She caught me off-guard when she approached me with tearful eyes and a frustrated look on her face. The others were deep into their wandering and foraging of the spacious lands in the Castro Valley hills.
I could immediately tell that something uncomfortable was bubbling up for her during this activity. She paused, and her voice shook as she shared what she was experiencing. “This makes me feel so lonely. I grew up as an only child in a city. I don’t have any relationship to nature. I don’t know what to do. Everyone here is so artistic and creative, and I feel stuck and numb and alone. I don’t know what to gather. Everything here is so….dead and brown. Nothing calls to me.”
I took a deep breath and sat with her. This practice of connecting with our hearts, slowing down, and paying attention has a tendency to uncover many unsettling emotions and brings them to the surface.
“Is it ok if I accompany you?” I offered. “We can forage together. I can introduce you to some of the plants here.”
She nodded.
I guided her down the path toward the bridge and river. Along the way, I leaned down and caressed Miner’s lettuce (Indian lettuce). “It looks like a lily pad, doesn’t it? These are edible, and contain high amounts of Vitamin C. This plant helped gold rush miners fend off scurvy, and it was introduced to them by the local Indians.” We continued on, befriending nature as we would any new friend- with respect, curiosity, and wonder.
The second half of the workshop was dedicated to creating our nature offerings. The theme was around integrating our past selves with our future selves; to honor our stories of where we’ve been and how they’ve informed where we are going, and calling in the qualities that we want to embody moving forward.
A spiral of grief illustrating how our furry loved ones and their spirits continue on with us always.
An altar of belonging- that wherever we have been and wherever we are going, that we belong to ourselves, to nature, and to each other.
The fact that one retreat participant found this skeleton near the river was mind-blowing! The stories and metaphors around her altar creation were profound and insightful. The tiny seeds placed in a line at the top of her altar are her ‘seeds of new ideas’ which I particularly loved.
I was curious how the woman I’d supported in the first half of the activity was doing with her art making. I rounded the corner of the house and set foot onto the patio area. I drew my breath in suddenly. Immediately, tears formed in my eyes. I was stunned. There in front of me, was the most beautiful, colorful, divinely feminine altar.
She looked up at me, this time with happy tears in her eyes. “This is what came out of me. The flower in the center is me wanting to bloom from my heart. The sticky green leaves on the edges are the things I no longer want to stick to me- old ideas, old beliefs, old lies. I am full of so much love. All of this divine femininity wants to expand from my heart. I was so resistant in the beginning, but when I let go, this is what was revealed.”
I gave her a hug. “Welcome home,” I whispered.
For my BIPOC community- if you’re interested in experiencing the power of this practice, I’ll be leading a free Morning Altars workshop on Saturday, 5/25 in Menlo Park from 9:30-12pm. We’ll explore cultural roots and integration through nature, creativity, and ritual. I have a few spots open. Contact me if you’d like to join this offering.