Saturday afternoon

We went to lunch, which was at a restaurant down the street. We walked to the restaurant with our small group and our two team leaders, but by the time we got to the table and sat down, our group had miraculously grown to include 4 or 5 other, more "senior" group members. Maryann whispered to me that one of the senior members was her team leader. I hadn't thought of the group as having a hierarchy before. She talked about how amazing he was and how much he had taught her, but I got the feeling that she was nervous that he was there and that he was watching and evaluating her.

I sat down at our table across from Maryann and another attendee named Alia. Alia was a young woman who wore a scarf and the traditional dress of a Muslim, which made her look very foreign. But when I talked to her, it was clear she had grown up in the U.S. She had recently moved to Chicago, far away from her family, and she told me how she had encountered racism for the first time here, especially because of the way she chose to dress. She also had two young kids and was home with them and often felt isolated. We talked about being moms and said we should meet up at a park sometime with the kids.

And on the walk back, I had a very interesting conversation with Rebecca, the woman who jumped in the lake for her adventure. She was an investigative journalist for a TV station before she had kids and her husband was still in the TV news industry. We talked about California and how I had recently moved and that led to talking about moving and embracing the place you live. I told her that my problem is that I want to live in too many places. The city? Sounds great! The country? Absolutely. On a leafy street in the suburbs? Sure! She told me that was about me not living in the now and not embracing where I am. I am too often looking elsewhere.

After lunch, we headed back to the room and straight back into our lessons. The marketing director greeted us and led us in more dancing. More chanting. Then it was Imelda's turn on the stage. More endless, endless questions and hand raising to answer all of them. Raise your hand if your parents told you to stop crying when you were a kid. Raise your hand if your parents told you you couldn't have the things you wanted. Raise your hand if you feel like you aren't supposed to want the things you want. I found I was raising my hand on automatic pilot. She asked, "How many of you feel like you don't want anything?" I raised my hand. "How many of you feel like you want too much?" I raised my hand.

Then Imelda led us on the first major exercise of the weekend. We were supposed to gather together in our small groups for the exercise. We were going to tap into our subconscious and confront all of those inner voices that were telling us that we can't have what we want, aren't supposed to have it, don't even want it.

Our small group was divided up so that six people were on one side and six people were on the other. The lines stood facing each other and each person in the line locked arms. I stood opposite Rebecca. Once we were lined up, line A was supposed to start shouting their wants at line B. For one minute, with everyone in the room shouting at once, one line was to stream-of-consciousness shout everything they deeply want in life--the ultimate truth--at the person across from them. The person across was supposed to stand, stare, and take it all in. I did my best for one minute, but I honestly couldn't come up with much but platitudes. "I want intimacy, connection, meaning, understanding, happiness, joy, love!" It didn't lend itself to shouting.

Next it was line B's turn and Rebecca shouted what she wanted back at me. She shouted, "I want to scale mountains and see the world and have sex in a field of flowers and meet world leaders!" I thought, oh those are a lot better than mine. When line B was done, it was line A's turn to shout at line B again. Only this time, when we shouted our deepest darkest wants, our ultimate truth, line B was supposed to shout right back at us with every reason why we couldn't have it. They were supposed to shout, "You can't do that! You don't deserve it! You aren't good enough to have that!" and on and on.

It was disconcerting to have someone shout things like that, and already there were a few people in our group who were crying. Maryann was crying so hard that she had to stop a few times and take a breath. I had a hard time getting worked up, though, partly because I had a hard time hearing what people were saying above all the racket in the room. Then we went through the exercise a third time, and this time we were supposed to respond to the negative comments coming from the other line, shouting back, "Yes, I am worthy and I will get what I want and you can't stop me!"

When the exercise was finally over, there were a lot of people crying and out of breath and out of sorts. I looked over at Sarah, and she just looked pissed off so I figured she wasn't buying this at all. We sat back in our seats to listen to Imelda again, and the rocker chick who was sitting next to me earlier sat next to me again. "Oh my God," she said to me. "I feel like I've been through a war. I have been so angry and upset this whole weekend because this is exactly what I need to get my shit together." Everything about her had changed. "I have known since I was a kid that all I want to do is make music," she told me. "And now I have a chance. I have people around me who will help me make an album and I have to let go of this grief I have about my music and just do it. You know? It's like somebody died. Like I'm grieving." I nodded, though I didn't have any idea what she was talking about. But she was clearly transformed. She stopped slumping in her chair, she listened to Imelda and responded, she nodded along and raised her hand.

I was happy that she wasn't giving off her negative vibe anymore, but I was jealous that she had come to such a big realization and had such clear direction. I was still waiting for my aha moment.

Except for lunch, we had been sitting in the same section of the same room for 11 hours. It did not feel like it. Time was immaterial. I had every opportunity to get up and go to the bathroom or stretch or get a drink of water. But I didn't. I spent every moment listening to the lecture, doing an exercise, getting up and dancing, talking to my partner, or writing notes all day long and it never even occurred to me to stop and take a break. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, I had a hard time thinking, and my emotions were right under the surface.

Our last exercise of the evening was to plan another adventure. We were to incorporate all we had learned that day so that we could go out, have ourselves an amazing adventure, get proof of it, and come back with incredible stories to tell. Maryann gathered us together in a precise circle at a very particular spot in the room. We went around the circle to talk about what we would do that night.

I put off my turn to speak because I had no clue what I would do. I had no energy to do anything. Rebecca volunteered to start. "There's a tension in my house," she started. "It's been a tension for about 3 weeks now and I need to confront it. So after the kids are in bed tonight, I am going to sit down with my husband and have the talk we've been needing to have. I am going to tell him that it's over."

We all stared at her. I couldn't believe what she was saying. It was ridiculous. Someone said, "Can't you work it out? Don't do anything rash." But she was resolute. "No, our marriage has been over for a long time. I haven't had the courage to walk away. I have been driven by my fear instead of by my truth. This is my truth. He is a good man, but we have drifted and we are not in a marriage anymore. It's over. Tonight I am going to finally end it."

I wanted to shake her and shout at her, "This is a seminar! You have been here for less than 48 hours and now you want to leave your husband?! Are you out of your mind??" But I didn't. I wrote my phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Call me if you want to," I told her. "Anytime, if you feel like you want to talk." She took the paper and nodded her head.

I had to go and Sarah was all done and waiting for me, so I made up something about how I planned to go home and talk honestly and truthfully with my husband about what had happened at the seminar and try to make a connection. It wasn't any kind of adventure, since I would have done that anyway. But it seemed to appease the team leaders. Sarah and I left, again refused an escort from the line of people standing outside the door and headed down the elevator.