Drifting Away On My Paddle Board:

I’m retreating on a retreat…and it’s F*#@’ing OK!

6:30 freaking A.M.! Huddled around a serene lake in Mammoth, California are 12 women and 1 uninformed man who didn’t realize he was signing up for a women’s paddle boarding retreat. The instructor (a young blonde beach Goddess) tosses each of us an ore. It’s simple, “just paddle.”

Truth be told, I’m the only paddle boarding virgin in the group. Like preschool children, we follow the instructor into the water in a single file line. In a flash of a second, everyone’s gone. Where’d they go? I start to feel an aggressive tug on my board. I’m paddling forward but I’m moving in reverse. What the hee-ha is going on?

In a confused frenzy, I do what any hysterical person would do. I keep doing more of what’s not working. “STOPPPPP PADDLING, LADY! MY HOOK IS STUCK TO YOU” screams an angry fisherman. I gyrate my neck back and forth like a terrified peacock. Finally, the hook tears off…along with half of my shirt. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m … o … kay? A gust of wind knocks over my hat. Moving in the opposite direction, I start to lose hope.

Suddenly, a Herculean right leg lands on my paddleboard. The instructor has come to rescue me. We are now in tandem – two boards side by side like a pair of skis. She is carrying my dead weight forward as I sit there like a lump of coal. I start to feel momentary relief – a mindless reversion to the childlike feeling of being saved. My retreat mommy has saved me! She catches me up to the group and releases me again into the wild like I’m a baby cub.

Take 2. I got this. I got this. I – got - this? My paddleboard starts spinning out of control. I’m heading straight for the rocks. The local campers are staring at me for comedic relief while they roast their marshmallows. I kneel in prayer position, trying to save myself from flipping over.

Unexpectedly, a thought bubble pops up: What if I don’t want to catch up to the group? Is falling behind a sin? Maybe I want to paddle away into my own universe. Holding my ore, I lift my hands up to the sky and surrender.

I just have to be where I am. My paddle board drifts further. What if I just sit here and let the current navigate me? I drift even further. I allow the wind to spin me around, drifting further. Maybe closer to the rocks. Maybe closer to the center of my heart. Further I go. The universe keeps talking to me. Finally, we are friends. For the first time on this retreat, I am not alone. I am with myself.

Drifting has the powerful capacity to take us back home. I say let’s drift so we can center ourselves. In the end, we’re all drifters.