You’ve been holding so much for so long.
The world keeps spinning louder—opinions, outrage, urgency—and still you show up, steady and kind, trying to keep your heart open when everything around you feels brittle.

You wake up tired.
You care more than you can sustain.
You long for silence that isn’t empty, for rest that isn’t retreat.

You’ve done the work — the therapy, the books, the circles — but something still aches, just beneath the surface.

It’s not despair.
It’s a quiet homesickness for your own wholeness.

You miss your rhythm.
You miss the part of you that believed in beauty — not as decoration,
but as truth.
You sense that the way forward won’t come from trying harder,
but from a gentler remembering.

If this feels familiar, it’s because I’ve been there too.

This is where we begin.

“The ache isn’t your weakness. It’s your compass.”
 

and you are ready to stop bracing and start breathing again,
then join us for Between the Light and the Flame — a retreat where you’ll remember how to live with beauty, move through change with grace, and return to the world luminous, steady, and whole.

This is not an escape.
It’s a rehearsal for loving the world again — a space where stillness becomes strength and beauty becomes your quiet form of resistance.

The first night, the air will settle around you like a sigh.

The noise of the outside world will begin to fade, and what remains will be heartbeat, breath, wind, and flame.

You’ll be guided through writing, reflection, and gentle ritual —
a soft uncoiling of everything you’ve been holding.

Here, the work is not to fix, but to remember:
that your inner light was never extinguished, only hidden under responsibility and noise.

“The light you seek is already inside you.

We are simply making space for it to breathe.”
 

Once the inner flame steadies, we begin the art of carrying it into the world.

This is not about grand declarations. It’s about learning the posture of grace amid uncertainty — how to stay supple without retreating,
how to keep seeing beauty when the easy narratives break apart.

Through walks in the open fields, journaling, and shared silence,
you’ll rediscover what Sojourner, Audre, and Maya knew — that the way forward begins in the body, and that creation itself is a form of hope.

“Stillness is not withdrawal. It’s where your clarity gathers strength.”
 

Every transformation needs witnesses.

At Whippoorwill Retreat House, you’ll find them — women who have also been walking the edge between burnout and blooming.

The experience is slumber-party sacred: shared rooms, soft laughter echoing through the hallways, conversations that begin at the table and end 

under starlight.

You’ll sit by candlelight with kindred spirits who understand what it means to keep caring in complicated times.

Together, we’ll remember that belonging is how we heal.

“We do not find ourselves by standing apart. We find ourselves by sitting in the circle.”
 

Nestled in the Kentucky hills, Whippoorwill is a quiet miracle of wood, glass, and light.

Windows open to the misty valley.
The scent of the earth rises through every doorway.

Here, stillness isn’t absence.

It’s presence — alive, breathing, waiting for you.

“Whippoorwill is where quiet becomes language.”
 

The road to Whippoorwill winds through the Kentucky hills, where the trees lean close and the light shifts toward gold.

You’ll feel the change before you arrive — a quieting, a sense that time is beginning to loosen its hold. By late afternoon, the air will hum with expectancy. You’ll find your room, unpack what you’ve carried,
and step outside to breathe in the scent of wood and dusk.

The land itself feels alive — a listening presence,
as if it’s been waiting for you.

As evening gathers, we’ll meet in circle for the first time —
soft light, gentle voices, an opening ritual to mark your crossing.

You’ll receive your journal and your candle — symbols of the flame you will tend through the weekend.

Dinner will be simple, nourishing, shared by those who’ve also felt the ache of living fully in a divided world and still believe in beauty as a way forward.

There will be laughter, quiet conversation, and the relief of realizing: You are not alone.

Later, we’ll walk outside beneath the stars.

The night sounds rise — crickets, wind, the call of the whippoorwill —
and you’ll feel yourself begin to settle.

Not finished, not transformed, but open.

The retreat has begun.
The pause has welcomed you.

“Every journey begins not with departure,
but with the moment you arrive fully in your own stillness.”
 

