They arrived ready to shed what no longer served them.

Each woman, in her own way, was carrying something heavy. 

Be it grief, obligation, or a lack of sense of self. 

The common theme was they were always showing up for others while leaving themselves last. 

For seven days on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, they chose themselves. 

They said yes to healing. Yes to rest. Yes to reflection. 

Each morning opened with movement where bare feet touched the earth/sand. 

We walked the land and stretched what was tight and or bodies began to soften. 

Nature responded to the vibes we were putting out. 

A capybara showed up during one of our sessions and we named him Clyde. 

He stayed just out of sight but not out of reach.

He made noise, rustled through the brush, and reminded us that presence does not always need a spotlight. 

Then came Sammy, a sloth who moved slowly enough to teach us something. 

Had we been rushing or lost in our screens, we would have missed him completely. 

Sammy's presence was a sermon on slowing down and paying attention to what is right in front of us.

However, the most beloved of our animal visitors was a little white kitten.
We named Eucalyptus Reginaé Jackson, affectionately known as Yuki. 

Yuki showed up to nearly every session.

She meditated with us, curled up during yin, and posed for our photos like she had been invited. 

The moment that sealed her in our hearts came on the final morning. 

At 4 a.m., when the women were preparing to leave, Yuki showed up to get her last cuddles and see them off. 

She offered presence and a kind of blessing that we are still talking about in the group chat. 

The fire made us wait. 

Our bonfire was postponed twice due to rain.

At first it felt disappointing. Then it became part of the lesson. 

When the skies finally cleared, the bonfire became a threshold. 

It was unplanned for that day but we took the opportunity of the first rain-free night. 

As we circled around the flames, something opened up. 

The evening began in quiet reflection. Then came laughter and dancing. 

Then came the kind of joy that lives deep in the bones of a body with open sacral energy. 

Burdens were laid down that night. Not all at once, but enough to breathe easier. 

Sisterhood was formed in a way that does not dissolve with time or distance. 

These women did not just attend a retreat.

They stepped into a sacred moment in their own lives. 

They remembered who they are, and they left carrying that remembrance in their hearts and around their waists. 

If you feel the call, trust it. We will be here, holding space. 

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