Mystery

“The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

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I intended to write about mystery this morning. Yesterday I made notes for my writing process, and today as I was looking for a short piece about something that happened to me, I came across a long-form essay about it and voila, here it is!

In August 2012, at the New England Women’s Herbal Conference, women gathered from all over the world for a celebration of authenticity, natural living, and womanly arts. Rosemary Gladstar held an atmosphere of love and peace around the women as they created and participated in the workshops, meals, and entertainment of this annual event held in the great New Hampshire woods.

This atmosphere of acknowledged feminine power was a vibrant presence from the moment I entered the campground on Friday afternoon. I had driven up the mountain after teaching my last yoga class of the week and I was eager to shed my responsibilities and just party with the other divine ladies!

I had brought long swirly brightly patterned skirts to wear over the weekend, and quickly changed into one, donned my favorite bracelets and a necklace and strode around the campground, greeting the other women, some of them friends, and smiling at the thought of what lay ahead for the next couple of days. Each woman I encountered that afternoon seemed rooted in her truth and I wanted the same feeling for myself. My excitement built as I smelled dinner cooking and heard a group of women singing together as they walked across the field arm in arm. I turned away as they drew closer, afraid I was staring and my admiration for their sense of self was too obvious. I wondered how I could be more like them; more free, more expressive, more of what felt like the real me. I remembered that I was once a wild and free child, and it made me long for that joyful sensation again. Where did it go? This thought preoccupied me all weekend. By myself, I wrote in my journal, walked along the lake, visited the vendor’s tent and ate meals in the dining hall. I needed that alone time within a group of women, to assess where I stood on the continuum of a female’s life: From birth, through adolescence, motherhood and beyond. I was deep in thought about myself that weekend.

On Saturday morning I took a workshop about making herbal facials and delighted in my workshop partner’s delicate touch as she tried out our concoction on my suntanned face. I listened to a lecture on herbs for treating Lyme disease, efficiently taking notes so I could share this information with friends. Another 90 minutes was spent putting together herbal teas from a smorgasbord of aromatic herbs laid out in sweet little baskets on the table in front of us. It was delicious and sensual and I loved it all.

Some women had set up their sleeping tents at the far end of the large field in the center of the campground, and as I walked back across the field after visiting a friend there, I was drawn to the vendors’ tent at the near end of the field. Inside the tent, my nose filled with the sweet aroma of fresh herbs, sweetgrass, and leather.

Strolling up and down the aisles, I saw colorful handwoven baskets for gathering herbs; paper packets of fresh oregano, sage and mint; myrtle and ivy topiaries; bamboo flutes, handmade journals, simple earth-colored handmade clothing, and jewelry made of gemstones, silver and bronze. My friend Julie was selling her djembes and CDs next to a booth filled with soaps, lotions and candles, all bursting with the fresh scents of lavender, rose and lemon. I was floating in the sensual party that surrounded me.

At one jewelry booth there were turquoise, citrine, coral and lapis bracelets, dangly beaded earrings, and necklaces made with Tibetan amulets and Goddess pendants, all spread out to fill an entire table. It was like a delectable meal, and I wanted to partake. One bracelet drew my attention: It had huge chalcedony stones set in ornate silver bezels linked together by heavy hand wrought silver beads. As I picked it up to try it on, I noticed its $250 price tag. Too expensive, I thought, but fun to drape over my wrist for a flirty moment. A woman standing beside me brought a smile to my face when she told me it looked wonderful on me. We chatted about how much we loved the conference, and how we look forward to coming every year. After she left, I put the bracelet back in its box and bought myself a pretty pair of turquoise earrings. I put them on immediately and enjoyed the sensation of them grazing my skin as I walked to the dining hall to join a friend with whom I had made a dinner date.

That evening the women sang and danced and drummed their visions of wild love and passionate living into the night air, the risen energy settling down on our heads like a blessing. As we each left to lay ourselves down for sleeping, we were surrounded by that deep feminine healing power.

The next day, I left the conference for a while to attend my high school reunion in Massachusetts. When I returned, before the next workshop, I decided to look for some culinary herbs. As I passed the jewelry booth, I noticed that the bracelet I had fallen in love with the day before was gone, and I felt a little disappointed. That evening, all the beautiful women and their joyous celebration swept that little feeling away and I sang along with Rising Appalachia and danced in the aisles with my sisters.

Sunday morning’s final workshop was Maya Abdominal Therapy with Rosita Arvigo. Attending to our bellies and honoring and listening to our own wisdom put me in an intensely emotional state. It felt as though I was in another plane of existence, like after I gave birth to my children.

As the other women from the workshop gradually moved away, I was drawn to the vendor’s tent one last time before driving home. I had already decided to buy one more pair of earrings from the woman who had the bracelet I had admired. This time I chose amber and coral decorated silver discs. As I handed the woman my credit card, she handed me a purple fabric box. A little confused, I slowly opened it to find the chalcedony bracelet nestled inside! She told me that the woman I had been talking to at her booth on Friday afternoon had bought it for me. She explained that the woman had asked her not to tell me who bought it, that she simply wanted me to have it. I started to tear up. I’d never been on the receiving end of something so generous and loving from a stranger, so, it took me a few minutes to gather myself.

As a yoga teacher/practitioner I am concerned primarily with developing and maintaining a spiritual practice for myself and my students. As I drove the back roads of New Hampshire that morning on my way home, it occurred to me that this great gift happened to me because I would share it with my students. As cornerstones of spiritual life, compassion and generosity are best cultivated on a daily basis, so I discuss them, tell stories about them, and model them as best I can. It’s much more powerful though when something happens to you and you relate that story to others. I wrote about this gift in my monthly newsletter and in a December pre-holiday course that I give away free each year. I practice ‘random acts of kindness’ daily, and I encourage students and family members to do the same because I think it’s life-changing.

Surrounding myself with women who are opening their hearts and bodies to the love inherently contained in the natural world, and celebrating it along with the earth’s gifts and their own creative expressions has reminded me that I too contain a natural peace and joy and that it is part of my purpose to share it with those around me.

Have you had an experience of receiving a random act of kindness that changed your life? I would love to hear about it in the comments.

(This is a chapter in my memoir in progress.)