A Week of Wellness

Which could be a life of wellness

On the ferry yesterday morning from the Port of Piraeus in Athens to the island of Paros in the Aegean Sea, I pulled a few cards to set the stage for my week of wellness. Well shuffled, I picked three Major Arcana which could not have been more apt.

The Hanged Man. Meditation, self-reflection, surrender. Sacrifice made with free will. Retreat.

The Hierophant. Structure. Tradition. The positive power in rules. Social conventions. The beauty of a group who carry similar values.

Death. Change. New practices replacing old ways of acting. The release of unhealthy habits.

All three of these cards are spiritual in nature but are tied closely to our bodies, the corpus which holds the spirit.

It is no mistake that Death, card #13 follows the Hanged Man, #12. Also no mistake that in this card pull, The Hierophant is the structure necessary to implement a transformation.

A wellness retreat can be a flash in the pan, an event which cannot be repeated in the context of regular everyday life. Yoga and meditation twice a day, healthy nourishing food, submerging in the salty waters of the sea, clear starry nights, reading, writing, no alcohol. No media. Rest and peace, creativity and the sharing of one's gifts.

Why is it so difficult to take the lessons of a retreat, and apply them when I get home? This my friends is the nut I intend to crack this week on Paros.

As I watch the sun rise on this first morning on Paros, I consider how I want to bring this feeling, this structure, a “holiday,” home with me to Seattle. The knowledge that structure is the key to actual wellness, routine, rhythm, doing the same right things over and over, to get to a kind of peace, is hard to hear, to think about, to take in. But I think it's not as hard perhaps, as reinventing constantly , figuring it all out newly each day. This is the nature of a practice, I think. Whether it's a way we feed our bodies, or stretch them or strengthen them. The corpus holds the spirit, the light.

The rooster I hear this morning gets up at the same time each day, compelled to sound his voice over and over. It is his practice, diligently speaking his truth in the same way, day after day. The waves sound their voices this morning, as the sky lightens, as it does every day. Maybe this is all we need to learn. I'll let you know if I get closer to the rooster, and the waves and the sun, and the stars, and the spirit.

Cheers and love,

Hanna