When the right souls gather

Reflections from Mount Sinai on surrender, authenticity, and the invisible work behind a retreat

A retreat is often imagined as something carefully organised: a beautiful location, a nourishing programme, yoga classes, shared meals, meaningful conversations. And yes, there is planning. There are logistics, timings, bookings, and all the visible parts that help shape the experience.

But the real work of creating a retreat begins long before the first suitcase is packed.

For weeks and often months beforehand, I spend many quiet hours reflecting, sensing into what wants to unfold. I sit with the energy of the place, the season, and the intention. I imagine the spirit of the group before the group has even formed. In some quiet, invisible way, I trust that the right people will gather at the right time.

Because in the end, people make a retreat. Always.

One of the most powerful moments of our recent journey in Egypt came during our walk up the holy mountain of Mount Sinai in the cold, starry night. As we climbed in silence and looked down into the valley, now lit by artificial lights, I found myself imagining the mountain in earlier times. More ancient. More untouched. More mysterious.

In that moment, I felt something I can only describe as recognition.

A deep sense that within this constellation of people, somehow, somewhere, we had met before — in other times, other lives, or simply in the mysterious ways human souls seem to find one another again.

And yet retreats are not made only of these magical moments.

There is also another side — the unseen, behind-the-scenes experience of the person holding the space. The private thoughts. The vulnerability. The moments of discomfort that never make it into the polished picture.

We arrived at the top of the mountain just before 5 a.m., wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags, waiting in the dark and the cold. I remember thinking quite dramatically, I’m freezing to death. For a brief moment, I thought I might lose consciousness.

In reality, I had simply drifted into sleep for a little while.

Perhaps slightly over-dramatic — but very human.

And sometimes, in the middle of it all, I catch myself looking at the group and thinking with a smile: Why do people follow my crazy ideas?

But maybe this is where the deepest practice lives.

On the yoga mat, we learn to surrender. We meet difficult postures that reflect life’s struggles, and softer ones that mirror our moments of ease and joy. We practise showing up fully, doing our best, and then letting go of the outcome.

This same principle lives inside every retreat.

Each day, we show up. We practise. We do our best. And then we surrender to what life brings — the majesty of nature, the unexpected turns, the moments of beauty we could never have planned.

We also surrender to what is not so easy: discomfort, uncertainty, fatigue, and especially the situations we try hard to control but simply cannot.

Holding retreats in places with cultures so different from our own adds another layer to this surrender. At times, I find myself translating between worlds — between the local rhythm of life and the expectations of a group accustomed to precise schedules, predictability, and perfect timing.

We like plans.
We like certainty.

And yet learning to soften around time, to loosen our grip, and to truly be present does not always come easily.

Still, when it happens — even for a moment — it feels incredibly freeing.

At the end of the retreat, the group shared their reflections. One comment stayed with me more than any other:

“You are so authentic in your being that in your company I feel I can be totally myself.”

I

I received those words with deep gratitude.

Because perhaps that is the true heart of what I offer.

My retreats are honest spaces. Not everything is perfectly planned — because how could it be? When we align with the flow of life, we must remain flexible enough to change course. We must be willing to listen, to adapt, and to trust what is unfolding in the moment.

And maybe that is the greatest gift a retreat can offer:

A space where people feel safe enough to soften.
To let go of control.
To remember who they truly are.

Free to be themselves.
Free to live a more abundant, healthy, and authentic life.