January/February 2009
Being a first-time retreater in a depressive funk that I hadn’t been able to shake, I was poised to regret spending a hunk of cash I didn’t really have on a yoga retreat. Why pay extra to practice yoga with 30 strangers, when I already pay to practice every day at a studio at home? I’d signed up for Thomas Fortel’s Midwest yoga retreat because a teacher and friend of mine couldn’t say enough good things about it. When we arrived in the small rural town of Selma, Indiana, I hoped the retreat would prove her right.
The unseasonably warm weather and woodsy smell of the crisp incoming fall welcomed the 30 participants and me. We settled into old eclectic farmhouses separated by gardens, trees and fields throughout the Oakwood Retreat Center. It was nice to walk through gardens with only a light jacket as the sun turned the fields orange and dusk came. But I was barely keeping it together. On Friday evening we gathered in the main building, spreading our yoga mats in a circle. Thomas led a restorative yoga practice with lots of bends and twists. I focused my attention on the poses, noticing Thomas’ manner of instruction: energetic and informative, emphasizing the breath, utilizing the Sanskrit and English translations and clarifying the internal skeletal and muscular structures affected by each pose. Avoiding my emotions, I felt refreshed after the practice, but my depression seeped back in shortly.Dinner was served, all fresh, local, organic vegetarian food that inspired me to become a bit more creative with my own veggie diet. I kept to myself, smiling and nodding to be polite, skeptically absorbing the initial awkward conversation that strangers make when they know they may very well not see each other again after three days.
We met again after dinner. We sat cross-legged in a large circle; Thomas asked that each of us introduce ourselves and explain what brought us to retreat. I nearly rolled my eyes. Great, I thought, I get to tell everybody I’m Jessie and I have an anxiety disorder with depression, plus no motivation to pursue a career even if I knew what career I wanted to pursue. ’Cause that always makes me feel better.
To my surprise, people weren’t just giving a laundry list of their issues. Almost immediately, I felt closer to the people I had considered strangers. Each had something to say that rang true in every other one of us. One woman, a mother and nurse, mentioned rarely ever doing anything for herself. Another, now healthily pregnant, spoke of the difference she felt since the last retreat when she’d just found out she’d miscarried. Many people had been coming to Thomas’ retreat since it started in 1998, and others, like me, were there for the first time. The connection that grew from that circle extended through the rest of the weekend. I felt softened.
After the circle, a woman approached me and asked about my writing. Why would she care? I became defensive; she’s never going to see me again. I told her my writing wasn’t coming easily, and that having graduated last May, I was still clueless as to what I wanted to do with my life. She looked so concerned, showed such empathy, that I nearly started crying. I tried to smile and excused myself to go on a walk alone.
Through the gardens on that warm night, I walked and thought to myself, I used to be that person. I used to care for strangers. My smiles used to be real instead of a cover for confusing emotions. It used to be genuine. What happened to me? I fell asleep wondering if I’d ever get out of my funk.
At seven in the morning, we practiced pranayama and meditation. I was eager to relax into it, as I’d never had a positive experience in prolonged meditation before. Thomas’ words, guiding us to maintain a “single pointed focus,” proved to be the key. After sitting still for so long, bringing my drifting awareness back to the breath again and again, I promised myself I’d practice meditation every day from then on. I didn’t realize it then, but it was a step in taking control of the direction of my life again.
Breakfast was delicious, followed by an active asana practice. During the postures, I felt a drawing inward of my focus, as well as an expansive awareness of the others in the room. The “Group Field,” as Thomas called it, had a strong, uplifting energy.
Another interaction with the same woman from the night before truly broke through to me. How could someone I’d never met before know what I needed to hear? After a casual mention of a relationship I was struggling with back home, the words she said made me realize that it needed to end. What my friends had been saying for months, what I had been secretly thinking in the back of my mind, was it that obvious? I could no longer hold it in. I didn’t care that there were other people lingering in the room after dinner, I didn’t care that I became red-faced and weak in public. She took me into her arms and I sobbed.
During the next morning’s asana practice, coming out of shoulder stand, I lay on my back in a pain I’d never fully felt before, and tears came again. The need to let go of what no longer served me and the need to take responsibility for my future were painful, but my asana practice helped to seal my realizations.
Now home from my first retreat, I’ve taken the lessons I learned in that short weekend and applied them to my life. The genuine warmth of a group of strangers helped me to see myself for whom I’d become—and for my potential. In creating a safe place for expression, Thomas taught me that the yoga practice extends beyond the mat, and can be a great catalyst for positive change. I ended the destructive relationship. My practice has deepened. I meditate daily on what direction I will pursue, and have taken action. Sometimes, I learned, the best advice can come from a stranger.
The next Midwest yoga retreat with Thomas Fortel will be held on April 17-19 at the Oakwood Retreat Center in Selma, Indiana. Contact Andreas Weinrich, aweinrich@sbcglobal.net or 812.322.6433 for information.
