Re-connecting to my brave and barefoot self with Walking Your Promise in England
Carissa Bub experiences a deeply earthy and sensual retreat in Gloucestershire and finds herself more powerfully connected to life than she could have ever imagined
My name Carissa means grace and beloved - and being in the presence of Danny Shmulevitch made me feel deeply so. This is what being on retreat with him is about - finding yourself in the interconnectedness of all living things, and feeding that hunger for spirit that so many of us yearn for, especially living in Covid-19 times.
I arrived at Gloucester station to be met by Danny and found myself soften in the presence in his huge, glowing smile. His home, Mayhill, where he bases his retreats, is a Hobbit-like, magical abode, which to me felt like entering a vast Bedouin tent – welcoming and warm, a real hearth. Over an exquisite vegan lunch Danny talked through the principles which underpinned the journey I was about to embark on over the next 24 hours, then we headed out to his garden. I had a small rucksack, with enough to keep me warm, just in case, for an overnight stay, and at Danny’s request, my mobile phone in my hand.
Danny walked to one end of the garden with what looked like a metal tuning fork in his hand, and then turned around and slowly started to walk towards me. He got about two feet, and then the tuning fork which turned out to be a water divining stick, opened. Intrigued I followed the next instruction, turn off the mobile and stayed still. Once again Danny walked away and returned, but this time the stick opened further away from me, probably another foot. With this ‘measurement’ in hand, he took my phone off me, zipped it away in his rucksack, handed me a walking stick, and off we headed in silence. I had absolutely no idea where we were going and noticed I didn’t care.
We walked about 30 minutes down a lane, through some fields and into the forest of Mayhill, all alone in the late Summer’s mid-afternoon. The only sounds were the rustles from the trees and our own footsteps on earthy stone paths as we walked further into the emerald-green woodland, Danny two or so feet ahead. With each step I let go a little more, trusting him, enjoying the view of his head of thick white hair ahead of me.
“I didn’t need to see the magic to feel just how much my heart had expanded over less than 24 hours. I felt connected, not just to every living thing around me, but to galaxies I could not even see”
Soon we were in a magical wooded clearing with a big tepee tent and a fire surrounded by sheepskin-covered logs and chairs. Here was my camp for the night, under - as I was later to find out - a female species of beech trees, rather than the more masculine oak. Candles covered with glass were dotted on various tree stumps along what looked like different paths further into the forest. The scene was stunning, and I felt a childlike wonder as I plonked on the floor, took off my shoes and socks, and dug my feet firmly into the deep dark soil. Home.
Danny’s friend who owns the land was manning the fire and preparing a brew of orange peel, turmeric, ginger and lemon. He departed soon after, leaving us with a large heap of firewood and water. I knew that there would be no more food for today, but otherwise really had no idea what was to follow.
We exchanged no words. The tea was hot and quenching. I moved slowly between leaning against a log, legs sprawled full-length on a sheepskin and cushions, to crossing into a lotus position, and then eventually onto my back to gaze up to the canopy of light, leaves and blue sky. I have no idea how much time passed - it was August and would not go dark till well past nine.
Occasionally I would sit up and pour more tea from the heavy black kettle. Each detail evoked a time gone by. I was falling into non-time. My eyes adjusted, and it seemed for the first time I actually saw a leaf. I saw the complex network of veins and capillaries across one tree and another, a vast communication network of life, which I knew was mirrored deep under the earth I was lying on. Everything I looked at seemed human in some way, an extension of me, or perhaps I was an extension of it. The interconnectedness of our beings felt immense - the trees and mine, the earth, the birds cooing across the darkening sky. I felt this immensity, and the smallness of myself, and noticed I was crying. How could there be so much beauty? How could I - we - have created a lifestyle which disconnected us from our roots? I had come looking for my purpose, and already nature was calling me close.
Though we had a fire, I was alone with a man who I had only met briefly, in a deep forest under a darkening sky. I might have felt fear or a level of anxiety, but all I felt was love. I’m not a neuroscientist, but I knew that oxytocin was flooding through my body, and that it had been a long time since I had been held so intimately by life.
