This week I am thinking of my fellow teachers, and students who are all practicing their yoga, enjoying some hiking and feeling a warm breeze on an amazing yoga retreat in Mexico led by Helen Duquette. I, on the other hand, am in Southern Ontario, feeling the temperature drop, raking mounds of leaves, avoiding the flu but thankfully, at the moment I am feeling the warm sun shining through the window as I write.
I don't mean to sound like I am feeling sorry for myself. I am happy for all of them to be there. I am happy to be here teaching the yoga classes. I am happy to be administering tylenol to my children who have been fighting the flu and fevers. I am grateful for the life that I lead. I am blessed beyond words. But man, does a retreat sound FANTASTIC right now!
Thinking of those on retreat, I have been wondering what they have been doing each day. Yoga in the morning and evening, hiking everyday, enjoying the weather, eating good food, resting, relaxing, reading, soaking in the natural thermal baths. It sounds lovely, indulgent, refueling. It is what I need.
So, with the idea of retreat on my mind, I have decided to create my own retreat. This will be my Southern Ontario retreat in November leading up to the busiest time of the year.
My retreat will take place during the work week. I am sending the kids to school and then checking out. I will not check my emails/blackberry, will not answer my home phone or cell phone (unless of course I see my kids school number come up telling me to pick them up...they have another fever). I am going to a coffee shop to buy a tea. I will bring my creative journal. I am going to sit for as long as I want. I will resist the urge to hurry myself along.
Then, I am going to drive into the city and spend the day walking through the Art Gallery of Ontario. I may even sit there and pull out my creative journal again. I will not rush. I will soak in the creativity, enjoy the quiet and be alone with my thoughts.
Then...I will go out for lunch by myself. Order whatever I want. Eat slowly. Taste my food. Look around. Observe. Maybe when I feel like moving on, I will window shop, browse a book store, purchase a lovely rare artisan cheese and a bottle of wine to compliment it.
When I tire of the city I will come home (it will be empty because I will have arranged playdates for the kids after school and then for my husband to pick them up for a dinner of pizza on the go). With an empty, quiet house I will run my own thermal bath, put on some lovely music, pour a glass of wine and just soak. I will feel it. I will relish it.
When my family does return, my cup will runneth over. I will have so much to give because I will feel refueled. I will have gone on retreat and have taken care of myself. I will have gone to Mexico in my mind.
