On the second day of the retreat, we walked down the mountains and into a small lake. We had done a lot of hard work on our minds the day before, and that day was dedicated to reconnecting with our bodies. The air down the path was crisp, the views astonishing, and the silence surrounding us was one only nature itself can create. While we were busy walking down, talking with our accountability partners, and enjoying the scenic landscapes, we didn’t realize that Ruffo, the retreat center’s dog, had been following us since the very beginning.
He walked with us to the small lake, where we all sat down to appreciate the wind, the sun on our skins, and to connect: we sat in front of the body of water and meditated together, sharing our experiences and preparing ourselves for the day we had ahead of us. When we all felt prepared (or more or less so), we all jumped into the water together.
The water was cold and refreshing, a mirror for the work we were doing inside ourselves. We swam a bit to get warmer, and once we were acclimated to the lake’s temperature, we formed a circle to share our experiences and insights. We talked about the importance of not forgetting the work from the previous day. It had been hard, and we were all integrating the lessons; so while we were present and enjoying the lake, we were also thinking about what we’d faced the day before.
And then, right there, in the circle we formed, just when the conversation was at its deepest point, with an air of meditative solemnity and presence, Ruffo, the dog, jumped right into the water, straight into the middle of the circle.
We all laughed, we all cheered for Ruffo and his bravery, and while Ruffo swam around us playfully, ignoring the cold water and checking on each one of us with his joyful nature and his graceful swimming skills, we realized: He didn’t care if he was ready or not. He didn’t care if the water was cold or not. He didn’t care how deep the lake was, how long he’d stay in the water, or what the circle even was about. He just wanted to be present and share the moment with us: A moment he could not comprehend, but he could still enjoy to the maximum.
That’s when someone said, “We have to remember what we are going through with this retreat… but we also have to remember the dog in the water.”
We have to remember the tough parts of our journeys, and we have to remember how we dealt with them, but if we focus solely on that part of our stories, we will forget the dog in the water: The joy we can experience, the carefree moments we all have, and the happy instants that take us by surprise in the most unexpected ways possible.
We eventually got out of the water and went along with our day, following different ceremonies and activities. Ruffo joined us again for dinner later on, while we shared our thoughts about the day we were finishing with a delightful meal in front of us.
But the idea to remember the dog in the water stood with us for the rest of the retreat, and I believe it’s a good thing to keep close to our hearts: Let’s keep the dog in our minds, because a lot of times, it’s a representation of our own selves jumping into the water, not caring about the outcome, but about the experience we are getting ourselves into.
So next time you face a challenge, remember the dog in the water. Embrace the moment, the discomfort, and the joy it can bring: Just like Ruffo did; embrace the jump into the water.