No Chairs for Old Women?

The retreat center was off a county road in a snow covered field with a majestic view of the mountains. I turned in at the welcome sign and parked in the dirt lot behind the building. I entered through heavy wooden doors. Every square foot of this place was spectacular.  Outside was cold and sunny; inside was relief and inspiration.

Recover Your Soul Retreat
(That's a rattling title.) 

An advertisement on social media caught my eye.  A half day, new year's retreat with guided meditation, journaling and sacred rituals.  I clicked the link and was led to a woman who runs Recover Your Soul counseling, podcast and retreats. Fee paid, directions sent and now I know Reverend Rachel. Hi Rachel!  It's nice to meet you.

I am exploring writing more. A journaling retreat seemed like a way to take a step forward.  During the humdrum days of covid, I signed up for several bird watching walks with a local naturalist and a nature writing course at the Botanic Gardens. These were the highlight of shutdown, and transformative for me.  

2023. Time to explore another class. 

I sat in a circle with seventeen women. And one man.  We were many ages and at many points in life, from two new mothers to more than one wiry grey haired woman in a cardigan. I had worried about what to wear. What do you wear to a retreat that says bring a yoga mat or blanket?   I don't do athleisure wear.  Except at the gym. And I don't go to the gym.  Jeans are my thing. I have walked a thousand miles around my reservoir in jeans.  But I pulled out some baby blue leggings from the back of a drawer and a quarter zip pullover, thinking this would be very retreat-y and meditation-y. And wished I'd worn jeans.

Also, this! Would there be chairs? The email clearly said bring a yoga mat. Could my hips sit on the floor for three hours? (No they cannot.) I considered throwing a camping chair in the car in case of a hip emergency. Upon entry, I saw a proper set of chairs encirling a sun filled room. Indeed there were chairs for this slightly oldish woman.

The retreat in a nutsell  
What do we believe about ourselves that isn't true. What have we been told about ourselves and took for the truth.  In our lives, we have given power to these falsehoods. In a guided meditation, we dug around for these buried lies. Wrote them down in our journals. Talked about them. And finally drowned them in a glistening bowl of water. 

I guess I will tell you one of mine.
That I am too much. (Too talkative, too inquistive, too big, too smart, too confident, too exuberant.)

I have recovered from this fasle belief. Mostly. It's burrowed down in me for a long time though, it's deep down in there, and she rears her lying ugly head on occasion. I am better about recognizing her crappy lies.  This is a work in progress.  I am a work in progress.

I am also leaning into asking for help.  

Now let's talk more about chairs. Specifically this one! The retreat was fantastic but the decor was magical. The space was filled with beautiful artifacts, bright windows and so much peace. When it was time to lie down for our guided meditation, I ran to the side room with the plush white rug, turquoise walls and THIS CHAIR. I laid down next to her and was thankful for her beauty.  This is my favorite chair.

I am signed up for another retreat with Reverend Rachel this weekend.  I will arrive early, in jeans, and sit in this chair with my coffee.

Journal prompt:  What false beliefs about yourself have you given power?