Sacred Pause: The Transformative Power of Retreat
In the relentless rhythm of modern life, we move at full speed—constantly connected to devices, notifications, and digital demands, yet increasingly disconnected from ourselves. Our energy is continuously pulled outward by the many roles we fulfill—as parents, caregivers, colleagues, and partners—each drawing us away from our centre. This is why retreats matter. They call us back with quiet persistence, offering not an escape but a homecoming—a chance to remember who we are beneath the noise.
Finding Sacred Ground
"We withdraw not to disappear, but to find another ground from which to see; a solid ground from which to step, and from which to speak again, in a different way, a clear, rested, embodied voice we begin to remember again as our own."—David Whyte
These words from poet David Whyte perfectly articulate what I've experienced first-hand through decades of creating sacred spaces for students. They embody the essence of what continually draws me to leading retreats—witnessing the profound unfolding that occurs when we collectively step away from the familiar to rediscover what has always been there.
A retreat offers a sacred pause—a deliberate interruption to the narratives that often consume us. In this pause, something miraculous happens. Time expands. Breath deepens. The mind, so accustomed to racing ahead or lingering behind, gently settles into the present moment.
A Journey That Began Long Ago
My first retreat experience took place in Bowral in the late 1990s. I remember vividly how a simple, humble venue transformed before my eyes. Within hours, a nondescript space became hallowed ground—not through elaborate decorations or expensive props, but through the devoted intention of students and participants who understood the alchemy of shared presence. The spirit of seva—selfless service offered with open hearts—combined with our collective appreciation for beauty in simplicity, infused every corner of that space with a tangible energy of reverence and sacredness.
What struck me then, and what continues to move me now, was how quickly we accessed something profound when we deliberately created the conditions for it to emerge. Conversations deepened. Masks fell away. What had seemed important outside those walls shifted into proper perspective.
This early experience planted a seed that would eventually lead me to India, where I served as Head of Halls and Temples, hosting students from across the globe. There, amidst ancient traditions and timeless wisdom, I witnessed transformation daily - souls from different cultures and backgrounds finding common sanctuary in shared silence, contemplation and comradery.
The Alchemy of Collective Presence
What makes a retreat so potent is not merely the break from routine but the conscious creation of a container. When we gather with intention—whether in local settings or international destinations steeped in spiritual tradition—something shifts in the collective field.
The daily rhythm of a retreat becomes a medicine of its own. We honour the wisdom of the ancients through practices timed to the earth's natural cadence—rising with the sun for morning meditation, moving our bodies as daylight strengthens, finding stillness as the day softens into dusk. This gentle attunement to circadian rhythms isn't merely scheduling; it's a profound reconnection to the natural world that our bodies inherently recognise. Following the guidance of yogic tradition, we practice at sunrise and sunset with reverence for the miracle of nature's cycles, allowing her wisdom and the elements to harmonise our inner rhythms.
Within this carefully held space, connections form that defy ordinary social dynamics. We recognise one another beyond roles and resumes. We see and are seen in ways that everyday interactions rarely permit. These connections often transcend the retreat itself, blossoming into lifelong friendships and collaborations that continue to nourish long after we've returned home.
Coming Home to Ourselves
Perhaps what moves me most deeply about facilitating retreats is witnessing people remember themselves. There is a particular moment—and those who have attended retreats will attest to this—when clarity arises from the haze, reflected in the eyes. Something settles. A quality of presence emerges that was previously obscured by the fog of daily concerns. The eyes become luminous and windows to the in-dwelling soul beneath the surface. It's a beautiful thing.
In these moments, I am reminded that we don't actually need to teach people how to be present or at peace. Rather, we simply need to create the conditions where they can remember what they've always known—that beneath the noise and beyond the doing, there exists a fundamental wellbeing, a wholeness that is our birthright.
An Invitation, Not an Escape
A retreat is not about escaping life but rather about engaging it more fully. We step away precisely so that we might step back in with greater clarity, purpose, and presence. The insights gained, the connections formed, and the remembering that occurs—these become integrated into how we move through our days.
This is why, after all these years, I approach each retreat with a sense of reverence and anticipation. I know that something sacred will unfold within the container we create together—something that cannot be manufactured or forced but that naturally emerges when we collectively slow down and attune to our hearts.
The privilege of holding space for others on this journey continues to humble and inspire me. Whether in a simple room transformed by intention or at ancient sites that have witnessed countless seekers before us, the essence remains the same: we gather not to escape our lives but to remember how to live them more fully.
And in doing so, we return home—to ourselves, to each other, and to the world—carrying a "clear, rested, embodied voice" that we begin to remember again as our own.
Since my time serving on staff in India, I've committed myself to annual solo retreats as well—sacred pauses in my own journey where I can reconnect with myself beyond the roles I inhabit. These solitary pilgrimages have become essential anchors in my life, opportunities to remember who I am at my core and to restore the inner resources I need when holding space for others. The practice of retreating, whether in community or in solitude, continues to be a profound tonic for the soul—restorative and precious in our modern world.
References & Resources
Whyte, David. (2015). Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. Many Rivers Press.
Hanh, Thich Nhat. (2017). The Art of Living: Peace and Freedom in the Here and Now. HarperOne.
O'Donohue, John. (1999). Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom. Harper Perennial.
Cameron, Julia. (2002). The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam.
Ram Dass. (2018). Walking Each Other Home: Conversations on Loving and Dying. Sounds True.