RED LADDER STUDIO NEWSLETTER

Dear Subscriber First Name,

The Buddhist tradition teaches that we should constantly meditate on death, never assuming we’ll live to see another day. Patrul Rinpoche says, "Meditate like the Kadampa Geshes of old, who were always thinking about death at every moment. At night, they would turn their bowls upside down (a gesture only done when someone had died), and thinking there might be no need to light a fire the next day (because they might have died), they wouldn’t bother to cover the embers for the night."

So I find it rather ironic that I spent part of this week writing blurbs for retreats scheduled to happen 16 months from now!

I found myself writing, "There will be periods of silence from the start of the retreat, with four full days of silence in the middle." Will there? Who knows what will happen? Maybe we’ll want more silence than that—maybe less. How can we possibly know until we’re there together, in the actual experience?

I think what’s happened over the years is that one retreat centre started publishing its programme a little earlier, then others followed suit—perhaps even pushing the dates forward further to avoid missing out on bookings. But it does seem to take away from the spontaneity and freshness that should be at the heart of Dharma teaching.

I’ve developed a bit of a strategy for dealing with the dilemma of having to describe a retreat without pinning myself down too much. Let’s call it the art of writing an attractive yet vague retreat blurb! You’ll see some examples on my website.

When I’m choosing themes for retreats, I like to start with what feels alive for me right now. The trouble is, I have no idea what will be alive for me in November 2026! That’s where the vague blurb comes in handy—I can usually weave whatever’s alive into the theme I’ve named.

But there’s an upside to all this long-range planning too. It’s a bit like giving myself a theme for the coming year—a series of threads I’m drawn to explore more deeply. Sometimes they’re entirely new; other times they’re familiar territories I want to revisit and refresh.

Here are the themes I’ve chosen for 2026:

The Path of Cessation
Cessation—stopping, letting go—can so easily sound nihilistic, but it actually has profoundly positive connotations. It connects deeply with the Buddha Nature teachings: that we already have Buddha Nature, here and now. There’s nothing to attain—we simply need to stop creating dukkha, and with it, samsara.

A Retreat on Perception
Perception—why we see things the way we do—is a recurring theme for me. It threads through many areas I’ve been exploring: Wabi-sabi, Yogācāra, the ten fetters. But I’ve never dedicated an entire retreat to it. This will be a chance to bring in reflections from a range of artists and use art as a way of exploring the dharma of perception.

The Ten Fetters
This teaching has been a key thread in my practice for several years, and I’d like to bring it back into focus in 2026. I’m considering offering both an online retreat or course as well as an in-person retreat.

I’ll be leading retreats on these themes in the UK next year—for the full (vague) details go to the Red Ladder Studio Website.

And here in Sweden, we’ll have a small programme of retreats too—thankfully, with a bit more room for spontaneity! I’d love to see you on a retreat next year (god willing, as my nan used to say).

A little update

We’re still settling on a name for the new place—but in the meantime, we’ve been ticking off our to-do lists one by one. It was maybe a little crazy to plan a retreat just five weeks after moving in, but having that deadline has kept us motivated!

The retreat starts in two weeks, and both houses are now pretty much set up and ready to go. We're now turning our attention to menu planning and baking lots of sourdough bread for the freezer.

The projects for the upcoming working retreat will focus on the kitchen garden: building compost bays, setting up no-dig beds for next year, and refitting the shed. If that sounds like your kind of thing, you can follow our progress over on Instagram.

And if you fancy getting your hands dirty, there are still two places left on the September working retreat!

View over the garden wall - Outdoor dining - Kitchen garden

Snowy Season Retreat

Dhammasiri and I are planning a ‘Snowy Season Retreat’ for next year. Traditionally, monks and nuns would observe a Rainy Season Retreat—staying in one place to practise more intensively. Ours will follow that spirit, but in winter: two quiet months, January and February, when the garden is asleep and big outdoor projects are on pause.

It occurred to me that some of you might be interested in your own mini snowy season retreat here in our guesthouse. It’s super well insulated, with underfloor heating, two bedrooms, a small kitchenette, and a proper bathroom. We’d provide food—including cooking you a main meal each day.

You’d have the space to yourself, whether for a solitary retreat or one shared with a friend or partner. And there could also be opportunities to connect with our practice—perhaps a Dharma afternoon now and then, or meditating together occasionally. It’s all just a tentative idea for now, but I wanted to put it out there and see if it resonates. A minimum stay would be around 10 days.

Of course, there might not be snow—in which case, it will simply be very dark! Then we’ll call it a dark retreat instead.

A quote I’m thinking about:

“Meditate single-mindedly on death, all the time and in every circumstance. While standing up, sitting or lying down, tell yourself: “this is my last act in this world,” and meditate upon it with utter conviction.

On your way to wherever you might be going, say to yourself: “Maybe I will die there. There is no certainty that I will ever come back.” Wherever you are, you should wonder if this might be where you die. At night, when you lie down, ask yourself whether you might die in bed during the night or whether you can be sure that you are going to get up in the morning. When you rise, ask yourself whether you might die sometime during the day, and reflect that there is no certainty at all that you will be going to bed in the evening.

Meditate only on death, earnestly and from the core of your being. Meditate like the Kadampa Geshes of old, who were always thinking about death at every moment. At night, they would turn their bowls upside down (only done when a person died) and thinking how the next day there might be no need to light a fire (because they had died) they would never cover the embers for the night.”

- Patrul Rinpoche