Reflections from the Japan Autumn Retreat 2025

We finally come back home.

Something soft happened in Niigata last month.
Something quiet, unforced, unpretentious.
Something deeply human.

When we first imagined this retreat, we didn’t design it as a getaway.
Not a break.
Not an escape.
Not “self-care tourism” wrapped in pretty views.

We designed it as a coming home.
Because so many of us — without even realizing it — live far away from ourselves.
We live in duty, in schedules, in expectations, in productivity, in “what needs to be done” and “who we need to be” and “what people need from us.”

We live outside ourselves so much that we forget there is a someone inside.

And last month, in the middle of the Japanese autumn, surrounded by trees that were changing color with beautiful honesty, a small group of people made the brave choice to pause…
and return.

What unfolded in those three days was not magic — but it felt like it.
Not because something dramatic happened, but because
everyone finally had the space to feel what they had been too busy to feel.

This is our reflection.
This is what we witnessed.
This is what we shared, felt, remembered, released, and reclaimed.

And this is the story of how a group of strangers found their way back to themselves — together.

DAY 1: The Arrival Soft Landing Back

There is something sacred about the moment when people arrive at a retreat.
The excitement, the subtle anxiety, the curiosity, the “I don’t know what I’m stepping into,”
and also the hope, the longing, the secret quiet wish for something to shift.

When everyone gathered for the first time,
it felt like each person carried a different kind of tiredness.

Not burnout tired.
Not physical exhaustion.
But soul tiredness.

The kind of tiredness that comes from being everything to everyone.
From being strong for too long.
From being productive nonstop.
From being “fine” even when something inside is whispering, “I miss myself.”

Day 1 was gentle on purpose.
It was created as a landing — not a jump.
A soft hand on the shoulder inviting people to slow down, breathe deeper, and become present again.

A Walk to Meet the Land

Asking Permission, Listening, Not Taking Space for Granted
We walked through the village together.
Not as tourists, but as guests.

We acknowledged the land, the mountains, the ancestors, and the culture that existed long before us.
We asked permission to be there — not spiritually grand, not performative — but with sincere humility:

“May we be held gently here.
May we learn something true here.
May we leave this place better than we found it.”

There was a quiet sense of belonging, not because we owned the land,
but because the land allowed us to be there.

First Yoga — Soft, Grounded, Embodied

The first yoga practice wasn’t about flexibility or strength.
It was about coming home into the body after months (or years) of living in the head.

Slow, breath-led, embodiment-focused.
People’s nervous systems softened.
Breathing deepened.
Presence returned.

You could see in their faces that their bodies were remembering something ancient and simple:

“I don’t have to hold everything right now.”

Dinner — Nourishment, Warmth, and Enoughness

Dinner that evening felt like a celebration — not fancy, not performative, but deeply nourishing.

A hot traditional Japanese nabe was served — vegetables, broth, mushrooms, tofu, everything simmering slowly and served family-style, from one pot.

There’s something profoundly connecting about sharing warm food from the same dish.
It makes strangers feel like family — without trying to.

People laughed easily.
They ate slowly.
They tasted their food.

Nothing elaborate.
Just warmth, nourishment, and enoughness.

Onsen — Melting What the Mind Couldn’t Release

We ended the day in the onsen — soaking in hot water, surrounded by quiet.
There is something deeply human about hot water, stillness, and quiet.
People often underestimate how healing it is to simply let the body exhale.

In the Onsen,
We accept our body as it is without judgement.
Bare body dipped into the hot water.
Finally let the muscles relax.
It's the moment to let go and accept.

Water has a way of loosening knots the mind has been trying to solve for years.

When participants stepped out, you could see something had shifted.
Not dramatically.
But visibly.

A softening.
A returning.

By the time we walked back, people looked softer — not changed, not transformed — just more themselves.

Day 2: The Deep Work

Forest Bathing — Meeting Peace Without Trying

In the forest, no one had to perform.
No one had to be interesting.
No one had to be inspiring.
No one had to be anything at all.

The forest didn’t ask for anything.
It didn’t demand a mindset, an affirmation, a breakthrough.
It simply welcomed.

