…isn’t what I unpacked when I arrived home
When I boarded the plane on June 12 and headed to Greece for our yoga retreat, I was living with a chronic pain in the neck—and not the proverbial kind. My right shoulder had been screaming for months. Poor Katy had done her best to provide temporary relief. I visited the chiropractor, changed my sleeping posture, and became hyper-aware of my neck alignment while driving. But each night I faced the same aching reality: my body hurt.
When I returned home, I was pain free.
So what was the magical yoga pose that healed my ailments?
The truth is, the trip that helped me heal wasn’t filled with outrageously complicated flows or advanced inversions. It was filled with reflection, journaling, weirdo polyvagal practices to reset the nervous system, limited social media, unfamiliar territory that invited adventure, and enough quiet for my heart to finally speak so my body no longer had to scream.
The Michele who got on that plane was a shell of herself. Everything in life had become a task to complete or a challenge to overcome. And, to be fair, the month before Greece had been particularly relentless. In the previous 30 days, I had:
- Lived in temporary housing with my family of six.
- Navigated insurance claims and remediation after a small but inconvenient house fire.
- Sold my yoga studio.
- Hired and trained a new retail team.
- Opened the second of three retail stores in Columbus for my day job.
- Finished another school year with four children and cheered through what felt like every sporting event imaginable.
- Moved out of temporary housing and into my parents’ home.
- Packed six people for an international trip while our home remained under construction.
- Planned and prepared to lead a yoga retreat for 17 people.
- Tried to remain a sane and loving human.
I can hear your commentary already: “No wonder the trip was fabulous! You went from surviving to handmade pasta and white wine spritzers.” So when life is imploding is the solution to escape to a foreign country for a few weeks and pretend it doesn’t exist? Actually, no.
The change of scenery certainly offered relief, but my responsibilities came with me. We coordinated carpet installation and paid bills abroad. My children (and everything they forgot to pack) were with me. Nothing about my circumstances changed.
What changed was my posture toward my life.
From a shala in Greece, I was finally able to hear: You don’t have to hold it all together. You can allow this reality to exist.
The stiff shoulder, tight neck, and tension-filled jaw were never the problem. They were simply messengers. I paused long enough to feel my life and accept my reality rather than feeding my compulsion to fix it all. My body followed suit. She had been holding, holding, holding on for dear life—just as I had. But there was something I remembered while I was there: I am being held.
We’re finally back in our home. The boxes aren’t unpacked, we can’t find the light bulbs, and half of our possessions are still covered in plastic. Work is waiting for me, and the kids are back to sports camps, two-a-days, and lifting. Life isn’t really any calmer than when I left.
But I am.
I’m practicing, every day, being held.
My shoulder will probably always be a little tender. I am, by nature, a fixer. I carry things. I accomplish things. I straight-up get it done. But there’s a rhythm to a peace-filled existence that includes slowing down and allowing. It’s one I’m keen to keep around for a while.
A trip to Europe is always wonderful. I love the culture, the food, and the new experiences. Had I simply gone on vacation and returned home, it would have been a lovely few weeks.
But adding a yoga practice—not just poses on a mat, but the practice of linking body, breath, and heart—recalibrated my soul in a way a relaxing vacation never could.
Sometimes it’s not about what you pack. It’s about what you unpack while you’re away.
The Yoga of Joy: Ibiza 2027
What if your body isn’t asking you to do more—but to listen more closely?
Next summer, we’re gathering in Ibiza for six nights of movement, rest, connection, adventure, and the kind of spaciousness that’s increasingly difficult to find in everyday life. We’ll practice yoga, explore the island, spend time on the water, share incredible meals, and create enough quiet to hear ourselves again.
These retreats aren’t about becoming a different version of yourself. They’re about remembering who you are beneath the noise, the responsibilities, and the endless to-do lists.
You don’t need to arrive flexible, enlightened, or burned out enough to “deserve” a retreat. You simply need to arrive.
If Greece taught me anything, it’s that healing often isn’t found in doing more. Sometimes it’s found in giving ourselves permission to put down what we’ve been carrying—even if only for a little while.
Join us in Ibiza. Your body just might have something beautiful to say.
