Retreat Etiquette

Rules of the Game

I’m back from a retreat in Ojai with some girlfriends for one of my best friends’ birthday. And while everything that happens on a retreat should absolutely stay on a retreat, it left me thinking about something important. Retreat etiquette.

I went into this retreat really needing connection and nurturing. Which I hate admitting, because I prefer to believe I am low maintenance, spiritually evolved, and powered entirely by insight and magnesium.

But I was coming off a seven week flu. Seven weeks. At a certain point it stops being an illness and starts being a personality. My body forced me into a level of embodiment I’ve spent years politely avoiding. There is nothing like relentless sinus pressure to remind you that you are not a floating consciousness with opinions. I also discovered panic attacks but thats another post.

Being in your body means being in discomfort. There is no shortcut.

And that is especially frustrating if, like me, you tend to spiritually bypass. I am excellent at reframing. I love a protocol. I love conquering. I am far less interested in sitting still while my energy is low, my chest feels tight, and there is no lesson yet.

This retreat was a gift from our friend for her birthday, which already tells you everything you need to know about her. Beyond how much we love her, she’s one of those rare people who experiences awe and joy naturally. She doesn’t hustle for it. She doesn’t optimize it. She doesn’t ask if it’s productive. She just notices things. Sunlight. Music. Other people.

I’ve been to a lot of retreats, workshops, and conferences. Some for work. Some for the soul. All in pursuit of that very loaded idea of “bettering yourself.” And over time, you start to notice patterns. What works. What ruins the vibe. What makes people quietly unbearable.

So here are my rules.

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1. Do not go in talking shit.

The second you agree to a retreat, you agree to go in open minded. You do not want to be the person complaining to the hosts or whispering critiques in corners. Energy attracts energy, and complaining is a fast track to bad vibes.

Once, on a work trip at Bonnaroo, I was walking with a colleague judging the tents and accommodations, assuming we were aligned. She stopped me and said, “Everyone here came to have a good time. You’re the one who stands out.” It stung and stuck.

You don’t need to be the best student or the class clown. You just need to radiate that you’re enjoying yourself. That energy does more work than perfectly articulated insights ever will.

If you show up, you glow up. I just made that up, but it’s true. Go in curious. Get a kick out of it. Treat it like something you’ll forget the details of but remember the feeling.

2. When you share, you care.

Most retreats involve sharing a thought, a question, or an emotional moment. I forget sometimes that many people are deeply shy about their inner lives. I am not. I am a professional sharer.

When you share thoughtfully, you get more out of it. Do not share just to hear your own voice and do not be long winded. Listen closely to the guide, notice where something actually connects to your life, then share from there.

Sharing also gives other people permission to connect to themselves. It’s like that meme when one person orders a Diet Coke at the table and suddenly everyone feels safe ordering a Diet Coke. That’s what sharing does.

3. You are not changed.

You absolutely cannot say you’ve been changed by the retreat. You have not been changed, and no one respects you, or the process you just did.

You might feel moved, rearranged, or like you picked up a few useful tools. You probably made camp style friends you’ll keep forever. But you did not transform into a new person in three days. You had good snacks and eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Set the bar correctly. Expect to feel a little clearer, not reborn.

4. Retreat friends are the new camp friends.

Retreats suspend time. You are out of your element, every interaction feels intimate, and you hear people’s deepest stories and then are eating soup together. It is summer camp for adults.

These friendships are real, but they exist in a specific time and space. Do not clique up. I have gotten in trouble for this before, and cliques make people feel left out. Spread your attention around. Talk to people you would never normally talk to. You are in the woods in Ojai. Why not.

Also, asking people what they do for work is a rude assignment. Try this instead.
“Are you feeling creative right now?”

5. You are your own safe person.

A few years ago it became a thing in my friend group to declare someone a “safe person” before events. Someone anxious would choose a person to anchor to. It is intense. You have to check in, monitor, stay available. While you get credit for being a great friend, it is exhausting.

Full disclosure, I have also needed a safe person before, and it can be a relief to know someone is in it with you. But over time I got rebellious and started telling people I was unavailable because I planned on being wild. Wild for me means dancing or social hopping, but still.

At retreats especially, be your own safe person. Roam. Wander. You will get more out of it. If someone truly needs you, you can decide what kind of friend you want to be. Just don’t default into the role.

6. Do not make them your guru.

This is the most important rule. I am personally addicted to people who see me and want to help me. I help others constantly, and somehow I always end up bonding with therapists, healers, and guides.

Remember that these people are human. They are conduits, not saviors. They are mirrors, not answers. Do not get overly attached. Take the lesson and leave the pedestal.

7. At the end of the day, do not call people back home.

When you get back to your room at night, resist the urge to call friends or family from the outside world to recap everything. It will not make sense to them and you will sound unhinged. It also feels a little like spilling secrets mid spell.

You have likely consumed a lot of information or released a lot of emotion. This is not the moment to narrate it. Process with the people who are there or do something completely mindless.

Bring your full nighttime routine. Skin care. Face masks. Whatever helps you come back into your body. You will want something to gently numb out on, and that is normal.

My best friend Jamie and I shared a room and ended each night in face masks watching the sitcom Mom, which I do not recommend because it is very random, but you get the point.

8. Do not audition your trauma.

There is a difference between sharing and performing your pain. If you feel the urge to escalate your story so it lands harder than the last share, pause. If you notice yourself shaping your experience for reaction, validation, or gasps, pause harder.

Healing is not a competition. Vulnerability is not an Olympic sport. No one is handing out medals for Most Broken But Brave.

Share what is true. Share what is relevant. Let it be enough. The goal is not to leave as the person everyone remembers for their trauma. The goal is to leave more intact than when you arrived.

9. Do not flirt with becoming the main character.

Retreats have a way of quietly casting someone as The One. The person who shares just a little deeper, cries just a little harder, and gets just a little more attention from the guide.

If this starts to happen to you, step back on purpose. Do not ride the high. Do not confuse visibility with growth. Being the emotional center of a group can feel validating, especially if you are used to being the helper or the unseen one, but it distorts the container and pulls you out of your own work.

The deepest shifts usually happen quietly.

10. Listen like you are not next.

Really listen. Do not listen while planning your share or rehearsing your story while someone else is being vulnerable in real time.

Do not act bored. Zoning out, sighing, or dramatic shifting is rude. If you feel restless, take your ADHD to the bathroom, pace it out, and come back when you can be present. The group can feel it when you are not.

Listening is part of the practice.

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That’s the etiquette.

Show up open.
Share honestly.
Stay grounded.
Leave lighter, not delusional.

I didn’t mention the retreat itself not to be secretive, but to avoid being prescriptive. The point isn’t where we went. It’s that we went. That said, if you want retreat recommendations or are thinking about doing one, AMA.