I shut up and it changed my life
Did you miss me?
Yes, I skipped a newsletter - it was bound to happen sooner or later!
If you did miss me, I'm flattered. If you didn’t, please lie.
My excuse is that I’ve just come back from a transformative silent play retreat in the woods of Oss, in The Netherlands. And yes, that sentence is as 'Peak Me' as it gets.
It was hosted by my pal and world-class facilitator Lily Higgins and it was one of the most magical, surreal, grounding experiences I’ve ever had.
The concept: Strip away the noise - literally - and see what happens when play meets silence.
The setting: A stunning A-frame cabin in the forest.
The vibe: Peaceful, weird, wordless bliss with a sprinkle of witchy wonder.
We kicked things off with a communal dinner where 8 of us shared what we hope to get from the weekend.
Our placemats were our favourite photos of ourselves as children (yes, I choked up at this). Then, we entered a blindfolded movement ritual that was euphoric, emotional, and absolutely bonkers in the best way. Think less “cult,” and more “creative rebirth.”
After that: two full days of silence.
But not the “sit on a hard cushion for 10 hours and try not to fart” kind.
This was soft, creative silence. We could smile. Laugh. Gesture. Play. Just… no words.
And wow. I realised how much of myself I perform around others, especially new people. Without language, there was no networking, no ‘being impressive’, no small talk. Just being.
In this sacred space we created, I:
Journaled like a woman possessed
Discovered the joy of oil pastels (the messier, the better)
Made unhinged blackout poems with a marker and copious amounts of sass
Swung (swang?) on actual swings and slid (slode?) on actual slides
Read, napped, stretched, wandered, twirled
Sat in a sauna and sweated out my capitalist conditioning
And crucially: I didn’t touch my phone.
Our devices were locked away in a little tech jail. No texts. No scrolls. No dopamine drips from notifications. Just me, myself, and my suddenly very loud (but interestingly, light) thoughts.
What I found was the most luxurious resource I didn’t know I was missing: uninterrupted time.
Time to think.
Time to create.
Time to just exist.
Silence = fuel (and free therapy)
In a world full of noise - notifications, meetings, Slack pings, Insta scrolls, shouting headlines - silence is radical.
But it’s also where creativity, clarity, and proper decision-making live, too.
So I’m now on a mission to build sacred silence into my everyday. Not just as a one-off escape, but as a regular rhythm.
Here’s what I’m trying:
Sacred silence in the morning. This week I'm waking an hour before my household stirs. Making tea. Moving slowly. Stretching. Touching grass (literally).
Meditative movement. Think intuitive yoga, sun salutations, a bit of swaying, and shaking out the capitalism.
Screen-free mornings. The new rule is no phone, no laptop, no email until I’m back from my dog walk. Revolutionary.
Solo silence breaks. Cabin escapes. Notebook dates. The kind of silence that doesn’t require a Wi-Fi password.
No meetings on Mondays and Fridays. Been doing this for over a year. It’s changed everything. Highly recommend.
If you’re self-employed, leading a team, making big decisions, or navigating life while trying not to scream into the void - sacred silence could be your secret weapon.
You don’t have to disappear into a Dutch forest (although honestly, 10/10, would recommend). You just need to carve out space.
Your invitation:
Where could you sneak some sacred silence into your week?
Could you:
🌳 Go for a walk without a podcast?
🥗 Eat lunch without doomscrolling?
💻 Leave your laptop closed until 10am?
⏳ Schedule a solo screen-free hour on Friday afternoon?
🚫 Declare a meeting-free day and reclaim your life?
Start tiny. Get curious. See what bubbles up in the stillness.
And if you do end up blindfolded in a forest, send pics.
With love, pastels, and the sweet sound of absolutely nothing,
Nat x
