Breath, Body and Sound
Each morning of my Breath, Body and Sound Retreat, I set off along the forest path leading up to the retreat center. The trail was a perfect blend of exercise and metaphor, with steep, winding hills that mirrored the inner work of the Breath, Body, and Sound Retreat. The physical challenge of navigating the slippery, muddy ground echoed the way I’d soon explore my own emotional terrain. It wasn’t merely a way from one point to another; it was a journey of surrender, step by step—trusting that each step forward would bring more clarity.
Just as the path carried its peaks and valleys, so did my inner landscape. My heart pounded, my breath grew heavy with effort, and I paused often to catch it—an unlikely warm-up for breathwork practice. Yet, in those pauses, as I listened to raindrops scattering on the bare winter branches, the forest seemed to invite me into a deeper harmony: the quiet joining of the outer world and my inner experience.
Conscious Connected Breath (CCB) became the heart of this rhythm. Like climbing the hill each morning and descending by evening, CCB is a continuous flow—inhale blending seamlessly into exhale without pause. This circular pattern helped me clear old tension and emotional residue, just as the rainy morning cleansed the forest floor. Each inhale felt like stepping forward into the unknown, and each exhale offered a chance to let go of what weighed me down. Over time, the breath itself took on a momentum, guiding me through subtle releases and unfolding insights, much like the forest path guided me through mist and mud toward the promise of dawn light.
On some mornings, a gentle drizzle and fog veiled the treetops, enveloping me in sacred hush. I struggled at times to see through the fog—mirroring those moments of inner confusion—yet every so often, a soft sunrise glow broke through, reminding me that new light always finds a way in. I began to feel each inhalation, each exhalation, as an act of trust: surrendering to the path, surrendering to the process. With each breath, I sank deeper into my body, unwinding hidden layers of tension, allowing old patterns to dissolve like mist in the morning sun.
By the day’s end, descending the hill under a canopy of clouds or shimmering stars, I could sense that same gentle release in my body and mind—an echo of Conscious Connected Breath, but now reflected in the quiet shift from exertion to calm. The circular trail, the continuous breath, the cycles of day and night: all danced together in a tapestry of growth, rest, and renewal. In this way, I discovered that transformation often comes not with a grand unveiling, but through a steady, mindful progression—each breath, each footstep, leading me closer to a tranquil openness I carry into the new year.
I could go on and on about the many practices we explored, but I’ll share just one. It’s hard to call it the “most transformational” because each practice carried its own unique power. What truly made this retreat so impactful and unifying was the conscious, connected design woven through every experience.
In one particular exercise, all 27 of us moved around the room, one by one introducing ourselves to each person. I would pause and say, “Hi, my name is Theresa.” My partner would respond, “Hi Theresa, my name is Jeana.” We would exchange a simple phrase—“I see you, Jeana.” “I see you, Theresa.”—then move on to the next person. It was a gentle act of meeting each other’s gaze, opening our hearts, and offering a moment of genuine presence.
In that practice, aptly called “I See You,” a roomful of relative strangers began to function like a collective breath—united in holding space for healing, vulnerability, empathy, and love. We allowed ourselves to be truly seen, met with compassion, and touched by the simple power of genuine human connection without pause.
When I arrived home and looked up at the sky, I felt an urge to take one last walk through my familiar pine barren forest. A gentle homecoming called me—amid the soft energy of a new moon hidden behind clouds, and that stirring sense of possibility a new year brings. The crisp scent of pine needles mingled with the damp earth beneath my boots, and the winter air carried a faint hush that felt both peaceful and full of promise. I sensed a bridge between the renewed connections I had forged at the retreat and the comforting reflections of my everyday world.
I departed with a quiet swell of gratitude for each new friend who crossed my path, for the gentle guidance of Tracy Moon and Sharon Nash of Cultivating Inner Stillness, and for Christian and Jessica, whose assistance made everything flow smoothly. I felt equally thankful for everyone at The Sanctuary Retreat Center, who nourished us with delicious meals and a warm, welcoming presence. Like a deep, steady breath, their care and kindness lingered with me. With each step I take into this new year, I can still feel that hum of shared energy—a reminder that healing and connection truly flourish when we consciously choose to honor one another’s presence.
