THE GREEK RETREAT THAT HELPED ME THROUGH THE GRIEF OF LOSING MY MUM
Yoga dates back thousands of years to ancient India. Centuries later, it is still considered a universal panacea for every affliction going.
Over decades, I’ve been advised to try yoga by bereavement counsellors after my partner died, oncologists when I had breast cancer, my GP (for everything from depression to osteoporosis) and by friends for loneliness – they thought I might meet like-minded people there.
Each time I’d follow their advice, and leave recoiling from the discomfort of all the positions other than corpse, and mostly from all those feet. Bare feet, unless attached to a baby, make me feel nauseous.
Last autumn, though, I tried again. My mother had died, my sadness was overwhelming, my cholesterol high, my blood pressure unstable. Stress knotted my shoulders, stiffened my neck and even altered my gait.
I was a block of cemented grief, feeling scarcely able to breathe. My doctor was issuing prescriptions for medication I didn’t want to take. Tablets to help me sleep, others to help me get through the day, something to lower cholesterol, steroids for an unexplained rash.
Even my usual lifeline – walking for miles each day – wasn’t working. More drastic measures were needed. This time, the advice to try yoga came from me.
I chose a six-day, internet-free retreat on Silver Island, or Argironisos, a private island in a sheltered channel of the Aegean between Evia and the landmass of central Greece.
It appealed to me for many reasons, including the comments left by past visitors, which spoke of finding calmness and comfort, companionship and community.
I liked the structure and opportunities to be sociable provided by the twice daily yoga sessions and three (vegetarian) meals a day, but equally important to me were the free hours in between.
I knew I would need time alone, and looked forward to exploring the island’s 60 acres, perhaps taking a kayak out for a paddle, finding an isolated spot among the olive groves or on a clifftop to sit and be with my thoughts. Or befriending the local stray cats and dogs that have found a home at the retreat.
The island, which has been in the Christie family since 1961, is now owned by Lissa and Claire, the granddaughters of the original owner, Spiro. Lissa was there to meet me and the rest of the group (10 of us, from Singapore, Canada, the US and the UK) on the jetty of Oreoi (just over three hours from Athens by road or ferry) for the short boat trip across.
Over breakfast – homemade granola and juices, local honey, fruit, vegan pancakes – Lissa told us a little more about Argironisos. “There wasn’t even electricity or water here when Spiro bought it. There was nothing really beyond the house – which was quite run down – the church and the lighthouse – but everyone who visited wanted to return.”
The name, she said, is a mystery. Some say that it comes from an as-yet-undiscovered horde of treasure buried by pirates and others from the thousands of olive trees, the leaves of which glitter like precious metal in the rays of the golden sun. Lissa’s favourite story, though, is based on the island’s patron saints, Cosmas and Damian. “They took no payment for their work, so came to be known as the ‘Anargyroi,’ which means without silver.”
The island has always been her focus. Even when she was living and working in London, it was constantly on her mind. She lives here now with her husband Corne for about half the year, running the retreats from mid-April to mid-October.
Different teachers come for one or two weeks each, while sustainability initiatives include a solar farm, collecting water, natural cleaning products and toiletries. Corne and Lissa do all the cooking, with help from a couple of friends who go year after year to help out, and sit with guests around the table for meals, family-style. “People have made friends here; others have become our friends,” Lisa says.
Three days into my stay, my mum’s cat had to be euthanised back in London. I was inconsolable, yet felt no judgement or embarrassment about needing to mourn him.
I spent my days feeling only half-present, and yet, as I went through the motions, two hours of early-morning yoga, breakfast, walk, lunch, walk, two hours of evening yoga, read, meet the others for a drink and a chat around the firepit before dinner, I began to feel soothed.
Of course, the island played a huge role in this, but so did the yoga. Abby Paterson’s teaching was like no other I had ever experienced. Despite the various ages of our group, and our different competences, she took us through a programme that suited us all. Her tuition was gentle but progressive. Each class took us a little further, showed us we could do more.
Twice daily, we would head from our beautiful, white and Mediterranean-blue rooms – three in the main house, and three in a separate villa – down wildflower-and olive tree-lined paths to take our places in the yoga shala (a Sanskrit word meaning “home”). I would arrive a few minutes early to soak in the views of the constant and constantly changing seascape.
Each time the same, each time different.
A breeze nipped at my face, bringing my mind, which so often dwelled in the past or future, to where my body was. Here; now; this moment.
Abby led us through flowing sequences that expanded my shallow, barely discernible breathing, opened up my chest and lungs and carried oxygen and life to my limbs.
Massage balls went beneath feet, beneath the base of the skull, beneath the sacrum. I felt the relief of releasing tension in the fascia – the connective tissue that surrounds and supports every organ, muscle, vessel and bone in our bodies.
We made small movements; stretching for the sky up above, reaching for the sea way beyond, bending towards the earth below, focusing on the olive trees – symbols of peace.
Keeping going, easing from one position to another; seeing it all as one, step by step, making up the whole.
There was beauty in this, a lesson of how life is. We move from one chapter to another, sometimes thinking that one ends before another can begin, when each one is part of our continuing narrative.
Yoga was right. There is enlightenment to be gained by going with the flow.
Xenia Taliotis travelled as a guest of Silver Island Yoga, which runs retreats from mid-April to early October. Prices start from €1,705 (£1,450) pp, based on two sharing, including all yoga tuition (approx four hours daily), three vegetarian meals per day (one of which is five courses) and boat transfer from Oreio. Transport from Athens to Oreio can be arranged at additional cost.
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