Lunita Originals
Some retreats don't
start with a person.
They start with an idea that won't leave anyone alone.
A retreat for people who can't create anymore. For women who became mothers and can't find themselves. For founders who burned it all down. For men who never learned to cry.
None of these ideas arrives with a facilitator attached. They arrive on their own, and they stay there until somebody builds them.
We build them.
First. In full.
The path is the one you'd follow to launch a product, because that's exactly what it is.
The idea. Not which discipline to offer: which change has nowhere to live right now.
The market. Who these people actually are, how many of them there are, what they've already tried, what they're willing to spend. If nobody's there, the idea stays beautiful and never becomes a retreat.
The name. A retreat you can't explain in one sentence isn't ready yet. The name is the first test: if it takes a paragraph, the idea isn't in focus.
The content and the length. What happens, in what order, over how many days. Three, five or seven isn't a logistics decision: it's a decision about how deep you can go.
The business plan. Price, costs, break-even, group size. An idea without numbers is a wish.
Then, and only then, the people.
Not one person. Two.
We look for the hands at the end, which is the opposite of how it usually goes. That taught us something: a retreat stands on two roles, not one.
The specialist brings the craft. They know one thing deeply: cooking, photography, diving, working the earth, reading the sky, keeping bees, using the voice. Often they've never led a retreat, and sometimes they've never even thought of it. That isn't a problem to solve: it's why we're looking for them. Real depth is rare. The other kind isn't.
The facilitator holds the group. They know what to do when someone breaks down on the third day, when one person takes over the circle, when the energy drops after lunch. They hold the field while the specialist holds the content. And they usually bring a community built over years, which is the first to answer when the retreat opens.
Two different jobs. Asking one person to do both is the fastest way to waste a good idea.
What you get if you say yes.
Not a proposal to evaluate. A finished retreat.
Program, dates, numbers, expected participants, the shape of the week already built, and beside you the person who covers the role you don't.
What's being built right now.
The first ideas are under construction. Photography between jungle and ocean. Food and the culture around it. The sea as a practice of presence. Body, sound and Maya tradition. The return to connection with yourself.
None of them is open yet. When one is, you'll hear it here.
Know something deeply?
If you carry a craft, or you hold groups, this is the door.