Finding Our Formation
Driving up to Mount Madonna Center in the Santa Cruz mountains, the roads got smaller and the trees got bigger. By the time I reached the gate, I'd crossed some invisible threshold - from the noise of the world into something quieter, older, and more intentional.
Mount Madonna is one of those places where the land itself seems to be doing the teaching. Founded on the teachings of Baba Hari Dass, the center carries a particular spirit - a blend of classical yoga tradition, community living, and deep hospitality. You feel it in the silence between conversations, in the way staff move through their work, in the temple bell that calls the community to evening Aarti. It's a place that takes seriously the idea that retreat is not just what you do, but how you do everything.
Thirty retreat center leaders gathered here for the Retreat Center Collaboration's annual gathering. Some I'd known for years. Others I was meeting for the first time. By the end of our days together, that distinction had dissolved into something simpler: we were colleagues in sacred work, finding each other.
What struck me most was how quickly we arrived at what matters. We talked about financial sustainability and staffing challenges, about land and legacy and the people we serve. We explored leadership through the Enneagram, we listened to each other's struggles and dreams, we sat in the temple together as the sun went down. And in all of it, a quiet truth emerged that I think we all felt but rarely say out loud: we are all doing the same work.
The challenges facing retreat centers can feel isolating. How do we stay financially viable while remaining true to our purpose? How do we serve those that need our offering most? How do we navigate leadership transitions? How do we honor the land we steward and the histories it holds? These questions can keep you up at night, and most of us know them intimately.
But here's what is clear to me: we are not alone in carrying these questions. Across traditions, across geographies, across the diversity of how we each hold sacred space - we are far more connected than we are different. The leader of a Catholic retreat house in the Midwest and the director of a Yoga center in California are wrestling with the same essential puzzles. The small hermitage in New England and the large conference center in the Southwest share the same fundamental commitment to human transformation.
We are, in a real sense, one formation.
This isn't just a nice sentiment. It has practical implications. When we see ourselves as part of a whole, competition becomes collaboration. Scarcity becomes abundance. The innovations one center develops can benefit all. The wisdom one leader has gained through hard experience can save another from repeating the same mistakes.
Our time at Mount Madonna further reminded me that retreat centers are more than businesses or even nonprofits. They are nodes in a living network of places set apart for healing, reflection, and growth. They are - as we sometimes say at RCC - acupressure points across a wounded world.
As I drove back down the mountain, I carried with me not just new ideas or strategies, but something harder to name: a felt sense of belonging. The knowledge that across this continent, others are holding the same questions, tending the same fires, doing the sacred work of creating spaces where transformation can happen.
If you're reading this and you lead or work at a retreat center, know that you're not alone. Know that there's a community of practice waiting to support you. And if you haven't yet connected with RCC, consider this an invitation to find your people.
We're stronger together. And the world needs what retreat centers offer now more than ever.
In connection,
Peter
