Yoga and Stories
The best kind of Spring retreat
Almost two months ago, I went on a weekend Anradh retreat at the Sliabh Aughty Centre. Our Yoga and Writing workshops were in the nearby Happy Pig Hostel. It was amazing and just what I needed after a year of not going anywhere because I was generally recovering from one or the other of three different procedures that kept me from driving, lifting, bending over, or any even moderately strenuous activities. What I didn’t realize is that I was also carrying a lot of grief over the loss of what I had left behind when I retired from teaching nearly seven years ago and moved across the ocean to our home here in West Waterford, Ireland. I certainly do not have regrets. We love our life here. But I had not realized—nor acknowledged—the loss of parts of myself and my life that I left behind. This retreat helped me see and feel that and I am incredibly grateful. What follows is a series of questions our facilitator asked. I had the sense to write it as soon as I got home, but other things took over my time and I didn’t get to finish this post until now. At the end is a photo of the two cats that patiently wait for their breakfast at the Sliabh Aughty Centre… a lovely place to find some peace. They will stop and roll over looking for belly rubs. I’ll be back soon for sure.
What are my key reflections/take-aways from this retreat?
People are caring and patient when they are given the space and permission to be—a safe space and good intentions.
What am I bringing forward?
There are many kinds of grief.
Leavings and welcomings require both the going and the coming.
To feel loss and acknowledge it gives space to rediscovery.What action is needed?
To find new ways to be the facilitator of learning—I don’t need to shut that off from myself.
To give what I can—not what I feel I must.
To grow with the learner and the learning.What is the cost of inaction?
The cost is a life contracting and constricting.
Stuff that popped up from the well inside me (unconscious archeological digging):
Write more and maybe talk less. This isn’t about suppressing stuff. It is recognizing that when I don’t write enough, I end up talking my thoughts aloud, often unstructured and unreflected. Words need to come out of me and if they don’t land on a page, they just get showered everywhere, often on unsuspecting/unexpecting(?) others.
The Giver by Lois Lowry popped into my mind as an important story that symbolized what I experienced this weekend. Madeleine L’Engle and Jane Yolen also came to mind. This shouldn’t surprise me as from 1965 to 1969 I mostly worked in the children’s section of the Marlboro Public Library and each summer ran the Saturday Children’s Reading program (reading aloud, arts and crafts and games.) I think, but am not certain, that the internal message of this was, “To grow and find oneself we often need to go away for a bit.”
One of the most penetrating questions Marie-Therese asked us was:
What is the purpose of being alive?
My answer surprised me with both how quickly it came to the page and how deeply it resonated with me:
The purpose of being alive is to bring joy and beauty into the world and to accept the joy and beauty others bring into my life.
The first is pretty easy… the second is slowly getting easier. Being the giver has never been a problem. Being a recipient has been unnecessarily difficult. And that’s where my work is.
