Solo Retreat

I have just returned from my first "official" solo retreat, a week in St. John USVI. Despite the fact that I got the flu on the way home, it was well worth it. Without other yogis to keep me company and distract me from myself I learned a few things:

1. I enjoy quiet solitude.

2. Being solo forces you to truly think about what it is that YOU want. Not just in the "big picture" sort of way, but what do you WANT to do right now, and for the next hour...

3. I can easily wander down unhealthy paths; and I have the ability to course correct.

4. Being present is something that requires practice and discipline. 

5. I'm just fine the way I am. I am not a project.

We all need to create this kind of space and experience for ourselves. It could be in St. John or in the bathtub. Mowing the lawn or meditating. Give yourself room to BE.

Yoga is not something that you do, it is a state of being: present, peaceful, and with love in your heart.

 

Community

I had the good fortune to co-facilitate a wellness retreat last week. One of the many themes among participants which I encountered again and again was the longing for community. Not just friends... but for "communion" with other like minded people who are following a similar spiritual path. They want to feel as if they are not alone in their search for a deeper, richer more connected existence. More connected to themselves, humanity and cosmic consciousness. In helping to create the space for these connections to grow I found my own sense of community and belonging. What a blessing!

non-attachment

 I moved this month to be closer to work and friends. Couldn't be happier with the new house, but the process did force some tough decisions. What to purge, what to keep, and what to replace? I have never been very attached to "stuff" but I found myself struggling to let go of one item in particular. My youngest child's "big girl bed". At 13 she felt she needed to step up the maturity level and needed a more sophisticated place to sleep. I tried to convince her that a white, wrought iron, twin bed with pink billowy covers was for ALL ages. When that didn't work I tried to make my 18 year old son take it. Never mind that at 6'3" he couldn't  completely stretch out in it... Of course he passed. It was clear that a change was in order, but I felt so attached to this bed. This ordinary, not very expensive, easily replaceable bed. After a few days I realized my attachment was not so much to the bed itself, but to my daughter's childhood. This was proof in a tangible form that she was becoming a young woman. I am so proud of who she is, but I do miss my little girl. In questioning why I was having such a hard time letting go, I realized that I was trying to hold on to something that was no longer in existence. With a sigh of resignation and a goodbye I passed the bed on to another little girl who was ready for her first big girl bed.