Trust that something essential is taking root
Playing with words and color on the retreat.
I have just returned from hosting a deeply nourishing retreat on the shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. My journal is full of insights, my sketchbook alive with color, my body reverberating with a deep knowing of what it means to move with abandon, my heart brimming with the goodness of those I witnessed and those who witnessed me.
And now that I am home there are plans to make, visitors to host, laundry to put away, and clients to respond to. Home is still home even though I’ve returned changed.
I spent my first few days back grasping for answers:
How can I re-capture the delight, connection, and spaciousness that was so easily accessible during the retreat and bring it into my day-to-day life? How can I ensure that the gifts from my time away take root?
Unfortunately those questions left me spinning…I was trying to figure out how to make the moment different from what it was.
While out on a walk, I remembered that one of the things that touched me most on this retreat was how available I make myself when I am traveling. I surrender. I meet what arises with curiosity. I trust that I am on the right path. I move from and with the fullness of my heart.
At home it’s different. My head takes over.
And so, for the last few days I’ve been playing with a different set of questions, ones that originate in my heart:
When did I feel most alive on the retreat? What else did I feel in these moments?
I felt alive dancing intuitively across an open-air platform while staying connected to the eyes of a friend. I felt alive resting in a comfy lounge chair at the shore of the lake, listening to the birds, with my journal and a cup of coffee nearby. I felt alive creating beautiful mandala altars each morning and afternoon, integrating flowers from the market with leaves from the garden and stones from the shoreline. I felt alive in the midst of laughter, storytelling, good conversations, and deep sharing. I felt alive saying my name, and later my wish, out across the lake. I felt alive offering prayers, receiving kindness, and soaking up the color and beauty of the land.
And what else did I feel in these moments? Deep peace, a sense of vibrancy and connection, delight, trust, joy, exuberance, contentment, and a quiet knowing that permeated time and space.
Those feelings are the gifts of the journey for me. That’s what I want to take root.
And so at home, I am beginning to listen to the whispers that remind me of where I was and call me into a future that awaits. I am celebrating the micro-moments when I actually experience peace, vibrancy, connection, delight, trust, joy, exuberance, or a quiet, expansive knowing…at home.
These moments of goodness seem to be further apart than when I was at Lake Atitlan looking out over the volcanoes, surrounded by a glorious group of women. But the moments exist nonetheless, and I want them to continue to find me and nurture me. I want to be available to recognize and honor these moments when they arise. In doing so I honor myself and how I have been changed.
The dishes still need to be washed. The taxes still need to be done. The client projects still need to completed. But I am not the same. I have an embodied sense of deep peace, vibrancy, connection, delight, trust, joy, exuberance, contentment, and a quiet knowing that permeates time and space.
I have welcomed a newer version of self into the world, and I can’t wait to see how she takes root.
The mandala on our last day of the retreat.
Practice
You don’t need to go away on a retreat to gather the gifts of your own journey. Here’s a practice to deepen your trust that something essential is taking root in your own life.
MOMENTS OF ALIVENESS
Gently contemplate: What moments of aliveness did I experience today yesterday/this week/recently? If “aliveness” doesn’t resonate for you, simply ask yourself: When did I feel good? What other feelings were also present in these moments? What evoked that sensation or feeling? Maybe it’s an activity, a pause, a relationship, a posture, a place, a remembering.
Then, expand your awareness to notice a few moments over the next several hours when you feel good. Perhaps you witness a cluster of crocuses that stirs something in you (like I did yesterday) or you have a conversation with a colleague or a family member where there is ease and flow. What happens when you see your world through the lens of aliveness?
Honor the goodness of the moment in your own way, perhaps with a smile or by sharing it with another person. If you’d like, inquire: show me again when I feel most alive.
Trust that ‘just’ becoming more aware of these moments is enough for them to take root. Know that the gifts of the moment have their own wisdom and will unfold in their own time.