spirit springs (day one)

Life has been traumatic lately. As part of my 2 month leave of absence from work, friends, and "regular" life, I decided to go on a one-week spiritual/nature retreat to help myself relax, reflect, and refocus. I envisioned a place ensconced in nature, with plenty of time and space for quiet personal reflection and solitude, but with trained professionals on hand to offer guided meditation and provide other tools that might help me cope with my anxiety, grief, anger, disorientation, and general well being. Spirit Springs seemed the perfect fit: http://spiritspringsretreat.com/.

So I hopped a plane to San Francisco, and drove up the 101 toward Napa Valley. I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, through the rainbow tunnel, and into the gorgeous landscape of rolling green hills and giant oak trees that is northern California. If you know me at all, you can imagine how scary the notion of retreating into nature, alone, with only my thoughts and feelings to keep me company, would be. No friends or family, no TV, computers, or cell phones. Zero contact with the outside world! It wasn't easy, but it felt right. All I asked was that my mind/body/heart remain open to whatever experiences came my way during the week. I was ready to (try to) let go and receive goodness.

I arrived at Spirit Springs around 5:00 p.m., after many miles of twisty, tree-lined roads taking me further and further from civilization. My host, Andrzej, greeted me, and offered me an elixir of mysterious juices from the Amazonian rain forest, which I sipped tentatively as we discussed my reasons for coming. Of course I cried. He smiled gently and said that there was no need to keep wearing my "brave face" while I was there. Whatever emotions arise, let them flow. We then sat down to my first of many delicious raw meals. You can either do a raw foods routine while you're there, or a juice detox, which is definitely more than I can handle. It's hard to relax and meditate when your colon is being cleansed. We then launched almost immediately into my first "clarity breathwork" session.

Clarity Breathwork™ (yes, apparently it's trademarked) is "a profound tool for transformation and healing on all levels--body, mind & spirit. It uses the ancient practice of circular, connected breathing that has been used in cultures around the world, for thousands of years, for healing and attaining higher states of consciousness. Breathwork is one of the purest and most effective techniques to release stress and tension, heal and resolve trauma, and awaken you to your true Being." Sounds good, right? And it is, but it's INTENSE. For the first hour we simply sat and talked about my deepest fears and vulnerabilities. Ugh. The second hour involved me lying on my back with my eyes closed, attempting to find some kind of rhythm to my cyclical breathing. Periodically, he would place his warm hands on my chest or stomach, and ask me to tell him what thoughts or sensations I was experiencing. Soon, my hands and arms became numb, and I began to feel all jittery. I'm sure some of it was anxiety, but he said some of it was simply me tuning in to the energy moving around inside my body. (Same difference, right?)

But it got really crazy with the introduction of the Tibetan singing bowls, which he began ringing at different pitches and positions. Each chime felt like an electrical surge through my body, and next thing I knew, I was humming along in some sort of trance state. I think I rode it for a while, but then my pesky brain kicked in and said, "Hey, what the hell's going on here? I don't think you're in complete control of your senses," and my eyes suddenly popped open and it was over.

By now it was quite dark outside, with just the glow of a few candles in the room. Andrzej said it was beautiful, and that I looked and sounded totally different afterwards. Part of the purpose is to understand that we are more than our minds, thoughts, beliefs, and experiences. We're part of a greater energy, and we need to set our analytical brains and egos aside in order to feel this truth about ourselves. I believe it, but the brain is such a powerful entity. It can be your ally, but it can also be an enemy, or at least an obstacle. And with that concept to ponder, I retired to my private creekside cottage for the night, entrusting myself to this man for the next 5 days.

ta ta for now

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good night. I hate to go and leave this pretty sight.

The first week of my leave of absence ended today. I stayed up too late, slept in too late, and generally just decompressed. I accomplished a few things, and I sat around mindlessly for quite a few hours as well. So be it. That's what this week was for. But now, I'd like to get a little more serious, a little more disciplined . . . without of course placing any unreasonable or even uncomfortable restrictions on myself.

I hope my dear friends will understand. I love them, but this is a leave of absence for ME and my mental health. It can't be filled up with social engagements and normal activities. I need for it to be a true BREAK with normalcy; a time to float freely and allow myself the time and space to think, reflect, feel, and hopefully begin to heal. I may put on a brave face when you see me, and appear to be "okay," but the truth is, I'm NOT okay. My parents are both dead, and they were my whole family. Sure I have many wonderful, wonderful friends, and other family, who love and support me, and I am SO grateful for all of you. But the next few weeks are about me stepping out of time, to honor the seriousness of my situation, and to honor my parents' memories. Maybe it's hard to understand, and I don't expect anyone to understand who hasn't been through such a thing. In fact, it's good if you DON'T understand in a way because it's not a very fun thing to contemplate. But I hope that everyone can respect it.

