Convento Gathering

Once upon a time there was a large, very old house nestled among the rolling hills of Northern Tuscany, Italy. It had once been a monastery, later a place for modern spiritual practice. Its name was Il Convento Retreat Center.

In winter, it sleeps.

Shutters closed, the land quiet, wood weathered by rain, hinges touched by dew. Each year Il Convento rests in its own deep rest — gathering dreams within its walls, waiting for footsteps, for voices, for music.

And then spring arrives.

Shortly after Easter, when the earth begins to breathe again, when the light softens and the green tentatively returns, we gather to awaken Sleeping Beauty with a kiss.

This retreat is both deeply practical and profoundly symbolic.

We oil wood.
We clear brush.
We repaint what has peeled.
We get our hands dirty with soil.
We bring rusty hinges back to sound.
We tidy, clean, hammer, create.
We cook together, take care of ourselves, take responsibility for one another and for this place.

And while our hands are working, something else begins to move.

What inside me is quiet?
Which part of me is waiting for the kiss of awakening?
What longs to bloom — beyond roles, expectations, old stories?

Sleeping Beauty is not only the house.
Sleeping Beauty is us.

Between tending the land and stirring pots, we open spaces for:

Yoga,
bathing in the cold river,
dance,
walks through the wild forest,
somatic practice (SE-inspired),
breathwork,
a day trip to the sea,
meditation,
sitting by the fire,
ritual work,
sharing circles.

There is no single retreat leader — we move in co-creation. Each person contributes. Each person is part of the field.

The focus is on consciously shaping spaces — physical and energetic. Spaces that can hold community. Spaces that point toward the future. Spaces in which visions are allowed to slowly take form. We prepare the land for the retreat season, and especially for the Convento Festival in August.

The atmosphere shifts.

There are quiet moments of contemplation and inward listening.
And there are lively, bustling, celebratory phases — with children’s laughter, music, and exchange.
We weave together the subtle and the tangible.
Self-responsibility and community.

We come into the body by working with our hands.
We come into the body by listening.

Spring kisses us awake.
And perhaps we awaken one another — through presence, through true togetherness, through shared work and shared silence.

A house awakens.
A community takes shape.
A new cycle begins.