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<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\nPerched on the ocean’s edge, the energy is palpable – invigoratingly serene. The mountainous backdrop pulses with gentle, powerful vibrations. The raw beauty and location on ancestral grounds of the Esselen Indians, creates a sacred space and one welcome to transformation. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are multiple workshops\/seminars\/retreats happening in any given week. My workshop combines meditation with writing. Eastern philosophy teaches ‘mindful<\/em>ness’ yet during our meditations, we tap into ‘mindless<\/em>ness’, with the intention of revisiting that state to creatively write anew. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Esalen is also known for its natural hot springs. There’s no devices or photography allowed in that area to encourage all-gender, inhibition-free, nude bathing. I am at ease walking around butt (buck?) naked. (Joanna remembers this from college days;) There is no ogling or wanton looks. It is Unabashed Freedom! Open twenty-four hours to guests, many make the trek downhill to the baths after dark. The stars are indefinably glorious; they cover the entire sky. The Milky Way steals the show. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Cell service is limited and there’s no wifi during mealtimes – to maintain a communal, engaging atmosphere. Every person I encounter is open-minded, intelligent, a seeker – with riveting stories. I adore intellectual hippies. Only a few days together and we’ve become a tribe. I even remember some names.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcia from Minneapolis urges me to get a massage. She’s been coming to Esalen for twenty years and said the experience is phenomenal. To elaborate, she shares a tidbit: The previous year she encouraged a woman from the UK, Natalie, to experience an Esalen massage, which she did. Afterwards, Marcia asked Natalie for her thoughts. With her brilliant British accent she replied, “Bloody hell, Marcia. It was just shy of a fuck!” If I return, I’m booking a massage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the last morning, a Soul Movement class is offered in a light-filled room with high ceilings and a natural wood floor. Before the dance, we sit in a large circle. Our guide sits next to me and begins to read a poem by John O’ Donahue from his book, “To Bless the Space Between Us.” Without warning, tears launch a sneak attack to stream steadily down my face, while my lips quiver. I can’t seem to stop. Thankfully, she ends with a comment that gets us all to giggling. We stand to move, to dance, to inner and outer rhythms. As I sway, a kind soul approaches unexpectedly, “Do you want a hug?” I don’t think I need one but I gracefully accept. Onelove and Gratitude in action.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Before departure, classmates share that the week fostered transformation. Mary from LA adds, “Every moment can be transformative. Drinking my water is transforming.” She takes a sip. I think of all the cells that are transformed and nourished by being hydrated. She’s right on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/a>