Waking up amidst the gritty stuff
Waking up amidst the gritty stuff Nearly every “spiritual teacher” that I have ever heard speak has at some point mentioned their retreats, their teachers, their practices. There has been the indication (whether meant or not) that there was a journey which involved “spiritual places and people”. This wasn’t the case here. (Unless you include the one weekend retreat I did in Portugal as an attempt at the time to escape young children, a caravan and the searing heat of the Portuguese summer!) Other than those three days the story here was that of kids, a husband, arguments, friends, work... a very ordinary life. There was no teacher who wore robes and whom I bowed down to. There was a man from Leister who sat on my sofa and exploded my entire world in the most violent fashion while in the midst of kids, washing, cooking dinner and sleepless nights. It was messy, very messy! It was not serein, it was not calm, it was definitely not up a mountain. There had never been religion, nor yoga