I just got back from a retreat. I do this once, sometimes twice a year. It gives me an opportunity to slow the pace of my life so that I can see some of the landscape instead of my usual head-whipping attempts to look at what I'm doing as it flashes by. This time I really experienced the importance of practice. I had a visceral sense of what it would be like to actually reach a goal, and it looked like a type of death. If I became a Yogi, what would be the point of practicing Yoga? If I became a writer, why would I choose to write again? If learned all I needed to learn about facilitating groups, how bored would I feel when I started work with the next one? The joy lies in the practice. In doing what I love to do, in doing what feeds my soul, on a daily basis, not in the achievement of an arbitrary goal or end-state.

I also got a sense that what I do, what we all do, makes a difference in the world. We will never get to the point of 'saving the environment' or 'achieving social justice'. These things are not goals, they are practices, and they demand the efforts of many many practitioners. They also need a span of vision beyond a single lifetime. (Certainly beyond mine, since there are more years behind me than in front of me now!) I intend to plant some trees that take a very long time to grow as a talisman to remind myself that having a purpose which extends out into a future I will not see has real, tangible value. I will also practice overcoming my resistance to doing something - anything - every single day. Saying a mantra, doing three sun salutations, writing my journal - anything - to remind me that repetition is my friend and that overcoming resistance is also a practice.