Embracing the Gray

Have you ever seen a man or woman who is prematurely gray, with a head of white hair? My grandmother, Gogi (above) was 45 in this picture, but had been gray for fifteen years. Women of that era rarely colored their hair. For a woman today, embracing the gray can be beautiful, but it’s also a scary proposition. Only a few friends of mine have thrown away their hair color products, and they look simply stunning. But that’s only a few out of uh. . . .

I had been thinking of not coloring my hair, but got some resistance, especially from my younger daughter. My mother says she will never be gray; “it makes you look so much older.” She doesn’t remember her mother as anything but gray (Gogi actually had lovely white hair), and she herself starting going gray at a young age. So, mom decided she never wanted to appear older than she was, and therefore, I’ve never seen my mother’s natural hair color.

This past summer, still in a funk after losing our dog, Piccadilly, I didn’t feel like going to the trouble of coloring my hair. And then there was the feeling that I wanted to be more authentic. And coloring my hair meant putting chemicals onto my hair and skin and therefore into my body. I used semi-permanent color for several years (which washes out) and had graduated to a one-color process for the last 5 years or so. After five or six weeks, when the gray started coming in, I automatically made an appointment. I had no idea how gray I was or what my natural hair looked like.

I started testing the idea on friends. “I’ve been thinking of not coloring my hair anymore,” I’d say, and then wait for the reply, which was usually, “Really?” followed by their feelings about their own hair, why they color it and for how long they’ve been doing it. I’d hear about highlights and lowlights. They might ask about henna. And then they'd often share a story about a friend who decided not color her hair (really!).

Over the summer, I spent time at our Old Saybrook house. Life is relaxed up there. I saw some gray and simply ignored it. September approached and there was new gray growth, but it really wasn't that much. Then came the Jewish holidays, going to Temple and seeing family and friends. The gray was decidedly apparent toward the crown, but less so in the front, so if I pulled my hair back, barely noticeable. The weather was warm and I did just that. No big deal, right?

Come mid-October, we had a wedding. I didn’t cave. Now that Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's have come and gone, my hair has grown out about three inches but honestly, the gray is much less than I would have thought. I love going to the hairdresser just to get my hair cut. The gray is blending through my natural hair color--darker than the "color" I was getting—and I did it before there was a definite LINE. So, we’ll see. I reserve the right to go back to coloring my hair if I choose, but for now, I’m a natural woman.

71

Very soon after we moved into our house 13 years ago, I became aware of something unusual. Our master bathroom has rojo alicante marble: it’s an orangey-rust color with white and beige veins and markings running through it. In the shower, I saw the number “71,” on the same wall as the shower head.

I’ve seen this “71” hundreds of times, and taken it as some sort of a sign. But what did it mean? What occurred to me was that someone close to me would only live until age 71. Both my parents have now surpassed this age (but I held my breath until those years had passed). My husband would be next.

I decided to ask Alexandra about it and told her about the “71” at our last session. She paused for a moment to “hear” information from her spirit guides, and then said: “You think that it’s an age someone is going to die. But that’s not it. Spirit has been trying to get your attention for a while, and now you’re finally ready. Go back to the year 1971. What was that year like for you?”

After thinking about it for a moment and the age I would have been, I was carried back to a time when I was a young woman in the throes of her first romantic love. I felt loving towards the world, open, optimistic. It was exciting to be alive, not knowing what would happen next. “This is the feeling you are meant to reconnect with at this time in your life,” said Alexandra. “Think about it, meditate on it.”

Sweating ALL the Stuff

I decided to go to Alexandra's sweat lodge on the new moon. She does one each month at The Oaks in New Rochelle, and preparations start early. Due to some commitments, I arrived at 1:30pm in the pouring rain, bringing with me a few necessary items.

Some of you may have seen the story about a sweat lodge in Arizona run by James Arthur Ray where three people died. This story ran about one week before the sweat lodge I attended. I had a very different experience, but needless to say, I told almost no one what I was doing that Saturday afternoon.

The sweat lodge is built from a frame of wood, then covered with cloth and tarp. We certainly needed this, as we had a major storm with driving rain during the "sweat." Already there were two people tending to the fire --firekeepers--who keep the fire hot and heat the stones that are placed inside the lodge. Theirs was a particularly difficult job that day.

