Life on the Island: A Dance of Intimacy, Ocean Air, and Octopus
There’s a certain kind of magic that only islands know — a slower rhythm, and an ancient heartbeat that pulses beneath the waves and whispers through the palm fronds. From the moment we stepped onto that soft, sun-kissed soil, it felt like the island began to breathe with us.
From Morning Rituals to Dreams of Arugula
Each day opened like a brand-new chapter, wrapped in salty breezes and the faint scent of jasmine. We were up with the sun — 6 a.m., sharp. Hair. Makeup. Breakfast. A routine, yes, but one that felt more like a sacred ritual. We were preparing not just ourselves, but an energetic container for transformation.
Oh, and the food. Now that was an adventure all its own.
As Californians, we’re used to kale smoothies and grilled fish with lemon and rosemary. Clean, green, and lean. But here? Here, the flavors danced differently. Sweet, fried, rich, unexpected. Octopus with sticky rice. Fish glazed in thick, spiced sauces. And those cakes — soft, sugary clouds of joy. We loved it… for about a week. By the end, we were practically dreaming in arugula and begging for a single, crunchy cucumber.
Into the Heart of the Sacred Work
After breakfast, it was time to step into the heart of why we were here — the workshop space. Open-air, kissed by the wind, and different every single day. Sometimes it was a circle of round woven rugs for the animal game — primal, playful, powerful. Other times, soft beds for practicing touch, positioning, breath, connection. Always intentional. Always beautiful.
Each workshop peeled back another layer. We guided participants through practices of intimacy, erotic discovery, and deep personal reclamation. It wasn’t just about pleasure — it was about presence. Confidence. Trusting their bodies. Speaking their needs. Owning their deepest desires without shame.
Then came the 1:1 sessions — heart-to-hearts that stretched the soul. We held space for grief, for celebration, for transformation. We watched walls crumble and lights turn on behind people’s eyes. It was sacred work. Tender. Fierce. Real.
Between those sessions, we’d host practicals — group exercises where learning came alive through doing. One day it might be sensual eating, with strawberries and honey and laughter. Another, a massage exchange, where hands learned to listen and bodies learned to receive. Connection deepened. Awareness sharpened.
Exhausted, Elated – and Exactly Where We Belong
And then? The sun would dip, but our work didn’t stop. We gathered as a team — tired, inspired, notebooks in hand — to plan the next step in every participant’s journey. We weren’t just instructors; we were architects of transformation, sculpting every detail to support their growth.
Dinner was a blur of delicious exhaustion, and after, it was back to the drawing board. Reviewing tomorrow’s workshop, coordinating with the director, tweaking lighting, adjusting camera angles — always making sure our participants felt held, respected, and free.
And finally, we would tumble into bed, our bodies tired but our souls… buzzing. Full. Lit up from the inside with the electric energy of people choosing to reclaim their lives, their love, and their truth.
Then we’d sleep. A little. Maybe. Until the sun rose again, and the island called us back into the next beautiful, wild, unforgettable day.
