Fstep

Developing My Inner Vision at Esalen

This is number 15 in my blog series Vision: A Journey

Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California, is a unique place where people have been going for over fifty years to explore their lives, learn about themselves, improve themselves, and participate in a unique community. I used to think of it as the place shown in the film Bob and Ted and Carol and Alice. I knew that my aunt and uncle had gone there in the 60s, and that it was where you had to participate in Sensitivity Groups. It seemed to attract hippies and people who embraced drugs and free love. I never had any interest in going to Esalen.

Today, their home page states: We’re a holistic learning and retreat center. With a playful spirit and fierce intellectual honesty, we ask big questions about the world and our role in it in a spirit of optimism and with a tenacious belief in human potential.

My husband, Michael, first went to Esalen in December of 1989. As a student of psychology, he had always wanted to visit the place where Fritz Perls created Gestalt Therapy, and where so many great writers, thinkers and artists had spent time. He loved being at Esalen and returned every few years to take different workshops. Michael told me about the great (mostly vegetarian) food, the beautiful ocean and gardens, the early morning movement or dance sessions, and of course, the famous natural hot baths that overlook the Pacific Ocean. He also told me about the optional use of clothing in the baths, pool, and massage areas. Despite his frequent invitations, I was not interested in joining him.

But in 2013, Michael made a bargain with me. He would come to a yoga retreat in Mexico with me (Mar de Jade, in Chacala) if I would come to Esalen with him. I agreed to take a hiking “workshop” there with him, one he had taken before. Now that we were avid hikers, it seemed like the most feasible activity for me, as I was nervous about all the New Age, touchy-feely, free-spirited activities I had heard and read about.

I did not know that on that first visit I would also fall in love with everything about the Institute and its beautiful surroundings, and that it would affect me in deep and profound ways. We tried to return every year after that, taking the same hiking workshop as well as dance classes and other seminars. Now, looking back, I can see that my experiences over those visits to Esalen have helped me develop my inner vision.

First Day at Esalen

I was nervous and wary. The people I saw on the grounds and by the pool and the main lodge seemed young and very much like my hippie stereotype. They were talking, playing music, and laughing. Were they stoned? I now know that they were most likely the staff, called “work study scholars,” taking a break after lunch. They would be there to study with a particular teacher for a month or more, and would work as staff at the same time. They were probably on break when I saw them lounging outside.

Seeing these young people made me acutely aware of my senior status at age 63. At that time, I was still a hard-working professor from Minnesota. I was skeptical that I would fit in at this New Age paradise. We received keys to our “luxury” accommodations, and moved in. It was a simple room in a plain unit of six rooms. It was considered “luxury” because it did not have bunkbeds, we did not have to share with other people, and because we had a balcony with two chairs overlooking the ocean. We stay in one of these rooms every time we return. They are now our Esalen home, and quite comfortable despite the sparse amenities!

On that first day, Michael had booked a massage that ended at 6:30, half an hour after dinner began to be served in the main dining hall. Michael said he would meet me there for dinner and that I should just sit with people and introduce myself. He would find me there. This also filled me with apprehension. I was not comfortable just walking up to a table of strangers (who were already engaged in a conversation) and asking if I could sit with them.

Anytime I am in a new place I become anxious about what I can and cannot see. How would I navigate the dining hall on my own? I knew I could have waited for Michael but I was hungry, as I was still on Central Time. At 6 PM I forced myself to go to the main lodge. I joined a line of people going through a cafeteria line. I watched as they grabbed napkins and utensils from shelves on the wall. I did the same. The line approached some big tureens of soup. The signs labeling the soups were on the table. At that time, I was a strict vegan, so I needed to read the ingredients to know which soup I could safely eat. I instinctively crouched down to make the sign closer to my eye so I could read it. And then I noticed that the man in front of me in the line was doing the same thing. I waited a few minutes until we had passed to another line for salad, and asked him “Do you have low vision?” He looked at me brightly and said yes, he did. We were kindred spirits!

We sat together at a table outside with his wife and I began to feel at ease. He was a few years younger than me, but still a senior at Esalen. He had a similar type of vision disability, and we compared notes on what we did to accommodate our low vision. His name was Joe, and he was in a different workshop, but we would see each other from time to time during the week and greeted each other like old friends. Meeting Joe and feeling our common vision loss was a providential beginning to my Esalen adventure. Although he took my email address at the end of the week I never heard from him again. But I am grateful that he was there and that I met him exactly when I needed him.

The Esalen Hot Baths

I was intrigued but nervous about trying the hot baths that Michael loved so much and went to twice a day. He took me through the routine. Walk down the stairs to the large, communal changing room. Grab a clean towel from the shelf. Hang up your clothes on a hook and try to remember where you left them. Shower in the open shower overlooking the ocean with the Esalen lavender soap; then walk with your towel (and nothing else) to the baths. I was very aware of my 63 year old body, and held on tightly to my towel.

