Practical Wisdom: The Soft, Squishy Middle

By the time the first night falls, the room feels different. Candles flicker against soft faces. Someone sighs the kind of sigh that loosens things deep inside. The noise of the outside world fades. There’s soup simmering, tea steaming, and an invisible warmth weaving between us.

In the past few months, I’ve sat in eight such circles. Eight retreats where people arrived with tired eyes and careful smiles, carrying the invisible weight of their lives. By the second day, something always shifts. Laughter starts to rise. Shoulders soften. A tear slips down someone’s cheek, followed by another, and no one rushes to fix it. Anger finds a safe space for expression and the air thickens with gentleness, as if the space itself remembers how to hold us.

A quiet awareness makes way for human connection.

Now, as the days grow shorter and the evenings stretch long, nature offers a holy invitation. The trees are letting go of what no longer serves them. The earth draws her energy inward. The wind rustles like a secret shared between worlds “Rest now. Reflect. Be still.”

We’ve entered the season of introspection. A time to pause, to let silence become sacred again, to share our stories. In a world that moves too fast and shouts opinion over truth, retreating together becomes an act of quiet power.

When we retreat, something ancient in us remembers how to listen. Like our ancestors did. Around a Fire. At a table. Under a blanket. Or sitting side by side. We cross a threshold and leave the surface world to touch the deeper current that runs beneath everything. There, parables undress false beliefs. Grief finds its heart. Joy peeks out shyly, surprised to be beckoned. The body relaxes, the mind calms, and Spirit hums softly through it all.

You don’t have to travel far to touch that magic. You can create it right where you are, especially now as the darker months call us home to ourselves.

How to Create Your Own Mini-Retreat

Gather your kindred few.
Invite two or three friends who can show up real and vulnerable. Choose people with whom silence feels easy and laughter comes naturally.

Find a gentle place.
A cozy living room, a cabin in the woods, or a boutique hotel with a warm fire. The sacred doesn’t need grandness. It needs presence.

Mark the moment.
Spread a shawl across a small table. Light a candle. Add a flower or two, a stone, a bowl of water, a feather or incense. Let this place become your altar, a designation that this time is holy. 

Begin with breath.
Sit together in the sweetness. Feel the weight of your body resting on the earth. Let silence gather around you like a soft mantle. If you like, play soft music.

Allow time to unfold naturally.
Sit outside if the weather permits. Call to life a fire, if a place for it exists. Journal about what is stirring in your heart. Share your words when the words want to come. Make food laced with love and eat it slowly, tasting the taste of nourishment. Listen with your compassion rather than your ears. Let the rhythm of the day move like the tide, without agenda or hurry. Laugh when laughter arrives. Rest. Awaken. Rest again.

Close with gratitude.
When you feel complete, after a few hours, or days, gather again at your altar. Speak aloud what you are grateful for or what you are releasing. Offer a blessing for one another and carry it back into the world. Extinguish the candle. Pack up your altar. Share a final hug.

A gathering of this nature can be simple.

Retreats are sacred pauses in a culture that never stops. They teach us that softness is strength and that rest is the doorway to renewal. The Divine speaks most clearly in the quiet moments we too often overlook. In the sound of wind through trees. In the stillness between words. In the presence of a friend who sees us fully and loves us as we are.

Every time I witness someone’s eyes light up with knowing, it feels like watching dawn break after a long night. That’s why I love this work. Retreats help us remember who we are before the world tells us who to be.

So, as the light fades earlier each day, accept the invitation. Step away for a few hours, a day, a weekend, or a week. Create space for quiet company. Let the world spin without you for a little while. You’ll return with a clearer heart, a calmer mind, and a deeper knowing of what matters most.

In the soft, squishy middle of life, you’ll remember that you are whole. You are sacred. And the world is gentler when you are rested and reconnected.

Reflection

Close your eyes and take three slow breaths.
Ask yourself softly:

What part of me is asking for retreat right now?

Then listen.
Let the answer rise—not from your thoughts, but from the quiet beneath them.

Visioning Into the Year Ahead

As we begin to vision the year unfolding, Mark and I are planning a beautiful rhythm of classes and retreats for 2026…times to reflect, renew, and remember what truly matters.

Here’s what’s taking shape:

• Couples Retreat — January or early February
  A sacred space to reconnect, rekindle, and remember love’s deeper language.
• Women’s Retreat — Late March
  A soulful gathering for reflection, laughter, and awakening the wisdom that lives within every woman.
• Men’s Retreat — Date to be determined
  A call for men ready to pause, listen, and reclaim the grounded strength of their authentic selves.
• Heal the Healers Retreat — May or June
  A restorative sanctuary for those who hold space for others…ministers, practitioners, therapists, and teachers…who are ready for self-reflection.