The Room Where Grace Gathers
There are some things that simply do not translate through a screen.
For almost a decade now, much of my work has unfolded online. Retreats, sessions, groups, meditations... held across continents, time zones, kitchens, bedrooms and quiet corners of people’s lives. I’m endlessly grateful to the internet that affords this and I don’t underestimate the depth of what has been possible there. I’ve witnessed profound openings, real transformation, deep intimacy and devotion to the mystery arise through the most unlikely of technological portals.
And yet...
Over the past year or two, as my work has begun to move more into physical rooms, into shared spaces and shared air, something has been quietly, unmistakably revealed.
There is a difference.
It’s not better or worse. But it is real.
There’s a particular kind of magic that happens when bodies gather.
I had hints of this difference for years… life leaving breadcrumbs of what I was being asked to step into more and more.
I felt this most vividly at St. Non’s last year.
That retreat stays with me in a way that is hard to put into words. Not because of any one moment, teaching, or experience, but because of the field that was created together. The chapel. The land. The sea air. The walking. The meal time discussions. The silence. The laughter. The tears. The simple rhythm of arriving each day and sitting... breathing... eating... listening... together.
Something happens when people commit to being in the same place, at the same time, with the same intention.
There’s the obvious intimacy of proximity. The warmth of sitting beside one another. The quiet communication that happens without words. The way nervous systems begin to settle not just individually, but collectively. Breath syncing with breath. Stillness deepening because it is shared.
And then there’s the less visible, but deeply felt, aspect.
The room itself becomes alive.
Sacred space is not something imposed, it’s something that emerges. Once it’s noticed, it holds everyone within it. Darshan in person is not the same as darshan through a screen. Presence moves differently. The body receives differently. Grace seems to have more places to land.
At St. Non’s, conversations unfolded slowly and naturally, often arising out of silence rather than filling it. People spoke from places that surprised even themselves. It felt alive, immediate, and tender.
And perhaps most quietly profound of all was what happened in the spaces in between.
Walking together. Sharing a cup of tea. Eating together. Sitting on the grass. Standing at the edge of the sea. No agenda. No outcome. Just being human alongside one another, while something deeper continued its work underneath.
I see the same qualities, on a smaller but no less meaningful scale, in my monthly in-person gatherings in Swansea. Even in a few hours, something softens. People arrive carrying their lives, their stories, their tensions... and leave a little less armoured. A little more themselves. Not because anything dramatic happens, but because something real is allowed. A meeting of the heart, and mind, and body. A kinship fostered without pretence, but with presence.
It’s hard to describe why this matters so much.
Perhaps it is because so much of modern life is disembodied. So much relating happens at a distance. So much presence is mediated. To sit in a room where nothing is required of you except to be there, as you are, alongside others doing the same... that alone can be quietly revolutionary.
When I look back at St. Non’s, what I remember most is not what was said, but what was felt. And it feels important to name that this was not a return to something I had left behind, but an entering more deeply into a dimension the work itself has been quietly calling me toward.
A kind of shared remembering.
Of something ancient.
Of something simple.
Of something we do not need to strive for, but only allow.
—
This June, Martyn and I will be returning to St. Non’s for another retreat. Again, it’ll be small and intimate, with just nine spaces. Held with the same care, the same openness, and the same trust in what happens when people gather in sincerity and willingness.
If you feel drawn to see a little of what last year was like, there is a video on YouTube where some of the participants share their reflections and experiences. Their words carry something of the atmosphere far better than I ever could.
And if, as you read this, something stirs... not urgency, not pressure or fear of missing out, but a quiet sense of yes… you are very welcome to listen to that and join us. Details can be found HERE.
These spaces are not about doing more, fixing yourself, or becoming someone else.
They are about remembering what’s already here, together.
Sometimes, all it takes is a room.
Join Imogen for Weekly Zoom Groups, Sunday Satsang Gatherings, Retreats and other events. Book a 1-1 Session or explore Imogen’s other offerings at beyondimogen.com.
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Thank you for walking alongside me ~ Imogen