[Often I want to start a post with how I got to where I am- the background. This usually involves referring to my Sex Surge and how it came about. And often that involves mentioning the man I was attracted to.
I don’t want to embarrass or shame the guy anymore (which I did, carelessly, several times). So, until I figure out how to write some things without mentioning him, the content around here might change a bit. I’ll figure it out- don’t worry. There’s too much change and beauty not to share!]
This past week I spent several days at a yoga retreat center in western Massachusetts. It is one of my favorite places on Earth.
I go there for rest and renewal.
I go alone.
I don’t do anything but what I feel like.
This time it was sleeping, reading, and journalling.
The retreat center does everything- cook, clean, provide bedding and shower stuff; I only have to show up. And only show up as much as I want to. I can be completely anonymous and alone if I wish.
This time, that aloneness felt wonderful. It was a respite from all the noise and hubbub of my usual life.
Hazy morning view from the top bunk.
I didn’t realize it until the last day, but I spent my time there feeding the quiet places in myself.
The places that need no words.
Watching the wind dance the storm clouds.
The breeze across my bare skin.
Laying on the grass beneath the willow tree.
The everyblueandgreenalive of the Berkshire hills.
The taste of real lemonade.
Hearing the birds and busy chipmunks as I awaken.
The sound of thunder (but no lightning).
My secret room in the willow branches.
Those wordless places are the bone white of my sensuality.
Mostly I am brash and loud and colorful in my sensuality. Vibrant and liquid. But there are places that are quiet. Simple. Plain. Also deep, aware, and patient. Waiting with the tides of my days and my life.
These deep, quiet places within myself need love, attention, and expression, too.
I retreat every year as an act of love for myself.
I love myself by making space to listen, to reconnect, and to heal.
This retreat at Kripalu was one of the quietest, most sensual times of my life. It nourished me in places I did not know were hungry. It was the most beautiful lovemaking Life and I have done in a while.
I don’t know what kind of tree this is (they call it ‘The Unicorn Tree’ – no points for guessing why), but I have only seen one other- in Bellingham, WA. I love this tree; it has so many wonderful little rooms for hiding and writing and daydreaming.
End result: happy Joanna.