We are back from our holiday in Devon.
Our first port of call was the fabulous Embercombe. Earlier this year, you might have read my posts about this magical place and the family camp we’ve been attending there for the last three years. (Here is the re-cap if you are curious: We Are Going on an Adventure; The Importance of Self Care; Healthy Boundaries; Changing Old Patterns; The Blessing of Being Held; Allow Answers to Find You; Drop Deeper; In Search of the Middle Way).
We love this place so much that we went there for the second time this year.
Here are some of the reasons why:
It was as fabulous as I remembered it; and truly challenging. You see, the family camp was designed specifically for families. We went there when my son was six months old and the land and the camp held us tenderly. This year, we signed up to the course before my daughter was born. She was three months old when we went there, and the land and the camp held us as we had anticipated. Well, the Emberfeast with its jam and pickle making activities was great, except we managed to attend only one session in five days. Perhaps it was the most important one (making cupcakes!), but there was a lingering sense of disappointment that we’d missed so much. Heavy showers, trekking between two sites on muddy paths, low temperatures (8C at nights), and, most importantly, no childcare support; we did struggle. It showed once more how well the family camp is organised and run, because we did not expect to feel so challenged. I realised that somehow we projected all the support onto the place. We imagined the land would hold us. But actually, it’s the people who did. We’ll certainly be back for the family camp next year, but no more Emberfeasts until the kids are older.
And then there was my beloved Atlantic ocean. Big waves, big beaches, big sky.
I cried so hard saying goodbye that I worried someone might try to save me. It was heart-breaking to bid farewell to this dear friend.
Back home integrating. More soon.