On a recent yoga retreat on Whidbey Island, outside of Seattle, our morning routine included a meditation walk on the grounds of the retreat center, Aldermarsh. Our instructor, Jennifer Isaacson, led us on the walk the first morning. The next day, we were on our own.
There was a beautiful garden next to the cabins where we stayed, which is where I started my walk on that second day. The gates were decorated with artwork resembling a sun and the outside of the garden was bordered by lavender plants. Inside, there were flowers, vegetables including kale and chard, sage and rosemary plants, apple trees and more.
At one end of the garden, there was a greenhouse that also served as a workshop since there was more room than just for the plants. Some of the plants were thriving while others had appeared to be dead or dying. I saw something similar in another nearby space that had fencing around it to keep out animals.
It made me wonder: how do the caretakers or owners decide what to grow, and what could die to make room for something new?
Yoga retreats or getaways prompt similar thoughts: what do we hope to change and what do we want to flourish in our lives?
On the retreat, I was grateful for the daily exercise from our practices, the peaceful setting, reconnecting with friends and meeting new people. I traded stories about what it’s been like to help support my dad, who is 89 and in the early stages of dementia.
For the most part, he’s doing remarkably well but it’s been a transition for me, after living away from home for 30 years. I’ve gone from having a phone conversation once a week to, now, seeing my dad several times a week and talking nearly every day. At first, that was a challenge for me, but I talked with him about it, and it’s worked itself out.
As part of this journey that has expanded my relationship with dad, I am exploring freelance and part-time or contract work instead of a full-time job. Working a full-time job while also trying to help him was too stressful in the long run. I tried to cut back my hours, but it was just not possible given my workload.
When he got sick and was diagnosed with a bacterial infection a few weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine trying to balance my workload with taking him to urgent care, finding a new primary care doctor for him, and making sure he had what he needed while he battled an awful reaction to a very strong antibiotic.
As one friend described it, you can have stress in one part of your life but if it’s in all parts of your life, that’s not manageable in the long run.
On the last day of the retreat, Jennifer gave us another prompt to consider while we were in savasana, or corpse pose. She said: What if your last breath was this moment, what are you living for?
Visit Jennifer Isaacson’s site and join her at one of her classes or on an upcoming retreat.
Learn more about Aldermarsh and upcoming retreats.
Mary Guiden 