Write.

It is day 2 at Doe Bay. I appreciate the workshop but understand more the need to be in silence. In the circle, I share a story I have never hidden. At break, I duck away--eager for the chance to just be with myself. So many come here to find their whole self. I think I will go away realizing I have discovered that already. 

Now I sit on the beach, under a tree, on top of the driftwood that is dry. I know this place because it is a screenshot of so many parts of Washington. The trees and water are the same. The horizon is the only difference--Olympics replaced by islands. 

I'm glad I came here but the real joy is retuning home to see what you've already built.