Day three had its own current. It wasn’t a day to hurry through a checklist or keep one eye on what came next. It moved at a different pace: yoga, Reiki, and a gong whose sound seemed to reach beyond the ears.

The valley was there around us, but the day’s focus was close in: breath, movement, stillness, and the feeling of being present in your own body. The practice didn’t need to look a certain way. There was room to take part as we were, without turning the moment into a performance.

Yoga brought us into the day gently. Then came Reiki and the gong. What stayed with me was how those experiences sat together, not as separate boxes to tick, but as the shape of a day that felt quieter and more inward.

A gong you could feel

The gong was not just something to hear. Its low tones seemed to travel through the space and register in the body: a vibration you could notice in your chest, your limbs, even the surface beneath you. The sound grew and changed, then softened again. There was no need to chase it or figure it out. You could lie still and let the waves of sound arrive.

That physical sensation is the simplest way I can describe it. The gong was audible, of course, but it was also something felt. It made the quiet around each note seem just as present as the sound itself.

Reiki added another layer of stillness. The room held a different kind of attention: less about doing, more about being there. Together, the yoga, Reiki, and gong gave the day a gentle rhythm of movement followed by rest. No grand production required. Sometimes the body is perfectly happy when the plan is simply to settle in and pay attention.

Five gemstones, and one that felt like mine

We all received gemstones. Ettie, the practitioner, said she couldn’t remember what each stone was. That detail made me smile. There was no tidy little chart handed out with a name and a matching explanation for every person. Still, somehow, each stone seemed to fit the need of the participant who received it.

I received the black stone with pale, snowflake-like markings: Snowflake Obsidian. In metaphysical traditions, it is associated with grounding and purification and linked to the Root chakra. It is valued as a symbol of calm and reflection, and is believed to help bring hidden emotions into view, ease stress, and loosen old patterns or negative self-talk. I liked the steadiness of it: dark, marked, and quietly distinctive. It didn’t need to sparkle to catch my attention.

These meanings are traditional spiritual associations, not medical claims. For me, the stone became a small, tangible part of the day. A reminder of the care in receiving something that seemed to fit.

The other stones added their own colors and textures to the story. A translucent golden-yellow stone was identified as Golden Healer Quartz, though it could also be tumbled Citrine or iron-included quartz. In metaphysical traditions, those golden quartz varieties are associated with vitality and abundance, and with the Solar Plexus and Crown chakras.

A dark stone that flashed when the light caught it was Labradorite, often associated with transformation, protection, and intuition. Its traditional chakra connections include the Third Eye and Throat.

There was also a banded reddish-brown, chatoyant stone: Red Tiger’s Eye, sometimes called Dragon’s Eye. It is traditionally linked with motivation, energy, and passion, and with the Root and Sacral chakras.

And then there was the cream-colored stone with black spots, Dalmatian Stone, also called Dalmatian Jasper. Its metaphysical associations lean toward playfulness, joy, and grounding.

Five different stones. Five different looks. I couldn’t tell you which name belonged to every participant’s stone, and that was part of the charm. Ettie couldn’t remember them all either. The moment didn’t depend on a perfect label. It was the feeling of receiving one and recognizing something in it, or simply deciding to keep it close.

When the storm changed the day

Then the storm came through the valley. It shifted the plans, and the retreat’s focus became a reboot. We adjusted to what the day could hold, rather than trying to force the original plan to happen exactly as expected. That reset became the shape of the day.

There’s a difference between saying the weather was in the background and saying it changed the day. This storm did change it. The retreat had to respond, and the response became part of the experience: less insistence on the plan as written, more attention to what was possible in the moment.

The day had already been moving at a quieter pace, through yoga, Reiki, sound, and the gemstones. The storm made that change of focus unmistakable. Plans shifted. The retreat rebooted around the shift. And instead of treating the reset as a footnote, that became the honest shape of our third day.

That's how I remember it: movement and stillness, the gong felt as much as heard, a stone that somehow felt like mine, and a storm that changed what the day would be. Just the day as it unfolded.

On Thursday, I’ll share the final post in the series: Closing Breakfast + Series Wrap. There will be breakfast and a last look back at Soul of the Valley.