I parked in a stranger's field after the retreat. Long driveway, racehorses, the kind of property that communicates, without saying a word, that the person who owns it has done very well. He fed the horses and went inside. I sat in my chair under the awning and thought: who's richer?

There's an exercise I do with almost every client. I ask them to imagine they're 90, looking back on a life well lived. This weekend I noticed I was already there.

Peace, presence, stillness, joy, we treat these as a retreat. Something we do instead of achieving. I think it's exactly backwards. And stranger than that.