John Bottone and I were married for 20 years, and we have two wonderful daughters. We remain quite close. I read his story, and I thought, I have a story to tell too! My experience with Jerry and with the Mountain transformed me.
I haven’t been up to Shalom in a really long time, but I’m still connected. Even if I’m not physically there as much anymore, Shalom is in me. I’m a Faithful Friend, and I refer my clients there.
I first heard about the Mountain through John’s sister. She had given us a mat trip to listen to, and at the time, John and I both felt like it was way over our heads. But after he went up, he encouraged me to come with him to meet Jerry, which I did, but I had not yet had a Shalom Retreat experience.
I had been raised in a strongly patriarchal family and culture, and I did not have a great trust in male leaders or organized institutions. When I met Jerry, I was cautious. Very cautious. I was hesitant to look to him for guidance. I was very, very, very guarded.
Then, sometime after that, I had a big emotional crisis, triggered by an encounter with my mother, who struggled with major addictions. I had reached a point where I was in so much pain and fear that I finally said, “I want to go up to the Mountain.”
They put me on a really long waitlist for the next retreat. I remember thinking, I’m never going to get up there. Even now, it makes me want to cry a little bit thinking about it. I thought, This isn’t going to happen. And if it doesn’t happen, what’s going to happen to me?
Then, suddenly, the day before the retreat, they called to tell me there was room for me.
I had never left John or the kids before that. I had never driven that far by myself. It was really a journey. I was so young inside, and so frightened, and so codependent. But I went.
I was greeted at the door by these people who were so loving! I was stunned. This was an energy I had never before encountered. I remember thinking, I don’t know if I have ever really known this type of love, and I was overwhelmed by the truth of this treasure.
The work I did that weekend surprised me. Jerry was amazing. Until I started my journey at Shalom, I was really not in my body at all. Much of my mat trip was about whether or not I was going to stay on the planet. And that required a lot of rage work.
At one point, Jerry had me sitting next to him, which, looking back, was such a phenomenal moment. I had felt so guarded when I had first met him. But he pulled me right next to him, almost like we were sitting together on a throne.
And he said to me, “I want you to repeat after me.”
“I am.”
“I can.”
“I will.”
I repeated it over and over again, sitting next to him, feeling the support of his strength, and his courage, and his commitment, and his faith. It all found a place in me.
Over the years, I went to many, many, many retreats. The Principles and Skills became part of me. I wanted to develop that level of consciousness in myself. I remember, too, there was a sign on the wall about how we are not afraid to be too small, we are afraid to be too big. On one retreat, I did a piece of work with Lawrence in which I was exploring moving out into the world. At the end of that mat trip, “Trust the process” became “Thrust the process.”
That was my evolution. I went from not even wanting to be in this world, to “I am. I can. I will.” to “Game on! Yes!!”
Though my psychotherapy practice is strongly oriented to the Internal Family Systems model, I continue to draw on what I experienced at Shalom. I have the Skills of Loving on a poster in my office, and my clients and I often discuss it.
If Jerry were here for the 50th, I think I would just thank him.
I would say, “Thank you for showing me living love. Thank you for helping me align with my embodiment.” If you ask me what the lasting effect of my time at Shalom has been, I would say that I feel like I’m living Shalom. I really believe in the Principles of Loving.
Memories-New and Old
Scribe’s Reflection
One of the gifts of this project is that it continues to remind me that Shalom is not simply a place. It is something people carry with them long after they leave the Mountain.
Faye and I had never met before this conversation. We knew many of the same people and shared a common connection through Shalom, but our paths had never crossed. Yet as we talked, there was an immediate sense of familiarity. A resonance. The feeling of sitting with someone I had just met and somehow already knew.
After our conversation, we made plans to meet in person. This week, we shared dinner together. It was wonderful to make a new connection, to share a meal, stories, laughter, and parts of ourselves with one another. Beneath it all was a quiet recognition: Oh, I just met this person, but I know her. She knows me.
Perhaps that is part of the mystery and beauty of Shalom.
Not that everyone remains physically connected to the Mountain. Many don’t. But once you’ve been there, once you’ve entered that field of love, honesty, courage, and self-discovery, you carry some part of it with you. And sometimes years later, that thread appears again through another conversation, another meal, another unexpected friendship.
As I listened to Faye’s story, I was struck by her willingness to tell the truth about both the gifts and disappointments of her experience. What shines through most clearly is the profound transformation that occurred within her. The woman who arrived frightened, guarded, and unsure became someone who could embody the words Jerry offered her: I am. I can. I will.
Today, she speaks of living Shalom. Not visiting it. Not remembering it. Living it.
And after sharing both a conversation and a meal with Faye, I can say that those principles are no longer simply something she learned. They have become part of who she is.
Jennifer Mark, Scribe
Voices That Matter
Storytelling as legacy. Listening as medicine
This story is part of Voices That Matter: Shalom’s 50th Anniversary
There is no cost to participate. Only a willingness to share a story.
This project, like all community offerings within Voices That Matter – The Scribe Project, is sustained through the support of those who feel called to be part of it, by sharing stories, spreading the word, or contributing to its creation and ongoing life.
If you feel moved, you are welcome to contribute in whatever way feels right.
If you’re part of the Shalom community, this is an open invitation.
Shalom holds 50 years of stories.
I would love to include yours as part of this growing living archive.