Embracing Stillness

This past week I embarked on my first real yoga retreat. When I decided to go, I did not ask anyone to join me, feeling that it was time in my life to do something just for me. On this particular journey of firsts, I went a step further and requested a roommate, who just happened to be the first step in unleashing the magic at this retreat.

My roommate pairing felt serendipitous. It was someone I actually knew from my teacher training days and we had really connected during those long training hours. After training, life got in the way between kids and work and we lost touch. When we found out we had been assigned as roommates, we were emotional, as if the universe was giving us a sign that we needed to reconnect. Little did we know that our pairing would forever change us.

We chatted a few times before the trip, comparing notes about packing and sharing anxieties of being away from our families. Our suitcases carried our beloved essential oils, our yoga (security) mats, our smudging concoctions for negative energy and all the other yoga-ish things you think you need for a yoga retreat. In hindsight, all I really needed was a journal and kleenex. Well and maybe some palo santo.

I cannot pinpoint the moment on this trip our lives started to change, but open minds and depleted bodies laid the groundwork. The first hints of a transformation started before we even landed at the retreat center. While we swapped stories of our dreams and fears on the plane, we thought it was just sharing and catching up. We bonded over an astrology podcast on where our planets aligned. On the surface, it all appeared to be light and fun stuff. We had no idea that we were laying a foundation of safety for each other and slowly letting walls down that we had built up over time.

Once we arrived at the retreat center, it was easy to forget every ounce of stress in our depleted bodies. You could see mountains for miles and a long stretch of deep blue ocean. On that first night, the sounds of the waves lulled us to sleep and we were awoken to the sounds of a rooster crowing.

We started to create rituals to set the tone of our days. When my roommate told me she wanted us to get up every morning at 6am to see the sunrise, I agreed to set the alarm. Secretly, I knew I would be snoozing way past 6am, but it sounded nice to be agreeable. On that first morning though, perhaps due to the time change and no children yelling at me, I was awake and dressed before 6:30am. It was a miracle moment. And it truly was a miracle when we discovered we had misread the time and it was an hour earlier. After that 5:00am wake up, the 630am sunrise did not seem so unsurmountable after all.

And so began my new beginnings as a temporary morning person. Every day we would wake up early to watch the sunrise, finding our way to our balcony with shawls wrapped around us, a cup of hot tea in hand. It was truly majestic seeing the sunrise over the mountains and I was grateful for not sleeping through it. The real beauty of these morning sunrises though became our discussions on that balcony. We would share memories, songs, our fears, and our blessings. It was just a half hour each morning, but it was long enough to build a safe place to keep opening our hearts. After these talks, we would leave for yoga and meditation and connect with our breath and see the ocean at the same time. It was easy in these classes filled with a beautiful community of yoginis to keep our walls down and our hearts open. Some days we would call home after class and our walls would come back up from guilt combined with relief of being away. The sunsets would wash away those feelings, but it was not just about the beautiful shades of the skies, or watching the sun slowly depart into the ocean. It was being there together, sensing the shift in the air as the sun dropped and the shift in each of us as another day was complete.

​Every time we talked and let go of something else weighing on us, we were able to fill ourselves up a bit more. Oh and it was not all serious and heavy. There was definitely a lot of laughter , some days so much I was worried I would not make it to the bathroom. Other days, there were tears shed. Tears for our marriages, for our children, and most importantly for ourselves and what we feared most. We did a lot of soul searching on our own, but helped each other into some deep corners that were tugging at our hearts. Some days, just gratitude was enough to lead our paths. There was warm sun on our skin, fresh food fueling our bodies, stars lighting our path, and yoga helping us find space to breathe not only on our mats, but into our lives.

This retreat became a retreat into ourselves. While we came seeking an escape, rest, relaxation, and yoga to fulfill us, we found so much more. We found deep friendship, meditation, new ways to practice yoga, reiki, and energy for restoration. We were finding ways to fill ourselves up daily. The depletion we had carried with us into this retreat was not a result of our busy outer lives, it was from within. It was from decades of saying yes to things that we thought we needed in order to be filled up. It was from taking on too much of others and never enough for ourselves. It was from our need to nurture everyone else, but never finding the time to nurture ourselves.

I learned when our daily life is filled with busyness, it becomes harder to differentiate between what you love and what you live. When questions arise, we are not still enough to hear the answers. Or perhaps we keep moving as it is easier to pretend that we are fully whole without the stillness telling us otherwise. When our bodies become beaten down enough that we need rest or quiet, we find a different kind of stillness. We escape into a novel, a trashy reality tv show, or most likely, reach for our phone and sink deep into social media. We may have stopped moving to be still, but in a way that does not require us to linger in any pain or discomfort. Escaping may help us unwind and destress, but true stillness is listening to what ours souls desire and what our bodies crave, how to be whole.

This retreat taught me that stillness is not always pleasant. That stillness can unbury the past and bring you face to face with things you don't feel ready to tackle. It can unleash shame and resentment and feelings of never being enough. And while I journaled and released and opened my heart, I don't know if I would have ever left feeling so much healing without this amazing friend by my side. The stillness felt safer to dip your feet in when someone was holding a life vest in case you sank, to share your pain, and to lift you up at your lowest moments.

As I am back home and writing this, I still know there is a lot of healing to be done. A week away in stillness has only scratched the surface. However, this venture into stillness has created a shift. I found myself in a parking lot a few days ago with a journal and watching the sunset rather than at Target buying things I didn't need. Let this post be your reminder of what it feels likes to embrace stillness in your life, to find time to go within and truly listen. And if possible, invite a friend to come along with you for the ride.

A special thanks to Heather for all the rituals, the beauty hunting inside and out, and for being a healing part of my journey.