People ask what we do during our Island Yoga retreats. Yes, we practice yoga twice a day and eat nourishing meals. We hike to natural pools, jump off sailboats and play. But all those things aren’t what make these retreats so special.
What really happens is deeply life-changing.
We gather in the Luna Shala, and magic happens — real magic.
These retreats aren’t for those who don’t want to grow. They aren’t for those who are fine living the rest of their lives with their struggles and don’t wish to heal, evolve and shine.
These retreats are for those who are ready to tear down the walls around their hearts and build a community of divine love and acceptance — for themselves first, and then for everyone else.
Because in these retreats, we show up. With our scars, our brick walls, our fears and our hope for something better, we step into the Luna Shala and roll out our mats. We stop hiding. We lay it all out on our mats as our most important prayer.
Magic is inevitable.
We move and sweat like fucking crazy, and it opens us so we can explore places within where we haven't looked in a long, long time. We choose to step into the most raw vulnerability, and it brings us to our knees as we shed our armor, then it makes us dance with a lightness we kept ourselves from knowing for too, too long.
In these retreats, we go where love is. And where there is fear, we inquire.
We scratch at wounds that haven't fully healed to see what's underneath. In the sacred, safe space of the dimly lit Shala, surrounded by so much love and courage, we share, sometimes watching stories spill off of our lips that we hadn’t ever told a soul.
We journal, letting the stream of consciousness unwrap and unravel what really makes us scared, what really makes us happy, and who we really, truly wish to be — our original selves.
Authenticity becomes the only way we want to show up in the world; we practice it on paper, in sharing circles and on our mats until we feel so damn proud of who we are that nothing can make us put on another mask ever again.
We dive in, and we go deep — often deeper than we ever thought we would. And we cry — a lot. But we laugh more.
We make new friends — good friends. Not the kind you casually talk with about the weather over coffee. No. We make friends, and it's the kind you pour your soul out to in a dark room; the kind that understands that your pain is their pain, too; the kind that holds space, and then your hand, so you feel safe to go a little bit deeper, even when it scares you — so you can let go.
I love this work and the space and souls that make its existence possible. By the end of a retreat I'm tired as hell, but in the best of ways. Yes, I’m leading the retreat, but I always finish them with a heart that’s even more open, light and full.
The courage and love I see every person in the Luna Shala pouring into themselves and their new soul community around them is so strong, it can't help but heal my own heart, too.
In one week, we are all reminded that we are never, ever alone.
After the hugs and pictures and teary-eyed goodbyes, in the silence of my car as I drive home, my thoughts are always the same: everything is beautiful. I'm so in love...with you.
In these retreats, we let go.
On the final night of our retreats, we always make a bonfire. Everyone is welcomed to write down what story or belief they want to let go of, then throw it into the fire.
Imagine you’re sitting in front of that big, warm fire, surrounded by all the love and acceptance possible. You’re standing in your power and ready to claim the freedom and peace you’re supposed to have...
What would you throw into that fire? What is no longer serving you? Take a moment to close your eyes, breathe deeply, and imagine you’re surrounded by every loving feeling you need. Imagining how that feels tells your body what it would feel like, an essential step to its manifestation.
What would you throw into that fire? Share below.