My time at the Ranch felt life changing. The overall experience, connections made and lessons for everyday living truly surpassed my expectations. But before I elaborate, some sad news. 

James' brother Ian passed away a week ago today. He was 59. In case you didn’t know, James is one of five siblings and Ian is the middle child so to speak. He had a sizable mass on his brain that had been impacting his short term memory. This was known for weeks not months. The surgeons removed the mass successfully but a few days later he suffered from an unexpected bleed and passed away. To say this loss came as a shock to the Walker family - who are still grieving Alan’s death - is an understatement. 

Some of you have asked how to help. It is honestly so impossibly hard to answer that question. I wish deeply that James could get a break from bad news, that there could be a little reprieve in the hard events he’s had to face these past couple of years, and that some kind of Hogwarts magic could deliver something deeply positive and uplifting, but alas, Harry Potter is but fiction and life does not work that way. 

Once again, we are reminded that we very rarely have control over when people pass and how. It’s a blindingly obvious statement and yet we are often completely caught off guard when it happens. I can only imagine that losing a sibling must be one of the deepest losses of them all. Next weekend James is in Bend with friends and the weekend after that I’m taking him to Indian Springs to lay in a hot pool, sleep in and escape the responsibilities of parenting before he crosses the Atlantic for the funeral. He’s also been idly playing the opening lines of “She’s a Rainbow” on Maeve’s toy piano recently, so maybe an upgrade is in order soon. 

It is damn strange to have a tragic loss followed by a happy event but in the same week Margot turned six, lost her first tooth and danced in a shower of silver and gold confetti with a handful of her closest friends. The pure joy and excitement exuded from a kiddo celebrating a turn around the sun is one of life’s best delights, dare I say even, medicinal and healing. Again I am reminded of the thing they never taught us in school - that it’s possible to hold opposing feelings at the same time. Sadness and joy, gratitude alongside resentment, laughter over underlying pain. [Side note: I highly recommend Deborah Marcero’s book Out of a Jar  for reinforcing this with small kids].  

I know I’ve already said my thank yous but I’m going to say them here again. THANK YOU so much to everyone (especially Christine and Debbe) who helped me get to Rancho La Puerta (aka Rancho). I am extraordinarily grateful to have had a week away at the end of January to reflect, restore and expand an evolving perspective on what really matters in this one beautiful life. Seven days of soothing for body and mind really moved the needle. I knew the trip would be restorative but I’m still in awe of how things came together. Maybe it’s partly the wonder of being a wellness retreat newbie, but I’m pretty sure Rancho has refined a winning mix of fostering community, leading with movement, small but frequent doses of reflection, cleansing nutrition (no meat - hello happy digestive system!) and life lessons packaged up as pleasant surprises. 

I had thought this would be a time of solitude, writing and maybe some art but my experience (by choice) was centered in being active and building community. I love people, their stories and after three months of mostly walking, it felt so fun to be exercising and moving in new ways. 

Set in a lush green landscape that borders onto the majestic mount Kuchumaa, there is no straight path to any destination. Inspired by Japanese gardens, a beautiful vista lies at every turn. Ditching the map, getting lost and discovering new friends, nature and wildlife is all part of the design. Finding my way geographically is my achilles heel so I made peace with the fact that despite good signage, my days would inevitably go sideways. Many times I thought I was going to a class and ended up somewhere different, laughing with someone I just met. I think this is part of the beauty of living and feeling human. Spontaneity has become a rarity in many of our highly planned, overscheduled  lives. How wonderful it is to be carefree for just a minute and have the choice of changing your mind about what you’ll do next on a whim. Of course this is a privilege and a luxury but I couldn’t help but marvel at the things that brightened my day that I didn't know were coming. I think the element of surprise delivers an extra dose of magic and a deeper belief in the powers of the universe. 

Each day the agenda was packed full of choices: TRX fundamentals or swim clinic? Pilates or trampoline class? crystal bowl sound healing or a walk in the Labyrinth? Many sessions weren’t what they seemed (a metaphor for life) teaching you the importance of being flexible and staying open to change. Knitting for wellness turns out to be crocheting with community - a test to go with the flow and try something other than what you expected. Watsu (Japanese water massage) was a special highlight - almost like flying or being reborn as one wise friend said. 

Lectures and seminars followed lunches and dinners. If change is constant then new information and perspective feel essential to help us adapt to new things and feel some agency and balance in this topsy turvy world.

