in early march, 2020, the navigator retreat began as a gathering for women and folks that identify with women’s communities- ready to both shore up and slow down, in the wonky, rush-about worlds we were living in then. to intentionally create community in a time we were most craving more purposeful connection and belonging. wanting a remedy to what felt like too much energy spent online and behind screens, and dreaming up a way of sharing real space with others for a meaningful amount of time. sleeping by, waking with and being together.
little did we know.
we launched just two weeks before the pandemic stay-at-home orders asked us to distance from each other even more. we plunged into a topsy-turvy world that had us apart, filled us with fear, kept us inside. it meant more togetherness (so much togetherness) than ever for some, and further isolation for others. kids and teens without each other to reflect off. babies not learning our faces. we’ve been riding ripples of grief since then; what we knew won’t be the same.
and also. we’ve needed these risings, these reconciliations. we’ve needed to re-examine.
{ we re-make. we rebuild. }
we’ve been shifted at such singular (and global), cellular (and pervasive) levels, it still feels too soon to find language to name it.
how do you tell the story of the way you’ve been rearranged?
for now, and now more than every, we just need reminding that we aren’t, in fact, alone, or even really apart; we are interconnected. a part of each other. knitted together. we’re murmurations, vibing off the sevenish closest beings in our sphere. we’re meant to ripple from each other.
after knowing deep isolation, we get to gather again. as in, most of us can sit safely in circles together, criss-cross applesauce or however we’re comfy, and get curious. discover each other again. learn from our circumstances, from our faces. from our stories. from the pages.
from what comes up when we come together.
we can write/rest/make art/find quiet/contemplate. we’ll read/breathe deeply/reimagine/excavate.
we can dance if we wanna.
we’ll pocket tools for dismantling and restructuring; that we make our own maps. it’s time for new plans and we are co-creating the new world.
we’re offering comfort, and also know discomfort’s where the growing gets good.
may we leave this time closer to who we are than when we came, and closer to another than when we began.
and not forget that nearness and connection aren’t a given, but the dearest gifts we have.
you belong here.
