Yoga retreat what was that about?

When friends and family asked how my experience with Ruben in the Dolomites was, I found myself struggling to answer. Not because there wasn’t enough to say, but because words seemed inadequate. It’s like taking a photograph of something so breathtaking it leaves you speechless, but the person viewing the image feels nothing close to what you felt. The colors are captured. The shapes are captured. The scene is captured. Yet the feeling is missing.

How is that possible?

Some experiences simply do not translate.

They must be lived.

This was one of those experiences.

The journey began in Munich, where ~fifteen of us gathered at the airport. Within hours they no longer felt like strangers. The intimacy of the group created an ease that would define the entire week. Logistics were seamless. There was never a sense of being rushed or left behind. Whether someone needed an extra bathroom stop or experienced a travel delay, accommodations were made with kindness and grace. The small things—which are often the big things—mattered.

A comfortable 3 hour drive carried us toward our nature retreat, giving us time to decompress from flights and the noise of travel. It felt like a gentle transition into another state of being that was soon to be upon us.

Then we arrived. The retreat exceeded my expectations. Nestled on serene lake surrounded by the extraordinary beauty of the Dolomites, the property felt luxurious and deeply peaceful at the same time. The architecture was clean, calming, and perfectly integrated into the landscape. The rooms were thoughtfully appointed. The spa felt like a sanctuary. The service and food were Michelin-level. The quality, presentation, and warmth elevated dining beyond fine cuisine into an experience all its own.

Fresh local cheeses, traditional specialties, homemade gelato, seasonal produce, and beautifully prepared meals appeared daily. Every meal seemed designed not only to nourish but to delight.

A typical day began with waking in a luxuriously comfortable bed to cool mountain air drifting through an open door. Beyond the balcony stretched views of apple orchards and distant peaks. The soundtrack was provided by birds—Italian sparrows, Eurasian magpies, hooded crows, cuckoos—whose morning chorus replaced any need for an alarm clock. Most mornings I discovered I needed neither coffee nor caffeine. The crisp air alone awakened my senses.

A short stroll brought us to our private yoga studio. Large windows and doors remained open, dissolving the boundary between indoors and outdoors. The mountains, breeze, and sounds of nature became part of the practice.

One of our fellow participants happened to be a linguist and Italian instructor. Before each session she would teach us a few simple Italian words and phrases. We learned practical greetings and directions, but also words expressing peace, tranquility, and presence. It was a lovely ritual.

Each practice began with meditation and intention setting. Ruben guided us with his calming voice and humbly delivered extensive knowledge. We moved gently, lubricating joints and awakening the body through accessible movements that welcomed everyone, regardless of age or experience.

What struck me most was Ruben’s ability to make foundational concepts feel profound.

He offered permission.

Permission to move differently.

Permission to listen to your body.

Permission to release judgment.

Permission to simply do your thing.

Rather than imposing a rigid ideal, he created space for each person to discover what was right for them. Whether someone had practiced yoga for decades or was stepping onto a mat for the first time, there was something deeply personal to take away.

The practice nourished body, mind, and spirit equally.

Ruben was clearing speaking to me… directly to me 🙂

Then there was Dancing Shiva.I won’t describe it. Some things deserve to remain undiscovered until you experience them yourself.

Nothing was forced. Nothing felt uncomfortable. Everything unfolded when you were ready, always accompanied by warmth and encouragement. I am convinced that both seasoned practitioners and complete beginners would find these sessions transformative.

Whatever burden someone arrived carrying—grief, uncertainty, illness, pain, career questions, or simply the accumulated weight of everyday life—the experience provided tools to help lighten that load.

We ended our sessions lying comfortably on the floor, guided through breathing exercises and meditation. Occasionally someone drifted into a nap. Through gentle movement and awareness, parts of the body seemed to awaken, almost effervescently, as if they had been quietly waiting for attention all along.

Breakfast followed. You could order a cappuccino alongside an omelet and chocolate croissant. You could wander into the cold juice room and create your own fresh-pressed juice from carefully selected ingredients. You could choose organic grains, fruits, yogurts, traditional European breads, artisanal cheeses, and cured meats.There was something for everyone.

The midday adventure varied each day. Sometimes it meant exploring a quiet nearby village. Sometimes it was a walk through the apple orchards surrounding the retreat. Some days we boarded a bus bound for some of the most spectacular landscapes on Earth. The Dolomites possess a beauty that feels unreal. The mornings began crisp and cool before giving way to sunlit afternoons among alpine meadows and towering limestone peaks. The landscape seemed to change with every step, every shift of light, every turn of the trail. I found myself stopping mid-hike; not because I was tired (OK maybe because I was tired), but because I needed to take it in. The sheer-sided mountains rose dramatically from lush green valleys. Wildflowers stretched across meadows. Clouds drifted through jagged peaks. The scenery felt less like a destination and more like a dream.

And of course there were the mountain huts. These cozy refuges offered lunch, local specialties, a cocktail, or simply a place to sit quietly and absorb the beauty around you.

I encountered awe.

Not admiration.

Not appreciation.

Awe.

Awe – emotional response when something transcends your understanding of the world and forces you to expand your perspective. It creates what psychologists call the “small self” phenomenon, where your worries shrink, your ego quiets, and you feel connected to something much larger than yourself. Science tells us awe reduces activity in the brain’s default mode network—the circuitry responsible for self-referential thinking, rumination, and anxiety. Dopamine is released. Vagal tone increases. Goosebumps appear. Chronic stress markers decrease. Oxytocin, the hormone of trust and connection, rises.

Time itself seems to slow.

You become fully present.

You know awe when you experience it.

Go get yourself some awe!

Back at the nature retreat, there were massages, steam rooms, heated pools, cold plunge natural lake, traditional and Finnish saunas.Two hundred degrees Fahrenheit may sound excessive, but when accompanied by chanting, aromatic infusions, panoramic views of mountains and the the lake, and a profound sense of relaxation, somehow worries (and clothing) evaporated.

By dinner, the tentative politeness of a newly formed group had transformed into roaring laughter and genuine friendship.

Perhaps it was the yoga.

Perhaps it was the scenery.

Perhaps it was the kind of people drawn to experiences like this.

Perhaps it was the wine.

Whatever the reason, joy seemed abundant.

The week left me changed in subtle but meaningful ways.

My daily movement practice now includes more intentional micro-movements and less obsession with intensity. I worry less about whether I’m doing enough and focus more on whether I’m doing what my body truly needs.

Ruben taught me so many new things and reinforced things I needed to be reminded of: patience, acceptance, presence, and the importance of aligning intention with action.

Now that I am retired, I find myself embracing relaxation more fully. Yet perhaps the greatest lesson is that relaxation should not be postponed until retirement.

We should not wait.

We should not earn it.

We should practice it now.

As the retreat came to an end, there were tears.

Tears of gratitude. Gratitude for burdens lifted, friendships formed, skills acquired and perspectives gained.

Gratitude for the reminder that some of life’s most meaningful experiences cannot be adequately described.

They must simply be lived.

Dawn