The sun sets slowly.
The air feels softer.

Here, our spirits may breathe.
Here, we remember that we are more than what we produce.
We are souls, created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of the Divine.

We step ashore now.
We leave behind the noise of the week and enter the quiet waters of Shabbat.
We open our hands, our hearts, our voices.
We let the sweetness of this time wash over us.

Shabbat has arrived.
The island is here.
Come, let us dwell in its peace.

As we enter this sacred “island in time,” I invite you to arrive fully, heart, mind, and soul.

Breathe in the peace of Shabbat.
Breathe out the rush and noise of the week.

Breathe in the light of community.
Breathe out the burdens you no longer need to carry.

Breathe in awareness of all that sustains you.
Breathe out with gratitude.

Breathe in this moment.
Breathe out love and blessing.

Let the stillness of Shabbat awaken our hearts to all we have.
Let us enter this holy time with full hearts, open spirits, and a deep connection to each other and to the Divine.

Shabbat Shalom.