Our spring retreat is a week away …
and I can feel it calling.
What I love about the retreats is that when you get a group of women together who want to look, really look, at what’s causing them suffering, it’s a jeweled time, like sitting in a pool of liquid diamonds. There is such sincerity, such support, such appreciation that we have the privilege of spending a week together in the depths of the inner terrain that so few of us travel alone. Not that it’s impossible, but when we are together, it’s exponentially easier. The heretofore impossible suddenly becomes possible, or as my grandmother used to say, “many hands make light work.” (Also, and this is not insignificant, there is no family to attend to, no work, no cooking, no car pools, no driving. Just trees and sky and a week to be with yourself). At the retreat, there is such kindness, such space to experience whatever is arising (because, of course, not every moment feels like jeweled diamonds…) that it becomes a model for living with the challenges of everyday life.
What I love about the retreats is that they are always surprising, always different—and always stunning. I love the faces, I love watching the changes. I love the eating meditations every morning. I love how sitting with a plate of food makes it all real: here it is. Here you are. What’s really going on? I love the silent support that people give each other when one person is exploring her beliefs. I love the shared laughter. And I love that once any of us taste what’s possible, once we taste the feeling of being free, of soaring, we can no longer say or believe that it’s not possible for us, that we can’t come home.
And I love that it’s not just me who loves the retreats. Here’s what other people say: