“I am in the chaos, but I do not embody it.” -Rachel
In her book, Gathering Moss, Robin Wall Kimmerer invites us to know things physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
For example, we know a leaf. We know its physical shape, color, and texture.
We know this with our mind. We know the leaf is fed by sunshine through photosynthesis. We know the type of tree the leaf comes from.
Emotionally, we may associate a leaf in the fall with feelings about transition, shedding, letting go.
But what does it mean to know something spiritually? This was a question nagging at the edges of my mind entering the weekend.
One thing that came into clarity for me as I drove up to Camp Olson, a familiar place to my soul at this point, is that my spirit was feeling very, very sad, empty, and hollow.
I was very excited to disconnect from the news, my phone, my work obligations, even my children (sorry kids, I do love you), and just be for a few days.
Thursday afternoon we settled into our space, we settled into our rooms, and we settled into our bodies.
“We don’t use our body to get into a pose, we use the pose to get into our body.”
Friday morning we woke up to a saturated world. Rain softly falling kissed our cheeks as we headed to the great hall. I was sure my morning walk would be cancelled and I was excited to join Stacy’s yoga class.
To my dismay, the hearty folks signed up for my walk were still ready to walk. As I trudged toward the Art Center, a car drove by me and like a scene from a movie, sprayed me with water from a puddle. It happened in slow motion. It was no one’s fault, but it did not help my attitude about the walk.
I arrived at the Art Center, switched my pants, and off we went. We walked silently toward the sauna and watched the waves lap the lakeshore.
Afterward, we did some journaling. As these things always do, it ended up being a lovely morning full of lovely exchanges.
Rachel struck me with her observation, “I am in the chaos, but I do not embody it.”
This struck a chord right in the center of my being. This reverberated with my spirit. It felt instantly true and meaningful.
Friday afternoon I had a bit of time to myself.
An oddity of this retreat is that Cat spent almost all her time working with students on their art projects.
Bryana spent most of her time leading people on hikes and paddles in the Shurds.
Stacy spent most of her time teaching yoga classes, shuttling between fires and making sure the sauna was hot, the fire in the yoga space was going, and everyone had what they needed.)
I went on a wonder walk by myself. I walked nearly 4 miles. A little black cat hiked at least 2 miles with me, scampering ahead, climbing up trees, being adorable and playful. I found mushrooms of every color, size, and species. I wandered deeply into a healthy ecosystem and enveloped myself among the trees.
I was not observing big vistas and landscapes. The sun was not shining down on me. I was nestled in the shady undercover. I was observing the wonders of the microcosms all around. The nurse logs. The spongey, mossy hummocks. The burls and cavernous holes in trees.
I returned to camp feeling like a million bucks. My energy was straight to the sky. I knew my yoga class was going to be invigorating, as I was having a hard time bringing my own energy down to earth.
We moved through a very challenging ladder flow that played with transitions and challenged our balance. I knew we would all be a bit sore. I was so proud and impressed with the way everyone in the room rose to the challenge, and took their own modifications to make the practice their own.
Stacy and I then practiced some music for the evening. We laughed and laughed. Stacy took to the sound bowls for the first time. I sang her my new-to-me song “Everybody Gets a Kitten” by Jeremy Messersmith and she did not miss a beat, she did not even comment on the lyrics or the oddity of the song. Bryana and I laughed about it later.
Around dinner time I saw Anne drifting around in a witch’s hat- delightfully odd.
After dinner, we taught everyone the song “Everybody Gets a Kitten” and we sang together the silly lyrics in the mostly dark room, lit only by our candles and the glow from the fire. We also shared the Sanskrit chant "Lokāḥ Samastāḥ Sukhino Bhavantu" which translates to “May all the beings in all the world be happy and free.”
After class I headed to the sauna feeling more aligned, more spiritually full, than I had felt in a long while.
Saturday morning I was ready for my morning hike. I asked the group if they wanted to stick to our typical 20 minute walk, or if they were up for a one hour walk.
They were up for the one hour option.
I invited everyone to act as if the things they encountered were the coolest things they’d ever seen.
What followed was true whimsy and delight. We entered through the witch’s grove, passed mushroom headquarters, saw countless fairy trees, and passed many a magical portal. We marveled at hundreds of mushrooms. We giggled. We were silly.
Saturday morning we enjoyed a transformational session with Vanashree Gadam about the power of Aayurveda. Vanashree is so fun to listen to. As Ryan said, she really needs her own tv show. There is so much to know about ayurveda! Vanashree introduced us to this 3,000-year-old holistic science. We highly recommend learning more: vanashreeayurveda.com/
Saturday afternoon we gathered for an outdoor class. By this point, Anne had given the witch hat to Jen.
Jen was wearing the witch’s hat with oversized white sunglasses and truly looking more fashionable in this ensemble than anyone has the right to look in a witch’s hat.
The vibes were optimal. We were soaking up the last of summer’s heat like reptiles on a warm rock, letting the gooey sunshine seep into our core to store up for winter.
The black kitten saw all of us gathered, took his cue, and took full advantage of the opportunity to showboat. The kitten bounded around the field, jumping at dragon flies, pouncing, stopping by our mats for pets, and acting like a cat straight out of a feature film. As if the kitten knew I was the teacher, he joined me at the front of the class to ensure all attention was on him.
My father-in-law always tells me cats are zen masters.
And like a true zen master, the kitten finally grew tired and fell fast asleep on Jen’s yoga mat (a different Jen this time…we had 5 of them at this retreat!). Instead of waking the kitten, Jen let the kitten sleep peacefully throughout the hour long class. After class, we all oohed-ahed, and took pictures of the sleepy kitty.
