What Meditation Retreats & Burning Man Have Taught Me About How to Be a More Radically Radiant Woman (and What They Have to Teach You Too)

(Photo credit: Michael Holden)

 

 “Dress like a slut.”

 This was the assignment my teacher and peers gave me one Saturday night on retreat several years ago.

 “Do you want to wear any of these?” my girlfriend asked as she nonchalantly pulled out pieces of her (very scanty) clothing and flung them onto her unmade bed.

 Gold leggings.  A baby blue fishnet dress.  A silver string bikini top.  Faux eyelashes.  A black lace teddy with hot pink bows….

 “Why do you have all this stuff?” I asked her, partly out of curiosity, partly because I was uncomfortable and didn’t know what else to say.  My own wardrobe, fine-tuned towards figure-hiding tops and modest bottoms after a decade spent in conservative Asia, was nothing like this. 

 “Last year I started going to this thing called Burning Man,” she answered. “It’s basically a big week-long party in the desert every summer where you dress up in clothes like this, play, and create. I started going because I used to be like you, afraid to be anywhere near something like that. Now I just love it.”

 Then she paused, red thong in-hand, looked up into my eyes, and added, “You know, if you ever wanted to come with me, you can. I think you would love it too.”

 Nausea rolled around in my belly as I hesitatingly picked up each item and then carefully laid it back down.

 “I really have to do this,” I tried to convince myself. “Tonight.  And there really is no escape. Everyone here is holding me accountable. This is my doing. This is what I signed up for.”   

 I was being summoned to dress as the kind of woman I most judged and resisted. A slut.  Someone who showed off her body so she could be treated as a sex object.  Someone no real man would respect.  Or want past sunrise. 

 I was being called to embody an estranged part of my own feminine persona, a part of myself that I feared deeply: the seductress, the slut, the consort that brought kings and Buddhas to their knees. 

 Needless to say, that retreat taught me a lot.  But it was a safe space, full of women (no men) , and a wise and knowing female teacher.  I dressed up like a slut, and I felt a power and a calling I’d never heard before.  I felt an unexpected aliveness that came not only from facing my fear but also from the awe, inspiration, and enchantment that my own presence could illicit in these other women. I was intrigued. 

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That was THEN.  I got home from (my very first) Burning Man two weeks ago. Just prior to that I sat a one-week silent meditation retreat.

A lot of my friends marveled at the juxtaposition: a week of silence and solitude followed by a week of camping in the midst of a transitory city of 55,000 (and booming techno music 24/7).

For me the contrast felt very right. And necessary.

I feel most at home on retreat. The stillness, nature, contemplation, strict schedules, and self-inquiry feed me, inspire me, and make me stronger.  Retreats help me to see the limitations and pain that come from experiencing life strictly from my ego (conditioned thoughts, beliefs, habits and the personality that I know to be “Sara”).  They then help me to see beyond this “Sara” to a vaster, freer, more open, and all-inclusive awareness that neither fears nor craves any thought, feeling, or experience.  As a result, I learn to dance more skillfully between this relative “Sara” and Absolute awareness. I always leave feeling more courageous, confident, and unshakable.

But this year, instead of going home for a mellow and cautious post-retreat integration, I instead put the rubber to the road and tested my new insights during a 3-day road trip, followed by 7 days in the Nevada desert at Burning Man.

(It’s hard to describe what Burning Man actually is, but here’s a little video–that happens to feature my favorite dance club quite a bit– to help.)

In many ways, Burning Man could have been my “perfect storm.” Camping, communal living, porta-potties, dust everywhere, little sleep, nothing green or living in sight, no privacy, minimal showers, incessant noise…..

Yet, ever since my friend first told me about this “Leave No Trace” gathering several years ago, I’ve felt my interest in it grow, right alongside my willingness to practice “embodying what I most resist.”

When I learned that this year’s theme was “Rites of Passage,” I knew I had to go. After a year of major life changes (namely the publication of my first book and the rebranding of a new website), I felt I needed a definitive, formal initiation into a new chapter of my life and a fresher, bolder, bigger, brighter expression of myself.

On the hot and dusty day that I finally arrived in Black Rock City,  I stood (in my 3-inch platform black leather boots) among everything I thought I despised. And instead of turning around and driving home, I did what I have practiced on my meditation cushion and in my friend’s room on retreat several years ago—I paused, softened, got curious, and willingly stepped over my edge to see what was on the other side.

What would it be like and what would it take for me to open to all that is around me? To embrace all that I am feeling and thinking right now?

What would it be like for me to step into what I most resist? What I’m most afraid of? What I most harshly judge?

Over the next several days I lived the answer to those questions.

And, since a picture’s worth a thousand words, here’s what I discovered about myself on the other side of my edge:

 

 

I left feeling more radiant, powerful, connected, loving, joyful, and inspired than I ever have before. Burning Man, for me, was one of the most blissful, devotional, and free experiences of my life to date.

Today, as I write this, I’m a fuller, more whole, more radically (and unapologetically) radiant woman as a result of my time there. Why?

Because within the parts of ourselves and our lives that we most fear resides the keys to unlocking and expressing our greatest gifts.

A yogini practices like this. She chooses to abide in the dark corners of her inner and outer worlds, those corners that she most abhors. In doing so, she herself becomes the light that allures and dazzles.  She transforms into the divine enchantress, beckoning everyone around her to come out and play—and to step into their own greatness as a result.

•  What parts of yourself are you avoiding?
•  What thoughts and feelings do you most fear?
• Which women do you judge and what’s the story you have about them?
• What kind of environments and experiences do you avoid?
• What would it be like if you opened to these things, stepped into them, and made them part of yourself and your life?
• What would you have to “let go of” in order to do that?
• What would you have to “let in” in order to do that?

Are you willing to play with and explore the answers in yourself and in your life?

Are you willing to step over your own edge to see who’s waiting for you on the other side?

 

 

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The three things that most helped me to step into my fears and into a new expression of myself were:

1. A steady (daily) meditation practice
2. Feedback from trusted girlfriends
3. A safe space for exploration.  

If you feel like you’re missing any of these things in your life, I have them bundled together, waiting to support you at my 7^th annual The Way of the Happy Woman retreat in Mexico this winter.

If the fast track to fearlessly reinventing yourself intrigues you, registration’s now open (with an early discount until November 1). I’d love to play with you there and to help you to own your brilliance! Learn more here.