"I want you to look at yourself like you look at flowers and sunsets and animals and all the most beautiful natural things in the world.
You look at them without judgment or criticism and just appreciate them for what they are instead of wishing they were different.
You are natural and you were meant to look as you do. You are a magnificent, complex piece of art like all the other wonders of nature.
Start looking at every part of yourself with wonder and love." A quote in the bottom of my coffee cup. Day 1 of Yoga Retreat.
Just returned from my retreat in Marrakech. Quite jet lagged. So I thought I’d share notes from my journal and invite you all to share stories of recent or memorable trips.
Thurs. Sept. 27: I am in Africa. Hard to find words to describe the feeling I had when I looked out the window and realized I was actually flying over Africa.
And then to land and this enormous line to pass through customs, with me forgetting to fill out the requisite form and the driver not being outside and arriving 45 minutes late with people around me in the humid heat speaking Arabic. It was a little terrifying.
So far there have been two calls to prayer. Just otherworldly and it truly is another world. We ate dinner in this outdoor restaurant as a storm came in, with lightning and thunder. And the rain was warm. Big drops. I don't recall the last time I walked in the rain with just the clothes on my back. Through the Medina. Such narrow and furtive passageways. I just can't wait to explore it tomorrow.
Sunday, Sept. 30: I have about 20 minutes before we meet the driver who is taking us down to the Medina to visit a few museums. We had yoga this morning at 8 followed by a visit to Project Soar, a nonprofit founded by the owner of Peacock Pavilions where the retreat is taking place. This was really powerful! Young Arabic girls, mostly young teens, sharing their affirmations "We are strong... We are beautiful... We are feminist. Girl Power. " Another short yoga class.
Tues. Oct. 2: Our group is divided into two vans for the 2 ½ hour trip to Essaouira. As we near the town, we come upon two trees with goats standing up in the branches. It was a horrifying image, so blatantly staged for visitors. The retreat leader tells us we were not going to stop, that she had been told that the goats are tied to the branches. But the other van did stop. And for quite some time — we pulled over a ways up the road and waited for them to catch up. Upon arriving at our first stop, where we were scheduled for a camel ride on the beach, one of the women darted over to the other van and returned to tell us that the women were radiant. The man at the goat trees had let them pose with a baby goat. They had no idea what was really going on and were enchanted.
Life is so raw, so “authentic”. Goats sandwiched into a passing van, their inquisitive eyes peering over the top of the vehicle’s siding; the man riding a donkey along the side of the highway in bare feet talking on a cell phone; a little boy running with a bright blue balloon down a hill of crumbling concrete houses, most with no visible roofs.
The call to prayer. A horse bays at its conclusion. How surreal that next week at this time I will be back home in my duplex in Sausalito with Pocket and my little problems, which always seem so huge to me when, if viewed through the lens of a wider angle, are mere pebbles barely registering as life flicks them across the expanse of my life.
The retreat leader pulls a shocking pink djellaba and matching headdress out of her aubergine REI backpack as the other women other woman wait patiently in line to have their heads wrapped in brilliantly patterned scarves for their hour long trek out to the beach.
I am the only one who doesn’t participate in the camel ride. I sit in the shade under an olive tree thinking about being a tourist and trespassing on the life of these people who live so close to the land.
Thurs. Oct 4. We left early this morning to hike in the Atlas Mountains. It was a very intense experience for a 67 year old. The guide had to help me almost continuously on the way down, the trail was so steep and slippery and downright dangerous. I was terrified at times. At one point all of the younger women had reached the bottom of the most difficult patch where I had someone on both sides of me and someone in front. And when I got safely to a flat surface two of the woman were crying and several cheered. They thought I was amazing. All afternoon one by one they would come And say things about how inspiring it was. How Powerful I am. How Amazing. At my age.
The call to prayer.
But the truth of it is if someone has told me , if I could have foreseen what was in front of me, I wouldn’t have ventured forward.
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