MSC at Esalen, Crossroads of the Scientific and the Sacred

It is with me now, as if a dream, the misty magical quality of my week at Esalen. I’d signed up for Mindful Self-Compassion with Chris Germer and Kristin Neff in January, a Christmas present from my husband. All at once, the trip began to take shape, and before I knew it, I was driving onto the grounds and entering the building where orientation was to take place. But it wasn’t easy, in another way. I’d heard a lot of stories from my graduate days in psychology training. Esalen is where the seeds of the human potential movement took root and lots of emotional experimentation took place. So, I arrived with excitement, anticipation, and well, a little fear. At first, I sat in my car watching, then I got up my nerve to sign in and take a seat on a cushion to find out how the week would unfold. I let myself ease in, slowly, and each night I retreated back up the coast to the Big Sur Lodge to my little cabin under the redwoods. I went to learn in the context of human contact and connection, certainly, but in the end, the animals and the beautiful natural coastline played an even bigger part in soothing and comforting me. Nowhere else is a place like Esalen, a place of secret peace talks, of famous characters like Fritz Perls and Ida Rolf who are now gone, a place of mind and body work where people take risks and learn deeply. And nowhere is a setting comparable with such gorgeous natural beauty.

We learned to synchronize our breath to the waves below. We gathered at sunset to marvel at the sun sinking into the sea, in silence.

On the first morning, I joined a stream of participants winding their way across the ravine to a giant yurt anchored to the cliff above the crashing waves of the Pacific. Those waves became a constant comfort as Chris and Kirsten led us in peaceful meditations. We learned to synchronize our breath to the waves below. We gathered at sunset to marvel at the sun sinking into the sea, in silence. And, yes, eventually, each of us braved the hot springs on the cliffs unfettered by bathing suits and, one-by-one, came back to tell about it with humor.

Each evening I would drive back along Highway 101 to my solitary cabin to regroup and each morning I would awaken to wild turkeys on the lawn, a natural alarm clock. I developed a ritual of stopping at the Big Sur Bakery for a ginger scone and a cup of steaming coffee. With each passing day, I became more emboldened and more clear.

The capping glory of my stay at Esalen, though, came at the end, almost an afterthought, it seemed. Chris introduced the naturalist at Esalen, Daniel Bianchetta, who set up an impromptu slide show. “When you get too scientific,” he said, ”you can lose your reverence.” I’ll never forget those words. I’d struggled with the intersection of the world of science and the world of the sacred my entire life, especially in psychology graduate school. All at once I got it. Esalen, to me, represented that crossroads, a place of transformation between the world of science and the world of the sacred.

Three condors circling as if to say, “Come back again when you can sink into the natural beauty of this coast, relax under the redwoods, hike to the falls on the beach, and listen to the waves crashing.”

We sat entranced in our heated yurt as we were led on a journey into the sky of the condors, up the hillside with the women who would gather food and sing as they worked, of the men who painted ochre petroglyphs on rocks in caves. And, at the end of it, he told us where to find the monarch butterflies on a tree on the property, in the process of migrating to Mexico. I began to take notice and spied a red fox as I walked to my car that night. But best of all, the place where he told us to look to find the elusive condors. I found them. Their spirit soared high above my open sunroof as I made my way back up the coast on the way home. Three condors circling as if to say, “Come back again when you can sink into the natural beauty of this coast, relax under the redwoods, hike to the falls on the beach, and listen to the waves crashing.” There they were, right where he’d said they’d be.

Note from Kristy Arbon: I was at Esalen with Jan, Chris and Kristin, in 2013, so got to witness some of the wonder and beauty she writes about. I’ll be there again, with Chris and Kristin, in December 2016! Such a privilege to be at that amazing place.