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At 27 years old, I have relied on yoga as a constant in my life for nearly a decade. So when my favorite instructor in Toronto announced that she was hosting a yoga retreat—a five day experience in the middle of the jungle near a small village on the coast of Costa Rica—the decision to attend was an easy yes for me.
Coming into this retreat, I carried both a quiet fear of getting older and a lingering belief that I should have achieved my vision of what a perfect life looked like by now. So while I anticipated an itinerary packed with daily yoga classes, locally-sourced meals, and the sights and sounds of the jungle, I didn’t expect how experiencing these things alongside women of different generations would lead to such a shift in my story around my own life trajectory.
The Women of My Yoga Retreat
Upon arrival in Costa Rica, a fellow-retreat goer named Catherine—a friendly 42-year-old from Halifax, Nova Scotia—meets me at the airport. Together, we politely follow our shuttle driver through the parking lot and begin the two-hour journey. I gaze out the window of the shuttle bus to watch the sunset peeking out from behind the clouds.
During our backseat conversations, I notice how Catherine’s eyes light up when she speaks about her three children and husband of 12 years. We share stories about life back home and I am struck by how different we are: me, an unattached twenty-something, and her, a happily married mom, both of us headed toward the same yoga retreat.
Hours later, I drop my heavy backpack at the entrance of Casa Luna, a minimalist space with an infinity pool at the center perched above two acres of land overlooking the ocean. The massive sliding doors are swung wide open between the dining room and the pool deck, ushering in fresh air at all waking hours.
I am met by my yoga instructor, Ashley (age 39), followed by Bonnie (age 41), whom I’d never met before, and Dharshika (age 53), a yogi I’d seen at our Toronto studio but had only spoken to once. The final member of the group, Kristiana, a 40-year-old fellow Torontonian, will arrive tomorrow. That makes six of us.
I mentally note that I am the youngest of the group by more than a decade. My mind swirls with uncertainty.
Will this be a strange dynamic?
What if my age prevents me from connecting with the other women?
Will I be able to be my authentic self without judgement?
Despite these initial worries, I take a deep breath, sit down to dinner, and hope for the best.
The Case for Intergenerational Community
Back in Toronto, I’m most often surrounded by people in their 20s on a similar life trajectory as my own. Although these friendships are essential to my life, there’s also a natural pressure to keep up with one another’s milestones and timelines.
At the retreat, I quickly notice that I am free from that feeling; consequently, I find my body and mind melting into a deep state of relaxation. We not only cultivate an inclusive, judgment-free space, but we each take interest in one another’s lives out of genuine curiosity.
Darshika, I learn, is from Australia, having moved to Toronto for a job a few years ago. She has traveled to 72 countries and makes friends wherever she goes. Her free-spirited energy and curiosity for the world is contagious. Despite our 27-year age gap, we develop a special bond, and I feel inspired to do more with my life just being in her presence.
Then there’s Ashley and Bonnie. The longtime friends share stories from their own twenties, which include backpacking abroad, working interesting jobs, and meeting all sorts of people. As they stroll down memory lane, I feel a surge of motivation to take advantage of this phase of my life rather than fearing it. The expectations I had placed on myself to “figure it all out” begin to crumble away.
Meanwhile, Kristiana exudes a rare magnetism and confidence that make me eager to learn more. Her presence is powerful, but what refreshes me most is how she champions other women.
“There’s room at the top for all of us,” she says to me one day by the pool, pressing the importance of lifting each other up.
Bonding On And Off The Mat
Though each of us come from different walks of life and locations, one thing brought us together for the week: yoga.
Each day before our morning class, we tiptoe outdoors to watch the sunrise together in peaceful silence. On the fourth day, the retreat owner drives us to Carillo Beach at 5 a.m. to meditate in front of the pink and orange sky. While our conversations throughout the yoga retreat are insightful, our ability to sit in deep, vulnerable reflection with one another feels just as powerful.
We share milestones on the mat. When I, after several frustrating classes and failed attempts, finally come into Crow Pose, Ashley looks at me like I’m a baby who has just taken my first steps. The whole group stops mid-flow to clap in excitement for me when they notice. I feel supported, and proud of myself.
We stumble and fall, laughing through difficult poses, and letting the intense jungle winds carry us through fast-paced flows. Under Ashley’s guidance, we encourage and inspire one another to use our strength, challenge our varied limitations, and, when the time comes, to rest.
The community created through yoga, I discover, is a unique and beautiful way to connect with others free from the limitations of age.
We all carry stories, regardless of the number of years we’ve spent on this earth, and from stories come lessons: lessons on how to live a meaningful life, how to overcome challenges, how to grow, and how to love fiercely.
The Grand Finale
As a Norah Jones song plays during our final vinyasa class, I look out at these five other women flowing together, and an intense sense of gratitude washes over me. Over the past few days we’d shared meals together, sat side-by-side to welcome new days, and pushed our physical and mental limitations through movement.
Going into the yoga retreat, I had set out to reconnect with myself and improve my yoga practice, but I left with so much more.
Both on and off the mat, each one of these women expanded my world view of what I can do in this life, inspired me with their independence, and taught me the importance of sisterhood, purely by being themselves.
Seeing the many beautiful and unique ways life can unfold brought me a profound sense of peace about the years ahead. Through this, I realized I don’t need to have life completely figured out in my twenties, a fear that had quietly developed over the past few years. I came back to Toronto feeling inspired to create a life that genuinely excites me—making more travel plans and taking courageous leaps in my career—and more able to release any rigid expectations about what my future “should” look like.
And above all else, I gained five new sisters, who are just a group chat message away.
