A Day in the Life on Silent Retreat at New Camaldoli
February 5, 2025
6:45 AM I wake up and get dressed. I step outside as the sky is beginning to lighten. I watch the sunrise. The coastline of Big Sur is wrapped in a soft blanket of clouds this morning. I can’t see the ocean, but I know it is there. The air is crisp and fresh.
7:30 AM I walk to the chapel to attend the morning prayer service, Lauds.
After morning prayer, I go to the communal kitchen to prepare my simple breakfast. Either peanut butter toast with banana or yogurt and granola.
I spend the hours from 8-11:15 AM praying, reading, and journaling.
11:30 AM I attend mass, a Eucharist service. For my own reasons, I do not partake in the sacrament during my retreat time, but I have a deep appreciation of the beauty and reverence given to the sacrament in the Catholic church. So I faithfully attend this service each day. This is also the only service that includes a brief homily, often an opportunity to learn more about a saint.
Noon the hot meal of the day is served in the communal kitchen. I bring my dishes on a tray to the kitchen to serve myself from the family style dishes and take my meal back to my room to eat in silence.
After lunch the sun comes out and the weather warms up from the chill of the past few days. I walk around the grounds of New Camaldoli admiring the ocean views and soaking up the sunshine. For about an hour, I walk around and capture photos of the buildings and flowers, probably using my phone for the longest stretch in several days.
I return to my room for a few more hours of reading, prayer and journaling before the final service of the day.
5:00 PM Attend the evening vespers service. Usually I join in the 30 minutes of communal silent prayer that follows the evening service. But this day I am drawn back outside to watch the sunset. After admiring a beautiful sunset, I gather my tray and dishes, returning to the communal kitchen to heat some leftover soup for dinner.
After dinner, a similar routine from the morning and afternoon, I journal and pray, I read, and go to bed early.
One year ago I completed a ten day silent retreat. I remember feeling a mixture of emotions as my retreat time concluded. I was happy to be “re-entering” civilization after being unplugged without cell service or internet for ten days. Yet I was also cautious about losing the sense of peace and calm that I felt surrounded by during retreat.
I wrote this in my journal after being at New Camaldoli for 24 hours:
“It is a gift to sit and think. In our busy world, there is hardly a quiet moment. Truly quiet. Where you aren’t thinking about the to-do list or someone to call or text or that bill that needs to be paid. Here I can just be – totally in prayer. My basic needs are easily taken care of. I can notice and appreciate all the beauty around me. And it is a joy to savor so many good books. To linger, read, and spark new ideas. Thank you God for the gift of this place and time. I’m so happy to be here!”
And a similar entry in my journal after I had been at New Camaldoli for 8 or 9 days and was starting to reflect on the end of my time on retreat:
“I can’t believe I’m approaching my final 24 hours at this special place. I am very happy with all the rest I’ve had. I feel very spiritually renewed. Praying with the Psalms each day has been inspiring. I’m proud of myself for staying true to my commitment of silence. Even though I had some brief moments of “weakness” and wanted to call home. I trusted in you God. It’s always funny how time moves while on retreat. Sometimes it moves fast and sometimes it feels slow. God, I am filled with gratitude for my time here at New Camaldoli. It was such a gift of reflection and quiet time in your presence. I know that your plans, O God, are greater than those I can imagine.”
You might be wondering – how did I get here?
I am very fortunate to serve a congregation that offers a three month sabbatical after five years of full time ministry. As I dreamed, prayed and planned for my sabbatical, I had the idea to go on a ten day silent retreat.
My first encounters with silent retreats were in college. I attended John Carroll University and was involved with the campus ministry programs as a student. Each year in January there was an 8 day silent retreat offered to students. At least during the time I was a student at John Carroll, the 8 day (as it was commonly referred to) was a popular student program and would often reach capacity. My senior year I attended with several friends. I remember starting and ending the retreat with a feeling of excitement about spending time with God.
Ever since the 8 day, I aspired to spend more time in silent retreat. I think as someone formed by Ignatian Spirituality, I always had a fascination with silent retreats. Jesuit priests have a 30 day silent retreat that is part of their formation. I find silence peaceful, it invites me into deeper contemplation and connection with God. I’ve always viewed retreat time as an opportunity to spend intentional time with God, similar to visiting a friend out of town. Obviously you can call and text a friend and maintain a relationship that way, but a visit together sustains a deep relationship. I know that God is present everywhere, yet a silent retreat removes the usual daily distractions and allows for a deeper connection.
A ten day silent retreat seemed like a good length of time to grow past my previous experiences on silent retreat. I anticipated that it might be a challenge, but hopefully a good one.
I had previously stayed at New Camaldoli for a brief 2 night retreat a few years earlier. When I was making my sabbatical plans, I felt a longing to return to this special place. I was fortunate to request and receive a generous scholarship from New Camaldoli that helped me afford my extended self-guided retreat.
“Were you really silent the whole time?”
This is the question I am most frequently asked. Mostly, yes.
You can see in my sample daily journal above that I attended the daily prayer services. During the services there is chanting or responsive reading of the Psalms. Therefore I wasn’t entirely silent during the retreat. Some of the monks had brief conversations with guests after the services, so there were small moments of interaction. However, the overall spirit was silence.
One day I stopped at the gift shop desk to ask how long a hiking trail was. (Fifteen minutes, as it turns out.) As I approached the end of my retreat time, I also inquired in the gift shop about the weather forecast for the days ahead. Without any cell service or internet, I had no way of knowing if there would be a foggy day or forecast of clear skies. Again, the person working in the shop was able to give me some helpful information that calmed my nerves about the big drive back to LA after the retreat.
The Beauty of the Ordinary
Some of my journal entries are delightfully repetitive — especially about food.
“Thank you God for this delicious meal…”
Minestrone soup. Roasted cabbage. Tuna noodle casserole. Chili. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Quiche with salad and soup. Pot roast and buttery Italian bread.
The meals were simple. When you remove the distractions, even lunch becomes sacred.
What Silence Revealed About the World
When I arrived at New Camaldoli, I stepped away from my phone, from headlines, from the constant stream of updates. I did not know the details of what was unfolding in the world.
But the monks did.
Each day in the chapel, they prayed for specific things: for victims of a plane crash in Washington, D.C., for leaders navigating rising economic tensions and tariff threats, for immigrant neighbors, for the LGBTQ community, for those living in fear. They did not explain the headlines. They simply prayed.
And so I learned about the world not through alerts or analysis, but through intercession.
Even from a monastery perched high above the Pacific Ocean, physically removed from cities and centers of power, they were not detached. Their prayers were attentive. Informed. Compassionate. The world’s joys and sorrows were carried into that small chapel three times each day.
I didn’t know the full stories until I left Big Sur and turned my phone back on. But I knew enough to understand that suffering was real, that grief was fresh, that tensions were rising.
And what I witnessed was this: silence does not mean indifference.
The monks’ rhythm of prayer taught me that you do not have to be constantly connected to be deeply engaged. You do not have to consume every detail to care. Prayer itself is a form of participation, a way of standing with the world before God.
In some ways, the retreat changed how I understand staying informed. It reminded me that before reacting, before posting, before forming an opinion, I can first pray. I can hold what I know, even if it is incomplete, in God’s presence.
New Camaldoli did not shield me from reality. It showed me another way to meet it.
When I left Big Sur, the headlines were still there. The grief was still real. The tensions had not disappeared.
But I carried home a quiet conviction:
Prayer is not an escape from the world. Prayer is the way to faithfully engage the world.
























