I started to talk. I shared things about my life with Danny. He smiled. He spoke. He stoked the fire and got up to light a few of the candles. I cried again - this time a different release. It was time to let go of an old story and welcome a new self in. That purpose was awaiting my arrival, I could feel it rising up through my feet, it was all around me, I just had to get out of my mind and back into my heart.
As much as I wanted to stay around the fire and not go to sleep, Danny suggested that a good night’s sleep on my own, further into the wood, would be part of the healing process. He walked me to my bedside campsite - a beautiful candle-lit den open to the forest on one side and closed for privacy on the other. I took one look at the bed, the sheepskin and the blanket and needed no convincing.
I woke up maybe once at night, mainly out of curiosity to see if Danny really was going to stay awake all night around the fire. Sure thing, there he was, guarding our space perhaps, or simply being in his own company. In the morning I dressed and walked back to the fire, to find fresh tea, a bowl of hot water, and the door to the tepee open - inside I found more sheepskins, candles and a large gong.
The plan was for me to write an obituary of myself, which I would then destroy, before going into the tepee to await what would arise from deep within me, and through what was now a much more grounded presence and connection to life itself. I am a successful leadership coach with 20 years global experience working with people at the top of their game, from a loving home and recently having met a new partner. Lots to celebrate - but having just turned 50, I was looking for my second mountain to climb. How was I going to scale my love and impact without running around the world until I hit empty? I believed Danny’s promise would take me closer to the answer. Or at least let me live the question more fully.
I wrote my obituary, read it again to myself, and then threw it into the fire. Danny was around but gave me space. I then entered the tepee, finding myself drawn to the ground, to lie around a smaller fire. In this non-time, peaceful arena, I awaited the sound of my own voice. It soon came in three distinct phrases, and when I was confident this was enough for now, I stood up, grabbed the stick for the gong and hit it three times.
When I walked back to the fire Danny was there with the bucket of hot water. He washed my feet. I knew there would be no more exchange of words until the pilgrimage was over. I bowed to thank the forest for letting me rest the night, and headed off barefoot with my boots tied to my rucksack, walking stick in hand, to climb to the ‘green cathedral’ Danny had mentioned as our final destination.
I happen to like walking barefoot, even in the mud, and having walked across the Sinai desert for two weeks, sometimes barefoot, could be described as a bit of a mountain goat. I love the focus it demands, and how the unapologetic cold sharp corners of some types of rock contrast with the velvety softness of moss and blankets of grass. I walked tall and proud and strong, singing and noticing tears again, this time of joy. If this is what union is meant to feel like, I was experiencing it. Half way across a field, walking up a hill, I stopped and consciously turned around to say goodbye to that old version of Carissa, or at least her story. I turned to the future and heard the sound of the bells and saw a cop of trees in the distance. Here then, the ‘green cathedral’, except no church bells, just cows munching away in the fields to accompany me to the top.
The greatest surprise was yet to come. I left my gear with Danny and went into the trees to sit and meditate until I felt ready to end the pilgrimage. Once back out on the grass with Danny, he took out his water diving stick. Just as he had done in his garden, he walked away from me, but this time far away, well out of earshot and small in the distance. Slowly he walked towards me and soon stopped, probably around 30 or more feet away. “Gosh!” I heard him yell. He walked away again, this time from another direction and repeated the exercise. A third and fourth time, each time only walking a few feet in before the stick picked up my vibrational field and opened. I didn’t need to see the magic to feel just how much my heart had expanded over less than 24 hours. I felt connected, not just to every living thing around me, but to galaxies I could not even see.
From there we walked, with shoes on this time, down the field and back to base. Danny gave me back my phone, I switched it on to send a text home that all was well, and then switched it off. I wanted non-time to continue a little longer, in the flow of silence and stillness, connected to the beating heart of all things. I sat outside Danny’s cottage in the sun until he ushered me in for just one more incredible meal. A feast of eggs, home-made hummus, roasted vegetables and divine sourdough. I don’t have to tell you how good it tasted after a night in the forest. But don’t take my word for it - try it yourself!