2025 Meditation Retreat in Korea

Sitting on the plane, the cabin lights had already dimmed, and the people around me were gradually choosing their own ways to rest. Some were watching movies, some were listening to music, some were reading books, and some were resting with their eyes closed.

I sat in my seat, without thinking much in my heart, without any thoughts in my mind, just sitting there, just being there, and already filled with joy. That kind of joy was filled with ease, that kind of joy was filled with stability.

Not only because this was a trip, but because this was a journey to a meditation retreat, an experience trip, a feast, given to the body, given to the spirit.

The destination arrived, and the staff operated and arranged everything for us visitors from overseas in an orderly manner—accommodation, courses, meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. During the registration process, I looked at the people around me—different professions, different races, different cultures—all gathering here. Just within half a day of registration, I think there were already several hundred people.

Carrying my luggage into the dormitory, I liked it here: spacious and bright, fully equipped with air conditioning and bathrooms, every room with its own WiFi, water dispensers in the hallways, larger shared restrooms in different areas, showers, laundry rooms and dryers. It was truly very convenient, allowing me to rest well.

But what surprised me the most was still the food arrangement: purely organic vegetable dishes, fresh and lively fish and meat prepared according to the eating habits of people from different countries, with the menu changing daily. I even had the chance to experience Mexican food, Indian food, traditional Korean food, vegetarian meals, and more.

Perhaps my body was truly tired—from work, from social obligations—because in just the first week, I rested very well at the meditation centre, ate very healthily, and the optimisation of my intestinal function and the abundance of physical energy were unexpected for me. It felt like a kind of deep natural restoration and renewal.

The schedule of this meditation retreat was compact but not busy. You had enough time to rest, to walk, to exercise. During this time, I even went on two hikes to the mountain top. Your body is your foundation, your spirit is your foundation, and the rhythm of the retreat perfectly merged the two, complementing each other. They became your cornerstone.

The existence of this cornerstone is like this: you are not only your name, your identity, your position, your role, your wealth, but even more so, your feelings, your experiences, your state, your mind. The reason this cornerstone is important lies in whether you, as a life, can truly feel joy, happiness, and stability in every moment.

We say: the mountain exists because of the earth, the cloud exists because of the sky, the earth exists because of the universe, and your existence is the same—because of the mountain before your eyes, because of the clouds in the sky, because of all things in the universe. We are endlessly alive, interconnected with each other. This is what I learned in the meditation retreat—or more precisely, not learned, but experienced.

Such an experience, even if only for a brief moment, is happiness for you. Because even in that brief moment, you can be deeply and completely healed—healed of your resentment, your dissatisfaction, your grievances, your regrets, your attachments, your fatigue. Because as a living being, your true nature is not resentment, not dissatisfaction, not grievance, not regret, not fatigue. The meditation retreat is to tell you how to take off this false outer garment.

We stand between heaven and earth, yet forget heaven and earth;

we drink water from the mountains, yet ignore all things.

You, I, he—we are still able to breathe in this moment because we are nourished. But we have stopped communicating with heaven and earth, with all things, becoming selfish within the small self. As a result, our lives resemble stagnant water that no longer flows, left only to the flooding of emotions and the noise of thoughts, gradually becoming foul, depressed, and ill.

But if you were given a choice, would you truly be willing to live this way?

What the meditation retreat taught me was a kind of communication, a kind of renewed dialogue, a communication with the mountains, with the water, with all things, with the universe. Such communication does not rely on imagination or fantasy, such communication does not rely on knowledge or logic. Such communication is a transcendence, transcending the limits of your individuality, transcending the stubbornness of your cognition. This is the method of the retreat, the art you can learn and master.

Because you are the art itself, the source of creation.

I think, even if I write countless more words, I cannot express my experience, because words are a limitation. If you are interested in this article, contact us—we are always here.