The fresh air, softened the breath.
The beauty of the autumn colors, relaxed the faces.
The peaceful sound of the forest dropped the shoulder.
And people stopped rushing — inside and outside.

We enjoyed the moment.
The feeling of peace without effort.

The forest reminded us that calm is not something you achieve.
It’s something you remember.

Community - Simple Acts of Connection

In the afternoon, participants gathered in the kitchen and living space with a local obachan — our warm-hearted Japanese grandmother — who taught us how to cook sushi and fold origami.

What unfolded was quiet, honest, and deeply grounding:

• We learned about the ingredients to understand the culture.

• We shared small smiles over language gaps.

• We smelled the steam and the warmth of food cooking.

• We followed her gentle guidance for origami folds.

• We laughed softly when paper didn’t fold perfectly.

• We tasted our home-cooked meal with gratitude.

No pretense. No performance.
Just simple human acts — cooking, folding, eating, connecting.

For many, this part became a reminder:
Life doesn’t need to be extraordinary to feel full.
Healing doesn’t need to be dramatic to be real.
Community doesn’t need to mean much for it to matter.

It was in those small, humble moments that people remembered how to belong. — not just to themselves, but to each other and the land.

Discomfort Dyadic Work — Speaking Without Seeing

Participants sat in a circle, we read a piece of paper of the discomfort of others,
without knowing who wrote it.

No performance.
No identity.
No ego. Just truth.

People spoke about fear, loss, guilt, achievement, longing, burnout, self-worth, love.
And something beautiful happened:
Without knowing who, everyone understood each other more deeply.

Because honesty and vulnerability allow us to connect.

Entering Silence — Heart Open

At 7pm the silence begin.
The world went dark.
And something inside lit up.

Without sight, you sense.
Without speech, you feel.
Without identity, you meet truth.

During the silent dinner, many realized for the first time how fast they eat, how little they taste, how disconnected they are from their senses. Silence made eating sacred again.

Night Meditation — When Silence Turns Into a Mirror

Inside the silence, people met what they usually distract themselves from:

Anxiety.
Loneliness.
Grief.
Longing.
Self-criticism.
Truth.

Silence wasn’t empty — it was full.
It held everything, gently.

Some cried.
Some journaled internally.
Some simply sat with themselves, perhaps for the first time in years.

By morning, everyone was softer, more present, more real.

Not fixed.
But opened.

Day 3: Remembering Taking Truth Back Into Life

Morning meditation and yoga was held in the shrine.
We thanked the land, the people, the nature that had been allowing us TO BE.
Sharing Circle felt like a warm, grounded exhale.

People remembered who they are.
What matters.
What brings them alive.
What they want to protect.
What needs to change.

They returned to themselves.

Not in a dramatic way —
but in the quiet way that lasts.

What This Retreat Taught Us

Identity is not fixed.
We become who we are by what we choose, feel, and practice.

Everything is impermanent.
Stress, emotion, fear, patterns — they all shift when we do.

Silence is a teacher.
Not comfortable — but honest.

Connection heals quietly.
Not through advice, but presence.

We don’t need to escape life to feel whole.
We simply need to return to ourselves.

So, Thank You!

To everyone who joined us —
thank you for your courage.
For your softness.
For your truth.
For choosing to return.

You made this retreat what it was —
not by trying, but by allowing.

Allowing yourself to stop.
Allowing yourself to feel.
Allowing yourself to be seen.
Allowing yourself to come home.

The next retreat will be another journey—
not away from life,
but deeper into it.

And if your heart calls,
you’ll know.

Photo credit: @viejournal

What They Say About This Retreat

“A very exciting schedule with lots of new and interesting activities. A real bonding experience”

“Mindfully awareness.. I love authenticity way of life."

“I fee the trip was very wholesome, It has a lil bit of everything from the calmness of meditation, the mindfulness of movement, the peace of silence, and the last but not least the hospitality and the food from the people in the village, it was a really memorable "reset" for me.”

“This retreat didn’t change me, but it brought me back to who my Self, part of me that hid. It was truly a heart opening to be able to connect with other people, with nature, and so I can also connect with myself again. It did feel genuine, raw, and warmth.”

Photo credit: @viejournal