Retreat.

At the beginning of the new year, my favorite yoga teacher announced she was planning a yoga/ski retreat for later in the winter.  I was immediately intrigued and called one of my closest friends to see if she wanted to partake.  "It's a long weekend in Vermont," I told her, "filled with yoga, good food, skiing, outdoor activities, and relaxing.  So, basically all of our favorite things."  Unfortunately, this friend had just had knee surgery and she was understandably hesitant to sign up, afraid she wouldn't be healed enough to ski or do yoga.

I mentioned all of this to my yoga teacher one night after class, curious as to how early in advance we'd need to sign up to guarantee a spot for the weekend.  "You should come by yourself even if your friend can't make it." she said.  I nodded, hesitant.  As I walked home  that night though, I began seriously thinking about attending on my own.  There was something about the retreat that had intrigued me the minute I heard about it, and no matter how I tried to disuade myself (I should save the money, I wouldn't know anyone else going, I'd need to take a precious day off of work) something in my heart simply didn't want to write the weekend off.  A few days after I'd initially approached her, my yoga teacher sent me a private message on Facebook, once again encouraging me to come on my own.  Dismiss small gestures if you must, but that one brief, thoughtful message made my day and convinced me once and for all to take the plunge and treat myself to the retreat....solo sign up and all.

So I shelled out my money to reserve a spot, marked the dates in my planner, requested a day off from the office, and then truthfully didn't give the event much more thought. This past winter was a hectic one, particularly the month of March, and it was last Wednesday night when I reached for my weekend duffel bag to start packing that I thought about my upcoming retreat once again.  In a way, maybe I was grateful for the frenzied pace of the last month - and even up until the moment I hopped into my Jeep and headed north toward Vermont Thursday night - because I didn't even have time to think about (read: worry) what it might be like to spend a long weekend with a set of complete strangers.

Instead, I drove two and a half hours north of the city and simply arrived; just in time for the very first yoga class of the weekend.

Gang.  Talk about spending my money wisely. This past weekend was one of the most lovely, perfectly relaxing weekends I have had in a long time.  The group that gathered for the retreat was a great blend of people and the women running the weekend created a perfect blend of structured activities and plenty of free time.  What a luxury to be able to roll out of bed and head directly to a 90 minute yoga class downstairs for three mornings in a row, to have delicious healthy food ready  - that you didn't have to lift a finger for - when you're hungry, to have afternoons free to do whatever you damn well please, and then to have an evening yoga class to finish off the day before you sit down to a "family" dinner and optional evening activities like (my favorite) game night. 

For the most part the weather cooperated for us and on Saturday we even got an afternoon of downhill spring skiing in. 

  

I hadn't been skiing since 2010, which is ridiculous, especially because I was reminded how much I enjoy being outside and on the mountain once I was back.  While I'm in no hurry for next winter - at all - I have already decided that more skiing trips are a must once winter does eventually return.

Sometimes when I start to talk about yoga and how much it has come to mean to me I worry that to an outsider I'm going to sound like a total hippie or stereotypical zen obsessed yogi.  But that's not it exactly.  For the rest of my world continues on its path too - a busy job, time with family and friends, travel, reading, writing, grabbing a glass or two of wine when I can, catching up on favorite TV shows, and all the rest that makes up our days.  I think what it is though, what I find so compelling, and what has made me fall in love with yoga is something one of my good friends Hannah mentioned once: When you go to a yoga class or make time to do it on your own, you always start by unrolling your yoga mat.  Once you do that, you've created a space - one that is approximately 72 inches by 24 inches - that is all your own for the next hour or however long you intend to practice.  And there's something deeply calming and restoring about that.  Personally it feels like I've carved out a small little space completely and fully for myself - only myself - on that mat.     

It may not work for everyone, but I've found that that is exactly what I need in my life these days.  It does wonders for my sanity, my awareness, and focus.  It keeps me grounded.

And absolutely, completely, grateful.