Colorado jaunt proves empowering for local women

It was intended by a power greater than I that I attend a week-long team-building and empowerment seminar. The short-notice airplane ticket was cheap, my kind bosses let me take my vacation early, and I did some cooking to help pay for my lodging.

Yep, it was in the cards.

I hadn't been to Colorado, except perhaps on a cross-country trip as a child when my sister Candy and I threw up on Mother the entire trip. This trip was different.

My traveling buddies, Jules and Linda, and I flew in at night and so didn't see Colorado Springs until the next morning. As we fumbled around the breakfast room for coffee, someone drew the shades, and there suddenly was Pike's Peak, kissed by the early sunshine.

Oh my God! My eyes stayed riveted to the sight as I munched Raisin Bran. "Do you get used to this?" I quizzed the Oriental man who ran the motel as he made more coffee. He smiled benevolently. "No." Then, as any good Coloradan would, he told me how high the peak was and the history around it.

From then we three were totally immersed in the incredible beauty of the mountains and awestruck at every turn of the road. Lucky for me, my traveling buddies were rockhounds, so our first excursion was to the Garden of the Gods, which is full of gigantic rocks and botanical specimens.

It was only a three-hour drive to Crestone, but it took us nine to get there because we spent two hours at the garden, ate borscht and the best Reuben sandwiches ever at the European Cafe, and for two hours touched and gazed at rocks of all shapes and sizes at the Old Prospector.

We were booked at the Silver Star Bed and Breakfast, nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the lower part of the state, which at 8,500 feet is high desert. That also means there's not much oxygen. Pulling my luggage out of the car made me pant.

Marilyn Harper, of Nixa, was the facilitator for the 4 1/2-day event. We came to know her better during our stay as an incredibly insightful being full of light and joy, who helped our diverse group connect as a team.

Although open to men and women, the participants were all females from the Springfield area Jules, the church worker, Linda, a mortgage company employee, Stephanie, a rock merchant, Sharon, a feng shui practitioner and decor shop owner, Anna, a farmer, and two writers, me and Marilyn.

Quickly we added an eighth, Malina, a massage therapist who practices the Hawaiian art of lomi-lomi massage. She was originally from Brooklyn, which was obvious each time she opened her mouth. Malina reminded me of my dad, who was born in Manhattan and had the same soft-spoken tones and a penchant for staying "sawr" for saw, and "wotta," for water. I was glad she was there.

The mountain range was chosen for the seminar because it is a sacred place to Native Americans. Blood has never been shed there. And so, as the world around us was consumed with fear of war, we connected to a place of peace and renewal a place of no time. We heard no news, read no papers, and let go of fear.

It wasn't easy. We all came to the mountains full of fear in some form. Fear of war, of economic insecurity, of loss, of being directionless or worthless.

But each day, we grew stronger. And no wonder Crestone has no less than 22 sacred sites for reflection, meditation and contemplation. No one goes away weak.

The first full day we journeyed to Sanctuary House, which started out as the idea of an English professor in Boulder who wanted to create a replica of the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France. One walks on the labyrinth's circular pattern to meditate or pray. But there was within its cement-covered straw-bale walls meditation rooms for the Judeo-Christian, Hindu, Buddhist and Islamic religions. The connection to one God was not lost on us.

Later that evening, we returned to attend a Buddhist meditation in a newly-constructed yurt a circular structure covered with removable cloth to let in light and air. We sat with shoes off something we quickly became used to in Crestone and listened to the chant. Although it was unfamiliar to most of us, the energy that came from voices in unison was amazing. We left quietly when it was over, moved by the power of community.

Each day flowed into the other even now I can't separate what happened when. But we found another meditation garden, took a 40-minute trek up to a Tibetan shrine called a stupa with a view of the San Luis Valley, climbed into ancient stone huts that may have been used 200 years ago to store grain for the Indians who lived there or, as one person suggested, as a transporter to another place and time. No strange thought seemed strange in Crestone. We were all open to whatever and didn't discount what anyone else may have been experiencing.

My favorite activity was the Native American sweat, an event which beckoned to me because my mother's family is of Cherokee descent. It was held at Kiara's, an incredible garden spot owned by a retired Roman Catholic nun, that held a labyrinth, medicine wheel and similar sacred spaces.

We started the ritual with a puff of tobacco from a peace pipe and individual prayers of intent for the sweat. A smoking bundle of sage whiffed around each of us to purify our spirits, then we climbed into the sweat lodge.

It was round with just enough head space to sit up, made from tree branches tied together with twine, and covered with hides and blankets. A claustrophobe, I doubted I'd be able to stay for long. I was wrong.

A deep pit held lava rocks heated by a fire outside where Malina acted as fire tender.

When the door flap closed us in complete darkness, instead of fear, I felt charged and excited. Malina beat a drum and shook a rattle. Water was poured on the rocks, so steam and ash covered our faces and bodies as the sweat began in earnest. We took turns offering prayers and good thoughts. I recited without hesitation a Camp Fire prayer I had learned 42 years before, surprising myself.

As our bodies sweated, we felt our spirits being cleansed. Then the modern woman in me took over and I thought, "Boy, is my complexion going to look great!"

None of us felt trapped. We made it through the first round, with only one of our group leaving. At the end of the second round, I joined her because I was dizzy, the blood having gone to my legs.

As I cooled off outside with her, I considered that I hadn't really expected to be touched so deeply by the spiritual aspect of the sweat and other parts of the seminar I just thought I was going to hike up the mountains, see some cool sunsets and learn about other religions.

What I came away with is a stronger connection to the people of the world and the Earth itself. I learned that peace is within our grasp for everyone; we just have to hold that vision in our minds until it manifests on Earth.