Stepping into the Heart of Hay - a review September 2020 from an earlier retreat with the gongs
“Life is about sharing beauty with others” Val’s words are present everywhere you look in her apartment in Hay-on-Wye, the walls and shelves a personal extension of her art gallery below. Each space and each small touch serve as a reminder that an artist’s eye doesn’t finish where the painting ends. When taken all together the effect of entering Val’s old home is one of immediate calm, and a sense that you have arrived somewhere slower, more grounded, and special: somewhere free from the noise, both inside your head and outside.
After a warm welcome in her art gallery, The Table, Val walked with us past the bookshops and galleries that are the cultural lifeblood of this town to a small hall, its whitewashed walls and pale blue door once home to a Welsh Baptist church. Where a baptismal plunge pool had once stood, an array of percussive instruments, drums, cymbals, gongs and bowls now lay in preparation for the evening's gong bath. But first, she explained, we must shake off the drive, tune out from work entirely, and give ourselves time and space to properly arrive. “This is no quick fix” Val explained, “I’m not interested in people who are in a rush”. This was a philosophy that we came to see as the hallmark of our time with Val, and indeed one shared by many in Hay-on-Wye.
In order to properly arrive and ensure no part of us was still in the front seat of our car going into the gong bath, Val handed us over to her good friend and Pilates teacher Clare, for a session of ZEN-GA ®, a form of exercise that combines elements of Yoga, fascial expansion, breathwork and Pilates to build flexibility and strength. Over the course of an hour not only were we were treated to a series of tailored exercises to ease our bodies and minds, but a lesson in the body's muscular systems and how our lifestyles so often hinder the balance and equilibrium that our bodies need. “Welcome to Hay” Clare calmly stated once we had finished the session, a lovely touch that summed up the hospitality and shared mindset that so many of the locals we met seemed to share.
The room then began to fill silently and soon six of us lay on sheepskin rugs, the air scented by a bunch of freshly picked sweet peas and burning sage that Val slowly circulated. Although all physically separate, this quiet hall now felt full of connectivity and energy. An hour would pass before I opened my eyes again, although even mentioning time seems inappropriate, for once it started you felt blissfully untethered from time. Val had played and guided us through a musical soundscape from Tibetan bowls, rattles and chimes, to ocean drums, buffalo drums and the hang drum and of course the gongs. At its peak the room felt so full of energy and sound that you could feel it not only through your ears and in your head but through the wooden floorboards and directly into your body. The space that would normally be occupied by stubborn thoughts was flooded with sound, creating an extraordinary silence. Opening your eyes on the other side was a strange experience, somewhere between emerging from a deep sleep and a cold swim. Invigorated yet profoundly relaxed; seeing and thinking clearly yet filled with a hazy and beautiful calm sense of peace. We would later receive another gong bath on our final evening, this time alone as a couple. Having already experienced the gongs we relaxed completely, the novelty of the individual instruments no longer piquing our curiosity, enabling us to surrender to this vibrational sound massage in its full force and beauty. When that session ended all three of us sat silently enjoying the afterglow, no one feeling moved to break the silence.
The next morning Deya received a session of Divine Energy Healing with holistic therapist, James Coombes. Having never experienced anything of this kind before, it was an illuminating and deeply reflective experience. Through breath work and various therapeutic talking techniques, James helped Deya look inward and, although at times challenging, she was left feeling immensely calm and full of a stabilising sense of clarity – something echoed by many of James’ clients.
Later that day we found ourselves in the hugely novel position of staring at a blank piece of paper with a brush in our hands filled with what can only be described as crippling nerves, tasked only with the job of drawing a circle. Surrounded by the inspiring art in her gallery, Val had arranged for us to meet her friend Tashi, a practicing Buddhist and Tibetan calligrapher, who greeted us from the head of the table surrounded by his brushes and ink, and wearing a shirt that simply read ‘be present’. This message, I would learn over the course of the next few hours, lies at the very heart of the ancient Japanese art of Enso, which consists of capturing and recording, through the drawing of a circle, a singular present moment in your mind. Much like meditation, this practice has been used for thousands of years as a way of grounding yourself in the present, of turning inwards to yourself and observing what lies within. The way in which Tashi described the ceremonial nature of each step, from first viewing the limitations of the paper, to visualising the circle in the mind’s eye, selecting and acknowledging the brush, and the symbolism of starting the circle close to you and then moving outward towards others, all served to remind us of the value of slowing down, of performing simple actions with intention and with care, something we rarely do. It also had the rather less desirable side effect of making us extremely nervous when it finally came to putting a brush on paper and drawing our own. Stepping back to observe your finished Enso was a disproportionately momentous experience to the act of drawing a circle, and this was solely down to the lessons we had learned about the art of Enso, and the way in which Tashi had woven in Buddhist teachings, and Eastern Philosophy into our time with him. Strictly speaking a Buddhist should endeavour never to get attached to things, especially objects, so the finished Enso would traditionally end up in the bin… but they were far too beautiful for this, so they were taken home as a very fond reminder of our time in Hay and of Tashi.
A trip to Hay-on-Wye wouldn’t be complete without a wild swim, so before we left, we met up with Val and headed down to her favourite spot on the banks of the Wye. This, she explained, is where the many smooth and striped pebbles that fill her once home are to be found, and the source of the driftwood angels that hang so beautifully on her walls. We stripped off, leaving the last dregs of distraction and stress on the bank, and bathed in the fast-flowing water with the swans and ducks. It’s remarkable how quickly cold water can dissolve the thoughts of the past and future that we so often burden ourselves with, leaving you wonderfully free to be present.
Hay left its mark on us, as I’m sure it’s done with many people before. The slow and deliberate way of life, the towns literary and artistic roots, and most importantly the people who call it home. Val had been true to her word when she said that in enabling others, and going beyond what many have come to expect from such a retreat, are where life’s joys are to be found. We left with a deep sense of gratitude for the authenticity and kindness we had been shown, not only in how we were treated, but in the care and attention to detail that Val puts into everything she does. She has something wonderful and wholly unique to share with people, and it was the happiness with which she shared it with that made this such a special experience.
Stu and Deya
