We live in a time when there is no shortage of ways to take a break. We can book a weekend away, turn off our notifications, go for a walk, or spend a day at home. And sometimes, that is exactly what we need.
But a meditation retreat offers something slightly different.
It is not simply a few days away from work, or a chance to visit somewhere beautiful. It is a temporary change in the way you spend your time, relate to other people, and pay attention to what is happening around and within you.
There is nothing particularly dramatic about it. In fact, much of what makes a retreat valuable is remarkably simple - and that, in itself, can be a relief. It is also what we try to offer in the retreat we organise in Belgium.
Somebody once told me: “To let go, be comfortable first.” And I have thought about that sentence many times since.
Not because a meditation retreat is about letting go of everything. I don't think it is. Rather, because there is something about being comfortable enough that, for a few days, we can let go.
At a retreat, the basic things are already there. A place to sleep. Food on the table. A daily schedule. A quiet environment. Time to walk, talk, exercise, sit, rest, meditate, or simply be.
None of this is particularly extraordinary. And that is precisely what I like about it.
The comfort is not luxurious. It is simple and intentional: enough to make you feel looked after, without surrounding you with things that demand your attention.
Because everyday life asks us to manage an astonishing number of small things. What to eat. Where to be. What to answer. What to buy. What comes next. Even when nothing is particularly difficult, there is a constant background process of organising, deciding, planning and anticipating.
For a few days, that process can become much quieter.
You don't have to plan dinner. You don't have to check the time to see whether you are going to make your next appointment. You don't have to decide what to do with the evening. The next thing is already there.
And when those small decisions disappear, something else becomes possible.
You can notice the food you are eating. The temperature of the air when you walk outside. The fact that you are tired. The conversation you are having. The silence after a meditation session.
There is something similar about the way we approach meditation itself.
A retreat is not meant to turn meditation into another job or a competition. There is no prize for sitting the longest, no need to perform mindfulness correctly, and no reason to make the practice more complicated than it needs to be.
The structure is there to support the practice, not to turn it into another thing on your to-do list.
Because meditation can be enjoyable. It can feel good to sit quietly. To breathe. To center your attention. To notice the body settling. To walk without rushing. To discover that forty minutes of doing almost nothing can sometimes be surprisingly full.
Perhaps this is one of the understated gifts of a retreat: not giving you more, but temporarily asking less of you.
And in that simplicity, there is room for something we don't always have much room for in everyday life - simply being there.
Once the practicalities are taken care of, something else begins to change: time.
At first, a retreat can feel surprisingly full. There are meditation sessions, lectures, meals, yoga, activities, and even conversations with people you have only just met. But underneath the programme, there is a different rhythm. Nothing needs to be rushed.
You begin to notice the spaces between things.
The few minutes before a meditation starts. The walk back after breakfast. The quiet after a group session. The evening when there is nowhere else you need to be.
These moments may look insignificant from the outside. They are not.
Most of us are used to moving from one thing to the next with very little space in between, organising our schedules to the minute. Even rest can become something we schedule, optimise, or use to prepare ourselves for whatever comes next.
I notice this in myself more than I'd like to admit. I optimise my sleep hygiene with the next day in mind. I calculate the toppings of my skyr to reach 30 g of protein at breakfast, because I'll hit the gym later and need to finish my routine in half the time without compromising results. It works. I feel healthy and strong. I also feel a bit crazy sometimes, and I tell myself: I need to draw a line somewhere. So I go and take care of my pet, just to balance things out a bit.
A retreat offers a different possibility: doing something without immediately needing it to lead somewhere else.
You can walk because there is a path. Eat because it is lunchtime. Sit because it is time to sit. Rest because you are tired.
And meditation fits naturally into this rhythm.
There is no need to make every session meaningful. Some will feel easy. Some will feel restless. Some days you may enjoy sitting; on others, you may find yourself looking forward to the end. That is fine.
The practice is not another performance to get right. It is an invitation to pay attention to what is actually happening.
Sometimes that is peaceful. Sometimes it is boring. Sometimes it is surprisingly enjoyable.
And that is part of the freedom of having nowhere else to be: there is no need to turn every moment into something.
For a few days, a moment can simply be a moment.
There is another thing that changes when you spend several days in the same place with people who have come for the same reason: being with others becomes simpler.
You may arrive not knowing anyone. Or you may come with a friend, a partner, or a family member. Either way, there is no expectation that you need to make the most of the social side of the retreat.
You can have breakfast with someone and barely speak. You can have a long conversation after a meditation session and then spend the next few hours without saying a word. You can join a walk, sit quietly under a tree, or simply be by yourself.
There is something surprisingly comfortable about that.
In everyday life, being with other people often comes with a certain amount of social effort. We talk, explain, respond, entertain, make plans. Even when we enjoy each other's company, there can be a subtle pressure to participate.
At a retreat, that pressure is different.
You are surrounded by people, but you are not required to perform yourself for them. For once, I can be just a person having breakfast: no job title, no list of what I've done.
And perhaps this is one of the reasons why connections can happen so naturally.
You share a meal. You laugh about something small. Someone tells you about where they come from. You discover that the person sitting next to you has a completely different life from yours - and yet, for a few days, you are following the same rhythm.
There is no need to become close friends.
Sometimes, it is enough to share a few days of ordinary human life with other people, without needing those interactions to become anything more.
And perhaps that is what makes the silence feel different, too. Sitting in silence with a room full of other people can sometimes feel more connected than talking for an hour.
These are some of the things we value about the retreat we organise in Belgium.
From 10–16 May 2027, we will return to Lede for the third edition of the Disconnect to Reconnect Retreat.
The setting is simple: a quiet place in the Belgian countryside, shared rooms, good food, meditation, walks, yoga, time outdoors, and a small international group of people who have decided to step away from their usual routines for a few days.
The programme gives the days a clear structure, but there is also plenty of space within it. You do not need to arrive with a certain level of meditation experience. You can simply come.
Come to rest. Come to meditate. Come because you are curious. Come because you may have been busy for too long. Come because you would like to spend a few days somewhere else, with fewer things demanding your attention.
The retreat is not about escaping your life.
It is about experiencing, for a little while, what happens when life becomes simpler.
And perhaps that is enough of a reason to step away.
More information and registration HERE
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