I won't be gone forever. Only a few weeks, and you know how time flies by lickety-split. I'll be back on the scene in May, in one version or another. I know I won't be magically healed. It's a long road ahead. But I hope I'll at least feel that my hiatus was time well spent, and that I'll have some amount of clarity and renewed strength to carry on, and adjust to my new reality. Until then, please know that I love you, and I look forward to seeing you later this spring.

So until May -- Adios, amoebas.

she sells seashells by the seashore

simpler times

I know Godzilla himself emerged from post-war nuclear fears, but he seems like such a manageable threat in light of today's horrible earthquake and tsunami in Japan. Is it scarier if mass destruction is caused by other humans during times of war, or if it comes out of the blue with the unrelenting and non-discriminating power of nature? The capacity for humans to inflict cruelty on each other is mind boggling, but in theory at least, it's also preventable. The forces of nature are undeniable and unavoidable. And even if all our fancy modern technology enables people to have a 30-second warning before a major earthquake, it also means that we have complex nuclear plants that are now imperiled and which may cause even more destruction and misery. At least a giant stomping dinosaur does his damage and then moves on.

millions of cats

How many cats can you find in this photo? (Answer: 28) But seriously, there's an extra cat! After 14 years of two cats, suddenly there's a new fuzzy somebody running around, squeaking, hissing, and being generally silly. She's actually a very good cat: very clean, uses her scratching post and litter box diligently (which is more than some of us can say!). We never really got along when she lived with Mom, but I feel like we're turning a corner in our relationship. She's a million times sweeter and more interactive with me than ever before! Maybe because she has to be, given the circumstances, but she's smart and adaptable enough to know that, which make me happy. Right now, for the first time in the almost 2 weeks she's lived here, all 4 of us are resting in our own little corners of the living room.

I'm very proud of Xander, who has totally stepped up to make sure that Marzipan knows who's boss, and what the rules are, but without ever raising a paw in anger. He's just "there" when she's snooping around, keeping an eye on her, twitching his tail and growling very lowly if he disagrees with something she's doing. And she respects him for it. And I'm very pleased with Mr. G. and the way he's taken little Marzi under his wing. I hear him talking to her in the back room. I think he really loves her, and is coming to love X&Z more as a result. They're all good cats. Zoe just gets a little jealous, and is an aging stink-cat these days, but otherwise they're all shiny little gems. :)

Have you ever read this book? It's a classic from my childhood. It's about a man who sets out to find a pet for himself and his wife, but he can't decide because each cat he sees is prettier than the last one, so he ends up accumulating "hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats." It gets out of control really quickly, and in the end the cats themselves have to duke it out to decide which one is the prettiest. It's very violent, but it does have a happy ending.

marzipan

I have 500 cats now. Actually I only have three, but that's borderline crazy-cat-lady. I brought Marzipan up from San Diego this weekend. As you probably know, she was Mom's cat, and she's quite beautiful and intelligent, but she's also a crazy wild child. The whole drive up she was like a gremlin in a box, crying and shaking the bars of her cat carrier like a prison cell. She even managed to scratch me, and put a snag in my sweater sleeve with her long white arms flailing through the grating. Twice I pulled over to see if she was okay. When I let her out of the carrier, she was the sweetest little cuddle-bug, all purrs and head-bonks. But then the gremlin returned. It was a harrowing drive to say the least.

She's had a crash-course in socialization these past few weeks, living next door with 2 people and 3 other cats until I was ready to bring her to my apartment with other people and other cats. I think it did her good. And she's a strong, smart cat, so I know she'll be okay, but will I be okay? Xander is very curious about her, and keeps creeping back to the kitchen where she's sequestered. Growling and hissing ensues, but I'm the one that keeps getting bit and scratched. Little devil! Zoe seems basically oblivious. Maybe she's too old and raggedy to care. I hope to take down the barrier this weekend when I'm able to be present for any prolonged interaction opportunities. Fingers crossed that I'm the only one who bleeds. Maybe I should treat myself to some edible marzipan to help me get through this stressful time.

time waits for no one

I hate looking at dates, like my blog called "inheritance" below, and thinking about how they relate to my parents' deaths. January 28, 2011. Mom was alive and happy then, remodeling her bathrooms and planning to come visit me in a couple weeks. She was also planning a trip to Cannon Beach, and probably another European adventure later this year. Little did any of us know that she'd be dead just a few days later. I HATE that.