Slipping into Serenity in Greece: Waving goodbye to worries at a chic Lefkada retreat
https://jattravel.blogspot.com/2013/10/slipping-into-serenity-in-greece-waving.html
There is something about autumn that makes us reflective.
The bikini has been packed away, nights are drawing in. Now what?
For me, hitting 50 didn't help. I felt like a walking cliché: What am I doing? What should I be doing?
But then I travelled to Serenity Retreat on the Ionian island of Lefkada and found some answers.
Serenity caught my eye because it offers a flexible holiday for solo travellers, but with a spiritual bent That's solo, as opposed to single because I have a husband and a 15-year-old son.
I wasn't on any Shirley Valentine quest.
Kim Bennett founded Serenity (now in its fourth year) with a clear idea of her clientele. She says: 'It's not for diehard alternative types. It's more for people who are starting to question their work, relationships, lifestyle - or have hit a crisis.'
My journey started on a rough track winding past a few half-built houses and through a scrubby plantation. The place was unprepossessing and my one-room apartment, while spotlessly clean, was hardly luxurious.
But, as I opened the double doors, my mood brightened. There was the sea, with waves slapping onto pebbles, yards away from the geranium-edged patio.
Serenity hosts a maximum of 12 people, but that week there were just six of us with careers ranging from civil engineer to pharmacist, teacher to chef.
Kim set the tone at a welcome lunch - explaining the few rules. Everyone does their own thing; privacy is respected; meeting up for meals is encouraged, but bills are never shared (avoiding that feeling of pique when, having abstemiously sipped water and picked at Greek salad, you end up subsidising everyone else's souvlaki and shiraz).
I dipped in and out of the activities; sometimes joining in with morning meditation, sometimes lazing in bed. I tagged along on some of the optional trips, such as the usual tourist cruise and an unorthodox walk in the mountains with the local herbalist, Brigitte, a passionate and opinionated Bavarian.
But mainly I sat and watched
the waves. I came to love my little apartment, the down-to-earth village
of Nikiana and its friendly inhabitants.
There was no great 'Aha' moment, no Road to Damascus. But slowly I relaxed. I learned to be in the moment, in the here and now.
I can't put my finger on the one thing that made Serenity work so well - it was a strange alchemy of people and places that lent itself to a shift.
By the end of the week, one woman decided to retrain as a teacher, another announced she was relocating abroad and one said quietly her relationship was over.
I didn't have any such striking epiphany but I did leave with a sense that my life will unfurl in the way it needs to, without any Sisyphean striving on my part.
Booking for next year's Serenity season in Greece will soon open.
Meanwhile, there are shorter, all-inclusive retreats in the UK. The weather won't be quite so blissful but you might just be so relaxed that you'll hardly notice.
The bikini has been packed away, nights are drawing in. Now what?
For me, hitting 50 didn't help. I felt like a walking cliché: What am I doing? What should I be doing?
But then I travelled to Serenity Retreat on the Ionian island of Lefkada and found some answers.
Float away from your cares: Jane was seeking a break - but was not on a Shirley Valentine mission
Serenity caught my eye because it offers a flexible holiday for solo travellers, but with a spiritual bent That's solo, as opposed to single because I have a husband and a 15-year-old son.
I wasn't on any Shirley Valentine quest.
Kim Bennett founded Serenity (now in its fourth year) with a clear idea of her clientele. She says: 'It's not for diehard alternative types. It's more for people who are starting to question their work, relationships, lifestyle - or have hit a crisis.'
My journey started on a rough track winding past a few half-built houses and through a scrubby plantation. The place was unprepossessing and my one-room apartment, while spotlessly clean, was hardly luxurious.
But, as I opened the double doors, my mood brightened. There was the sea, with waves slapping onto pebbles, yards away from the geranium-edged patio.
Serenity hosts a maximum of 12 people, but that week there were just six of us with careers ranging from civil engineer to pharmacist, teacher to chef.
Kim set the tone at a welcome lunch - explaining the few rules. Everyone does their own thing; privacy is respected; meeting up for meals is encouraged, but bills are never shared (avoiding that feeling of pique when, having abstemiously sipped water and picked at Greek salad, you end up subsidising everyone else's souvlaki and shiraz).
I dipped in and out of the activities; sometimes joining in with morning meditation, sometimes lazing in bed. I tagged along on some of the optional trips, such as the usual tourist cruise and an unorthodox walk in the mountains with the local herbalist, Brigitte, a passionate and opinionated Bavarian.
Sunset strip: Serenity allowed Jane to recharge her batteries amid blissful Greek scenery
There was no great 'Aha' moment, no Road to Damascus. But slowly I relaxed. I learned to be in the moment, in the here and now.
I can't put my finger on the one thing that made Serenity work so well - it was a strange alchemy of people and places that lent itself to a shift.
By the end of the week, one woman decided to retrain as a teacher, another announced she was relocating abroad and one said quietly her relationship was over.
I didn't have any such striking epiphany but I did leave with a sense that my life will unfurl in the way it needs to, without any Sisyphean striving on my part.
Booking for next year's Serenity season in Greece will soon open.
Meanwhile, there are shorter, all-inclusive retreats in the UK. The weather won't be quite so blissful but you might just be so relaxed that you'll hardly notice.
