retreat as a practice
/rōot/ awakenings post # 27 - on solitude, intuition, and savoring waffles on a tuesday morning
Last Tuesday morning, I did something that felt both revolutionary yet familiar: I cleared my calendar, turned off my phone's notifications, and committed two full days to a solo retreat—not at some distance wellness center, but in my own home, in my own life.
The end of June felt like a natural space to pause and look back at my New Year's intentions and honestly assess what's been working and what hasn't. For the past six months I’ve been feeling unsettled, pulled in too many directions, driven by the fear that arises through comparison. By the pressure of productivity culture, the endless scroll of other people's wisdom, the relentless noise of a world that profits from keeping us disconnected from our own intuition. By all those 'how to' videos and reels that want us to fit into boxes that I rarely fit into, and leave me feeling like I'm failing.
On Tuesday I woke, not to an alarm, but to my body's natural rhythm. I sat in meditation as the morning light filtered through my window, present to my breath as it moved in and out, in and out. I made myself the kind of brunch I would savor at a favorite café—homemade waffles with fresh strawberries and cream, each bite taken slowly, with gratitude for the hands that picked the fruit, the body that was taking in this nourishment, the privilege of a quiet morning to simply be.
I filled pages in my journal, writing without censoring myself, letting whatever thoughts arose flow freely. I spent time thinking about my ancestors, whose presence I feel strongly these days, asking for their guidance. I walked among the trees on the street behind my house, feeling grounded and calmed by being in nature.
For months, I'd been trying to force my business—and myself—into spaces that felt constricting, following templates and strategies that worked for others but left me feeling further away from my values and purpose. In the silence and space, I felt something start to shift. I started to realize how much time I’d spent listening to everyone's voice but my own, letting the noise take me further and further from my purpose, from the kind of healing and connection work I've been feeling called to create, but have been resisting because everything we’ve been taught about 'successful' programs and coaching emphasizes individual achievement and keeping things compartmentalized, when what I'm drawn to is more holistic and rooted in collective care and community.
Historically, the concept of retreat has often been tied to abandonment—abandoning our responsibilities, abandoning others who need us, abandoning the relentless pace that our culture insists is necessary for success. We've been taught that stepping away from the noise is a luxury we can't afford, that solitude is selfish, that listening to our own inner wisdom is somehow less valuable than consuming endless content from others.
I’d like to offer a different perspective. What if allowing ourselves time for retreat isn't running away from our purpose—but running toward it? What if the time we spend in solitude isn't lost productivity, but the very foundation from which authentic creation flows? What I’ve learned in this space is that when we create or serve, or show up from this place, it’s easier to experience states of flow or deeper connection. But like so many other things, it requires a lot of unlearning, first.
When I stopped resisting and gave myself the space to listen, something remarkable happened: things began to flow. To be clear, I’ve never had a shortage of ideas. But, for the first time since starting my company, I could see the connections in the whole year laid out before me—not as a frantic scramble to keep up, but as a gentle unfolding of service that felt aligned with my deepest purpose.
I rewrote website copy that had been sitting stagnant for months, suddenly finding words that felt like home. I updated materials that had been reflecting someone else's voice back to me. And slowly, I began to see myself in everything—in my service, in what I was offering, in my presence online, in the colors and designs I was choosing—in the way I was showing up in the world.
By Wednesday evening, as I prepared to rejoin the world, I felt different. In just two days of turning within, I had transformed the brittle energy of forcing and striving into the soft strength that comes when the noise falls away and you remember who you are at your core. I am sure there will be plenty of backslides along the way—that’s just part of being human. The practice now is listening for my voice when the noise gets too loud and coming back to it, over and over again.
a compassionate reframe
The guilt we feel when we consider stepping away from the noise? The voice that tells us taking time for solitude is selfish or irresponsible? That's not our wisdom speaking—that's generations of conditioning designed to keep us consuming other people's solutions instead of discovering our own.
We've been taught that our worth is measured by our constant availability, our endless productivity, our ability to fit into templates created by others. The resistance we feel toward taking time to retreat isn't surprising—it's evidence of how deeply we've absorbed a culture that profits from keeping us disconnected from our own intuition.
When we judge ourselves for needing quiet, for wanting to step away from the endless "how-to" content, for craving space to listen to our own voice—we're not being weak or selfish. We're bumping up against generations of stories and conditioning that taught us to value external validation over inner wisdom, other people's compasses and maps over our own.
The practice of retreat isn't about adding another thing to our list. It's about unlearning the belief that our inner voice is less valuable than the noise, that our way of being in the world must fit someone else's definition of success, that listening deeply to ourselves is somehow less important than consuming endless advice about how we should be living, leading or showing up in the world.
reflection prompts
As you consider the relationship between solitude and purpose:
What voices have been drowning out your intuition, and what might emerge if you turned down their volume?
When you imagine giving yourself two full days of retreat, what fears come up? What if those fears are pointing you toward what you most need?
How has the constant noise of productivity culture affected your ability to stay connected to your purpose or authenticity?
What would it mean to treat your need for solitude as sacred rather than selfish?
one final thought
The power of retreat isn't in the productivity that might follow or getting it 'right.' It's in the recognition that there is no universal template for a meaningful life, that the one-size-fits-all solutions our culture offers will always leave some part of you feeling unseen. When we retreat, we're not abandoning our responsibilities—we're remembering that your authentic way of showing up in the world can't be found in someone else's blueprint, and that our purpose in this world emerges not from forcing ourselves into prescribed molds, but from trusting what feels true for each of us.
in solidarity + gratitude,
If this essay resonated with you—if you're feeling the tension between authentic purpose and prescribed paths, if you're navigating your own liminal space of transition—you might find community in /the space between/.
This 6-week collective care circle is designed for anyone standing at the threshold of change or navigating the messy middle of the transitions so many of us are currently facing. /the space between/ isn’t about fixing yourself or hustling toward a plan. It's about gathering in community to pause and process your experiences, so you can eventually move forward from a place of clarity instead of fear.
Much like the retreat practice explored in today's essay, /the space between/ creates sacred space for deep listening, collective care, and compassion. In a small group of 4-8 people, we'll move through naming what's ending, unlearning inherited stories, and reclaiming connection to your voice and values so we can rise again from a more rooted place.
Our inaugural circle launches July 15 with registration closing July 8.
@Lisa Dennys - thank you so much for your kind words. Somehow I was trying to edit a comment I was leaving for you and managed to delete your comment - sorry. Are you planning a retreat? I’m curious about your comment about mulling over the topic.
What an absolutely gorgeous reflection and what a great gift you gave yourself! Thank you for taking the time to deepen your connection to Truth and to yourself - it can only possibly strengthen and deepen what you will create and offer out to the world! We need that!