While Camp Weiser (which we went to last Fall) united cancer patients and survivors, Rancho bought together two groups of people. Those who deeply understand how to practice self care and have the means to dedicate a whole week to it and those experiencing one of life’s tough crossroads - be it a chronic illness, a divorce, a death, the end of one career and the start of another. The result was lots of wisdom, insight and interesting life stories. I’ve always gravitated towards the mature and the wise (I consider myself an old soul at heart and a big fan of anyone who can teach me something I didn’t already know.) I met a fast talking, quick witted New Yorker who I liked instantly. We vowed to spend as much time outside as possible before the storm came in, and ended up learning about dinking and kitchens on the Pickleball Court. I found solace in a wise new friend from Seattle who just completed her 12 weeks of Taxol after undergoing a double mastectomy. Both finding our way of being in our new bodies, together we decided to bear our scars with pride in the women’s spa. Lastly I got 'adopted' by a family of four daughters and their mom, coming together to spend quality time. I watched and listened carefully hoping that one day I might be able to take my girls, share some quality time and make lasting memories.

Wi-fi was limited to select communal lounges which meant no screens, no heads tilted down avoiding eye contact  (so many more smiles) and a heightened awareness of our surroundings. I watched Golden Eagles fly overhead while hiding in a hammock slung in between the trees, soaked in warm water with new friends and woke up while scrambling up the mountain during sunrise hikes. Watching the sun come up is a rare wonder for most of us today but it used to be a daily practice and ritual back in the days of yore. It's so hard to start a day  on the wrong foot living this way. I’m working to try and bring this to my everyday life, even if it’s 15 minutes with the dog before the littles wake up. 

One hike was particularly special. It wasn’t advertised as such, but turned out to be a silent meditation hike to a single Oak tree set on the mountain’s ridge. We followed Connie, the group’s leader, moving faster and slower than we wanted to at times but always staying together with steady, paced footsteps. I noticed that if I stopped to take in the view, I sometimes tripped and when the rain came I put my head down and listened to our silent march. We had all the weather, from hail bouncing off our hoods to blindingly bright sun. I had walked the Labyrinth a day earlier, asking questions that I felt were answered on that hike. It’s hard to describe in detail but I came away thinking that choosing fun for fun’s sake and not rushing through my days are essential parts of living. Competitiveness is useful in certain scenarios but it isn’t something to strive for in every moment. 

A meditation that stuck with me explored how limited the conscious mind (or that little voice inside our head) really is as a tool to interpret our new experiences and make meaning of them. Our internal narrator only has one lived experience (ours!) to make sense of the world, and we can all agree that life is so much bigger than what we’ve individually known. Also when we let go of expectations and create space, delightful things can happen. I’ll admit that I’ve historically been a planner to my core, filling the calendar with not just tasks but rest and fun. When it all works out differently (because it always does) I often feel like I failed.

Giving up expectations for fairness, control and expected outcomes can be freeing. I’m not saying it’s easy but I think the sooner we can make peace with that reality the less heavy life becomes and the more we realize the time right in front of us is not to be wasted. Many wise people have long told me to enjoy the process and the journey but isn’t it hard as hell when society places such value on the destination.. 

Many people are familiar with the term mindfulness, simply put the art of doing something and choosing to do it but unpacking this concept was big for me. A lot of the time I walk around tackling whatever is in front of me - picking up dirty socks, moving a stack of breakfast dishes, cleaning up toys, responding to a message. Pretty much everything we do should be done intentionally, even things we don’t want to do but sometimes need to. It’s okay to listen to the voice inside your head and not the feeling in your gut (but only on your own terms and with choice.)

I realized the benefits of spending so much time moving and less time thinking. We know we need to be in our physical bodies and not so much in our heads but I was surprised at what day long movement without car rides and hours of sitting feels like. To my delight, sleeping deeply and bouncing out of bed at 5.30 just sort of happened. 

Returning from a week of deep self care and a highly curated environment is an interesting transition. Stepping off the plane I was floored by the volume of people at the airport, heads down scrolling and tapping on their little devices. Despite feeling sadness about this reality (especially when it comes to the future for my girls) I turned inwards, felt my body and noticed that my feet felt more connected with the ground, my posture more aligned. I want to preserve this because it feels core to living well. 

Lastly, quiet reflection, rest and nothingness, be it in basic savasana (aka corpse pose in yoga)  or alone under a tree is a key final ingredient of the day and critical to balancing all the doing and activity in life. 

So thank you once again to everyone who helped me get to Rancho and set some new intentions and practices that I hope will allow me to sail more gracefully through these sometimes dark days.