I snuck this snapshot inside an incredible, still, sitting room in the convent just off the main corridor. The subtle light and energy here was sublime, and the room was filled with Madonna statuettes.

Pay attention. Attention is love. And love without attention is just a word.

~Karen Maezen Miller

Despite my little problem with overconfidence (ha!), I find that I am wildly, hatefully, pathetically envious of posts in which the blogger brags about the fabulous person that she met and you didn’t, and just obviously wants to rub it in that she went to some fabulous retreat and you didn’t, or that she’s friends now with all the super-awesome and fabulous women in the world and you’re not, and blah blah blah Squam, and blah blah blah soul sister, and blah blah blah i miss you, and blah blah blah bleahhh…

So, if you are as immature as I am, you might want to look away.  (Unless, of course, you travel and dine and enjoy child-free-dom and befriend super-cool chicks frequently, then stay, and we will pity one another.)

No, really look away now.

Before I tell you about my weekend.

On Friday, Thelma (that’s me!) and Louise, each of us RNs-turned-stay-at-home mothers to four young children, got to sit in a car together for a total of more than nine hours.  By ourselves.  Without children.  With incredible (uninterrupted!) conversation.  Not once did I think of the radio.  But several times, I thought, soul sister.

Do you know what?  I warned you.

Then we checked into a hotel, strolled the streets of downtown Rochester, MN, and dined at a lovely Italian restaurant.  (You know the bread scene in Ratatouille?  When she listens in ecstasy to the crispy bread crust?  It was like that, the bread.  I had to suppress an outburst of “Oh, sweet symphony…”)  We played with tarot cards on hotel beds and laughed and cried and pumped (yep) and slept (!) without kids to wake us.

I love Louise.

On Saturday, I met a woman who is part Tinkerbell, part Yoda, part my Aunt Jeannine, and completely wonderful.  She led the retreat, the “Mother’s Autumn Plunge.”  She is Karen, though I feel tentatively compelled to call her Maezen, her ordained Buddhist name.  She is a mother, a Buddhist priest, and the author of Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood, and the blog Cheerio Road. 

Not only did I get to soak in her wisdom, watch her animated movements, and hear her boisterous laughter, I got to hug her.  (Shoot.  I’m gushing.)

One thing that Maezen said early in the day was an apologetic something like “you already know all this.”  And it’s true.  everything she said, every exercise she led us in, was not information; it was a reminder.  A day of refreshing, beautiful, deep remembering: breath, attention, forgiveness, connection, trust, beauty, love.  It was affirming, enlightening, magical, empowering, and practical.  But my favorite part was just sharing her space.  Her most effective way of teaching was just being.  It was impossible to miss the authentic, beautiful, joyful energy that just oozed out of her.

Thelma and Louise made it home eventually, and loved all over those eight children, but I can’t help but think that the missed exits and detours were subconsciously motivated.

exhale.