As the second day begins to fade, the air cools and the hills hush.
Candles trace a spiral through the meadow — a path of flickering gold winding toward the heart of evening.

You’ve been carrying something for a long time — maybe grief, maybe weariness, maybe the weight of trying to hold too much.

Earlier, as you wandered the hollow, something called to you — a leaf, a feather, a curve of bark — a small emblem of release.

You carry it now, not as burden but as offering.

Barefoot, you step into the labyrinth.

The ground is cool beneath your feet; the scent of wood and earth rises around you.

Voices lift softly in tones inspired by Hildegard von Bingen,
a wordless melody that threads through the dusk like prayer and wind.

Each turn draws you inward, closer to the still point inside your chest.

You feel the presence of the mystics — Hildegard’s greening fire, Julian’s mercy, Teresa’s wild courage, Sojourner’s truth, Audre’s clarity, Maya’s rising.

They are not icons here, but companions.

At the labyrinth’s center, a single flame burns.
You kneel, place your offering on the earth beside it, and close your eyes.
Something releases — quiet, certain, deep.

The marrow of you exhales.

And then you understand: to live between the light and the flame
is not to choose one over the other, but to hold them both with tenderness.

You turn and begin the walk outward.

The path is the same, but your body knows it differently now.

This is the pause between what has ended and what is beginning to become.

“You will walk into the labyrinth carrying what is heavy,
and walk out carrying only light.”
 

When you return from the labyrinth, the night has softened.

Whippoorwill glows with candlelight and quiet laughter.

Inside, a table waits with small bites to share — simple, beautiful, enough for everyone.

Music moves through the room, mingling with conversation and warmth.
You gather in circle once more, each woman offering something inspired by the mystics — a poem, a melody, a tarot card, a reflection, a silence.

Each offering rises and weaves into the next until the whole room feels like breath made visible.

This is the Community Journey — the moment when what was tended within begins to glow between.

The mystics would have called it re-membering: the gathering of what has been scattered, the celebration of wholeness made visible again.

“When one voice lifts in remembrance,
the whole circle glows a little brighter.”
 

Morning drifts gently into Whippoorwill.

Mist curls through the trees, and the valley breathes in stillness.

You wake lighter — as if the land itself has taken something from your hands and blessed it into air.

There’s warmth, quiet chatter, mugs held close.

Before you depart, the circle gathers once more.

Each woman speaks a single truth — a phrase, a symbol, a promise she will carry home. It’s not a closing, but a consecration. A quiet knowing that what was kindled here will continue to burn.

As you step outside, the air is cool and fragrant.

The hills hold a soft light, and something in you recognizes it.

You have not been changed — you have been remembered.

You walk toward the day luminous, steady, and whole.

“To return is the final act of devotion —
to walk back into the world, bearing your own light.”
 

By the time you leave Snug Hollow, the world will look the same —
but YOU will see it differently.

You’ll carry home:

• Stillness that holds
   
• Clarity that steadies
   
• Beauty that sustains
   
• Voice that resonates
   
• Belonging that endures
   
• Faith in your own light
   

“Renewal is not escape — it’s re-entry, luminous and alive.”
 

Retreat Cost: $900

• $300 non-refundable deposit due immediately
   
• $600 balance due by November 7, 2025
   
• Includes lodging (shared rooms), meals, and retreat experiences
   

Flame-Bearer Contribution: $1,100 — includes a $200 contribution to the Beautiful Forces Scholarship Fund.

Scholarship Availability (if we have the funds available): One reserved seat for a woman in transition or renewal.

“It’s one flame lighting another — the truest circle.”
 

You already feel it — that quiet yes beneath your ribs.

This is your invitation to step out of the noise and into the pause between the years.

Come to Whippoorwill.

Stand between the light and the flame.

Let beauty remake you from the inside out.

“When one woman remembers, we all begin to remember.”

Questions? Contact stephanie@be-a-force.com