Friday, July 5, 2013

Recovering from Retreat

I've just returned from a week-long intensive retreat.  This retreat happened to be called California Withcamp, but I know that what I am about to express could be connected to any type of spiritual retreat intensive.  What I am referring to is what we at CAWC refer to as "the post-camp blues". 

There are some real, solid, every day, reasons for these blues.  During a retreat we don't have to worry about food, because someone else is taking care of it for us.  We don't have to worry about paying the bills, because in retreat we are "outside" of everyday concerns.  We don't have to worry about entertainment, because there is a schedule to follow and events planned. We don't have to worry about being alone, because we are surrounded by like-minded people.

During a spiritual retreat we have the opportunity to be fully in the present moment.  In the 'regular' world, there are very few opportunities for that.

This Witchcamp was particularily powerful for me.  It was my eighth Witchcamp intensive.  Some of my previous experiences left me forever shifted; like a veil had been removed and I was looking at the world for the first time.  (There is no going back to your previous ways once the veil has been lifted.)  Other camps have been full of challenges and opportunities for me to push my growth; like the years that I was blessed to teach.  And there have been camps where I simply had fun in the woods.  But this year was different.

For the first time in my life I feel like my heart is blown open.  I am experiencing emotions that I don't often allow myself to experience.  I healed some of my wounds.  I connected to people in ways that I didn't think were possible.  I feel totally different than the person I was before.

Camp ended less than a week ago, and yet, it feels like a distant memory.  Now I am left with the daunting task of trying to assimilate the emotional and spiritual processes I went through intellectually.  And yet, even as I write this I recognize that words still don't work.  Words are less than.  All that matters is how my heart feels; full and open.

So, how do I take these feelings, these changes, these experiences, and use them to fuel my regular, every day life.  (Because no matter how much I want it to be different, camp is only SEVEN days of the whole year.)  How do I move through my world with my heart open and keep the connections that were made at camp?  How do I remain open in the outside world, when it can be so harsh and difficult?  These questions are really what "the post-camp blues" are all about.

Yes, it is a bummer that delicious, nutritious, and magical food isn't just waiting for me at mealtimes.  Yes, it sucks that I have to clean the litterbox and dust the living room without a team to help me.  Yes, it is difficult to experience emotions without loved ones to hold witness.  Yes, it is hard to have great distances between myself and those I call beloved. 

Yes, all of these things create the post-camp blues, but more than these things; the ache, the discomfort, and the sadness of "after camp" is really about being different.

At camp, we learn to expand and transform.  This means that we can't always just slip back into the lives that we left seven days earlier.  Sometimes we have to find our new way in our new form.  This can be uncomfortable and difficult.  Sometimes we have to see that what we were no longer fits in the life that we want.  Sometimes this means making big changes and sometimes this means learning to adapt into the newness that is you now.  With big changes comes big adjustments, which can be painful, complicated, and confusing.  And outside of camp, we loose some of the support that was literally right at hand.  We have to learn to navigate the waters in a different way.

And this is hard.

Other people might not look at me and see that something is different, but I know it is, because I can feel it in every breath that I take.  For me, this year at least, recovering from retreat means stepping into myself.  Recovering from retreat means honoring my emotions.  Recovering from retreat means allowing myself to be vulnerable.  Recovering from retreat is a personal acknowledgment that I am not scared anymore.

My heart is full, my heart is open, and I am forever changed.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Enough! No More Beating Myself Up

It's recently come to my attention that I am rather hard on myself.  I guess that most people probably are, but this realization came to me when I made the statement, "I love television and I am not going to feel bad about it."

You see, I've sort of held this belief that good crunchy granola people (like who I would like to be) don't watch television.  They don't get sucked into terrible reality TV shows.  They don't have an Amazon account where episodes of How I Met Your Mother, Bones, and Supernatural, automatically appear every week. 

These good and proper hippies don't 'squee' with delight when new episodes of Merlin are available on Netflix.  And they definitely don't let their kids stay up late on a school night to watch the season premiere of RuPaul's Drag Race.

But wait there's more...These people also don't go to Taco Bell for dinner or get a craving for Cheetos and just go for it.  These people don't ignore dirty dishes in the sink or have a crushing weight of credit card debt.  This ideal person isn't known by name at the local Starbucks, they are too granola for Starbucks!  The good people out there aren't doing ANY of these things...

You see, *I* do all of these things, therefore, these things must be bad.  Boo!  Hiss!  I suck.

I've created this ideal "witchy, hippie, natural living, person" in my mind.  This is the person that I think I am supposed to be.  This is the person that lives "better" than I do and I should strive to be.  I suppose that these are all good things to strive for, but along the way this turned into another excuse for me to berate myself.

Why do I feel like I have to hide my television watching or pretend that I don't love Taco Bell?  No one out there cares and if they do, it shouldn't matter to me.

Blurting out that I love television and I'm not going to feel bad about it was a liberating moment for me.  It also helped me to remember that I've always loved TV.  When I was a teenager and all of my friends would lock themselves in their bedrooms and listen to music, I was hiding in my room watching TV or movies (often while reading at the same time).

This pic has NOTHING to do with this blog post.
So I'm done.  I'm not going to feel bad for the things that I love, no matter how un-crunchy un-granola I might think they are.