I’m sharing here my own individual experience, but I imagine many of you followed a similar experience or timeline.
By Saturday night our group energy was peaking. We had gotten to know one another, we had developed some inside jokes, we were feeling peaceful and tired in our bodies.
We came together as a complete group for the last time Saturday evening for sound bowls and music. The kitty was making some dramatic appearances out the large windows. We started out with our songs, “Everybody Gets a Kitten” and our Sanskrit Chant.
Somehow, this off-the-wall song about a kitten became the anthem of the weekend as we all experienced the joy of the little black kitten.
Then I played a few other songs I had in mind and finally, I decided to play the song “What’s Up” by Four Non Blonde (a song my 12 year old nephew recommended by the way…)
What followed next was a moment I’ve been working toward for ten years of retreats. Every single voice in the room started singing every word to the song. I could not believe it. We belted out the Hey yeah, yeah, yeahs. It was pure, unadulterated joy.
We then dimmed the lights and Stacy and I played the sound bowls and read some poetry inspired by the chakras. After three days of yoga, movement, singing, laughing, and immersion in nature, our chakras were spinning and I think the group as a whole was feeling pretty wildly aligned.
Stacy really got into the sound bowls and did some riffing, which I loved.
We closed out the night at the campfire. Facts about giant beaver fossils flowed. The Minnesota Song was sung. Stories were told. An incredible rap about the chakras was rapped.
On Sunday we welcomed the first day of Autumn. Inspired by Rachel’s quote, we focused on grounding our root chakra to the center of the earth. Reminding ourselves that inside our bodies we are safe; inside our bodies we experience belonging.
We may be surrounded by chaos, but we do not embody it.
I share all of this to say, I hope that like me, you found what you needed over the weekend.
I am thoroughly convinced that these weekends of connection to nature, and to each other, are essential in keeping me aligned to my core values, aligned to the best version of myself.
These periods of deep rest and deep laughter help me buff up my armor so that I can move through the world with strength of character and clarity of mind.
It is at this point I’d like to share with you how I learned the song “Everybody Gets a Kitten.” Before you read further, please know this is my reflection on a recent act of political violence. Stop here if you’d like.
Like many, I was deeply affected by the murder of Melissa Hortman, her husband Mark, and their dog, Gus. The Tuesday after, I was supposed to teach yoga on Lake Superior. I did not want to. But, I had a commitment, and I try to keep my commitments. I went to the lake. I taught yoga. I played a song on the ukulele at the end. That is my commitment to my students and to myself.
After class, my friend Katie, someone I’ve known for over a decade, said she had no idea I played ukulele. Jeremy Messersmith was coming to her yurt on Friday, could I make it?
“Well sure,” I said. I took PTO and on a Friday morning I was treated to a private concert by Jeremy Messersmith. He played a series of joyful songs with peaceful messages. You can listen to the full album, titled “11 Obscenely Optimistic Songs for Ukulele.” The sheet music for this album can be downloaded for free. Jeremy thought these were songs the world needed. One of the songs is inspired by Paul Wellstone and is titled, “We All Do Better When We All Do Better.”
This music was a salve for my broken heart. I thanked Jeremy for his music and his message. I played the songs all summer and then shared them at the retreat this past weekend.
There is a passage from Brenda Ueland I think about all the time:
“Why should we all use our creative power? Because there is nothing that makes people so generous, joyful, lively, bold and compassionate, so indifferent to fighting and the accumulation of objects and money.”
Sometimes we don’t want to share our creative gifts. It is vulnerable. It is scary. It can feel egocentric.
But what happens when we do? God only knows.
Magical kittens appear. People write rap songs about the chakras. Profound, soul-resonating messages are written in journals. Incredible mushroom art fills the walls of an art hall.
We all have creative gifts. When we cultivate and share these gifts… magic always follows. There is some universal reciprocity that underpins the world. When we give of our creative spirit, the universe gives back. That is a promise from me to you.
I know this to be true because I’ve witnessed this exchange again and again. Every time it takes my breath away. It is in these moments I find hope for the future.
It is with deep gratitude that I thank all of you that contributed to the collective effervescence, the experience of joy amidst the chaos, the positivity and kindness in a world that is not always kind.
Deepest gratitude to Bryana for going on FOUR HIKE+PADDLES IN THE SHURDS. Wow.
All the love to Cat who is incredibly gifted in bringing forth hidden creativity.
And of course, Stacy is always the best vibe.
Thank you to our specialists, body workers, karma yogis, and little fire tending fairies throughout the weekend.
I will close with a poem I wrote on the rainy Friday morning, and that I shared with all of you on Sunday.
We cannot always be this saturated
This abundance of water
Bathing and cleansing and nourishing
The drought will come
I feel like lying down in the soft earth and resting a while
Allowing the leaves to cover me as they may
My eyes focused on the white pines stretching tall
“Just a short break,” I’ll say
As my skin gives way to bark
And my ears become bulbous burls
My hair becoming a tangle of branches and leaves
“Just a while longer,” I whisper
As my eyes close
And my mouth grows shut
Until I’m just here.
Silent. Still. In repose.
Unavailable.
Out of Office.
Steady.
Integral.
Mighty.
I cannot be moved.
Other poems we shared over the weekend:
The Journey
by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
By the Stream by Paul Laurence Dunbar
By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass
How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.
And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,
When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.
Mysteries, Yes by Mary Oliver
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
by Mary Oliver
