Rocky Mountain Yoga Retreat facilitator: Sabrina

Updated: Aug 25, 2020

Sometimes I find myself doing this thing where I feel like Lee and I have to hang out together in our down time at all chances.

It only causes me frustration.

Suddenly, "he doesn't "feel" enough", "he doesn't talk enough", mind beings to whisper to me. Or my mouth blurts out at him. Either way, I am usually the cause for my own banana-woman-brain, emotional spikes.

Anyways, that's not why I started writing.

Tonight, I want to write about:

1. Kundalini Rising: Cabin Retreat facilitator: Sabrina (@hello.spirit)

2. Living in the Tent & a Highway Collapse: the 2018 Boundary Region Floods

3. Meditation Practice for the Second Chakra: Svadisthana

4. Three song recommendations from the Montreal based band "Milk & Bone" as well as "Kroy"

Edit: These three points kind of weave in and out and back together again.

Here we go.

This song came on a few weeks back while I was trying to write. Sabrina always plays deadly songs. So tonight, when it came on the radio for the first time since I heard it a few weeks back, I was reminded of the writing inspiration that had come to me earlier today considering how to introduce Sabrina.

Such a distinct start to this song.

It's so funny, isn't it? I know the feeling that inspired it all, I know this song reminded me of the inspiration, and yet -- I won't know until the end of the proof-read whether or not I was able to really write down what I was feeling.


It was November of 2019. In the last little breath of the collective ocean draw backing before a the wave of 2020 -- the final little exchange of how "life was". None of us knew that then. We never really realize that every moment is the last little drawback of the wave that is the present.


My girlfriend Ashley and I went to go see the Patrick Alexander Band performing at Olds Town Square. The space is tiny, I now teach yoga there, which is a fricken blessings.

I didn't even mean to put a plug in for OTS. But there it is.

Reflecting on it now, of course I can tell you that there was something to the sound of Sabrina saying "Hello, Colby" that night...I can tell you that it hit different, and maybe you'd be like "yeah that makes sense", but also, I could just be a writer. It might just be me reflecting on the moment.

At the last retreat - Mountain chakra talk with Sabrina

But I tell you this, when she stepped down the steps at Olds Town Square and said "Hello, Colby". I looked up. I heard her.

Magik works like this.

The writer, reads. Spells and spelling. It's all the same.

This is what I find inspiring about Sabrina, this is why I am grateful to work with her. Currently, I have been navigating this physical resistance where I just need to deliver papers to her in order to just step into the space I feel pulled to working together.

Sabrina is like the friend, ally, partner, co-contractor that I have hoped to get to work with. And yes, I'm a Capricorn -- working with someone is like a big deal emotion to move through and consider. Although, maybe that's got nothing to do with being Capricorn. Probably, each of us has to sit still, check-in. Really ask ourselves -- "is this my truth?".

Anyhow, Sabrina wears black while she holds space for all of us. When she facilitates circles at the gatherings and throughout the year with the moon. (Yes, moon circle gatherings. She is your girl. It's healthy to feel vulnerable. It's safe because you know how to find safe spaces for yourself). She wears black, while I wear white.

She is Shaman.

Shaman's, I was told once told by a shaman on the path in Peru, make up a particular percentage within a community. Of a village, there will always be this percentage of individual(s) who are of the Shamanic path. It has always been so.

Of a collective of humans, there will be a number of those who are born as shadow walkers and dream speakers. The ones concerned with the inner-workings, well-being and health of the community.

Shaman is necessary for community. Argh, that's so beautiful.

Sabrina is a soul that has walked lives and has walked towards what is unknown. Ten years of the shamanic path translates to a decade of willing the raw experiences to come to her. Asking of herself to live in truth, speaking in truth, thinking in truth and authentically approaching presence.

I have a lot of respect for her path.

I admire the space she holds at our Opening, Closing and Circle Ceremony spaces -- the Ascend retreats would not be what they are going to continue growing into.

I can't say what it's all about. The circles. I can't say whether it is physical, inner-world stuff, spirit-work or energetic tuning. I can't describe a circle because each of us will take what we need and give the medicine we have.

You have to experience it for yourself.

Life. Circles. You have to experience it for yourself. I can't describe them to you. You already know what you have felt, seen and experienced. Sometimes life's lessons announce themselves, sometimes we release a little bit of pain that we've been carrying silently. Always -- we grow.

Life and circles can both be as bold as a thunder clap in the same moment as a lighting strike. Life and circles can both be a subtle as the click of a heel stepping into the night with a voice saying, "Hello, Colby".

I don't think I had ever heard Sabrina say my name before that night. I heard her.

Point being...I appreciate being able to speak to Sabrina. Somehow, we speak a similar language, somehow, throughout the last ten years we have walked these very parallel and yet, very unique paths from one another.

I'd love to know what the cosmos were up to at that time when I heard her.


I think the first thing I'd like to say about the day the that the entire street collapsed in Greenwood...the first thing I would like to say about that day is that organized crime, multi-generational poverty and the dynamic lives of the nameless community members who go above-and-beyond for their neighbours is incredible. It is one of the main reasons I find beauty in the world.

We never know where another is coming from.

