The first full day at Soul of the Valley began while the property was still stirring awake. The valley was already there, of course: layered green ridges, open sky, and that particular morning quiet that makes even a small sound seem worth noticing. I was looking forward to the movement. I was also carrying a few worries into the morning with me.

Before the practice, we started with hot lemon water. In a retreat where food is part of the experience, that felt like a fitting first sip: warm, simple, and a gentle beginning before the day got moving.

As we talked about the ingredients, I explained how rosemary and ginger were being used with gut calmness and mental clarity in mind. Lemongrass and basil came up as anti-inflammatory ingredients, with the note that it can take up to a week for a full effect. My aunt thought she felt some difference already. I loved hearing her say that, not as a grand declaration, just a small, hopeful observation over a warm drink.

And yes, it was still all about the food. The morning began with something to sip and talk about, then opened into movement. That felt like a natural order to things: first settle in, then let the body have its turn.

The part I was bracing for

I’ll be honest: I came in anticipating some pushback. Four of my guests were not used to this kind of practice, and I was preparing to be judged. I had already told my family I expected things to go left. I could picture the awkward silences, the polite participation, the faces that say, “This is nice, but how long does it last?”

That is not what happened.

Everyone was so open and receptive. People gave the practice room to be what it was, and the atmosphere stayed generous. No one needed to pretend to be an expert or turn the morning into a performance. There was space to follow along, find a comfortable pace, and simply be present with the group.

That openness mattered to me because I had been worrying about how the whole thing would land. Instead of the resistance I had prepared myself for, I saw people meeting the moment with curiosity. The shift was noticeable, and it made the morning feel easy in a way I had not expected.

Movement with the valley for a backdrop

Jami Lowery led us through qigong Brocade and a Tai Chi position, working the room with calm, clear guidance. The valley sat behind the practice like it had been invited to participate too. Nothing about the scene felt rushed. The movements had room to unfold, and the view did what a view like that does: it quietly stole a little attention without interrupting anybody.

I watched the group settle into the movements, and I joined in. Jami guided us through the practice, one movement at a time, while the landscape stretched out behind her. It was a beautiful combination: the steady, deliberate pace of the practice and the vastness of the valley. I kept thinking, amazing. Not in a dramatic, hands-in-the-air way. Just the kind of amazing that makes you pause, look around, and take in where you are.

I had also been thinking about capturing some of the practice on video. You know the feeling: you want to save the moment so you can revisit it later. But when the movement began, I kept wondering whether I should be recording or simply participating. I was still carrying that little producer voice in my head (get the shot, remember the details) while the morning was already giving us plenty to remember. The camera question could wait. The valley, Jami’s guidance, and the group finding its rhythm were happening right there.

Then Anneli’s Soundscape changed the room

After the movement, Anneli’s Soundscape took us somewhere I genuinely did not expect. She had designed it for this particular moment, and it felt made for the people and the space gathered around it. The sound transported us to another realm. That is the most honest way I can describe it.

Anneli created a soundscape that seemed to open up the room around us. I wasn’t anticipating what came next, and I don’t think anyone could have explained it to me in advance in a way that would have prepared me. It was unlike anything I expected. The sounds held our attention without demanding anything from us. The morning that had started with warm lemon water and careful movement had shifted into a kind of listening I hadn’t planned for.

That contrast is what I keep returning to when I think about the day: Jami guiding us through movement with the valley in view, then Anneli creating a soundscape that carried the group somewhere inward and unfamiliar. Different experiences, each with its own pace. And somehow, each one felt right for that morning.

The guests who I thought might resist were open. My aunt was talking about how she felt after the herbal drink. I was moving, listening, and trying not to turn the whole experience into a video assignment. It was an unexpectedly full morning, and it belonged to the people in it, not to a perfect plan or a polished clip.

Day Three will bring Market Day and the Quiet Evening. There may also be a river cruise, if it hasn’t sold out. That is the next part of the story.