Discovering the inner river of peace 🕊️

Dear Rising in Love readers, two weekends ago, I was facilitating a writing retreat at a sauna in the woods.

Before sweating in the sauna together, our group had written about what we wanted to release. One woman had wanted to let go of anger; another, fear and anxiety. One wrote of her desire to transcend the cycle of blame.

To help with these releases, I’d taught our circle the practice of “emptying our cup” by feeling our emotions fully: breathing into whatever emotion arose in the sauna, breathing out acceptance of that feeling.

We’d had a wonderful, peaceful day in that sauna in the woods. So peaceful, we’d entered a timeless space, and it seemed that only minutes had passed when our 3 hours were up. We all had marveled about how present we felt.

So after the participants had gone, it had come as quite a shock when I found out that a man had been brutally beaten and shot by ICE agents in Minneapolis.

After our blissful sauna experience, I did not want to hear this news. I did not want it to be true. My heart — so open minutes before — suddenly closed with the shock of it. I could feel every part of me wanting to flee, to get away from this news and the tumult of feelings it was eliciting.

So I took my own medicine: I breathed into my feelings, breathed out acceptance. I didn’t judge myself for my less-than-Buddhalike response. I didn’t try to change how I was feeling. I just breathed into all of it — the horror, the anger, the close-heartedness, the resistance — breathing out acceptance that I was feeling those things.

After a few rounds of breath, I began to sense a change within, a growing spaciousness that allowed more capacity for acceptance. Now I felt able to breathe and feel for not just me, but for all who had heard this news and who were experiencing anger, shock and grief. Rather than feel overwhelmed, I could now feel compassion for it all.

Buoyed by the expansiveness of that compassion, I stayed with my breath, allowing it to guide me, until — quietly and unexpectedly — I found myself floating in a river of peace. It felt like a core part of me that I’d long ago forgotten.

In a beautiful synchronicity, dharma talks from the Buddhist monks doing a Walk for Peace across the southern US started showing up in my social feed, their counsel echoing my own experience in simple profundity:

In these talks — occurring at the community centers, churches and schools hosting them on their journey — the monks have been teaching the world the basics of Vipassanā meditation:

1. Focus on the breath.

2. Feel whatever arises without judgment.

3. When thoughts appear, use the mind to label them “thinking”, then let them go.

4. Do this as often as you can throughout the day — especially when you’re feeling triggered.

This practice can help us find — and stay in — wellspring of peace within us. No matter what life throws at us, we can preside in this place of inner peace.

And the breath is where it begins.

To access that river of peace within, we will be breathing, feeling and writing in all of this month’s Writing in Nature offerings.

Thursday 2/19 from 6-8pm in Quilcene

February is a potent time for creative endeavors: the darkest days now over, the light is noticeably returning and our intentions for the new year have been set. In the liminal space of Midwinter, poised on the threshold of the first Spring stirrings, it is time to plant the seeds of our sacred visions so they can germinate in the fertile ground. Join us as we sow these seeds with our writing, communing with fire, river and stars at a cozy cabin on the Little Quilcene river. There will snacks, tea, laughter and depth as we explore the space in-between with a wonderful group of women.

COST & REGISTRATION:
$5 for Writing in Nature Members | $25 for non-members, REGISTER HERE

Monday 2/16 from 12-4pm in Port Angeles

A year or so ago, I was on a meander in the Port Angeles area, driving down unknown roads in pursuit of something wondrous. After many a twist and turn on a particularly windy road, I found myself at a small pullout with a walking path that wound its way around a beautiful pond (beaver-made, a sign said) and down to a glorious confluence of beach, tidal river and ocean, with mountain views as far as the eye could see. When I brought a group here later in the summer, the sun was so luminous, we felt we’d stepped through a portal to the higher realms. While the weather in February may be slightly chillier than the summer sun, the expansive views and hidden paths still promise many a wonder to the heart-led wanderer.

COST & REGISTRATION:
$5 for Writing in Nature Members | $50 for non-members, REGISTER HERE

Sunday 2/22 from 11am-3pm in Brinnon

Dosewallips, what most do I love about thee? Thy ancient road, now grown over and transformed into a perfect wide trail (made more interesting by the occasional washout)...? Thy towering moss-covered trees that bend beguilingly over the light-filled path…? Or the glory of thine river in the winter, high waters swirling and flowing in the most tantalizing of ways…? Alas, I cannot choose, for you are all these things and more!

On this most auspicious day of purpose and partnership (2-22), come join us for a late winter / early spring stroll under the gaze of those moss-covered trees as we explore the secret writing spots along this beautiful, loving river. Held by the Dosewallips’ nurturing embrace, we will write love letters to our future selves as well as the nature beings surrounding us.

COST & REGISTRATION:
$5 for Writing in Nature Members | $50 for non-members, REGISTER HERE

In closing, remember dear friends: today will be our peaceful day. And it starts with breathing and feeling.

With gratitude,
Carrie and the Nature Beings