As November unfolds and the autumn leaves turn shades of gold, yellow and red, I have entered a sort of Everyday Temple, a new kind of retreat.
It’s not the kind of retreat that happens in silence or seclusion anymore - it’s one that unfolds right in the heart of life, amidst train delays, house repairs, laughter, and healing sessions. Somehow, I am both student and temple keeper, meditating at dawn before stepping into the flow of the walk-in clinic, where each encounter becomes part of my practice.
For the past 11 years I committed to the practice of meditation and mindfulness. At first with teachers and groups, went on silent retreat with a Sangha (Buddhist community), even lived in monasteries. For the past 5 years it changed: each Winter I did a Solo Retreat, where I dedicated time to silence and meditation. But this year I felt called for a different kind of retreat, one not held in the quiet of the forest or the solitude of home, but within the rhythm of daily life.
I call it my Mastery Work Retreat: four days each week in the walk in clinic where I work doing Shiatsu on massage chair. The place is like a shop in the middle of busy central London, but for me, is my Zen Dojo, a time devoted to service, healing, and presence.
I usually don’t work so many days, but after a slower tender time and a little breakdown over the Summer’s menopausal peak, I felt stronger and ready for this challenge. At first, I thought the mastery part was about mastering my own energy while at work - the subtle shifts of Qi, yin and yang, the herbs and foods that my system requires, the new levels of intuition and frequency, but through the weeks many things changed, as they do when you pay attention.
While nature outside reminds me of the beauty of release and transformation and the trees shed what no longer serves them, I, too, learn to let go - of effort, of old patterns, of separation between the sacred and the ordinary. I notice that this retreat is not about stepping away from the world, but stepping more deeply into it, bringing mindfulness, commitment, and subtle awareness into every moment and encounter.
By the second week of my Retreat it felt like stepping fully into a new octave of being. Something profound has shifted. People sense it even without words, through my touch. One man told me during a treatment, “You are not of this Earth…”. Another, came for treatment after a recent open heart surgery, my attunement was even more gentle and precise than usual, reverberating compassion and understanding, and he received the treatment with such gratitude it made my own heart expand. Me and my colleague listened to his stories, the operation and the recovery, it was a profound moment. And then there was the man who began by saying, “The body is okay, but the soul…” and by the end, when I asked how the soul was now, he smiled with luminous eyes and gestured like a flower blooming. “It’s a new beginning,” he said smiling. Moments like these remind me that healing is not just about releasing tension and working on pressure points and meridians - it’s about remembering our own light and the simplicity of human connection.
I’ve been noticing how different energies shape the day too. When I work alone the field expands, luminous and calm, or when I work with a grounded, sensitive colleague, everything flows like music. When the atmosphere is chaotic, I can feel the contrast immediately. After the recent robberies in our shops, I began doing remote space clearing before each shift - restoring harmony and inviting protection. The difference is palpable. The space feels calmer, my energy remains steady, I feel less tired and even the conversations with clients seem to carry more depth and ease.
This retreat is not about escape, but integration. It’s about embodying the sacred in the ordinary - the hum of subtle energies, the pulse of the city, the quiet miracle of showing up. It’s a new form of mastery, not achieved through isolation, but through presence: living as if every moment were a temple bell, ringing me back to awareness.
As I mentioned, in past years, I took many silent retreats—days or weeks of stillness, meditation, and inner work. They were essential, like deep roots growing underground. But now, something has changed. The silence has come with me. It breathes within the rhythm of my days, within each breath I take before placing my hands on someone’s back, within the moments I remember to look up at the sky on my way home. This is my monastery now—the everyday temple, where the sacred and the human meet in luminous simplicity.
There is a quiet grace in daily quiet service, in tending to the flow of people and stories that move through the clinic. I’ve learned that every interaction carries a frequency, a subtle imprint. My task is not only to listen with my hands but also with my field—to hold a vibration that invites coherence. Healing becomes resonance. The body remembers what harmony feels like and begins to tune itself.
It is the art of holding space so fully that others feel safe to soften. The power of intention and attention becomes alchemical; the smallest gesture, a glance, or breath, can shift the energy in the room. When I arrive centered, the space aligns. When I drift, everything mirrors that too. It’s a constant dance of awareness.
This subtle mysticism doesn’t remove me from the world—it roots me more deeply in it. The unseen layers of energy, the quiet intelligence of spaces, the delicate threads connecting every soul - I sense them now as vividly as the air I breathe. Through this retreat, I am learning that mastery is not about ascending away from the human experience, but descending fully into it with love, precision, and grace. The everyday becomes the sacred. The mundane, a doorway to wonder. And I, simply a vessel learning to serve the light wherever it calls me while anchoring it into the collective tapestry.
Each day, this dance of awareness continues - an ever-shifting rhythm between giving and receiving, silence and sound, stillness and movement. There is no separation anymore between practice and life; they are one seamless prayer. The body bows to the soul, the soul bows to the moment, and the moment bows to the mystery that moves through all things.
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