I think it unlikely I'll ever be able to translate into words the many deep, meaningful experiences that occurred at Gather at the River Yoga Retreat at St. Joseph's Abbey. After five days of yoga, I do recall that time stood still and the retreat was over just as quickly as it had begun. It is easy to remember the more surface events that took place, but so much was happening at a level deeper than I am routinely accustomed to, that I cannot readily access that from my everyday conscious mind. I do believe there are deep imprints and absorptions still taking place. I know I have much work to do. I know I feel deeply humbled and so very alive. However, there are those lighter experiences which I hope to put into words so I can revisit them and remember what a profound, extraordinary experience I had, so here goes and I hold no hope that I will succeed:K was asked to demonstrate ardha chandrasana because Patricia had noticed how correct alignment was not being achieved by many of us. K was surrounded by the entire group and from trikonasana began moving into ardha chandrasana. It was quite a struggle, she lost balance, she fell out of the pose many times before she came close to achieving the pose, yet her face remained calm while her body struggled. Her hands were shaking. I found it quite painful to watch because I could see myself reflected in all her actions. I had tremendous admiration for her perseverance as her achievement of the asana came slowly. It seemed clear to me that what was far more important than achieving perfection in the asana was the steadfastness to keep at it, and keep at it calmly, and keep at it she did with extraordinary patience and calm. Patricia told us that tall people had much difficulty with this pose. We were instructed to return to our mat and move into the pose. I went up into the pose with a lightness and balance I have never before experienced, and I stayed and stayed and felt I could stay forever although I'm sure it was only seconds. The same thing happened on the other leg. I was beyond astonished. How could I do this with such ease and for me, seeming perfection? Something deep inside exploded in the region of my heart and the tears came flowing out. I wanted to stay with this, but the class was moving onward. I wanted to leave the room and process this, but I needed to also move onward and beyond this powerful experience erupting from deep within. I motioned to Theresa to please bring me some tissues to take care of the fluid flowing out of my nose and 10 minutes later I had fully "recovered", knowing I would return to those feelings later, again and again. When we have those moments when we realize we have a vastness within us beyond full understanding, all contained within this embodiment surrounded by this single organ known as the skin, a vastness rarely glimpsed (by me, that is), we want to just sit and stay with it. What I need to learn is that just maybe I can go there through a far more disciplined pranayama and meditation practice than I currently have going.
During our first daily afternoon circle which began forming before I had an inkling as to what we were doing, I found I was the odd man out with nowhere to go and sit as the circle rapidly formed and closed. When Patricia motioned to me to come sit in the space immediately next to her, I must admit that I was both delighted and puzzled. Just maybe she kind of, sort of, liked me. Maybe not. I don't know (yes I do). We read out loud from the Tree of Life by Iyengar, beginning with the person to Patricia's left and moving clockwise. I quickly realized it was highly unlikely I would get to read because we were asked to take the same position every day, and I would be the very last to read. I was both relieved and disappointed. I wanted the opportunity to read, it would be an easy way to participate as I would merely be a medium for the words on the page. Gotta find that beginning. Much later, when we were gathered around Patricia she decided to find a passage from Light on Pranayama. She asked for a volunteer and the response was total silence. I was thinking how much I would enjoy reading but I was frozen in silence. She looked at me and said "okay" and handed me the book. Such phenomena occurred often at the retreat. It was magical, mystical, ecstatic, tense, hard, scary, and a whole slew of other feelings and thoughts that compel us to move towards inner growth and healing. 
Many years ago (1991) when my partner and I were taking a driving tour of the south, I froze with fear when I saw the bridge crossing the Mississippi river into Baton Rouge come into sight. It looked massive and foreboding. I stopped the car in the middle of the road and declared "I cannot drive across this bridge". Cars were honking and angrily moving past our stopped car. I was shaking, my palms were perspiring, my heart racing, I felt faint and sick. My partner took over driving and I begged that he not exceed 20 mph. I held on for dear life, thinking that a breath of wind was going to send us flying over the bridge, into the depths of darkness, into the unknown, into death. It was a full-blown panic. On this trip to the Abbey as we approached this very same bridge I told this story to Eric, and continued to drive across the bridge with complete calm. It was an easy crossing, and there was no small amount of rejoicing and gratitude going on inside of me. Here they come again as I write, those tears of joy, of sorrow, of empathy, of gratitude, of recognition of the vastness within me, within you, within each and every one of us, the limitlessness of moving onward into the light and into the darkness.
