Why do I host retreats? Why do I gather souls from different corners of the world and invite them to step away from the familiar and into the unknown? Well, it’s not just for the painting, the beautiful spaces or delicious meals, though those moments stay with us. It’s because travel—leaving what we know and stepping into something new—awakens us to our true selves.
Each retreat, no matter where, is a portal, a doorway to a place where creativity isn’t just something we think about or try to practice—it’s something we become. As I, along with Finisterra Travel, lead each group, I’m always struck by the transformation that happens when we step into these new worlds. The sense of wonder, the surprise, and the subtle unraveling of the everyday tightness. That’s when we begin to remember who we really are.
Travel isn't just about getting away. It’s not just a vacation. It’s a profound act of reconnecting. Our busy lives tend to make us forget the person we once knew—the curious one, the daring one, the one who sought out beauty in every corner. When we immerse ourselves in a new landscape, taste the food, smell the air, and hear a language we don’t understand, something magical happens: our brains wake up.
It's as if each new experience—navigating cobblestone streets, hearing the call of unfamiliar birds, getting lost in the rhythms of a foreign place—shakes us loose from the grooves we've settled into. Neuroscientists talk about neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to form new connections—and that's precisely what happens during travel. It’s like stretching your creative muscles, allowing them to bend and move in ways you didn't know they could.
But the real alchemy happens when we step beyond the role of the observer. Imagine sitting in a tiny, sun-dappled village, the air heavy with the scent of fresh herbs and wood-fired bread. Around you, the gentle hum of life goes on—the clink of glasses, the laughter of locals, and the distant toll of a church bell. Before you is a simple meal, but it’s more than just food. It’s a story—one of the land, the hands that prepared it, and the generations who have done so before. Each bite is an immersion into the culture, a celebration of flavours you didn’t know could exist. It’s not just the taste that moves you—it’s the way time seems to slow, the way the earth feels closer, and how, in that moment, you’re connected to something far greater than yourself. This is the kind of nourishment that feeds the soul, reminding us that creativity and life’s simplest pleasures are deeply intertwined.
Leading retreats, I have the privilege of witnessing transformations that unfold so naturally yet feel nothing short of magical. I watch as people arrive, sometimes weighed down by the demands of daily life, and then—almost imperceptibly at first—they begin to shift. Maybe it’s the way the Tuscan light falls in the evening, or the laughter shared over a meal prepared by hands that know the land. Maybe it’s a quiet moment in the Rocky Mountains, where the stillness speaks louder than words. But it happens, every time: that awakening, that reconnection with a part of themselves they had forgotten. It’s an absolute privilege to witness.
Then, there’s our studio time. The moment when each guest, carrying their own thoughts, emotions, and experiences, stands before that blank canvas. It’s no longer just about creating art—it’s a personal conversation between the soul and the colours waiting to emerge. I’ve seen it countless times: the initial hesitation, the quiet vulnerability, and then, as the brush moves, something shifts. It’s as if each stroke is unlocking a part of themselves, allowing emotions to flow freely in a way words often can't.
Travel didn’t just broaden my horizons—it changed the very course of my life. Sitting in the vivid shadows of the Olgas in 1996, in the red heart of Australia, surrounded by the vastness of the desert. The land felt ancient, alive with stories, and as I sat there, I was overcome by a profound sense of clarity. It was as if the world had paused for a moment, and in that stillness, I was struck by a divine understanding—that absolutely everything is possible. Anything. That moment opened me up to a new way of being. It wasn’t just the landscape that shifted—it was my entire sense of self. From that point on, I knew that the only limits in life were the ones I placed on myself, and I became more determined than ever to live fully, creatively, and without fear.
Each one of our retreats is a journey, not just through breathtaking landscapes, but through the inner terrain of who we are. And I’m deeply honoured to walk that path with every single one of our guests. It’s why I continue to do this work, why I believe so deeply in the power of travel to remind us that in discovering new places, we often rediscover ourselves.
Love,
Laura. xo
