For the past few years, the Oasis Foundation has been working with oikos International to design their Rite of Passage for graduating members. Here, you can read and immerse yourself within the vivid reflections of a participant as she recounts her journey to embrace the challenge of trust and interdependency to venture alone into the night, and find her way back.
The first drop of water.
I view this retreat as a chance to reflect on the year’s lessons and find my balance. I felt an immense sense of release from the moment I arrived, like taking a deep, refreshing breath. This place is amazing: a hidden community in the English countryside, surrounded by the vibrant and fresh nature of spring. You just want to take it all in, breathe deeply, and feel your belly rise and your shoulders expand with each breath. There’s a desire to touch, to explore new or familiar sensations, to immerse oneself in nature, to confess, to find comfort, and to let thoughts wander. It’s a haven of peace.
The meadows, filled with tranquil life, create a harmonious world. Watching the cows and their calves, I imagine greeting them every morning, perhaps making them my confidantes. I cherish each encounter, each new connection. My first conversations with a community member inspired me greatly. Their sincerity and openness about their relationship with the land and animals indicate to me that I am at the right place to open up and feel vulnerable. My first experience of vulnerability came when I held the talking stick during the evening gathering, answering the question: what do I bring to this retreat? I think of the anxiety that has followed me for years, guiding most of my choices and undermining my self-confidence. This is what I bring, and even if it will probably be always a part of me, I hope to face it in the coming days. Not knowing in advance the activities that will guide our days is a powerful way for me to let go, as there is nothing to fuel my anxiety. Every moment is a surprise, and there is only room for trust. I also bring many new reflections on my life: how I wish to shape it and live it with passion.
After this first day, I am convinced that I am in a place where every emotion is welcomed: joy, fear, excitement, sadness. I feel ready to embrace each one without judgment. Connecting and sharing are key elements of this retreat for me. Yes, I am absorbed in my thoughts and feelings, but I am also nourished by the stories of others, their openness, their worldviews, our exchanges over morning coffee, meals, a fire, and under the stars. A human richness that has a healing force for those ready to receive it. The daily open spaces also facilitate this exchange, leading me to explore the art of breathing, discover qigong that I continue to practice occasionally, identify plants through a foraging workshop, and paint a lot.
The retreat is structured so that each day is a step closer to a gentle encounter with oneself. The day following our arrival focuses on softening. I see it as a day of play and letting go. An exploration of the surrounding nature: listening, smelling, touching, tasting, observing, awakening all our senses and consciousness in this unique place. The first movement session is magical. I am a bit shy at first, my body is tense, but gradually, the tension eases. I feel welcomed by this land and this group of human beings. Sixteen energies meet, self-expression among and with others, attuning to our bodies’ desires. Letting our instincts guide each movement. I find my place, I feel at home. The highlight is my body’s vibrations during the “humming.” I had never experienced one so long. It’s majestic. I want to emphasise again the spontaneous discussions throughout the day that make me think deeply: about listening to one’s conscience, seeking intense emotions, feeling aligned, understanding the judgment that tarnishes our view of ourselves and others, discussions that transport us late into the night.
The second day, dedicated to opening, unfolds quite unexpectedly. Participating in a constellation exercise to address another participant’s intergenerational trauma stirs mixed feelings of sadness and relief in me. This sheds light on a confusion within me that lingers throughout the day, especially during our first forest visit, which heightens my state of doubt, annoyance, and frustration with myself. We are asked to ponder a question or theme for the next day’s challenge, and my thoughts race. My rational mind tells me I must be smart, choose well, as it’s a unique opportunity. The pressure builds in me, even when finding a spot in the forest to think. I want this spot to be perfect, so I study the nature around me but do not listen to myself and end up walking through brambles, which is neither pleasant nor necessary. Frustrated, I finally sit down. I feel like I am going in circles, repeatedly contemplating the same reasons and causes for my episodic anxiety. Always pointing fingers at external elements, blaming them for my suffering. But repeating the same story where I am not even the protagonist tires me and makes me realise that maybe it’s not my story.
I decide to abandon the idea of having to find a question, to be certain of the direction to take. I tell myself that trying too hard will not help me progress and will prevent me from exploring new perspectives. I want to feel the intensity of my emotions, not be distracted by what I think is logical or what I want to feel, but let myself be carried by what I experience internally in full awareness. Move forward but also step back if necessary, bring out old reflections, make past and present teachings collaborate, let it unfold, rest, compost.
In this mindset, I approach the challenge day. I want to leave myself alone, put my rational mind on pause, and act in harmony with my instinct. From the moment I wake up, I listen to myself, occupy the space I need, exchange when I feel like it but do not force any conversation, seek nothing in particular, just tranquillity. A tranquillity that I feel quite quickly, focusing my energy on my internal and external sensations. The contact with nature as we walk through tree-lined paths to go from one place to the other, the strong perfume of spring, the sun warming my cheeks, and the energies of the people around me. Taking the time to feel all this, not fearing to engage but also to turn back and change course if necessary. In the afternoon, we pair up to discuss how we feel about the evening’s challenge. During this discussion, I realise that since the morning, I have allowed myself to listen to myself. Tired from the previous day’s circling thoughts, not finding a clear direction for the challenge, I had no other choice but to trust myself. Being attentive to what calls me, to what it feels like, without always needing to validate these sensations and desires with a rational judgment. Seeking this validation within myself. I do not expect this to remove all life’s obstacles but to have the strength to face them while staying true to myself. This feeling of not belonging, of not feeling at the right place, may come from the fact that many of my choices so far do not reflect my deep desires, crushed by external fears, particularly those felt by my surroundings. Having the choice, deciding to refuse this inheritance of fear, anxiety, and vital need for ‘security’ that ends up suffocating me. Emancipating myself from the fear and anxiety projected onto me by others. I feel the need to pay less attention to the validation of others and more to my own. Doing what calls me with commitment, without trying to over-anticipate where these choices will lead me, and trusting my inner resources to move forward no matter what. Just before starting our challenge, I feel the green light to focus on my internal support and start nurturing and caring for it.
