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Soon, I will be opening a retreat center in the sunny South of France, in the Pays Cathare. It may sound like a dream that has fallen out of nowhere, but nothing could be further from the truth. This new beginning is the result of a long period of transformation that began after my burnout, a period in which I was forced to stop, listen, and choose again.
For years, I was part of the corporate world. Job interviews often ended with the same statement: “I love starting from a blank slate.” Funny enough, I only realized much later what those words really meant. Because when you step into entrepreneurship, one day you really are facing a completely blank canvas. And that’s when it really begins.
Where do you put the first dot?
Which color do you choose?
How big should the canvas be?
And perhaps most challenging: what are you actually going to paint?
During my transition period, those questions came up regularly. Sometimes softly whispering, sometimes painfully loud. To get a grip on my process, I started writing everything down in my notebook: insights about who I am, what drives me, what gives me energy, but also where my pitfalls lie. I looked at my career with new eyes: what did I enjoy doing? What did I never want to do again? What is typically my way of working?
One theme kept coming back: I like building bridges.
On one hand, I saw so many people walking around with questions about their lives, their well-being, their place in the world. On the other hand, I met fantastic therapists and coaches – each and every one of them people with enormous expertise as well as their own transformation journey – but who found it difficult to market themselves. And that is precisely where my strength lies.
Slowly, the contour of my canvas emerged: creating a place where those two worlds meet. Where caregivers can flourish in their talent and where guests can come home to themselves. A place in nature, surrounded by silence, space, and sun. So, the South of France.
The two messages that changed everything: letting go & staying connected
During this process, I received two messages from my coaches that seem simple, but in practice are anything but:
1. Let go.
2. Stay connected.
Letting go.
A word that is used so often that it seems almost light, but in reality can weigh heavily. Because how do you let something go? How do you let go of control when everything in you is looking for that control? I found it frustrating. You can’t force it. You can’t plan it, can’t hold on to it, can’t pour it into an Excel file.
And yet it happens.
Suddenly.
At a moment when you don’t expect it.
You feel your tension subside, that space appears, that you no longer push but allow. And that’s when it starts to flow. You get into a flow that you can’t direct, but in which everything seems to go automatically. As if life gently takes you by the hand.
And then… the puzzle pieces come together.
One by one.
Sometimes pieces you never thought you would discover or meet, but which later turn out to be indispensable to the whole. You are led from one puzzle piece to the next. Not by searching, but by trusting.
Staying connected, that was the second message.
Don’t isolate yourself.
Continue to surround yourself with warm people who support you when you falter. I have experienced how important that is, both personally and in my entrepreneurship. By connecting with others, collaborations arise that you could never have conceived alone. Opportunities, encounters, and solutions arise that you would never have come up with yourself.
Something beautiful.
Doubt is part of it
But as with a blank canvas, a lot of doubts came with it.
Can I do this?
Will I be able to do this alone, in France?
Who am I to set up such a big project?
Meanwhile, I know: doubt is not the end, but the beginning. It is part of the process of creating, of growing, of daring. Each step, no matter how small, further colored the canvas. And gradually an image emerged that felt right. For me. And hopefully soon for everyone who finds their way to the retreat center.
Today I look at that canvas with a mixture of awe and pride. It is not yet completely finished and maybe it never will be… just like my canvas. But it lives. It breathes. And it invites.
Soon I will open the doors
A new chapter.
A new place.
A painting that has finally taken shape.
Kayanova. A retreat for your next chapter.
Soon, I will be opening a retreat center in the sunny South of France, in the Pays Cathare. It may sound like a dream that has fallen out of nowhere, but nothing could be further from the truth. This new beginning is the result of a long period of transformation that began after my burnout, a period in which I was forced to stop, listen, and choose again.
For years, I was part of the corporate world. Job interviews often ended with the same statement: “I love starting from a blank slate.” Funny enough, I only realized much later what those words really meant. Because when you step into entrepreneurship, one day you really are facing a completely blank canvas. And that’s when it really begins.
Where do you put the first dot?
Which color do you choose?
How big should the canvas be?
And perhaps most challenging: what are you actually going to paint?
During my transition period, those questions came up regularly. Sometimes softly whispering, sometimes painfully loud. To get a grip on my process, I started writing everything down in my notebook: insights about who I am, what drives me, what gives me energy, but also where my pitfalls lie. I looked at my career with new eyes: what did I enjoy doing? What did I never want to do again? What is typically my way of working?
One theme kept coming back: I like building bridges.
On one hand, I saw so many people walking around with questions about their lives, their well-being, their place in the world. On the other hand, I met fantastic therapists and coaches – each and every one of them people with enormous expertise as well as their own transformation journey – but who found it difficult to market themselves. And that is precisely where my strength lies.
Slowly, the contour of my canvas emerged: creating a place where those two worlds meet. Where caregivers can flourish in their talent and where guests can come home to themselves. A place in nature, surrounded by silence, space, and sun. So, the South of France.
The two messages that changed everything: letting go & staying connected
During this process, I received two messages from my coaches that seem simple, but in practice are anything but:
1. Let go.
2. Stay connected.
Letting go.
A word that is used so often that it seems almost light, but in reality can weigh heavily. Because how do you let something go? How do you let go of control when everything in you is looking for that control? I found it frustrating. You can’t force it. You can’t plan it, can’t hold on to it, can’t pour it into an Excel file.
And yet it happens.
Suddenly.
At a moment when you don’t expect it.
You feel your tension subside, that space appears, that you no longer push but allow. And that’s when it starts to flow. You get into a flow that you can’t direct, but in which everything seems to go automatically. As if life gently takes you by the hand.
And then… the puzzle pieces come together.
One by one.
Sometimes pieces you never thought you would discover or meet, but which later turn out to be indispensable to the whole. You are led from one puzzle piece to the next. Not by searching, but by trusting.
Staying connected, that was the second message.
Don’t isolate yourself.
Continue to surround yourself with warm people who support you when you falter. I have experienced how important that is, both personally and in my entrepreneurship. By connecting with others, collaborations arise that you could never have conceived alone. Opportunities, encounters, and solutions arise that you would never have come up with yourself.
Something beautiful.
Doubt is part of it
But as with a blank canvas, a lot of doubts came with it.
Can I do this?
Will I be able to do this alone, in France?
Who am I to set up such a big project?
Meanwhile, I know: doubt is not the end, but the beginning. It is part of the process of creating, of growing, of daring. Each step, no matter how small, further colored the canvas. And gradually an image emerged that felt right. For me. And hopefully soon for everyone who finds their way to the retreat center.
Today I look at that canvas with a mixture of awe and pride. It is not yet completely finished and maybe it never will be… just like my canvas. But it lives. It breathes. And it invites.
Soon I will open the doors
A new chapter.
A new place.
A painting that has finally taken shape.
Kayanova. A retreat for your next chapter.