IPA Spring Retreat 2004

I'm writing this before the memory of the laughter, the tears, the rage, and the pain leave me, before the idyllic community of the IPA at Kirkridge in the Spring of 2004 gets swallowed up by my day-to-
day life.

Driving up to the retreat with three other seasoned primallers I wondered, “Will it be as good as the last or as good as the summer convention of 2003? I hope the weather is good—we certainly deserve it—since last year at Kirkridge it rained all weekend and we were like ‘Primallers in the Mist’ for four days.”

But on this beautiful spring afternoon, the four of us, giddy with excitement, drove to PA from NYC, with the sun shining brightly, the soft spring breeze blowing and in full anticipation of meeting old friends—and maybe some new ones. We arrived and were greeted warmly by Bob Holmes, the man who took on coordinating this retreat for the second time!

It was a mini-convention, with a more intimate tone set by nineteen people who came together to share (and be our beautiful authentic selves) in the cozy Pocono Mountains. We were all gearing up for our weekend journey.

There was women’s group (as powerful as ever); and our men’s group (sorry I couldn’t have been a fly on that wall); our Mat Track primal group (a wonderful staple) and various workshops—Poetry in the Woods, Group Presence, Past Life Regressions, Monologues From the Mat, Primal Painting, Psychodrama—to further our healing and growth, all spontaneously put together by our creative team of participants.

Highlights: hearing Sam Turton playing music in a pub in nearby Stroudsburg; the painting workshop (materials provided by Karuna O’Donnell and I with wonderful music provided by our host Bob); a silent nature walk led by Harriet Geller, finishing with our small group all writing poems; Cabaret and singing with Sam; my own
private magical mystery tour to the Monolith park with its trails, ponds (one w/gold fish!), labyrinth, wildflowers, and Springtime(!!); our dance party—what fun—especially when I danced with the fruit tray on my head! (What??!!)

Sounds like a resort vacation? Well, how many places can you go to enjoy, love and support one another, and—icing on the cake—get into deep feeling work? (And I’m excited to say that I found a new piece of work on my quest to healing.)

So thanks to you all—especially to Bob Holmes for making it happen.

Speaking of cake . . . there’s the mystery of the lost Tiramisu. I still think we have to consider the firm of Trashcan & Duff as the major culprits.

Love and hugs to all. ‘Til next time.