One of my first assignments was to make sure there was no light showing through the lodge interior. I crawled inside, careful not to cross the "power line" that runs from the fire to the lodge. With black cloth, we threaded pieces through the frame to block out small pinpoints of light. My second task was to help put on the door to the lodge. This consisted of a quilt affixed to a wooden pole which has ropes that hang down the other side and are secured by heavy rocks.

We then went back to the house to make prayer ties which would be hung in the lodge. Some ties were made for the ceremony itself, and others were our own personal ties. Each was a small square of fabric into which we placed a pinch of tobacco, and then we folded it and tied it onto a string after saying a prayer. When the ties were done, we were told what to expect during the sweat.

When it was time, women changed into skirts and t-shirts; men wore shorts. We all carried a towel, and since I didn't have flip-flops, I went barefoot. Any shoes left out in the rain would be soaked.

We were in the lodge for about three hours, and I'm told it was one of the gentlest sweats they ever had. There were 10 or 11 people, so it wasn't crowded, and it never got unbearably hot. It felt, at the warmest, like a sauna, and then only for a short time. Perhaps it seemed gentle because the elements outside were so aggressive! The sweat was conducted according to Native American custom, and it was a sacred ritual. Alexandra spoke, we drummed and sang songs, voiced our prayers and smoked a tobacco pipe. The stones were brought in four different times. Although I have yet to see if I am transformed in any measurable way, I did enjoy my first sweat lodge and am eager for the next one.

Morphing Meditation

I don't know about you, but establishing a regular meditation practice is much harder than I thought it would be.

My first exposure to meditation was when I was in college. I worked part-time for a small company where one of the women did TM (transcendental meditation) daily. She told me how important it was for her sanity (she had two kids and a busy life). It sounded interesting, but a little weird.

Fast forward 20 years. As I became more interested in health and healing, I learned to meditate in workshops and yoga classes. I did it sporadically, and began to get more comfortable with it. During a 3-week trip to India in 2005, I meditated more. And I started to use meditation to relax when descending in airplanes (it helps with the nauseous feeling I sometimes get). The effect is always calming and centering.

A couple of years ago, after my Reiki Master class ended, several of us sat around talking. Here was a group of women interested in the use of healing energy who were spiritual and open to exploring the unseen. We decided to start a monthly meditation group, rotating homes each month, where the host would be responsible for the type of meditation (guided, walking, silent, etc.).

Today our group has expanded not only in number but also in the diversity of our activities. We continue to meet monthly for meditation, and several times a year we have speakers on a variety of topics. These have included sound healing, aromatherapy and the use of crystals. Just a few months ago, we started a walking group in the parks of Westchester (the Ward Pound Ridge Reservation, Rockefeller Preserve), which, due to the beautiful surroundings, is meditative as well.

Although my daily (let's say at least 5 days a week) meditation practice did not start until after the silent retreat in September, I can honestly say that those group meditations really helped me to "practice" the practice. My meditations are typically 10-25 minutes, and since doing them, my days begin in a calmer and more thoughtful way.

"Retreating" By The Sea

A few years ago, I started inviting some holistically-minded friends to join me for a weekend retreat at our home in Connecticut. It is such a beautiful place that I wanted to be there more and share the space, the energy and the natural beauty with others.

And now, six retreats later, it feels like we have created a special space to share the special offerings each of us bring. Depending on who attends, we have body work exchanges (Reiki, polarity, reflexology, massage), intuitive cooking classes, art projects, talks on any number of subjects, yoga, chanting and more. Each retreat takes on a personality of its own, and we all feel renewed at its end.

Here are some pictures from our retreats this year:

Morning yoga, Intuitive cooking

The retreats this year were a “warm-up” to my spiritual sabbatical. I am so content at these retreats in the presence of other like-minded sisters who share their knowledge and wisdom freely. I need to have more of this in my life.

Alexandra Leclere and the Journeying Class

I met Alexandra at a class she was giving on communicating with spirit. The spirit world has always fascinated me, mainly because the information provided by beneficent spirits is quick and helpful. We each have spirit guides and angels to help us in our lives; many of us have no idea they are there and certainly don’t communicate with them. “But if I could,” I thought, how much easier and richer life would be.

