Why a Waves to Wisdom Retreat?

purpose (n.)

c. 1300, “intention, aim, goal,” from Anglo-French purpos, Old French porpos “aim, intention” (12c.), from porposer “to put forth,” from por- “forth” (from Latin pro- “forth;” see pur-) + Old French poser”to put, place” (see pose (v.1)). On purpose “by design” is attested from 1580s; earlier of purpose (early 15c.).

clarity (n.)

c. 1300, clarte, clerte “brightness, radiance; glory, splendor,” from Old French clerte, clartet (Modern French clarté) “clarity, brightness,” from Latin claritas “brightness, splendor,” also, of sounds, “clearness;” clarare “make clear,” from clarus “clear”

From etymonline.

“What is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

If you already know this line (and the Mary Oliver poem that ends with it), when did you learn it?If you don’t know it, it’s copied at the bottom of the page. Read it (preferably several times) when you’re through with the post— you won’t be sorry.

For me, that question, instead of demanding an answer, cleared a lot of automatic junk answers out of the way. The poem left me with a new view, informed by vastness, as well new dimension of understanding about attention to the particular. The full-bodied sensing and responding to ephemeral minutiae that began with (but didn’t stay limited to) my longtime photographic practice was, or at least could be, sacred.

But this alteration in vision didn’t happen immediately. This is a question to be lived, to embody, not just to answer. I encountered this poem in the late 1990s. Where were you then? Oliver’s poem gave me language that, with silent repetition, let through a sort of light that left everyday choices looking different, altered, more abundant, and less prosaic. It gave me a kind of faith to take on a designer’s role in my own life to keep asking the question of myself, my choices, and most of all, the consequences of those choices. Then, when necessary, course corrections where just revised, renewed, perhaps wiser ways of asking the question.

But, as I said, this was in the 90s. I was living in a world where you still chatted with the person in line behind you with your mouth, not your thumbs. You went home from work and didn’t mindlessly keep tabs on what people at work were emailing, posting, doing, not doing. Maybe you took your book to bed but taking your phone to bed was not a thing. There seemed to be more time then. Less to do and more quiet to contemplate the reasons to do the things one did undertake.

It wasn’t a Golden Age but it was a more spacious one. I’m wary of prescriptions and recipes of all sorts but I know this, taking some time from the habitual reactions to the demands of others is a crucial practice for maintaining and accessing creativity, peace, clarity, and purpose. For me, it’s always involved moving my body and letting my mind open— on long bike rides, runs, walks, hikes, swims, yoga sessions, and, lately, surfing. There are a lot of ways to learn to listen to the deep wisdom of your embodied intelligence and the silent, powerful questions and metaphors it’s asking you to consider every day.

I began guiding Waves to Wisdom retreats out of a desire to give you an opportunity to turn off Facebook and email and, for one precious, abundant week, put your own direct, rich experience of the world at the center of your days. It’s intentional time in an exceptional setting with space to reflect on what you are sensing, how it offers new perspectives on your life, and to develop language for these insights. It’s a chance to give voice to dimensions of purpose that might be hiding in plain sight. How do I know this will work for you? I can’t know that but, as you are reading this, I bet you know, even if it (especially if) the prospect sounds a little bit daunting, or downright scary.

We use beginner surf lessons, yoga, and reflection as ways to for each of us to mindfully inhabit our own bodies, to put our internal editors on mute for just a moment, to experience the unbridled joy of childhood when falling down wasn’t a disaster and practice (whether it was a favorite sport or a beloved instrument or even a favorite video game- Pong, anyone???) was a time for playfully pursuing improvement and not a way to “make perfect.” For the upcoming retreat in Costa Rica in March, we will spend he majority of each day resting, and reflecting. We will explore a bit of the lush, open hearted jungle community of Nosara and spend time in coaching sessions to abundantly nourish the wisdom that emerges from the experiences.

This morning, before writing this post, I called up one of the past Waves to Wisdom participants who, while loving the ocean play, decided she didn’t like surfing so much after all. I wanted to know what she’d learned from the retreat. With no hesitation, she said “clarity and purpose.”

These are, to my 50-something self— exceptionally demanding and often overwhelming times. There is so much wrong, so much at stake, so many ways to act. Time staring at the line where ocean and sky meet has been more important than ever for me to gather the strength to act. and the perspective to figure out, given who I am, what sorts of action make the most sense. In other words, clarity and purpose. At the heart of my purpose is a decades long practice of crafting ways to guide you into a deeper connection with yours.

If you come on a Waves to Wisdom retreat, you will play in some waves and, more importantly, you will take some time to stare at trees, watch the monkeys and iguanas, write some lines to yourself or make some photographs to help you guide your attention. This experience is transformative. But what transforms?

For one thing, your words change. As you allow the daily dose of sunrise over the green, enveloping, jungle-covered arms of land that hug Playa Guiones’s gently sloping, sandy beach to work their magic on what you notice, and how you give voice to that attention, as you carry our daily questions through the resting hours of hammock time, and the excitement of exploring Nosara’s bumpy roads and jungle paths, when you’re not even trying to find an important revision to a stubborn case of being stuck, one might just come to you.

You will return home with thoughts transformed by green waves whose water somehow dissolves the artificial barriers between your perceived options and your own purpose. In our world bounded by walls instead of seasons, ocean play is the most direct path I know to access the hidden, embodied intelligence that is likely right there, with you when you fold yourself into a chair or force yourself to the gym after a long day at work, or just collapse into the couch to watch Parenthood… again.

What won’t matter on this retreat is whether you ever stand up on a surfboard, or even decide to take one out with you. All that matters is your capacity to close your laptop, open your heart, get a little wet, and commit to yourself. Oh, and let go and have some fun!