The Main Street that ran down the mountain connected the lower part of the town to the top of the hill where the post office sat. An old brick building with glass post-boxes and a clock tower that still chimes every half hour -- only, it's three minutes out.

When the floods came in 2018, the Kettle River overflowed. There were thousands of evacuation orders and many homes destroyed. Seemingly, out of nowhere, the Main Street of Greenwood -- amidst the chaos -- collapsed. A hundred years of mismanaged public trust, a lack of funds and a lack of tax paying citizens resulted in failed infrastructure. The road seemed to split down the centre.


Greenwood is a charming little mountain town. It seems kind of strange as you pull in, suddenly, you're transported back in time to the time of the Gold Rush. To the year 1898 when Greenwood incorporated as a City.

Greenwood still calls itself is City -- although, it's population is that of a Village. There is a lot to be said for this region -- the Kootenay Boundary. I believe it is a sad and intentional thing that has happened to these communities. Greenwood once had a theatre house -- time has reclaimed almost all of its glory. Ashes to ashes.

I moved to the West Kootenay Boundary Region because I needed to.

A major part of me was laid to rest in this region. I shed blood there. I had to in order to let go of a life. I understand that now.

While I was with my ex-partner, time and had slowly eroded my memory of my own wings. Of my own ability. Living in a hunting tent, life became hard. Money became scarce and I seemed to constantly be working.

So when things went bad between my ex and I, I was quick to build a narrative in my mind that I deserved it.

By the time that I did remember my wings -- my grandmother was dying.

I knew it -- and I came home -- a nine hour drive. She was supposed to end up making a recovery -- and I remember seeing her in the hospital. She seemed surprised to see was I there?

I think about that sometimes...

I broke up with him while I was home. While I was loved. While I was safe with my family. While I was with my two old friends, Tiffany and Ashley.

When I flew back with my wings -- recalling my power -- I flew straight into a hunting tent that had seen a lot of sweat and seriously hard labour.

I was wild. The hunting tent was wild.

I flew back to a partner who was nervously picking apart his arms. Pulling his skin off in small, obsessive little chunks. I do not hate him. This is where I am coming from -- and I don't talk about it because I don't know how to explain the depths of the darkness that came from us merging our energy in such a conscious and articulated way.

When I returned to the tent -- I didn't hold back.

I maintained that he had to leave the following Monday and then I left to go and house sit for the weekend. Before I left, I kissed him.

I shouldn't have done that.

The next morning I was bit by the dog.

ew sorry.


I dunno, the thing about Greenwood, one of the communities in the Boundary, is that I've always felt like I've been there before. It's hard not to. There are parts of it that are the 1800's and your mind can almost feel the old wooden boardwalk under your feet. Your eyes almost remember the dusty roads.

I remember one time, I was dead-set on obtaining a signature on a check for the Kettle River Food Share Society, I climbed the old creaky staircase that wrapped up the back of one such 1800s -- early 1900s era building.

I remember walking down a flight of old, steep, wooden stairs behind one of the main buildings in Greenwood. I hiked up my ankle length skirt, exposing my old Blundstones,

"How many times has this happened?" were the word that struck me.


Greenwood lost its street because of organized crime over a long-period of time. I sincerely believe this.

I worked in City Hall, I worked with the Region.

Corruption is everywhere -- and it is right in front of you. Always. So is what is good and beautiful in the world. I'll try to write about this again another time.

It is a hard thing to see the world -- to really see it. The disparity between the "have's" and the "have-not's" is difficult to stomach. I feel my life has swung like pendulum consistently throughout my life, maintaining an unavoidable reminder that this is true.

Those born with opportunity and those born in true desperation equally spiral through the patterns of their forefathers and their mothers. There is no pride in success -- only circumstance. There is no shame in desperation -- only the starting line.

The only difference is that the have's always are subject to complete collapse...this is why power is so intoxicating, no? This is why it is a difficult thing to sit still with privilege.

They exist in equal parts. The light and the dark.

There is nothing and everything to say about any of our past lives, past stories, past loves and past losses -- is there?

Nothing and everything.

It's all the same.


Second Chakra Practice

The second chakra is where the narratives of "I" is energetically held. This is why kundalini will often stay here on its move upwards. We have everything that could be said and that ever has been said living in our second chakra.

Svadisthana, Sacral Chakra.

If you are working in your second chakra, I recommend calling it by it's name: Svadisthana.

Say it out loud now, as if you were speaking to another in the room. Svadisthana.

Whisper it, as if it were the realest love of your life. Svadisthana.

Speak the name within, in your thoughts, say it, Svadisthana.

Repeat whenever and however that feels good for you. Just trust you, for sure. Anytime you're practicing -- trust you.


I feel like there were so many ways that I wanted to tie this all together...I think the thing is that I've finally accepted past-life consciousness. I had never sat in a regression beyond that of inner-child work and facilitation.

I'm grateful to Sabrina for that.

I'm pumped to know her and work with her -- although I've known her for physical years in this life, we had not connected like this. That stuff doesn't matter when you have Work to do.

Anyways -- not a ton of point to that beyond creativity, props where props are due and dabbling into honest reflection of something that feels like it could have been a dream. The light and the dark.

Okay -- one more Milk & Bone because these songs are rocking my world. (P.s they are FACTOR recipients -- deadly).

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