The Struggles of Planning and Selling Out a Yoga Retreat
If you’ve ever been to a yoga retreat and thought,
“Wow, this is so peaceful and magical—what a dream job it must be to lead one,”
you’re right.
And also very, very wrong.
Running retreats is magical. But if I could show you the emails, spreadsheets, last-minute travel snafus, and mental spirals that go into planning one… you might never look at a yoga teacher the same way again.
Let’s talk about the real stuff. Because my most recent retreat, Salt and Stillness, was absolutely beautiful—but getting there was anything but smooth.
First, you have to pick the perfect location.
This sounds fun in theory. In reality, it’s endless Google searches, Instagram stalking, video calls with venue owners, cross-checking flight accessibility, and praying you’re not about to wire a deposit to a scammer in the jungle.
For Salt and Stillness, I thought I found the perfect place. But it took weeks of back-and-forth, getting clear on what was included (and what was very much not included). There were moments I considered canceling just to stop the logistical madness.
Then comes the pricing panic.
No one talks about this enough. Pricing a retreat is like walking a tightrope blindfolded. You don’t want it to be out of reach, but you also don’t want to lose money—or end up basically working for free.
Every teacher has that moment of “Will anyone actually pay this much to come do yoga with me in the jungle?” followed immediately by “Oh no, what if I underpriced it and now I can’t even cover the food?!”
Spoiler: I changed my pricing three times before I posted it.
Another spoiler: It worked out. But not without multiple nights of me staring at my ceiling asking, “What am I doing with my life?”
The marketing marathon is very real.
You pour your heart into the retreat description. You post the dreamy location pics. You make the reels. You talk about it constantly.
And then… nothing.
Crickets.
At least for a while.
I used to think the moment you announce a retreat, people just rush to sign up. Now I know: people need time. And reminders. And another reminder. And maybe a gentle DM. And maybe one more post where you look unbothered and glowing next to a coconut but you’re secretly spiraling because no one’s paid their deposit yet.
What helped me most:
Having a clear vision and vibe for the retreat
Making sure I was talking directly to my people, not everyone
Offering flexible payment plans
Getting comfortable repeating myself online a lot more than felt natural
People flake. Unexpected stuff happens. You cry a little.
I had last-minute dropouts. Confusing We travel issues. One person PROMISED to come and made sure I saved a room, only to drop out.
Every retreat comes with at least one chaos plot twist. You can’t avoid it. All you can do is keep your cool (or go scream into a pillow, that’s valid too) and keep moving.
The best advice I have: pad your deadlines and your sanity. Have a strong cancellation policy. And know that something will go sideways—it’s not personal, it’s just the retreat gods testing your resilience.
And then… the magic actually happens.
After all that stress, you land at the retreat. The air feels different. The group arrives. You move through that first yoga class together, the opening circle happens, and you realize:
Oh. This is why I did this.
With Salt and Stillness, it took two full days for me to relax. But once I did, I could see how everything came together. The connections between students. The quiet. The transformations. The joy.
It’s wild how something so exhausting can also be so fulfilling. And it always is.
Final thoughts (and advice if you're planning your own retreat)
If you’re a teacher dreaming of hosting your first (or next) retreat, here’s what I’d say:
Start smaller than you think. A group of 6 can be just as powerful as a group of 16.
Pick a venue that supports you. The best hosts help with logistics, transportation, food—all the things that can drive you to burnout if you do them alone.
Over-communicate with your people. Make info clear. Send reminders. Repeat key details 3x. (No one reads the full email, I promise.)
Give yourself space. Don’t pack your schedule. Include free time. Protect your energy—you’re holding a lot.
Trust the process. The stress is real, but the payoff is worth it. Your people will come. And they’ll leave better for it. You will too.
Running retreats is hard. But the kind of hard that’s worth it. The kind of hard that keeps pulling me back, every time.
So if you're feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or like no one’s signing up—breathe. Keep going. Let it be messy and beautiful at the same time.
(Kind of like yoga itself.)
