Crossing Oceans Within Ourselves

This past weekend, at a beautiful flower farm in Northern California, 14 women sat in a circle, listened to poetry, and wrote what was in our hearts. We shared our writing, and we listened to each other’s words. We did gentle yoga. We shared a meal, and we ate some chocolate—because we all need a little sweetness in our lives.

I’m still trying to find the words to express my profound gratitude for these women. I was moved by everyone’s presence and courage. It was an honor for me and Chrisandra, my retreat partner, to hold the space.

What I most wanted for my writing sisters, and what I most want for you, is to recognize the strength and beauty that you are, right here and now. Sometimes we forget.

One of the poems we wrote to was Mark Nepo’s “Crossing Some Ocean in Myself,” a deeply generous poem that is worth your time—I’ve included it below. Nepo writes about the ocean we cross within ourselves—to become— what? More authentic. More real. What I’m learning is that the journey we take to learn to respect ourselves is one of our most important. It’s also often misunderstood. Sometimes people conflate self-respect and love with self-importance and conceit. They're different.

While we all have more soul cobwebs to clean out, no one gets to this point in our lives without an immense amount of intelligence, courage, and heart. Take this moment to honor all your selves that led you to this day.

Here are just a few pictures from the retreat. Chrisandra knocked us flat with her transcendent paella, her beautiful food presentation and her sublime yoga teaching. I didn’t manage to get a full group shot but here are most of us—check out those smiles and light-filled faces!

Chrisandra and I love working together. It was a joy! We are busy hatching plans for more retreats and will share more on that soon. My Writing Circles are currently full, and New Women’s Writing Circles will begin again in the Fall.

Find moments of joy my friends! We live in difficult times and finding even brief moments of joy is a subversive act—one I highly recommend. 

Love,

Dayna

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"Crossing Some Ocean In Myself" 

Mark Nepo

Half a century, and finally,

what I feel is what I say

and what I say is what I mean.

What I mean is that others,

so used to my gargantuan efforts to be good,

don’t understand my efforts to be real.

They find me coming up short.

I’m simply burning old masks.

And the next step takes me–

I don’t know where–

as it should be–

I don’t know

just that I love who I love.

I listen with my heart.

I struggle with the reflexes of my mind.

I mean, the pains of life are sharper now

but disappear more clearly the way

knives are swallowed by the sea.

And the subtleties of being come on

like waves that cleanse but which,

when dry, cannot be seen.

So much like a gentle animal now,

unsure what I was fighting for,

except to breathe and sing, except

to call out the human names of God

that others have uttered when

thoroughly stripped of their plans.

So much like a love animal now

until the end of any day’s work

is the soft moment

when loving and being loved

are the same.

All year round,

the birds and trees instruct,

make visible the wind

the way reaching without shame

makes visible the love.