Reflections from a 5-Day Silent Meditation Retreat

I just came back from a five-day silent meditation retreat at the Moulin de Chaves, a meditation center tucked into the countryside of France. Guided by my longtime teachers Sarah and Ty Powers, the experience is still rippling through me in subtle and powerful ways—and I wanted to share a few reflections from the silence while they’re still fresh.

Sarah Powers and me, just after breaking silence.

It’s easy to imagine a meditation retreat as serene and idyllic—peaceful people sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, untouched by the world. But the truth is far more human, and far more powerful. These retreats are not about escaping discomfort, but about learning to meet it—alongside joy, stillness, disruption, and the full range of what it means to be alive.

There were moments of bliss so expansive they brought tears of joy to my eyes—and moments so mucky, so filled with resistance, distraction, and bodily discomfort that I wanted to escape, collapse, run. But this is the practice: to stay. To meet it all with presence. To remember that wholeness isn’t something we construct—it’s something we return to. And the most effective way to return is gently, with loving kindness and friendliness toward all of your parts and sensations. It’s really the only prerequisite to building the capacity to stay present — especially when the moment is uncomfortable.

One evening, I sat by the river and watched a blue crane standing strikingly still within the flowing current. She gazed out across the water, unflinching while the river rushed around her legs. I sat there for about 45 minutes, and she hardly moved at all. Her steadiness—her vivid presence—grounded me.

In Taoism, the deepest wisdom isn’t spoken—it’s reflected in nature. The way water flows around obstacles. The way a creature like the crane simply is, in rhythm with its surroundings. That moment reminded me why being in nature is so deeply healing. It’s not just beautiful—it reattunes us to the Tao, the original rhythm of life. And in times like these, when so much in the world feels dissonant, fast, and fractured, these quiet harmonies matter more than ever.

After that, everything felt sharper. The landscape more alive. The scent of Japanese honeysuckle so rich, it felt like I had stepped into a heavenly realm. I had walked past that same honeysuckle many times before. But with full presence, it felt like a precious gift.

The crane became one of my most poignant teachers on this retreat—a mirror of how we can meet life with stillness and unshakable presence. Not by striving, but by settling.

These retreats, which I've been attending over the past 14 years, have been pivotal in shaping my path—from teaching yoga for 15 years, to studying acupuncture, to now creating an oracle deck that gathers it all together. My first encounter with the five elements came through Sarah Powers’ teachings. Her integration of Yin Yoga and Chinese Medicine lit something up in me and eventually led me to acupuncture school and deeper study of Taoist and Buddhist philosophy.

This retreat felt like a return to the practices that first cracked something open in me—something I’ve been deepening ever since. And now, as I complete my oracle deck, it feels like the first body of work that truly weaves together all that I’ve practiced, studied, and lived.

The deck is a bridge between ancient wisdom and modern life. It’s a way to live Taoism—not as an idea, but as a rhythm. Each card is an invitation to return to your true nature, to reconnect with the intelligence of your body, the vitality of your spirit, and the quiet guidance within.

The writing is complete (!), and I’m now recording the meditations that accompany each point. I’ll keep you posted as it all unfolds.

A reminder: presence isn’t something you earn through effort. It’s what’s already here when you stop striving and let the moment be enough.

The most meaningful transformations don’t begin with trying harder.
They begin with your willingness to meet life as it is—without resistance, without rushing, without needing it to be different.

In Taoist philosophy, when the heart-mind is whole with what is, life becomes sacred.
Not because you’ve perfected it, but because you’re truly in it.

This is the spirit of wu wei—effortless action, born from deep alignment with what is.

You don’t have to become more.
You are already whole.
This moment is already whole.

May we all have the courage to slow down, to meet life as it is, and to remember:
Simply being here—with honesty, with presence, with friendliness—is more than enough.

P.S. If you'd like to receive reflections like this, meditations, and early access to my upcoming Spirit of the Points oracle deck, you can join my newsletter here. I’d love to stay connected.

xx

Suzanne