Take me back

Take me back to that Australian summer day when the heat prickled my arms and the sounds echoed that I was no longer in the winter of the US. I remember stepping outside of the airport and breathing an air I had not breathed before, so fresh, so unpolluted, so unpolished. I walked to the bus stop and sat awhile, listening to the birds sing their song that almost sounded like laughter; I smiled. This was already so different. The bus finally arrived after an hour or so but I couldn’t tell you the time because I had met a kindred soul on the bench over. We talked about travel, love, friendship, home life, connection, and the need to be free. To wander without ever truly being lost. It was a soul talk, my first upon arriving and I was beginning to realize, this place was awakening something in me. We continued our conversation over coffee at the sweetest little cafe, “Folk Bryon.” I sat down and she told me I would not find one bad coffee in Australia, I laughed in disbelief; She was right. I adored every cafe moment and watched as passerby’s with no shoes would walk the streets so carefree and at ease. There was not a soul in a rush or hustle to be somewhere, they were all taking up space and moments with quiet contentment and intentionality. Oh, how I wanted this; I had found the place my soul called home. Home, I missed him and wanted him to see this. He was my home, and this place was my cocoon. I arrived at the retreat center the following day. You often hear the common phrase, “it took my breath away,” however, in this instance, it gave me breath. I saw a garden oasis; I stuck my feet in the grass. Mmmm. Breath. The animal sounds where all around, mixed with an earthy scent of a coming rain storm. Then I met them, beautiful souls arriving to find the same rest I was looking for. Some of them had smiles that met their eyes, while others had fresh tear marks. They were all so beautiful. Our time together was filled was raw honesty, deep laughter, childlike play, soul talks, understanding looks, and words written on paper that spoke to another. There was no shame among us, we were woman and this was sisterhood. I had never experienced anything like it; arms looped, womanhood bare, dancing in the rain. I was so terrified at doing something so strange and new, but then I asked myself, what is really new or just strange? The move we’re so afraid of making is often the move that’s been inside of our soul begging to be let out. Let it out. It’s hard, and it will require you to lose breath before it gives you new breath; but the taste is so sweet. Strength was found in my deconstruction.