We stayed up in Sancha, two hours north of Beijing, in the shadow of the great wall. It's a tiny village -- a New Yorker article claimed there were 150 villagers who lived there, but I only saw five or six. And the only tourists who make it there seem to be lost Chinese picnic-ers, seeking an open section of The Wall. (Here, it's closed -- the route up is steep, slippery, winding and confusing, entirely unmarked, and entirely unforgiving. No souvenir stands, drink stalls, cafes or ancient warrior costumes to pose for photos in. Just 150 farmers, who work the same Apricot trees and land their parents and their parents and their great grandparents worked. If you trace far enough, their ancestors were the workers who carried the bricks, and built the wall.)
During the six days there, we'd wake before 7am for yoga, then breakfast at 8, but kept silent until 10am. mornings were class, studying The Five Elements. Afternoons were more class, or a hike, and a second yoga session from 4:30-6pm. From 10pm, it was silence again.
Yoga was incredible. (Save for a month of daily yoga after Obama won, I'd really never done yoga more than a few times a week.) Cameron's class was similarly great. (Initially I'd just been interested to know more about what Aaron was studying in London, but I walked away having bought in to it all.) And our surreptitious hike to the crumbling wall? Outstanding! It really was a treacherous climb, but enough branches allowed us to pull ourselves up the path -- and such an empty, desolate section of the Wall. Gorgeous.
But what I found the most healing, the most cleansing, was The Talking Circle, a nightly ritual from 7-10pm. We all sat in a circle, with a small stone in the middle. Everyone would stare at this stone, fearful, nervous, or eager. Someone might grab it, and talk -- releasing a witticism, a trivial comment, or years of pain and anger. Thin tears, sobbing, laughter, heartbreak... so much came out.
The first rule was that when a person had the stone, they were the only one who could talk. For as long as they wanted. No comments, no comforting, no one-liners -- everyone else was to be completely quiet. And the second rule is that I can't say anything more. Everything was to be kept to there and then. I can probably say, though, that I got a little emotional once or twice. Let's just leave it at that. The power of speaking things that you didn't expect to say? It was a healing circle.
I started the trip dubious, skeptical, even a little hateful. I ended it full of love. Not necessarily Guyana love, although I was accused of drinking the kool-aid. Which I kinda did.
Here's some pix!!!
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