Shortly thereafter, I went to Alexandra’s weekly journeying class which consists of qi gong exercises, energy exchange, guided meditation and healing prayers. All these activities help us to have greater consciousness of and connection with the spirit world.

I learned that Alexandra had been a television producer and writer. She had led a fairly traditional life and had raised three children. Once she became aware of her psychic abilities, however, she began to open to their full extent, cultivated over time by several teachers.

In her, I felt a kinship. If she could develop these abilities, couldn’t I as well? She felt I could. I had found a mentor, someone who could shepherd me through this mystifying world. I meet with Alexandra for an hour each week when I am in town. In my sessions with her, I’ve been surprised at how accurate the information is from spirit, how she is able to tell me what I am thinking or feeling about a particular issue, and gives me guidance.

Can You Hear The Silence?

I had no expectations of a 5-day silent retreat, and no prior knowledge of Adyashanti. I didn’t even Google him before heading up to Omega. All I knew is that I craved the silence, and anything on top of that was gravy!

I met my roommate as I was walking to our cabin (when we could still speak). We introduced ourselves and felt a connection. As the week wore on, I realized how in sync we were. After a talkative dinner in the dining room, we headed to the opening session. From the start, Adya (as we came to call him) was open, honest, humble and had a great sense of humor. He spoke that first evening—no questions—and from that point on, the campus was in silence.

It wasn’t hard for me to be quiet. I found myself thinking, crying, writing in my journal and just being in the beauty at Omega. We were encouraged not to read or do things that would distract us from being with the silence. We had 2 satsangs (teaching sessions) with Adya every day, and the afternoon from 2-5pm was spent in 40-minute meditations with 30 minute breaks. I had never meditated so much, but found it easier when in a group. I didn’t understand everything that was discussed by Adya or the other participants, but it didn’t matter because we were all there with a common purpose, and I was there to learn and just experience what was going on.

It was easier to go later to meals and eat by myself than to be with a table full of people and not speak. I even avoided eye contact after an initial nod of the head when sitting down. Couples and good friends seemed to have the hardest time not speaking, and as the week wore on, the temptation became too great. At meals or on the grounds, it was not unusual to see some whispering, but we were regularly encouraged to keep the silence and go deeper.

I found myself taking a hike in the woods after the morning session and before lunch. Towards the end of the week, I wandered into the bookstore to look at Adya’s books as well as other offerings. But I also made my way up to the Sanctuary, a beautiful meditation space and koi pond. Sitting in the gardens around the campus, looking at the beautiful flowers and foliage, contributed to the sacredness of the experience.

When I got home, I started a meditation practice: at least 10 minutes a day. I’ve been pretty good about keeping it up. I hear that Adya is coming back next year for a 7-day silent retreat. There’s a good chance I’ll be there.

A Spiritual Sabbatical

Sounds kind of nice, but what is it?

My soul needs some space, some time to grow and expand, to see where it wants to go.

I've always been a good student, peace-keeping middle child, and dutiful daughter. For the last 26 years, I've been a wife, mother, and stepmother; business woman; volunteer at my kids' school; board member and volunteer at a nursing home; member of countless committees; and all-around responsible person. Over the last 8 years, I've become a holistic health counselor, Reiki master, healthy cooking teacher, and gentle yogi who is waking up to her spiritual nature.

I've met others' expectations admirably but stopped creating my own. In the last several years, even though I chose a new and different course, I was still confined by my societal and self-defined roles.

Piccadilly, our Wheaten terrier

Last spring, we put our dog down. It was traumatic for my husband and me, and all I know is that I miss her presence in my life: her unconditional loving nature, those beautiful eyes, a steady companion. In June, my youngest graduated from high school. In anticipation of having an empty nest, my husband and I bought a home in a new gated community that would require much less upkeep. In the interim, the economy tanked. We put our house on the market a year ago and it hasn't sold.

In concert with these changes in my life, my monthly cycles started changing as well. I felt dispassionate, not excited about anything. Sure, I was happy for my younger daughter who was starting college, and for my older daughter who was moving into the city to work and live near friends. We have wonderful older children and two beautiful grandchildren. And yet. . .

I felt I needed to get away, find something to feel passionate about again. I felt locked into my traditional roles. With some guidance, the idea of a spiritual sabbatical was born, a time to explore my soul, my deeper self. I invite you to take this journey with me.