I didn't know I needed this
On Living: A journey into the Self through writing + community at the Lume Retreat
It is one of those days when the sky is gray, and the fog sits low in the mountains. I have no idea what time it is because the landscape looks like a perpetual morning. I am at my desk looking out at the black walnut tree like I always do when I am meant to be writing. The branches are dripping with rain, and I know if I just look long enough, I’ll see the hawk that cocks her head at me when she notices me watching her. The blank page pulls me back, the cursor blinking.Â
I’ve been trying to write about our first writing and wellness retreat in the Blue Ridge Mountains for a week now, and yet, I don’t know what to say, or maybe really what it is, is that I don’t know how to say it. I’d hoped the words would pour out of me, and maybe they would if I let them, but how do you write about an experience that changed your life and truly get to the center of it? I feel as if I’m still floating from it all, and time is pushing forward, dragging me along, and all I want is to lock myself alone in a room for three days to sit with this new person that I’ve become. This person that the Lume retreat has unearthed. This person I’ve always wanted to be and now, somehow am. But I don’t have three days of solitude, so I will write myself into myself, into the center, which is the only way I know how to get to the truth.Â
I ask myself, what do you want to say?Â
I want to tell you that I knew it was going to be special, but I didn’t realize the depth of which it would change me. I’ve never in my life held space for myself in this way. I didn’t believe that I could do it—speak the words that are on my heart and inspire others to do the same. It’s one thing to write into the broken places alone to unearth the truths about myself and another to speak those truths out loud in a room full of women who are just as scared and brave as I am. It’s still a wonder to me how two seemingly opposing things can be true at once, and yet, it keeps happening, and I find comfort in that knowing.Â
I’ve never held space for so many women all at the same time. I wondered, would I be able to show up for them in a way that makes them feel seen and heard and valued? Would I remember everyone’s names? Would I have enough energy for this much presence? I thought I would need to find time to rest and to meditate and to call my son to ground me, and I’m sure my heart would’ve welcomed that, but it was not something I ended up needing. As I gave all of myself to each conversation, every story, the ritual of writing and reflection, and being wholly present in the experience of the interconnectedness of women on a soul level, I was filled and fueled time and time again. Hell, I was beaming. It was as if I unlocked a portal into a life force of energy that both nourished and sustained me. My heart was cracked open, and the whole sky dropped in, and I can tell you that I am not the only one who felt this.
I crafted my writing prompts to help us drop into the subconscious and discover what is truly there, creating a tone and vibration by sharing the entirety of myself—the broken parts and the healed—so that others would feel safe and comfortable tapping into an emotional space that they might have been too afraid to access on their own. I wanted to be both grounding and opening, giving them the emotional security to feel, to take up space, to be soothed, and to shake themselves loose. I wanted us to feel like the creators we are—the creators of words, of peace, of own own life.
This was about healing, but it was also about creativity because, for me, they are one and the same. The creative process has always been my path to healing. I know no other way, and I’m so grateful I was able to connect with women in this way. It’s truly profound what writing can do—how it can meet us where we are and take us through to the other side of our becoming. It can heal, hold, and change us. It’s amazing what can happen when we make space for ourselves—to listen, to feel, and to heal the parts of our heart that we often shove into the dark; the parts of ourselves that are fettered to a mountain of responsibilities we never asked for. We showed up, we listened, and we said, we hear you, we see you, and sometimes that is all it takes. This being-with is so much more important than finding an answer, fixing, or figuring out. It’s about staying open, curious, and kind with what we find within ourselves.
I had the immense pleasure of guiding alongside Caz, the creator of the BeMo journal, who was kind enough to partner with us and share herself and her beautiful journals with the women of the retreat. It was an honor to work through the BeMo practice that she created and watch the magic of self-healing take shape in each and every heart that was open to it, including my own. I uncovered some buried needs using BeMo’s Needs Wheel and found my way to a deep inner-knowing through the practice. This journal is truly a gift that I will cherish forever—a powerful reminder of the time we spent together and a healing space I can come back to. I will fill its pages and then order one in every color (there are 10 colors to choose from!) and order one for all my friends because every writer needs this. Every woman needs this. Every human who is in conversation with themselves needs this. Get 20% off when you use the code LUME at checkout.
We—15 women—started the weekend as strangers and left with blooming friendships that I swear have already changed my life. Together, we emptied ourselves of grief and pain and every single thing that wasn’t serving us and hasn’t been serving us for so long, and in that emptying, we made space for who we truly are. The magnetic, daring, true selves that were buried under heartache, limiting beliefs, and the distracting everyday tasks and obligations that keep us small and sad and quiet. We shed and we shook and we sobbed, and goddamn it felt good to cry. And I don’t mean crying in the bathroom with the door shut, wet-faced on the cold tile floor, alone—which is the only kind of crying I’ve ever known how to do—but crying in the safe, compassionate company of women who know what it feels like to swallow a boulder of grief and still have to breathe and smile and take care of your family. I truly have never felt so seen and supported. We gave and we shared, and somehow, we left feeling lighter and fuller at the same time—lighter in the ways that make us ache and hide and hurt; fuller in the ways that make us stand in the power that we had all along.
None of this is easy, and all of it matters, and this is what Lume is—a time and place to hear and hold ourselves and other women in compassion and acceptance. A place of being. A place to step into your own becoming.Â
When I opened my new BeMo journal, this is one of the things I found that I wrote during the retreat…Â
I’m growing so fast in the direction of my dreams and my most daring, magnetic self that there are days when I don’t recognize myself. What a gift it is to meet yourself over and over again and love who you’re becoming.Â
Trust me when I say, you will not leave unchanged.Â
Are you ready to meet yourself? Early bird sign-up for our summer retreat is open now! Get $100 off when you reserve your spot by March 15. We’d love to have you.
