Journal notes: It's Sunday the 15th, and I'm not ready for this to end, yet....
I have mixed feelings as I wake up. Over the past few days I have gotten to feel more "centered" than I have in years, and more "connected" with members of the human race than I ever have. But soon this will all come to an end-- and now I am wondering how I will feel when I "re-integrate" with the world. Although I want every moment to count, I find that delicate "tendrils" of the "other" world are poking at the edge of my consciousness, trying to disturb my deep inner peace. I try to lock them out.
Breakfast is peaceful-- we have grown very comfortable around each other. After breakfast, we gather for the second half of the "Healing Power of Nature" breakout session which-- appropriately enough-- has taken place entirely outside.
It is a short session-- or so it seems-- and then we meet, for one final time, for the last official "session" of the Gathering: "Our Time Together: What You Are Taking With You"
Of all the sessions, this one has the most unusual atmosphere-- a mixture of joy and sadness. People seem almost reluctant to speak-- and when they do, it is often haltingly. One person tearfully talks about "reciprocity," and about how she has spent years and years giving and never getting anything back-- and now she's suddenly among people who all give back, like it's the most natural thing in the world. I fumble around for something meaningful to say, but fall painfully short. As the session comes to a close, there is little doubt that the Gathering has been a life- altering experience for many people.
And then we're packing up-- the rooms must be empty by noon-- and our numbers quietly begin to dwindle, as some depart, leaving just a smaller group to make the hike to "Grandmother Oak," above Turtle Pond, followed by swimming and a picnic at water's edge. And soon I realize that it is time for me to leave, as well, to catch my flight back to Texas, and "real life."
Postscript: Of Friendships, Connecting, Validation and why HSPs must Gather
I am home again, now, and back in my daily routine. As I look back on my four days in California, a bunch of different words come to mind, but they seem hopelessly inadequate. In shamanic practice, altered states are often referred to as "non-ordinary reality"-- and in a way that's close to how I would characterize what I experienced, except the physical body I inhabit in "ordinary reality" actually went along for the ride.
I have nothing but positive feelings about the Gathering, except maybe that "it was over too soon." As for descriptors, the word "resonance" comes to mind. And "reciprocity." And kinship, and fellowship. Acceptance. Safety. Openness. Authenticity. As I left Walker Creek Ranch, I felt a mixture of sadness, awe and joy. Sadness, at the fact that I got to live 43 years before having the opportunity to experience true connectedness in a completely supportive and safe group setting; awe and joy at the fact that the previously impossible actually did happen. Not just I, but so many of the other participants seemed to share similar feelings. It was, indeed, as if we suddenly found "our tribe," in a world where we'd maybe become resigned to the idea that we would almost always be regarded as "the odd ones."
I expect we each took something different away from there. Since I had already known about being an HSP for some years, I mostly went for the fellowship aspects-- and I came away, having made many new friends, or potential new friends. I normally consider myself fortunate if I make one new friend in a year!
I have been to many seminars and retreats, but never... never... have I experienced 20-30 people spending four days together with barely a raised voice, without arguments, without power struggles, without "cliques"
forming, without a stream of discomfort and hurt feelings, without "awkward" group dynamics. Instead, I found nothing but kindness and compassion. In place of feeling "odd" and "alienated," we felt ourselves reflected back in the faces of everyone around us. Thus, the "shields" we all have grown so accustomed to wearing, as protection against our less sensitive surroundings, just melted away. And underneath, a group of profoundly powerful and compassionate human beings emerged; the very best of our human species.
And, for the first time in my life, I have sat with a group of other Highly Sensitive Men in a room where there was no "ranking," no "one-up and one-down," and no male posturing-- just the honest cores of the men who were there. That one brings tears to my eyes, as I have always felt especially out of step with members of my own gender.
During the closing remarks, I got the feeling that many were trying to grasp the implication of what we had just been a part of-- an HSP-safe environment. Even the most timid of HSPs found the "safety" to become an active participant in their own growth. WE are all OK!
This was-- no exceptions-- the most "inclusive" group experience I have ever had. HSPs are not like other people-- and it shows in a number of subtle ways. At the Gathering, there were no "cliques" or "segregated groups." It felt like everybody pretty much talked to everybody else, at one time or another. This was especially obvious at mealtimes, in that the same people rarely sat at the same table twice. There also was no sense ("segregation" or "competition") that there were "rookie" and "old-timer" HSPs. Everybody just "was."
For most (even repeat participants) the end of the Gathering really marked a "beginning;" of new friendships, of newfound self-worth, of new lessons to be applied, of a new way of viewing Sensitivity. Above all, the Gathering gave me a "stillness of mind" I had not experienced before.
HSPs must "Gather" with other HSPs! Listening to the numerous stories of fellow HSPs feeling alienated and maginalized by their surroundings made me realize the enormous value and importance of HSPs putting in the time and effort to find-- and spend time with-- other HSPs, just to have the experience of feeling "connected" to other people in a group setting. We are not alone, and it is important to experience this, for ourselves.
I am very happy that I went, in spite of being utterly broke-- and look forward to a return visit next year. Thank you for reading my journal, and I hope to see you there!