But once I got to the baths, I saw that there were so many shapes, sizes and ages of people. No one looked at anyone else’s body. And no one looked like a model or movie star, although we have seen and met some TV and movie stars and other celebrities at Esalen over the years. The people seemed to be focused on enjoying the glorious hot baths and views of the waves crashing on the rocks below us. One day I noticed a woman with a mastectomy scar and I thought, if she is brave enough to be here, then so am I. No one cared what my body looked like. At Esalen, what seemed more important was what kind of person I was. And once I realized that, I could relax and enjoy the people I met in the baths. Each day we would talk, laugh, share stories, compare workshops, and sometimes even sing. Other times we relaxed in silence, just listening to the waves. At night we could look up at the huge expanse of stars. There is something deep and healing about these natural hot spring-filled baths, which are unlike any hot tubs we have ever experienced. I am so thankful I allowed myself to try them out, and now I look forward to the baths as soon as I arrive at Esalen each year.

Our hiking workshop began the evening that we arrived. It was called “A Walk on the Wild Side” and was led by Steven Harper. Michael had taken this same workshop in 1993, 10 years earlier, and was happy to be back. Steven welcomed us to the “Price House” (named after Dick Price, one of the founders of Esalen along with Michael Murphy) where we sat around a wood-burning fireplace and met the 20 or so other hikers. From the beginning, Steven encouraged us to not share the typical information with each other (name, job, where we lived, etc.). Instead we were asked to share what brought us to the workshop and what concerns we had about it. As we went around the room introducing ourselves and responding to these questions, we began to get a feeling for each other in a different and more authentic way as we opened up and shared our vulnerability.

For the rest of the week, we learned what Michael refers to as “The Zen of hiking.” The goal wasn’t to hike, but to be in the wild, to really experience nature. And of course, to learn about ourselves. We took long beautiful hikes each day, and we often met at night to share “what had heart and meaning” for us that day. What had we learned, what had touched us. Sometimes we would walk in silence, spread out from each other, as we focused on feeling the earth beneath our feet, the air or breezes around us, aware of the sounds and the smells, as well as the sights. I had told the group on the first night that I had low vision, and would appreciate them telling me their names when I saw them on the campus. I was not too worried about my low vision on the hikes because Michael tended to stay near and look out for me, and because we had already taken several hiking trips together.

At the end of our first hike, late in the afternoon, we reached a lovely creek and waterfall. Steven invited us to take a dip in the cold water. He said that any amount of clothing was ok. But we needed to be careful not to judge ourselves and not to judge others. I will never forget those words, and have heard him repeat them often over the years. Some people in the group (including Steven) stripped off their clothes and plunged into the water by the waterfall. Some of us, shyer on that first day, rolled up our pants or partially disrobed, and sat on rocks dangling our feet in the cold water. It felt comfortable and peaceful. And very nonjudgmental.

By the end of the week we would end our hike at a natural “warm pool” deep in the woods, where we would all disrobe, enter the water in silence, sitting together in this peaceful and magical setting. After four days of hiking together, we now felt like a close-knit family.

What I Learned From Steven

Steven was a gentle, wise, and skillful teacher. Over the six times we have hiked with him I have learned so much about myself and about how I live and interact in the world. The last time we were in his workshop he told us to try to see the world with “soft eyes.” As he described soft eyes, it seemed that he was talking about MY eyes. He said not to focus on something, to let all the periphery into our vision. To use all our senses to see, not just our eyes. I almost started to cry. He was asking people to see the world the way I saw it!

According to Steven, soft eyes enable us to take in what is important in the world around us. They give us a wider view. Not focusing on what is in front of us allows us to take in more of what is around us and see the bigger picture.

One of the exercises we did one day on the trail was particularly emotional for me. We grouped ourselves into pairs and took turns leading each other, blindfolded, on the path. Michael was my partner and I was aware of his great care and patience as he guided me with words and touch along the path. It was an exercise in trust. But for me it was also an experience of what total blindness might be like if it comes, and how I might cope with it.

Other things I learned from Steven:

To be grateful. Each day we shared a picnic lunch and took time to consider with gratitude where the food came from, how it was grown and prepared. We would also take a few minutes to each share something we were feeling grateful for that day. I came to feel great gratitude for my companions on the hikes (including, of course, Michael) because they looked out for me, helped me across difficult passages over logs on the path. And on each subsequent visit I felt enormous gratitude for being back at my Esalen home.

Importance of community. Although it seemed simple and effortless, Steven worked hard to help the group form a close community. I realized that I too can be a connector and community builder. I would organize a long table at dinner and invite our hiking group to join us. Sometimes I would provide a bottle or two of wine, and soon others were doing that as well. These dinners were noisy and festive, and at the end we would do our daily check-in together or what had heart and meaning for us that day. I would feel a warm glow as I climbed the hilly path to our cabin after dinner, thinking about the wonderful new friends I had made.

