RED LADDER STUDIO NEWSLETTER

Dear Subscriber First Name,

We were warned when we moved south from Stockholm: you won’t get any snow! And yet here we are, pretty much snowed in. The road itself is clear — it’s just a matter of getting the car to the road. Wish us luck. Meanwhile, from this very wintry scene, I’m inviting you to come and spend time with us this summer.

We are both really looking forward to welcoming you here for a small retreat later this year, and bookings are now officially open. You can find a couple of video tours over on the website,to give you a sense of the place. It’s still all a little experimental — not chaotic (we’re both very organised), but exploratory — as we discover what we have and want to offer. What feels most important right now is creating a place that is beautiful and well cared for: somewhere you can truly relax and be yourself, where we can share the Dharma with openness and curiosity, be nourished by real food lovingly prepared, and simply immerse ourselves in nature for a quiet Dharma holiday.

It’s funny how, in winter, summer feels almost unimaginable — and in summer, vice versa. Still, it’s lovely to begin imagining those longer days, walking barefoot on the grass. Over the last few years, people have been saying that Sweden — and the other Nordic countries — are becoming the new Mediterranean, as the Mediterranean itself sadly grows too hot for summer holidays. If a summer retreat here appeals to you, read on and see if one speaks to you. Below, I’ve written a little about what’s behind the different themes we’re offering.

You might think we run gardening retreats because we need help in the garden. You wouldn’t be wrong. The garden here is just under two acres, and it takes a lot of looking after.

Last year we ran two gardening retreats. Alongside Dharma study, meditation, good food, and everything else you’d expect from a retreat, there was also real work to do. What struck me most was how much people got out of the work itself.

Being outside. Hands in the earth. Birds of prey circling in the blue sky above. The wind moving through the leaves of the giant poplars. Working with friends, often in a companionable silence.

There’s plenty of science now confirming what traditional cultures have always known: time in nature lowers heart rate and blood pressure, and lifts our mood. Nature is medicine. Combine it with the other elements of a retreat, and you begin to see how powerful this simple combination can be — a kind of nature cure for whatever ails you.

Being in Sweden, we felt we had to invite you to spend midsummer with us. It’s celebrated here with a fullness that I never experienced growing up in the UK. There’s a particular energy to this time of year — a sense of pause and spaciousness. It doesn’t get dark until around 11 at night, and the light returns again before 4 in the morning. This retreat is an invitation to rest into that spaciousness.

We’ve chosen to explore the Buddha’s very first teaching: the Four Noble Truths. This teaching goes straight to the heart of the Dharma:

That there is suffering in every life.
How much of that suffering we create ourselves — or at least add to.
What the Buddha meant when he said it is possible to bring suffering to an end.
And finally, a practical and creative path for doing just that.

We’ve made this retreat nine days long so there’s no need to rush. Time for study, meditation, silence, rest, and simply being here — in the light, in the garden, in good company.

This may be the retreat I’m most excited about. Having this place has allowed us to ask a simple question: what would an ideal retreat really look like? This is my answer.

Open Practice Weeks sit somewhere between a solitary retreat, a holiday, and a collective retreat. There’s no shared schedule. Instead, you’re invited to create your own rhythm. Use the meditation room when it feels right. Spend time in the library. Sit in the garden. Follow your own threads of practice.

Many of us have received a great deal of teaching over the years. What we need now isn’t more input, but space — space for things to settle, integrate, and ripen. For some, that kind of depth comes through a full solitary. For others — myself included — it’s supportive to practice alongside others who are also quietly engaging. It seems to give me energy.

One element that makes these weeks especially distinctive is the evening salon. Inspired by the gatherings of artists, poets, and philosophers, we’ll meet after dinner, over dessert, to share what’s alive in our practice. It’s an informal space and a chance to draw inspiration from one another.

Unlike our other retreats, where you may be asked to help with some light household tasks, during Open Practice Weeks we’ll take care of everything. Your time is your own.

For many years I’ve wanted to dedicate an entire retreat to the theme of perception, why we see things the way we do, and how that seeing can change. The name I was given at ordination, Vajradarshini, means “she who sees reality,” and of course seeing is one of Buddhism’s central metaphors: seeing things as they really are, insight, opening the Dharma eye. My experience is that through practice, the way we see the world changes — and as a result, the world itself changes. The same is true in how we see ourselves.

Alongside my Dharma practice, I’ve long been inspired by art, particularly by the parallels between artistic and contemplative seeing. Artists, too, transform the world by discovering how to see it differently, and by inviting us into that way of seeing.

I’m excited to finally explore this theme from my own home, surrounded by a large library of art books, poetry, films, and music, and to share that exploration with you.

A poem I’m thinking about:

The Snowman

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

- Wallace Stevens

We’d love you to come on retreat with us, yes you! If you are sitting on the fence and would like to ask more about the retreats just drop me a line,
love Vajradarshini

P.S. In an attempt to live more like an artist I’m taking a break from social media. It means I won’t get any messages posted there, so act like it’s the 90s and email me!

Hello, I’m Vajradarshini — a British Dharma teacher living in the south of Sweden with my Swedish wife, Dhammasiri. Our home, The Guesthouse (named after Rumi’s poem), is a place for creative, down-to-earth Dharma practice. From here, we run retreats and workshops, and I also teach internationally, both online and in person. I’m glad you’ve found your way here.

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