At the close of this retreat, I noticed something different in myself. Usually, I carry a little residual anxiety—wondering whether people enjoyed themselves, whether they got what they needed, whether anyone felt disappointed. This time, I didn’t. That absence of worry is significant.
Part of that comes with experience—this is Social Work Wise retreat number five—but it also has to do with the people who were there, the connections that formed, and what has carried over from past retreats. With every retreat, at least half of the group is comprised of people returning to the experience. There is one retreat group member who has been on board for all five journeys. In of all these collective journeys I’ve experienced the joy of witnessing growth, occasional epiphanies, and new threads weaving together.
The Work of Careful Attention
As a facilitator, my role is to pay careful attention. It’s a listening that is intentional, attuned, and full of care. I listen for signs of discomfort, for things that might need following up, whether physical, emotional, or otherwise. Over the years, I’ve learned that this is part of the role—listening in a way that holds the group with care.
What makes this possible is the “bank” I draw on: a bank of relationships, stories, memories, and connections. Caring is easier when you deeply value the people who are with you in solidarity, when you hear the heroics of their everyday lives and practice in human services. These stories of endurance, commitment, and resistance move me, and I don’t need any encouragement to care.
Attuning to Responses
My orientation is shaped by Narrative practice and Response-based ideas. From Michael White, I learned to listen for people’s responses to trauma and what is absent but implicit in stories; from Vikki Reynolds, my curiosity lies in noticing how people respond—how they resist, create, and adapt. On retreat, I’m not only attending to how group members respond to each other, but also how they respond to the Balinese natural and cultural environment.
One reason I hold these retreats in Bali is because of what the cultural, natural, and spiritual environment offers. Some people open to it immediately, others more slowly—like a flower gradually blooming. To witness that process is a privilege.
Bringing Myself In
Of course, I bring my own baggage, too. This year, after a demanding first half as a full-time academic, I knew I needed space to decompress. For that reason I arrived in Bali a week earlier—to let go of some of what I was holding before stepping into the retreat facilitator role. It was valuable learning: I need my own letting go before I can hold space for others.
These retreats are about giving, but also about co-creation. I may coordinate, but each group has helped shape what these retreats have become. To do that, I’ve had to let go of preconceived ideas of what it “should” look like.
The Ripple Effects
I often think of these retreats as creating ripple effects. Sometimes I see them clearly; other times, they remain invisible until much later. Occasionally, I hear that something said or done here influenced a crossroads in someone’s life, even if I don’t know until long after. That’s the nature of ripple effects—they travel outward beyond our sight.
At first, I hoped connections would last in obvious ways, like through the WhatsApp group we set up to stay connected before, during and after retreat and as a vehicle for sharing of ideas, resources and photos of our shared adventures . Sometimes they have lasted , sometimes not. But I’ve come to appreciate that the impact doesn’t have to be visible to be real. Trusting that is part of the work.
Looking Ahead
Already I’m thinking about next year. This space in Bali needs to be booked well in advance, so I have already booked Alam Indah hotel in Ubud for the first week of July in 2026. Watch this space for more details.
Closing Reflections
What I take away most this time is the reminder that retreats like these are never just about rest or learning. They are about the power of careful attention, about the courage people bring to resist forms of systemic and structural oppression, and about the ripples I may never fully see.
I don’t need to know where every ripple travels. It’s enough to know that they move outward, carried by the connections and stories we’ve shared. And that feels like reason enough to keep gathering.
