The First Tiny Step Toward a Big Dream
Photo by Quinn Corte, North Carolina, March 2021.
One year ago today, as we hunkered down to brace a global pandemic, I started The Retreat Space.
It was Friday the 13th. Most Boston businesses—including the museum where I worked—closed their doors that day. I was simultaneously terrified of the virus and its repercussions and (naively) a little excited at the novelty of what felt like an extended snow day. The latter was a fleeting feeling, as the devastation crept closer to home and days melted into months.
I also felt something else that day. It was a rising of purpose and clarity, as though I was standing at attention to the universe, ready and willing for instructions on how to help. When I sensed this feeling, I was pacing the neighborhood on a route that would later become my urban lifeline. My feet and my brain were working hot and fast from the anxiety.
My eagerness to do something felt palpable, like a cannonball right before that big moment. I was open. I was ready. I was listening.
That’s when I got the idea to open my retreat center online.
This idea wasn’t out of the blue. I had been nurturing a wish to open a retreat center in the woods. It was a big dream, born from the deep inner knowing that I’m meant to gather and empower others. It was something I could visualize in great detail—the way the sun dappled the cabins, people removing twigs from hair after lying in the grass, a circle of strangers transforming into lifelong friends.
Before the pandemic I had started brainstorming about how to go about this massive dream, but I wasn’t really sure how to begin. It was an exciting but frustrating time. I knew it would have to start with gathering information and experimenting. But I was overwhelmed by a million questions and a heaping dose of imposter syndrome. How does one start something so ambitious and new?
In hindsight, that period of brainstorming and incubating in 2019 was such a sacred time. I felt like I wasn’t making progress, but I was actually gathering invisible seeds and tilling the soil. I know the truth of it now; those quiet periods of incubation are critical in the lifespan of baby dreams. Even when it looks like we aren’t “doing anything,” the subconscious is forming an underground root system—anchoring our intention and preparing us for growth.
By March 13th, I felt ready. I had been nurturing this seed of an idea for quite awhile, and these new circumstances brought a surge of clarity. All my long-suffering questions were suddenly answered or irrelevant. I was no longer floating in an ocean of “how”. The entire world had to go home and stay home—the anchor had dropped.
I could have easily walked away from my dream in that moment. What silliness to start a retreat center when it’s not safe to gather! But instead, the constraints of the pandemic liberated me. My circumstances and options had been greatly narrowed. There were only a few things I had control over, and for a chronic over-thinking perfectionist, that felt liberating. Losing control over my plan helped me begin.
Like Tetris pieces falling into place, my solution was to open a virtual retreat center. I would start with a phase of curious exploration, with the intention to build community and try things out.
Suddenly, the focus wasn’t on me. Rather than answering the question, “how do I make my dream a reality?” I was now asking, “how can I use my gifts to serve others?” I wanted to uplift, connect, and support people during a scary time. No one would be expecting perfection from me. Anything I shared would be an offering of love, no matter how it was received. Putting myself out there still felt vulnerable, but not in a crippling way.
The pandemic also removed so many logistical challenges for a first-time retreat organizer. I wouldn’t have to find a venue, speak in public, order food, or ask people to travel. The hurdles felt lower.
Finally, the crisis gave me a sense of calm, purposeful urgency. Things were bad out there. I wanted to do this now. I felt a longing from my soul to create, to build, to share. It lit a fire under me. It was time to do the thing I felt called to do. I got over myself and got started.
I walked and walked and walked. The download came fast and furious—the way they do when we’re in deep alignment. All those notebooks of brainstorming and “what if…” coffee dates had paid off. I had tons of ideas that could be adapted for the online space. I could do this. I didn’t know how, exactly, but I knew I could figure it out.
My first tiny step was sending an email to tell friends about my idea. I knew I couldn’t do this alone. Would my healer and teacher friends be willing to offer something free online? Would my scrappy project manager friends join me for a logistics brainstorming meeting? What did they think? I sent the email without overthinking it.
It was out there. I had finally begun.
After ten days of conversations and YouTube tutorials, I had a decent website, a friend to lead the first yoga class, and a rough plan. I was working at warp speed on something I was super excited about. It felt exhilarating.
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Since that initial launch, running an online retreat space has continued to feel wild and baffling and delightful. I still don’t have answers (and I have a lot less energy, frankly). I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m doing it.
I’m so glad I took that first step. On a personal level, I have so much more information about my big dream than I did a year ago. I know (from experience) that I love guiding and teaching, for example, and that I don’t want the responsibility of owning a real-life retreat center any time soon. I have gained so many technical and marketing skills. And I am learning to follow the thread of what really fills me up—connecting people, writing, teaching, learning, and empowering others to care for themselves.
On a wider level, I know that this space has helped many of you. If it has made any of you feel 5% less alone or more inspired to care for yourself, then it has been a success. It has also been a profound honor to uplift the wonderful healer-guides who have grown through bravely sharing their wisdom and gifts. Each tiny step we take together is a step toward positive change in the world.
I am so damn grateful for the amazing community of humans who have showed up for this endeavor in the past year—whether to teach, to donate, to attend an event, or to read our emails.
In honor of our one-year anniversary, I’m lighting a candle for your dreams.
If you squint, can you see an obstacle in your path as a creative guidepost?
How can your constrained circumstances liberate you from decision fatigue?
If there is one expectation you can release, would it give you permission to take that first tiny step?
You might still be in incubation, or you might be ready now. I trust that you will take that first tiny step when the timing is just right.
P.S. 10 things I learned launching The Retreat Space.
P.P.S. After healing from severe work-related burnout, I am learning how to work more sustainably. My question about this was recently featured on a career + astrology podcast by Ellen Fondiler and Heidi Rose Robbins. You can listen here to their wonderful advice for me.
P.P.P.S. How are you doing at the one-year mark?