s we arrived, winding down the bumpy roads into the belly of the valley, I felt a familiar pull. Transformation has a pattern, like the Celtic labyrinths of our long-forgotten past, we first need to crawl towards our center, stripping ourselves of our worldly weights as well go, until all that’s left is our core.
Five years into my fifth 7-year cycle and I had become stuck, and I had a soft knowledge that this retreat would be one of the few chances I'd have to be guided out of my self-induced muck.
I needed space from reality. In my rejection of self-serving spirituality, I had tipped myself in the other direction, sliding so far from my center that I had spent the past two years with the world's weight on my heart and in my head; steeped into a bitter state of solastalgia. Though I’d swiftly erected support beams within me to buttress my burdens, they only served as a reminder of how unbalanced I’d become, and I yet to find the strength to remove them on my own.Read More