yurt |yoŏrt; yərt| noun
a circular tent of felt or skins on a collapsible framework, used by nomads in Mongolia, Siberia, and Turkey.
The Yurt Garden by Michele Monticciolo, NC MH
league to my life. I sought her out because I was planning a women’s retreat, and the Yurt Garden seemed like the perfect place to hold it. Within minutes of meeting each
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other, Lynn and I began an enriching esoteric discussion. Not in that heavy way of esoteric exploration; it was just a gentle, peaceful talk. In fact even now, gentle is the word that comes to mind when I think of Lynn’s energy. Everything she touches seems to calm itself. Lynn's creation, the
Yurt Garden, bridges the gap between a retreat and a healing center. Imagine pulling into the winding driveway and being greet- ed by a hand-built yurt, a lovely garden landscape, and a labyrinth. It’s gor- geous. But I’d be dumbing down the magnitude of wonderful possibilities this place holds if I didn’t mention what happens inside the Yurt itself.
30 Tennessee Valley
ynn Leach and I met three years ago. At the time, it seemed like I was just adding another col-
Lynn is a licensed massage thera- pist and has been involved in energy work for over 35 years now. She is no stranger to struggle or to overcoming fear. Her son Steve was diagnosed with bone cancer at the tender age of seven. His leg had to be amputated. Then fi fteen rounds of high-dose chemotherapy. Lynn refl ects on the intensity of that experience: The Yurt Garden became my place of solace and self-healing. I’d come home on the weekends after
spending a week in the hospital with my son. My husband would switch places with me and I would go to the Yurt and send my prayers to the Divine, asking for my son’s healing and the healing of all other children with cancer. I’d ask for courage, so my son would never see any fear inside me. . . Songs would come through me and I would spin like a Sufi , giving the bur- dens of my heart to Creator. My friend Lynn has taught me
much about acceptance. Of course, Lynn would
Third Sunday Group from left; Billy Ward, Lynn Leach, Karen Lovell, Paul De Moore, Emily Watson and Rev. Carol Landry.
say that she’s just on her journey – a courteous way to dismiss my accolades – but therein lies the essence of her peaceful grace. Peace is per- vasive at Yurt Garden. Peace. Permeating everything; in- vesting every particle. When I step foot into the Yurt – even before I actually arrive at the property – the all-pervading peace seems to soak into my cells. Before long, I’m walking slower. Noticing little details. In the trees. The landscape. I begin to breathe more deeply. I am home. Recently, I received an
ORIGIN from Russian yurta, via French or German from Turkic jurt.
A Third Sunday at the Yurt Garden
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