I spent the last two weeks in the Taos Ski Valley helping my friend L cook for the Grof Transpersonal Training retreat. GTT is a program for studying and experiencing Holotropic Breathwork. The first week we cooked three meals a day for thirty-one people. The second week we fed eighteen.
The days went like this - wake up a few minutes before my 5am alarm, stumble down the hall to the kitchen, stare at the wall while the coffee brewed, back in the kitchen at 6:30, make breakfast, clean up breakfast, make lunch, clean up lunch, make dinner, clean up dinner, close down the kitchen between 8 and 9 after sweeping and mopping the floor. Whew.
I have a renewed sense of gratitude for how amazing my body is. It's an incredible vehicle. My middle aged body did a miraculous job of accommodating fourteen hours a day of physical labor and being on my feet. Lots of strained muscles and little aches....much gratitude for arnica and ibuprofen. Each night as I slept my body regenerated. I woke up physically tired, but my feet no longer hurt and I was ready to go another round.
It was two weeks immersed in the simplicity of the present moment. Chop garlic, chop other veggies, make salad, cut fruit, wash pots, wash dishes. Hands and body in motion, mind free.
One night during the first week I came back to my room thinking about people whose lives consist of working so hard every day they have little time or energy for anything else. I'm grateful that's not what I do regularly. I missed my creativity; having the time to write and draw.
Many people who work like this every day do so in a tough environment where they are underpaid, under appreciated and largely invisible. Although L was the boss, she was very unboss like. We worked as a team. I was well paid for what I did.
The attendees thanked us after every meal. One evening two young men thanked me for doing the dishes when they brought their plates back after dinner. L was generous in thanking me daily for the work I'd done. The "thank yous" were precious and made all our work worth it.
Even though I knew the participants were grateful for our meals, every couple days my ego tried to convince me that I was invisible and needed to do something so these people knew I was more than a dishwasher. Hah.
One evening during dinner a man came into the kitchen for seconds. As I filled his plate he told me that how food is made and who makes it is more important than the food itself. I responded telling me that L was conscious in planning meals around what the participants were doing that day, what food would be more grounding, etc.
He smiled, shook his head and said, "No, it has nothing to do with intention. You have a pure heart. That can't be faked." I had tears in my eyes as he left the kitchen.
After the last meal many of the attendees came into the kitchen to hug me and thank me for my service. Major case of warm fuzzies! A couple lingered to thank me for my presence and supportive energy. In midst of my ego's yelping, I'd forgotten that who I am comes through whether I'm working with a client or up to my elbows in dishes. What I do, no matter how mundane, can be an expression of who I am.
Most days L and I sat down for a few minutes at breakfast and lunch to eat with the attendees. We usually sat the front table, where the facilitators sat. On the last morning one of the attendees sat down next to me saying she'd decided to sit at the "important table" this morning.
I was puzzled. It took me a minute to register that it was the "important table" because that's where the facilitators usually sat. While my ego mumbled about being unimportant, I was eating twice a day at the "important table." To me it was just the table closest to the kitchen which made it easy to see if we were running out of salad or get up if someone needed something.
All of this was perfect launch for a new adventure. I leave Friday to spend six weeks in Joshua Tree, California helping a couple friends. This is good introvert challenge. Go to a brand new place where I only two people for several weeks. I've been in Taos for fourteen years and I still love it. Part of my comfort here comes from knowing the territory and having people here know me. I'm leaving all that behind for awhile. I'm excited to be embarking on a adventure and feeling a bit of anxiety about everything being new.
I'm grateful to be taking the reminder that I who I am, no matter what I happen to be doing in the moment, with me. I can trust that strength when I'm exploring the desert, checking out new coffee shops and meeting new people. Next week, first blog post from the desert...
The days went like this - wake up a few minutes before my 5am alarm, stumble down the hall to the kitchen, stare at the wall while the coffee brewed, back in the kitchen at 6:30, make breakfast, clean up breakfast, make lunch, clean up lunch, make dinner, clean up dinner, close down the kitchen between 8 and 9 after sweeping and mopping the floor. Whew.
I have a renewed sense of gratitude for how amazing my body is. It's an incredible vehicle. My middle aged body did a miraculous job of accommodating fourteen hours a day of physical labor and being on my feet. Lots of strained muscles and little aches....much gratitude for arnica and ibuprofen. Each night as I slept my body regenerated. I woke up physically tired, but my feet no longer hurt and I was ready to go another round.
It was two weeks immersed in the simplicity of the present moment. Chop garlic, chop other veggies, make salad, cut fruit, wash pots, wash dishes. Hands and body in motion, mind free.
One night during the first week I came back to my room thinking about people whose lives consist of working so hard every day they have little time or energy for anything else. I'm grateful that's not what I do regularly. I missed my creativity; having the time to write and draw.
Many people who work like this every day do so in a tough environment where they are underpaid, under appreciated and largely invisible. Although L was the boss, she was very unboss like. We worked as a team. I was well paid for what I did.
The attendees thanked us after every meal. One evening two young men thanked me for doing the dishes when they brought their plates back after dinner. L was generous in thanking me daily for the work I'd done. The "thank yous" were precious and made all our work worth it.
Even though I knew the participants were grateful for our meals, every couple days my ego tried to convince me that I was invisible and needed to do something so these people knew I was more than a dishwasher. Hah.
One evening during dinner a man came into the kitchen for seconds. As I filled his plate he told me that how food is made and who makes it is more important than the food itself. I responded telling me that L was conscious in planning meals around what the participants were doing that day, what food would be more grounding, etc.
He smiled, shook his head and said, "No, it has nothing to do with intention. You have a pure heart. That can't be faked." I had tears in my eyes as he left the kitchen.
After the last meal many of the attendees came into the kitchen to hug me and thank me for my service. Major case of warm fuzzies! A couple lingered to thank me for my presence and supportive energy. In midst of my ego's yelping, I'd forgotten that who I am comes through whether I'm working with a client or up to my elbows in dishes. What I do, no matter how mundane, can be an expression of who I am.
Most days L and I sat down for a few minutes at breakfast and lunch to eat with the attendees. We usually sat the front table, where the facilitators sat. On the last morning one of the attendees sat down next to me saying she'd decided to sit at the "important table" this morning.
I was puzzled. It took me a minute to register that it was the "important table" because that's where the facilitators usually sat. While my ego mumbled about being unimportant, I was eating twice a day at the "important table." To me it was just the table closest to the kitchen which made it easy to see if we were running out of salad or get up if someone needed something.
All of this was perfect launch for a new adventure. I leave Friday to spend six weeks in Joshua Tree, California helping a couple friends. This is good introvert challenge. Go to a brand new place where I only two people for several weeks. I've been in Taos for fourteen years and I still love it. Part of my comfort here comes from knowing the territory and having people here know me. I'm leaving all that behind for awhile. I'm excited to be embarking on a adventure and feeling a bit of anxiety about everything being new.
I'm grateful to be taking the reminder that I who I am, no matter what I happen to be doing in the moment, with me. I can trust that strength when I'm exploring the desert, checking out new coffee shops and meeting new people. Next week, first blog post from the desert...
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| Chocolate covered strawberries, dessert for the last night's dinner. (Photo by Lenore Reinhart) |
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