Take the Time. You Won’t Regret It.

A reflection from the Aligned Retreat in Yukon on slowing down, being held, and remembering what matters.

Last weekend, I was up in Yukon, Canada, on wild land for the Aligned Retreat. A group of people came together to ask a simple but not so simple question: what matters most in this one wild and precious life?

I have been wanting to write about it since I came back, but honestly, it has been hard to find words. Some experiences need time to settle in the body first.

The week before I left was really busy. I packed almost last minute, and my flight was early in the morning. I woke up at 2 a.m. wishing I could sleep for just a few more hours. On my way there, I felt excited, but also a bit uncomfortable. Ten hours of travel, no idea who I was going to meet, no idea how the weekend would unfold.

Before the retreat, we had pre-work. We were asked to think about and write down our core values. I wrote: learning, creativity, connection, authenticity, adventure, inclusion, and relationships.

On my first flight, I looked at those words, and then I fell asleep.

I wasn’t sure if there would be internet where I was going, so during my layover I called my family. Then the second flight landed in Whitehorse. I was waiting to be picked up, looking around at the other people waiting, wondering if we were all going to the same place.

Then Andrea and Jamie, the landowners and hosts, arrived. I was wondering how we would find each other but we didn’t even need the sign. They welcomed us with such warmth, and we slowly started getting to know each other on the way. We made a few stops before arriving at the land, and I still do not know how to describe how beautiful it was.

And then we arrived.

We arrived, and we arrived, and we arrived.

Kelly was the only person I knew virtually before arriving. I knew her through her mentor coaching and the beautiful Life Design work she does, and that is how I first found out about the retreat. She was there alongside Becky, Robin, and Sherri, the faculty team, welcoming us with open arms. I turned my head and could not believe it was real. The land, the cabin over Crag Lake, the mountains, the clouds, the trees, the birds singing… This is where words start to feel useless. The land felt so welcoming, so accepting, that the heaviness of the week softened in me.

We got settled, and I met my lovely bunkhouse partners. Over the weekend, we explored our values and chose one core value we wanted to lean into over the next six months. We had beautiful local food. We were taken care of in such a nourishing way.

The team had planned different activities and art modalities for us. Through dance, yoga, photography, art, and life design, we reflected on what it means to actually live the value we had chosen. Every activity opened something.

From morning to night, we spent time together. We cried. We laughed. We spoke. We listened.

I keep thinking about the sound of rain on the yurt while we were meditating. The view while we were making art. The fire that held what we wanted to let go of. The moment we looked at photos and realized how much emotion they carried. The group dance that felt almost magical.

There were things many of us had never experienced before. The poetry dance, and the way we slowly built trust until we were dancing as a group, is something I will hold onto for a long time.

Part of healing happens when we are held in a safe space. I have experienced that as a coach, and I have experienced it as someone being coached. We need that space more than we admit. A safe space is where you can be honest about what is happening. Where you can say what feels right for you. Where you can be in process and still be accepted.

And then there were the connections. When you focus on being, doing becomes less important. Some of us did not even find out what each other did for work, but we still felt close. It felt like I had known these people for a long time because we shared what mattered. We had deep conversations, little chats around the fire, vulnerable moments, quiet moments, and moments of real authenticity.

I feel like I lived all the core values that I wrote down in this trip but authenticity is a bold word in my life these days. In my next post, I want to write more about what it means to me and what is changing.

I was reminded that being open does not mean knowing exactly what will happen. It means allowing yourself to show up anyway. It means making space for the unknown, for connection, for surprise, for the parts of you that can only speak when life gets quiet enough.

For now, this is what I know.

Take the time.

Take the time to leave your routine. Take the time to listen to yourself. Take the time to sit with people who are also trying to live more honestly. Take the time to slow down enough to hear what has been waiting underneath the noise.

You will not regret it.

With heart,

Bahar