During the challenge, which involves being alone in nature to connect with our inner world, I trust myself as rarely before. We are free to head to the forest located 40 minutes walk from the community. Without anticipating my desires, I trust myself, convinced that my instinct will guide me where I need to go. And this led me to a whole new world. A place that amazed me so profoundly, I felt deeply grateful to myself for allowing this absolute trust.
There was something very powerful when one by one we left the fire where we had gathered before starting the challenge, a sense of kindness, encouragement, trust. I felt those emotions as I set off on the path. I head towards the forest without intending to enter it at first. Before I managed to quiet my rational mind, I had thoughts like “40 minutes there and back is too long,” “you don’t have a good sense of direction,” and “the forest at night is dark and scary.” But I was not thinking about them anymore, I felt peaceful, light, and open to any indication my physical sensations would give me. I step away to feel alone. I observe nature, I try to feel it, to interact with it. I approach some trees, taking the time to feel the bark on my fingers and palm. I reach a fork in the path and start doubting. Which way leads to the sheep, the place that intrigued me at the moment. I see another retreat participant in the distance. I hesitate, would asking for directions betray my trust? Then I go and get confirmation that I am on the right path. I can continue peacefully. I realise that the idea is not to never rely on my external support but to also develop my internal support. The two are not incompatible, on the contrary, they need each other. I lie down among the sheep, I listen to myself, attentive to my needs. I resume my path and lie down among the trees near the church, trees I had noticed the previous day during our forest excursion. That night, they say we might see the Northern Lights. Optimistic, I keep my eyes wide open and think I see white shadows crossing the sky. After a while, I realise it’s more likely the shadows of the trees. After a moment, I feel like walking again, climbing a small hill to see the scattered houses in the countryside. I lie down a bit. I grumble because clouds cover the stars, but I quickly catch myself when I turn my head and see the crescent moon, a piercing orange against the sky. It’s magnificent. I remind myself that beauty is where we choose to see it. I decide to get up, fearing I might fall asleep on the ground, and turning around, I realise I am only a few meters from the forest edge. My heart races, not out of fear, or maybe a little, but mainly out of excitement. What if I went in? Just a peek, it doesn’t commit to anything! So I move forward and pass the small wooden fence. I turn on my headlamp and start walking. My heart beats faster, I keep listening to myself, and a growing desire tells me to continue. So I take my time, observe the path, make sure to remember the scenery at each step to find my way back. Gradually, I feel at ease, no longer an outsider in this living, vibrant ecosystem, but a part of it. At times, I turn off my lamp and listen. What a noise! It’s absolutely incredible, it sounds like it’s raining. It’s impressive to see such small creatures, accompanied by the wind and the agitation of the plants, creating such a symphony. Wherever I look, I witness a unique scene: two dragonflies fluttering together, a slug climbing a tree trunk, beautiful white flowers contrasting with the forest’s shadow. I am amazed, repeatedly saying thank you to the life around me and to myself for guiding me into this wonderful world. I sit for a while against a tree to prolong this fairy-tale moment. At one point, my rational mind reactivates and urges me to continue, saying it’s an incredible chance. But sensations in my breath and belly indicate that I no longer feel safe to continue and that it’s time to turn back; proof again that following your instinct might be the wisest choice. So I retrace my steps, and at that moment, I hear the call indicating it’s midnight and time to return.
This nightime adventure was an inner journey to discover the self that emerges when I place my trust within. I experienced it as a transcendent moment, an awakening, an encouragement to harness this strength and reach deep truths within me. In that forest, I felt one with the life around me, experiencing love and wonder for this simple yet complex beauty. I felt deeply moved and grateful for opening the door to infinite possibilities and an awareness of this wonder accessible if we open our eyes, engage with our surroundings, slow down, and stay attentive to this ecosystem. I laughed and cried. It gave me the strength to start the coexistence between rationality and intuition. This forest walk was like the first drop of water on a long-awaited seed, planted at my core, making it more vigorous than ever.
It was a powerful moment to reunite after this challenge, sharing what we experienced during the night. This retreat has been the first step toward a promising new chapter. I leave feeling serene and excited, leaving behind a piece of myself and embedding in me a piece of this enchanting place and the wonderful beings whose paths I crossed. I trust the continuity of the strong connections we’ve nurtured. Hearts have met and left indelible marks on each other. I trust this flame will keep burning brightly.
Watch the short Rite of Passage film HERE for insights on what participants think about it, and you can find more info HERE
Juliette
