UPCOMING RETREAT
Cuddle Therapy Retreat Immersive
August 7-10, 2025 in Upstate New YorkJoin us for a healing and memorable long-weekend retreat, where we’ll connect more deeply with one other—and tend to the parts of ourselves that need more love. In this sacred container, participants will experience platonic intimacy and have the opportunity to practice mutual consent and boundary-setting with four Certified Cuddle Therapists. In community, we will process any emotions that arise, share nourishing meals and space with one another, and have plenty of time for rest and relaxation. Includes accommodations, private chef, cuddle therapy, group work, sound healing and access to all amenities. Learn more »
The island of Maui is often said to be the heart chakra of the planet Earth. There’s a palpable, sacred energy—pure love, compassion, and emotional balance—that radiates from its land, its ocean, and its people.
It was here, in 2004, that spiritual teacher Ram Dass made his home. Now called Hanuman Maui, the property is stewarded by Kathleen “Dassi Ma” Murphy, his primary caregiver of fifteen years. Her devotion to Ram Dass in life is matched only by her devotion to his legacy.
While vacationing in Maui with my fiancée, we felt drawn to contribute in some small way—through service, connection, meditation, and community. In preparation for our time at the Loving Awareness Sanctuary, I’d been listening to Ram Dass’s guided meditations during my workouts, letting his words settle into my body.
We arrived on a Wednesday and were greeted by Dassi Ma, Travis, and Jason, who invited us to help sort belongings that had been stored in the sheep shack. Among the items, I was touched to find Ram Dass’s life vests. He had loved floating in the pool and ocean with friends. The vests also reminded me of his 1997 stroke, which left the right side of his body paralyzed and gave him expressive aphasia. He later described the stroke as grace from his guru, Neem Karoli Baba—an invitation to “settle into silence.”
As we sorted piles designated as Trash, Keep, and CIA (Compassion in Action), we were met with loving nudges from Leela, the majestic dog who used to nap on Ram Dass’s lap. Her name, in Hinduism, means Divine Play.
Later, Jason gave us a tour of the home and property, then led us in chanting the Hanuman Chalisa. We sat on the earth in the Loving Awareness Garden, just outside the newly built Hanuman Mandir. Jason shared how a family vacation led him to stay and help build the temple—a beautiful echo of the kind of heart-led spontaneity Ram Dass lived by.
The next day, we returned to help Grace in the garden. Kristine and I turned over soil beds in preparation for summer planting. So much life teemed in the soil! We trimmed back sweet potato vines to make room for medicinal herbs. Grace had transformed a once-abandoned patch of land into a thriving garden of food and medicine. As we shared stories of plant medicine experiences, she pointed to three newly donated cucumber starts.
She handed them to me to plant. With a bucket of fish meal nearby, I dug three holes, worked the nutrients into the soil, and gently pressed each cucumber plant into the earth. In the center of my chest, I could feel their roots absorbing moisture as I watered each one of them in.
“Mahalo for this opportunity to help feed those who serve here.”
After lunch, we joined the group for a meditative trio: silent meditation, walking meditation, and a guided meditation from Ram Dass—his voice flowing through a Bluetooth speaker perched on the table where his body had rested after death.
Sitting in the study where he had so often gazed out at the ocean, I felt his presence—subtle, radiant. The air itself seemed to hum with mana and Maharajji, a fusion of Bhakti and Aloha.
Afterward, we helped Jason, Mark, and others from the Compassion in Action team make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the unhoused communities in Kahului and Wailuku. Hanuman Maui delivers food and essential supplies twice a week.
“Mahalo for this opportunity to help feed those who are hungry.”
We returned again the following week. That day, after snorkeling with sea turtles near Napili Bay, I was stung in the back of the head by a wasp. The pain was searing. Kristine found the stinger, removed it with tweezers, and cooled the sting with water—an act of love I won’t forget.
Some say a sting on the back of the head is a spiritual wake-up call to listen deeply to your inner voice. That it’s a message from the divine to stay true to your path.
A few hours later, sitting just feet from Ram Dass’s favorite recliner, I heard his voice clearly during meditation:
"You are not who you think you are. You’re just not that person."
A softening washed through me. A curiosity opened.
“Well, if I’m not that person… I’m excited to meet who I am.”
I don’t think I have no idea who that being is. I have glimpses—a felt sense of a light, loving presence that remains when the constructs fall away. Perhaps I'm not just a loving human being, but something more: love itself.
“Mahalo for this opportunity to help loosen the grip of my ego.”
This wasn’t a pilgrimage in search of something outside myself. It was an invitation inward—through hands in the soil, quiet service, and shared presence. Each act of love and attention became a doorway, not to someone else’s legacy, but to my own deeper being. The cucumbers will grow, the ocean will keep moving, and I’ll keep listening—softly, curiously—to the one within who already knows the way.
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