Returning to Kripalu after 23 years
I hope you’ll find some insights in these reflections from when I returned to Kripalu after being away for 23 years. It was truly amazing to see the sameness and the newness in this place and in myself.
Returning to Kripalu after 23 years
I hope you’ll find some insights in these reflections from when I returned to Kripalu last month after being away for 23 years. It was truly amazing to see the sameness and the newness in this place and in myself.
The weeping cherry tree still stands outside the east wing dorm window of Shadowbrook. Twenty-five years ago, in the shadow of September 11th, I received the Reiki attunements and slept in that top bunk gazing out that window at that same cherry tree and the lake beyond. One night, my bunkmate and I stood beside our beds marveling at the power of the Reiki 2 empowerment symbol. I still remember the feeling of us tracing and retracing it in the palm of our hands.
Now I walk outside of the dorm and see the cherry tree and dorm room from a new perspective. This place has changed. I have changed . . . in 25 years . . . and yet, we remain the same: living, growing, weeping, blooming, falling, and weeping again.
A large boulder with a flat scoop on the downward slope of the Kripalu lawn is my sit spot. A seat that’s been waiting for me for these 23 years.
A soft breeze keeps my hair off my face and a fully belly is blessed with nourishment; eyes squint as the clouds move and reveal the sun.
Yesterday, a great blue heron rhythmically pumped her wings flying north at sunset.
Today, at noon, in Yoga Dance, I pumped my arms, my wings, like a powerful rhythmic bird — taking flight to my new way of being.
A new way of being with a knowing that I will slip into old ways of being — of being busy, mindless, breathless, apathetic, disembodied, and unfriendly to myself and others.
I will slip back to the dark corners of the closet with the light that will peak out from under the door and I will follow it back to the soft thistle fuzz floating in the air on a clear August day — seen with kind Kripalu eyes and I will take flight again.
150 degrees
knotted wood planks
hot tile
silence
sweat
stillness
sweet transformation
A reflection on a very old tree
The beech tree's bark is peeling
and we say she is beautiful,
mighty, strong
My skin is also peeling,
wrinkling, dimpling, changing
and we say it's wrong.
— Janice
