A Confession From the Sacred Medicine Retreat

I have a confession to make.

It’s been building for a while, and perhaps it’s time to finally say it out loud. I’ve been sitting with it, smiling to myself during long walks, feeling it during our ceremonies, noticing it during each return to Mukuru, the sacred site of the Maasai.

So here it is:

I’ve grown incredibly fond of the warriors I work with.

Although, let me be clear: I don’t really like calling them warriors. To me, they are Guardians. Wisdomkeepers. Anchors of the Sacred. But perhaps the truest word I can offer… is friends.

Over the years, I’ve worked with different Maasai communities across Tanzania. I’ve witnessed the beauty, the discipline, the deep rituals, the silence, the song, the fire, the unwavering sense of place. But what has been happening in Mukuru over these past visits, what has gently unfolded over time, has been something quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

It is something very human.

It has nothing to do with culture, tradition, roles, or status. It has everything to do with the subtle and sacred territory of connection.

Mukuru is an ancient site. There’s a certain frequency there, a vibration in the earth that you feel before you even arrive. It invites reverence, quiet, and presence. The kind of place that doesn’t need to prove its sacredness. You just know.

Every time I bring a group there during the Sacred Medicine Retreat, something happens that I can’t quite explain in words. It’s as if the land, the trees, the mountain, and the people create a space beyond time.

And in that space, walls drop. Hearts open.

We begin as strangers. Sometimes hesitant, sometimes weary, sometimes carrying a lot. But through ceremony, silence, walking together, sharing food, and listening to the whispers of the land, something shifts. We begin to feel again.

We begin to remember that underneath all the layers we are human.

The Hugging Confession

Which brings me to the confession part. It started during one of our ceremonies on the Mountain of Life.

It had been a powerful night. We had climbed up as dusk was settling in, guided by the Maasai Wisdomkeepers. There were about ten of them with us, dressed in red and blue, steady and grounded as ever. They had created a small circle by the fire.

The air was electric. The silence deep. You could feel a thousand ancestors watching. There were stars above us and the wind dancing around us.

And the holding, the space holding that these men did, was profound.

As the ritual closed, I found myself overwhelmed. Not in a dramatic way. Just full. I couldn’t find words. I just felt this wave of gratitude moving through my whole body. And in that moment, something within me cracked open. Instead of speaking, I simply stood up, walked over to the eldest Wisdomkeeper sitting beside the fire… and hugged him.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t expected. And I knew, culturally it might be strange. Even inappropriate.

Because let’s be honest… the Maasai are not exactly known for being ‘huggy.’ At least not in the physical sense. They are strong, reserved, proud. And I honor that deeply.

So when I approached him, I hesitated for a moment. My body paused. But I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and hugged him. Not a distant embrace. A real hug. A full one. With my heart wide open and silent tears running down my cheeks.

And to my amazement… He hugged me back.

Not awkwardly. Not half-heartedly. But fully. As if he understood everything I couldn’t say.

The Silent Hugging Ritual

One by one, I went around the circle. I hugged them all. Ten men. In silence. Eyes closed. Heart wide open. Some looked surprised, some just smiled.

No one said a word.

It became a ritual.

And without knowing it, that moment started something new between us. A new layer of connection was born, something unspoken, but undeniably real.

Now, every time I return to Mukuru, the hugging begins from the moment we arrive. We don’t even need to say anything. We just smile and open our arms.

We hug after ceremonies. Before meals. When we’re sitting under the tree. And most touchingly, it has now become part of the official ceremonial blessing circle.

Yes, that’s right. After receiving traditional Maasai blessings, we have a full-on hugging circle.

Everyone. All of us. Maasai and participants. Men and women. We hug and hold each other in silence.

And I swear, every time I visit, they become better huggers.

Tough Warriors with Gentle Hearts

It’s the strangest thing. And also the most beautiful.

These men who once kept a certain respectful distance… now open their arms with ease.

It’s not forced. It’s not performance. It’s just real. Natural. Human.

And I see it in their eyes. A softness. A spark. A kind of joy that only comes when we let ourselves be touched, not just physically, but spiritually.

They remain the strong, grounded Guardians they’ve always been. But now, there’s this added paradox: Fierce Gentleness.

And if you ask me, that’s what Sacred Masculinity looks like. Real presence.

I know we often come to retreats looking for healing, for answers, for reconnection. We search for spiritual depth, for reconnection to Nature, to the Divine, to our purpose. And yet, time and time again, I find that the most sacred medicine is not something complex or exotic.

It’s the simple, raw, beautiful sacred medicine of being human. Of sitting in silence together. Of sharing stories. Of holding each other. Of laughing, crying, and just being.

Like that one morning, after a meditation, when we all had breakfast under the tree, sitting on a carpet with pillows. We shared food, passed cups of tea, talked about dreams, memories, fears. We cried. We laughed. Someone said it felt like we were noble beings from another time, like rich Roman souls sharing an abundant life (only the grapes were missing).

And we didn’t rush. No one stood up. We just stayed.

Together. Present. Intimate. Wrapped in the sacredness of a moment that needed nothing else.

An Invitation to You

So yes. This is my confession.

I’ve grown wildly fond of these tough, proud, beautifully open Maasai. And I’m even fonder of the human connection that has quietly unfolded between us.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t part of the program. It grew slowly, honestly, and sacredly through trust, respect, and shared presence.

And I’d love for you to experience it too.

If your soul is yearning for a space where sacredness is not just talked about but lived. Where you are invited to slow down, breathe, reconnect. Where the Earth speaks and humans remember each other, then perhaps it’s time for you to join us in Maasailand.

To receive blessings under the stars. To sit by ancient trees. To be held by the land and by each other.

And maybe, just maybe… to be hugged by a Maasai Wisdomkeeper.

Not because it’s expected. But because something sacred within you asked to be seen.

And someone met you there.

With love, Cindy