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SPANISH JOURNEYS

You may notice, or start to see, moving forward, that my blog post might grow more wafty, different, more story-like. I may post poems, experiences, songs and rituals.

I gifted myself some time away, and I called in self-worth and authenticity. I am free. I realised. and I am going to attempt to use this blog, this tiny micro corner of the internet in an authentic way. That might be different, weirder, and more unusual than other wellness providers.


I realised, that I've been trying really hard to provide what I think people need, and want. I have been really reaching. But in fact. I am different, and also multi-dimensional. I am a teacher, a sound healer, but I'm also a singer, a writer, a poet(I say this with a rather strong amateur underline!). I care about the world, I care about injustice, I am passionate about the climate and the environment. So I thought, hey, why not.

When we run a business, like this, we can feel hemmed in. Afraid to do something wrong, in case we lose a client or people stop spending with you.

But I am breaking that cycle. I am stepping into a new chapter. And new opportunities are arising, which means I have more freedom.


I have also been feeling the need to be safe, secure and grounded. I might not be sharing so much about myself personally, but I hope through my writing, there's a connection found and felt in the heart.



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I journeyed to Spain. My stuffed backpack weighed heavy on my shoulders, as I pushed through the buzzing crowds of the airport. Matching hen t-shirts, sipping bubbles at 7am, coffee cups and headphones hipsters. All of us breaking free of the grey, the same rhythm and travelling towards hope.


A low hum of resistance lingered in my belly. What am I doing, I don't have the time and the money. Why did I book this so many months ago. I can't do this. My mind protects me from what might arise on retreat. Just keep on ignoring it, it'll be ok. The voice of safety, 'look away, look away'.


A blast of heat rising, wrapped around my ankles, stepping onto the empty Sunday tarmac of the runway. Turquoise skies and sharp sunrays, guided me towards my ride. A rumbling journey through the dusty terrain of Southern Spain.

Tents stretched wide, holding bountiful fruit that feeds Europe and beyond, so big it's seen from space, I marvel at the mountains, made from harsh rock, sand, dust and light tufts of green, that look like they might just blow away any minute.

This land does not feel wanted, does not feel like a human home, but the sea dancing in the distance seems to promise life.


We are held by the mountains for 5 days. a home carved into the Rock, an old Spainish Mill. With the same magical water pool used for hundreds of years, now provides an oasis in the middle of this desert land. A stone circle, where we move, breathe, cry and rest. When you sit in this space, a circle used by millers, to sort the wheat from the chaff, you hear the echo of the swallows, their voices bounce through the long angles of the mountains, as if four birds become a hundred.




Sorting the Wheat from the Chaff. An image dances into my consciousness as the owner of this beautiful place tells me of the process, to throw the wheat into the air and the chaff, getting blown by the mystical mountain wind, removed from the wheat dances away from the circle, to nestle into the crevices of the mountains. Like gold dust, the sun catching it and burning it away from the wheat. It felt timely, it was what I was doing this week. Sorting the wheat from the Chaff.


What would blow away, if I threw it all up into the air?


Every encouraged breath(from Sandra, our incredible teacher) was part of this process. As my diaphragm grew more spacious, and tears fell, I felt the sorting process solidify. My body letting go of held tension, stories, and emotions.


As I ate delicious food and laughed with other women, I leaned into my sometimes-growing social anxiety. I listened, heard and shared stories with these women, on retreat. It will never cease to amaze me, the bravery, strength and wisdom of women. These spaces, when away together are so sacred, if held safely and with the right guide it can be the most precious time.


I could write a whole book about this week just gone. But that's for me and my journal, my mind and my body.


It came at the right time. I was able to process some of the madness of the last 7 months(or perhaps 5 years). But I see a chapter closing, I can feel reach of my fingers catching the edge of a new page.


Here's to many more chapters, and hopefully many more retreats.



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Feeling inspired?


Have you been interested in going on a retreat?





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