It is even quieter now that everyone has left. Though in the silence, the sounds and smells of the farm seem more lustily robust, as if with the group’s departure they can finally let ‘er rip. “This is OUR farm!” they say, “Time for the rest of y'all to go home.”
It is interesting to think that even the vaguest sense of anticipation created by a retreat schedule can be a distraction, how quickly nature turns up the volume when all the agendas are gone. No more lolling about awaiting an activity or considering a next move. Certainly no more sitting about engaged in chit chat or play. More time to listen.
So the sounds have fully taken over, and now there is no one hanging in the hangatorium but me. The zip line to the river that James and Joe built a few days back has been tucked safely away, though at least the drum set and multitude of hammocks still provide familiar comfort.
It was sad to see everyone go but now a new week has begun. Fortunately Natalie is staying too and we are instant partners in crime on the vast farm in this small town. She is considering a longer term position at Equilibrio to apply and continue developing her knowledge of permaculture, which she studied and loves. Another yoga retreat is coming this summer and her tremendous success as the chef this past week had endeared her to Gabriela: noone will ever forget her banana, avocado, cocao and ice smoothie shake, or her cornmeal crusted eggplant parmesan with roasted tomatoes.
So on our first post-retreat afternoon, Natalie and I venture out of Equilibrio’s gates together, beach bound on foot because we cannot take the boat or kayake down the river this time. It is an unexpectedly long long walk, over the bridge and down many kilometers of dusty roads in the hot sun. When we finally arrive, the sun is beginning to set in postcard perfect backdrop to crashing waves. The ocean is more menacing than enticing but we haven’t come to swim anyway - really just air ourselves out in its midst and feel its sands on our toes. We share a Fanta at one of the small family owned restaurants on the beach and begin our walk back.
I am in my room and ready for bed by 9. Country style. Natalie and I had prepared some of her leftover retreat lentil soup stew for dinner complete with one of her signature smoothies for dessert (yes she makes very good company :). Back in my room the sounds are on full volume again beyond the black darkness of my mesh screens. With Natalie a good ways down the road and the now empty casas nearby, I am hyperaware of my solitude on the farm but feel neither lonely or afraid.
It is interesting to think that even the vaguest sense of anticipation created by a retreat schedule can be a distraction, how quickly nature turns up the volume when all the agendas are gone. No more lolling about awaiting an activity or considering a next move. Certainly no more sitting about engaged in chit chat or play. More time to listen.
So the sounds have fully taken over, and now there is no one hanging in the hangatorium but me. The zip line to the river that James and Joe built a few days back has been tucked safely away, though at least the drum set and multitude of hammocks still provide familiar comfort.
It was sad to see everyone go but now a new week has begun. Fortunately Natalie is staying too and we are instant partners in crime on the vast farm in this small town. She is considering a longer term position at Equilibrio to apply and continue developing her knowledge of permaculture, which she studied and loves. Another yoga retreat is coming this summer and her tremendous success as the chef this past week had endeared her to Gabriela: noone will ever forget her banana, avocado, cocao and ice smoothie shake, or her cornmeal crusted eggplant parmesan with roasted tomatoes.
So on our first post-retreat afternoon, Natalie and I venture out of Equilibrio’s gates together, beach bound on foot because we cannot take the boat or kayake down the river this time. It is an unexpectedly long long walk, over the bridge and down many kilometers of dusty roads in the hot sun. When we finally arrive, the sun is beginning to set in postcard perfect backdrop to crashing waves. The ocean is more menacing than enticing but we haven’t come to swim anyway - really just air ourselves out in its midst and feel its sands on our toes. We share a Fanta at one of the small family owned restaurants on the beach and begin our walk back.
I am in my room and ready for bed by 9. Country style. Natalie and I had prepared some of her leftover retreat lentil soup stew for dinner complete with one of her signature smoothies for dessert (yes she makes very good company :). Back in my room the sounds are on full volume again beyond the black darkness of my mesh screens. With Natalie a good ways down the road and the now empty casas nearby, I am hyperaware of my solitude on the farm but feel neither lonely or afraid.
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