Love's experience

I spent last week down in Paradise valley, about an hour and a half away from our house, at ForestEthics' annual staff retreat. Nearly half of the people attending our retreat were new enough that they were not with us a year ago when we gathered on Galiano Island off the coast of British Columbia. One the one hand, it felt strange to share such an intimate thing with unfamiliar people; on the other, I felt amazed that our work has inspired a whole new crop of people.

Despite how much this work is a huge part of me — and others — it carries within it a life force of its own.

Staff photo on Rescue Creek in Yellowstone

Taking it in with Matt

Our annual silkscreen-by-sunset project

If you've ever been to a retreat, you know how intense the days can be, both in content and in coming together as a team. All of which makes the wide-open space of the nights critical. Around the campfire, we had a 'how many _____s does it take to screw in a lightbulb?' joke off, devoured s'mores, (some people for the first time ever,) and howled as a few brave souls stripped down and braved the freezing cold pond.

Cowboy coffee and s'mores station

One evening by the campfire, I sat next to Walter, who flew over from Europe to facilitate our meeting. He's been working with us for a few years now to combine mindfulness with activism, which is easier said than done. Throughout our struggle this year as the Canadian government has targeted us, he's been instrumental in helping our management team stay focused and strategic. He came to our retreat to lead us through meditation techniques, deeply inquiry, and the integration of being fully present with creating strong strategy.

I started my blog nearly a year ago with a quote from Walter, who has pushed me very hard to stop pushing so hard. He's encouraged me to be still, if only for a few minutes, and explore what I'm feeling, thinking, and sensing around me. I'm practicing at being more present. It's not easy and I don't always do it, but I get little tastes of how amazing it feels, and they spur me on.

Under the black sky with what seemed like every star lit up, the mountains just beyond us and the warm orange of the fire lighting our faces, Walter leaned over and said, "now, you know what you feel. You know you feel love, you're experiencing love. But eventually, you'll realize that it's really love that's experiencing life through you."

I've been chewing on that head-trip of a notion ever since.

This morning, I awoke to the bright solstice sun casting dappled shadows through the weeping birch outside our window. I felt rested and warm, lingered in the transition from sleep to wakefulness, and slowly remembered it was my birthday. I thought about how life came into me, and that life will leave me. It's much bigger than me, and that feels good. Just like love.