As I slipped into the warm water, I felt that this would be the place I would die. Buoyed by the life vest and tucking my legs close to my body, I figured it wouldn’t be the worst place to go – The Homestead Caldera, otherwise known as ‘The Crater’ in Midway, Utah is peaceful and pretty and if you can manage your aquaphobia, spiritual. Or so I’ve heard.
I floated over to the wall and stayed there.
I moved as little as possible, so as not to draw attention to myself with splashing.
I studied how the light sparkled on the limestone formations.
I inhaled the heavy, humid air.
Swimming in The Crater was to be the culmination of everything we had learned at the Bloom Retreat. We would enter the pool cradling our hurts, our burdens heavy on our shoulders, and then, as we floated in the tranquil water, we would shed our cares and our griefs and they would fall away into the depths. We would come forth renewed. Born again into new selves. Aware, ready to move forward into a reality manifested by our own newly realized powers.
I was only just beginning to grasp at the idea.
When I first arrived at the retreat, located at a gorgeously renovated farm house in Heber, Utah, I didn’t really know what to expect. I had come to “get unstuck,” a phrase from the short film advertisement that had resonated with me. During a period of spiritual convalescence after months of intense depression (a common cycle for me), I realized that I had felt stuck for the last twenty years. Traumas I had experienced were still weighing on my psyche. I was sad. I was anxious. And I was tired of feeling that way. Just when I decided I wanted to do something about it, Bloom came along.
The first night after a glorious Paleo meal, Sariah took us through a session of moving yoga. Mental illness has taken a physical toll on me, but I had already decided to engage in this experience with an open mind and heart, so I participated with everything I had. I was in tears within the first ten minutes. I knew that the emotions coming to the surface didn’t really have anything to do with the activity. They were things I had been burying. The yoga was putting me back in my body and the breathing was keeping me there. I determined to feel everything. To be honest with myself.
In the morning, there was more moving yoga, and a new type of yoga of which I had never heard: Naam. There were arm movements and singing and meditation. Breathing was emphasized. A pure, cleansing, powerful sort of breathing. It was a whirlwind of practice in self-awareness, appreciation, and listening to my body.
Art therapy had us painting in an exercise to use our past hurts to inform the landscape of our futures, but not to let those traumas rule our lives anymore. More yoga. (More tears.) More clean food. More music. A discussion on shame resilience. Journaling. And always the reminder to breathe.
I could feel myself opening up. Beginning to change. Beginning to move. I could feel the pain shifting. Leaving. Or transforming. My voice was coming back. My lungs were unfurling. I realized my body was strong. It had carried me through horrible things. Protected me and nurtured me. It deserved my love and my loyalty.
I saw beautiful connections made, as the women around me spoke their truths and shared their stories. I was witness to great towering grief and perfect raw vulnerability. I saw real courage and real strength and realized that I had both as well.
But I still had to swim.
I found out that we would be having a day of silence, when we pondered what we had learned and experienced, to be concluded after dinner following an hour floating in The Crater. Initially, I told the group I wouldn’t join them. But I let them convince me that the beautiful experience would surpass my fear of water.
As I sat self-consciously curled and bobbing in the water, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t get devoured by some creature, I willed myself to feel the anxiety fall away. To sink into the earth and leave me cleansed.
It didn’t.
It felt like a failure.
But I stayed in the water until the time was up. I climbed unhurt from the pool. I waited in the frigid cave tunnel until a changing stall opened up and I stripped off my wet clothing. Usually, undressing in a public place, especially surrounded by strange men, would cause extreme emotional discomfort. But something had changed.
An icy wind blew through the tunnel, raising goose bumps on my flesh. I caught myself breathing deeply. I wasn’t in a hurry to dress. I felt no shame about my body. There was a strange elation. Was it because I escaped death?
There was more to it.
I was invited to do something terrifying. And I said yes. I wasn’t just swept into a situation over which I relinquished control. I jumped in with both feet. I made it happen.
I felt my fear.
I breathed.
I noticed the knot in my stomach. The weightlessness of my arms and legs. The steam rising from the surface. The voices of the scuba diving class. The shafts of light playing across the water.
I breathed.
I felt the beginnings of a panic attack.
I breathed.
I looked fear in the face and I stepped forward. I moved into a space of discomfort and uncertainty, and I practiced what I had learned.
At first, I was a little jealous that everyone could leave The Crater feeling peaceful and spiritually renewed – changed women.
But when I left the water, I too was changed.
I finally understood that I’m brave.
I’m a fighter.
I have survived hard things.
Life doesn’t just have to happen to me. I can make things happen.
I am a courage warrior.
That’s what I learned at Bloom.
HACKED BY SudoX — HACK A NICE DAY.