The magic of poetry. Steven liked to read poems to us that were favorites of his, and I felt as if he were sharing friends with us. He also gave us snippets of writings by John Muir that also felt like little poems. Each of us received a different quote to read, think about, and share with the group. Inspired by his love of poetry, I began to follow his example of choosing a poem to read and reflect on throughout the year.

Being authentic. We experienced first how important it is to look beyond people’s usual identifying information. We can come to know each other in deep and emotional ways in just a few days while experiencing the wilderness together and sharing our reflections and perceptions together.

To focus on the journey, and not the destination. To stay in the moment, to keep learning and changing.

To avoid judgment. This applies to myself and others. To accept myself and my limitations and imperfections, as well as those of others.

The healing powers of being in the wilderness. Steven took us on sunlit paths by giant redwood trees near rushing waters. Or along sandy beaches lined with mysterious caves. We paused and appreciated sacred grounds once used by native Americans (the Esselens). We climbed hills and splashed in the water. And we emerged from these experiences refreshed, energized, and uplifted.

Dancing the 5 Rhythms

On our second visit to Esalen, we decided to stay for two weeks. After our hiking workshop ended, we took a wonderful weekend class on Yoga Nidra Meditation that was exactly what we needed. It was so restful we kept falling asleep during our meetings. But that was okay because as a result, we were rested and ready for our first dance workshop.

We had heard about the 5 Rhythms from a woman in our first hiking group and we were intrigued. It is a free-form, expressive and healing type of dance that was created at Esalen in the 1970s by Gabrielle Roth. She is no longer alive, but her son Jonathan and step-daughter Lucia teach these courses around the world and at Esalen. We signed up for a class with Jonathan.

Michael and I both like to dance, and we tried to prepare for our workshop by watching videos of Gabrielle and reading one of her books about the 5 Rhythms. We arrived at the workshop feeling a little out of place, as everyone else seemed to know each other and be experienced dancers. But once again, we soon felt at ease and enjoyed meeting the other participants and dancing with them. It was hard work, but we danced until we were exhausted, and participated in exercises with the other dancers. These gave us a respite from being on our feet all day, and were aligned with the workshop theme of Masks and Mirrors. On the final day of the workshop we were sad to say goodbye to all of our new dancing friends.

The following year we took a course from Lucia, and we fell in love with her. Her workshop was titled Heartbeat, and focused on our emotions and how to deal with them. We danced through joy, fear, anger, grief, and other emotions. We also learned from Lucia’s presentations. One lesson I keep with me at all times is to recognize when I am fearful, and to examine that fear from a distance, as if looking at an object in my hand — and then to replace it with courage. Many times since that lesson I have felt afraid of even small things, like asking someone for help in an airport, or what street I am on in a strange city. When I recognize the feeling of fear, I tell myself to replace it with courage, and that usually helps.

Despite being in our 60s we once again felt that no one was watching us as we danced, and we did not have to feel self-conscious. We could just let loose and express ourselves through movement. The next year we returned for another workshop with Lucia, this time on making connections. Again, we learned so much — this time, about how we connect with others. In the short time we danced together, we felt very close and connected to the many other people in our workshop.

Inner vision

Esalen has felt like an exuberant summer camp for adults, and I hope to return again when the pandemic is over. But more than the good times, I have learned so much from my visits there. We have taken other workshops over the years that have helped us learn to set intentions in our life, to follow a daily practice of movement and stretching, and to use guided meditation for calming and relaxation, and more.

As I look back on the time we spent at Esalen and all the workshops we have taken, I feel that my experiences there have helped me develop a clarity of inner vision that complements my limited physical vision.

I think that I am better able to see myself in relation to others. I have more of a sense of connection and less of feeling isolated, different, noticed, and not fitting in. I feel that the soft eyes I have been blessed with allow me to see people without focusing on what they look like, but instead, on who they are.

Esalen has helped me see what is truly important in my life and who I want to be. I think my experience there has helped me become a kinder, gentler, more accepting and compassionate person than I was before.

I learned to see beyond obstacles, to be more courageous, to trust and to be grateful.

I think Esalen also helped me work on humility. To realize that no one cared about what I looked like in the baths, or how well (or how poorly) I hiked or danced. My low vision often forced me to listen more, to focus more on the person I was talking to, and less on myself. I became more outgoing, making friends at meals or at the pool. And to my great joy, one of the friends I made at the dinner table has become one of my dearest friends. We have had wonderful zoom calls during COVID, and we can’t wait to meet at Esalen again.

Finally, learning about soft eyes as a gift, not a curse, allowed me to actually value my limited vision. That was a perspective I never expected to have!

Next post: The Continuing Journey