I had the wonderful occasion this weekend of being part of a group of like-minded women at a retreat in the woods. Mind you, "like-minded women" refer to truly civilized women of breeding, well read, manicured, appreciate a good glass of wine and know the difference between Peccorino and Kraft's green can of Parmesan sawdust. Most love to garden and get close to the earth but do not feel the need to run with the wolves, bang on drums at the full moon, of any of that new age stuff that would require sleeping outside or letting the hair grow under your armpits. This is my first venture into a women's group since the 1980s when I tried to follow the movement of the moment caused by a book called WomenWho Run with the Wolves. Now, these chicks were hard core. They were out to embrace their womanhood, break the glass ceiling, and grasp their inner femininity. And they were mad as hell.
These girls needed empowerment. They wanted to talk about the men who were running their lives and they weren't talking about their daddys. I could not relate. I guess I hit the jackpot with the gene pool when it came to being empowered. I have come to realize what used to be called, Sassy and Bossy, is now empowerment. It's all good.
These girls did not give me the "growth opportunity" I was looking for ( nor did they suggest they had the perfect male friend who would LOVE to meet me)and I quickly realized I was not feeling the love from our Mother God. I decided I was probably more of a woman who Prances with Poodles, so I turned in my workbook and never looked back. A lot happens to a girl in 2 decades.
So twenty years later, I give female bonding another try. A small blip in an area magazine caught my eye and it seemed that every time I turned around, a copy of this beautifully inviting magazine was in my path. Not just at my house. Or my office, but everywhere I turned in Genoa City, this new magazine was calling me. So I checked my schedule, realized Tom Berenger was ranch bound (again), my shared house keeper Feliciano was planning to clean my house, and all the other things i just HAD to do, had been rescheduled.So I made the call and found that they were indeed full for this retreat but cheerfully found an extra seat for me.
After mapquesting my way out to the woods, getting lost, and then finding someone else who looked lost but respectable, I found my way to our retreat compound. My fellow lost-soul was indeed retreat bound, so together we walked up the stone path to the studio. My professional writer-type friends were waiting and so were some fabu, freshly baked hot scones and fresh fruit. This was starting off right.
When everyone gathered, I found that in this group of strangers was my old study partner from grad school. The last time we saw each other we were grumbling over the hippie guy who was teaching us ancient religion.I remember asking him if he was had a PhD in Religion because he was going to the seminary. He looked at me like I was stoned. He told me he was a pagan.From New York. I'm a Presbyterian. We didn't have a lot in common. Now, my classmate has the hippie dude's job!
A lot of catching up and informative gossip was going on, when one of my retreatees remarked that I had not been on the social scene in AGES. I explained I had been working alot. Without hesitation, the girl asks "Has Tom Berenger left you?!" "I mean working hard , just brings that to mind". Now I like to think I have always worked smart which for many folks IS hard, but I never equated getting dumped as a motivational experience!I guess it is a compliment that I don't have a look of work-camp chic or that I have intimate working knowledge of what it takes to run an offshore oil rig. Just for the record, TomB remains the happiness man in the South ( I cannot speak for men of other places, but I'm pretty sure about regional happiness stats) in his constant state of bliss with The Fabulous Ma'am.
The truth is, I have been working very hard at a new business for this past year. I am doing something I had always thought about doing, but never ventured from the safety of the corporate world. I am tired. Very similar to how our hamster, Junie B. Jones, used to look on that little wheel.
What I took away from my retreat was relaxation and insight. I learned how to take a couple of minutes to just clear your mind (gave up on clearing my desk) and be joyful for what you have or be thankful for what you have been spared.
A yoga teacher spent time teaching us simple techniques that had me almost falling limply out of my seat. Now my previous yoga experiences have been dismal failures, even though I had the latest in outfit, mat, strap, block, and all natural moisturizer. I just wasn't in the right place. And that being said, I think that is part of the problem with most of us. We get all the perfect equipment but never get the pure lesson we are searching for because we are so consumed with the things we have to do after we get all yoga'd up/down. Too much of a hurry to get to the next thing. No wonder we can't relax!
So, I guess the moral to my blog is this: rather than getting lost in the country and ending up in the bayou, find the time to breathe in, feel the sunshine coming through the window, and just take joy in the moment.
And for goodness sake, don't take up with those women who howl at the moon. That will make your voice sound like you've been on a steady diet of Southern Comfort and Camel unfiltereds. just saying.
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