Right when I stepped foot on the grounds, I clutched my traveling partner’s arm and said, “Where is the Kool-Aid and how do I get some in my system STAT?”
How did I, a city-dwelling, godless, selfish person such as myself end up in upstate, butt-fuck-nowhere New York in a x-acre yoga and wellness retreat to be surrounded by hippies and hipsters? Due to some bureaucratic labyrinth of Policies and Procedures of nonsensical globbity gloop, I was given unrealistic deadlines that I was contractually obligated to fulfill. In my short stint as an enslaved bitch for the ivory tower, I have been essentially owned. Day and night, my existence has been dedicated to my work for the university. Not to mention, my general unproductivity because of stress and general anxiety derived from the pressure of my work. Read: sitting for hours scared as fuck because I haven’t pulled anything out of my ass, fearing that my funding will run dry when they find out how big of a dunce I really am. Oh yeah, did I mention how there are like zero jobbies growing in my profession of jobbie trees? Whatever, that’s another story I will tell you when I am a barista.
I swear, if I see another fucking hippie with a dandelion necklace and a braided beard, I swear to Buddha, I am going to hump him. This place, this tiny paradise, was a world on its own. It seemed self-sufficient. It had it’s own garden, it produced enough solar-powered energy that it sells its surplus back to the city and has a Green Certified water conservation centre within its grounds. Fun Fact: the tension rods in the conservation centre is made out of the remnants of the stage that President Obama made his inaugural speech on in 2001. This structure is made out of historic wood (heh) and it turns shit water into usable water. This place is literally the shit.
The introverted and awkward individual that I am wanted to sit with my back to the wall and observe but the airy smiles and willowy heads of hair were so welcoming and risk-free. Through the vegetarian, and celiac, vegan, and lactose friendly meals, I longed to be with these beautiful, aura-emitting individuals for the rest of my life. I don’t need to know them personally, or share deep, intimate moments with them; I just want to be near these people.
Ok, look guys, I’m a grad student. I live by my own schedule, and I sleep, eat, and do stuff at any odd hour. During my stay at the retreat, I woke up at 6:30am everyday for fucking meditation in the sanctuary or yoga overlooking motherfucking trees as the sun rose. I almost died of pure bliss. I nourished and healed myself through nutrient-rich, sustainably-produced produce at scheduled times. My only form of sugar intake took the form of organic honey, agave syrup, Stevia, or organic dehydrated sugar cane syrup. I wore yoga clothes and no make up all week. I didn’t smoke or drink, but I was open to any Koolaid they were serving.
Clearly I did not come back as a self-actualized individual that can magically pull theses out of my ass. But, given my student budget, it was a better choice than going to a central American country with an open bar and get food poisoning.
image – Shutterstock