A GATHERING OF KINDRED SPIRITS: Reflections from Our First Satsang Sojourn.

Story by Subashini Nadarajah

Photos by Subashini Nadarajah, Michael Ong and Will Brown

DAY ONE: Into the Storm

As the morning of our Satsang Sojourn at Finley Farms approached, our very first retreat, just three hours from Kansas City, I imagine both of my fellow Satsang Living co-founders, Michael Ong and Will Brown, felt much the same way I did. We pictured blue skies, smooth roads, and an easy journey ahead.

Instead, we were met with a relentless downpour and ominous dark clouds stretching before us. It felt a bit like driving into the abyss. Visibility faded, the road blurred, and the only choice was to slow down, pay attention, and surrender any illusion of certainty. For nearly half the drive to Finley Farms, the rain came down so heavily that, as Michael put it, it felt like being trapped inside a very long, soapy drive-through car wash.

Photo by Subashini Nadarajah.

And then, as if on cue, something shifted.

About thirty minutes before we arrived, the skies began to part. The clouds softened. Light returned. One by one, our guests arrived safely, and with each arrival came a collective exhale. Relief. Gratitude. The simple comfort of knowing that everyone had made it safe and sound. In many ways, it felt like the perfect beginning to a weekend devoted to conscious living, not because everything went according to plan, but because it didn't.

Photo by Michael Ong.

Our first gathering was at The Workshop, nestled on the grounds of Finley Farms, a space that is part coffee shop and part community gathering place. After the drive, I calmed my nerves with their Ube Latte - creamy non-dairy ube powder and ube syrup blended with warm almond milk. The heavenly shade of purple caught my attention immediately. As a designer, I have always been drawn to color and the stories it tells. On this day, it felt like the color of friendship, creativity, and connection. It was the perfect way to warm both hands and spirit, like carrying your own little fireplace in a cup.

Bottom right photo by Will Brown. Rest of photos by Subashini Nadarajah.

It also made for the perfect meet-and-greet. Everyone gathered with their favorite beverage in hand, warming their fingers while introducing themselves to one another. I love to think they were strangers only moments before and perhaps friends in the making by the end of the weekend. After all, we were all once strangers in our lives.

After coffee, we made our way through the vegetable gardens to The Ozark Mill Restaurant for lunch. Before our guests arrived, both Michael and I slipped away to place the welcome tote bags on each chair, a little something for them to remember the sojourn by. Inside each tote was a travel journal, a zine outlining our weekend itinerary, a surprise snack (each tote held a different one), and a handprinted Satsang Living linocut logo that we had carved and printed just a week earlier while visiting our dear friends Chuck and Peg Hoffman at Genesis Art Studio.

Top two photos by Subashini Nadarajah. Bottom photo by Will Brown.

Small treasures, thoughtfully gathered.

Something to take home.

Something to remember.

Something to pull out on a slow, rainy day and be transported back to the weekend.

As our sojourners walked through the gardens toward lunch, they were surrounded by rows of vibrant greens and vegetables, knowing that some of what they were admiring would soon find its way onto their plates. Fresh, crisp, and full of flavor. I couldn't help but smile at the thought that if our sojourners were rabbits, they might have happily nibbled their way to lunch. There was something special about beginning our weekend this way, walking together through a working farm, seeing where food begins before gathering around a table to share a meal. It felt grounding, a gentle reminder that so much of conscious living begins with slowing down and simply noticing where things come from.

Photos by Michael Ong.

Brunch was served buffet-style, with something for everyone, even for me, with my long list of gut sensitivities and food restrictions. The setting itself felt as nourishing as the meal. With its rustic, barn-inspired interior, weathered wood tables, and mason jars scattered throughout, it felt less like a restaurant and more like being welcomed into a friend's farmhouse for Sunday lunch.

Bottom right two photos by Subashini Nadarajah. Rest of photos by Michael Ong.

The food was hearty, wholesome, and fresh. Greens harvested nearby. Ingredients prepared with care. The kind of meal that doesn't need to be complicated to be memorable. Just good food, shared around a table, in good company. Sometimes, that's more than enough. The simple joy of life.

Before moving into the next part of our day, we invited our sojourners to do something that often feels surprisingly difficult in our busy lives: nothing. Or perhaps, more accurately, to simply wander. With no agenda and no destination, we encouraged everyone to explore the grounds of Finley Farms at their own pace, to stroll along the river, discover a quiet corner, linger a little longer than they normally would, and simply notice.

As part of our Satsang Living practice, we introduced our five tenets of travel, Breathe, Open, Create, Capture, and Curate, and invited our guests to carry them throughout the weekend. It felt like the perfect place to begin.

The Art of Noticing

Some of our sojourners wandered toward the river. Others found a bench in the shade. A few explored the gardens, the mill, and the historic buildings scattered throughout the property. There was no right way to experience the afternoon.

As seekers of meaningful experiences, we often speak about the art of noticing. Noticing is different from simply seeing. It asks us to pause long enough for a place to reveal itself.

Perhaps it was the weathered wood of the mill, carrying nearly two centuries of stories in its grain. The rusted patina of old machinery. The softness of moss creeping along stone walls. The rhythm of the Finley River flowing past the property, just as it has for generations.

Others noticed color. The many shades of green found throughout the gardens. Golden wildflowers swaying in the afternoon breeze. Some noticed sound. The hum of machinery within the mill. Birds calling from nearby trees. The gentle movement of water. Conversations drifting in and out like passing clouds. And perhaps some noticed something even quieter, a feeling.

Finley Farms is rooted in history, preservation, and nature. Originally built in 1833, The Ozark Mill stands at the heart of the property, its stories woven into the landscape around it. The grounds invite a slower pace, where discovery and hospitality intertwine, and the simple rhythms of life still feel within reach.

Top right photo by Michael Ong. Rest of photos by Subashini Nadarajah.

Sometimes conscious living isn't about adding more to our lives. Sometimes it's about creating enough space for the world around us to gently reveal itself. Even the self-guided Mill Tour became an invitation to notice. Moving machinery, theatrical projections, educational exhibits, and stories of the Ozarks reminded us that places carry memory. Every building. Every object. Every landscape. Every community.

Bottom right photo by Will Brown. Rest of photos by Subashini Nadarajah.

An Evening at The Garrison

We encouraged everyone to continue wandering until dinner before meeting again that evening at The Garrison. Tucked beneath The Ozark Mill, The Garrison feels like a hidden treasure. Part speakeasy, part fine-dining experience, it carries an air of quiet discovery. We were seated in the Pantry Room, a cozy space tucked close to the kitchen, where the sounds and aromas of dinner service became part of the experience.

Photos by Michael Ong.

By then, the strangers who had gathered over coffee that morning were beginning to feel like old friends. Plates were passed around the table as stories naturally found their way into the conversation. Laughter arrived easily, and before long, discussions wandered from travel and creativity to childhood memories, life experiences, and future dreams. Somewhere along the way, even the fries became a friendly point of negotiation, some of us had grown comfortable enough to jokingly declare, "I'm not sharing these!" It was the kind of playful authenticity that only emerges when people begin to feel completely at ease with one another. It was one of those evenings you quietly wish could linger a little longer.

DAY TWO: Morning Reflections

After a restful night’s sleep, we gathered once again for breakfast, followed by a morning Satsang session. This felt like the perfect moment to share a small preview of something very close to our hearts: our forthcoming Satsang Travel book. We read a chapter from our journey through Portugal and were met with smiles, thoughtful nods, and more than a few “oohs” and “ahhs.” We like to think this group may have been among the very first to experience a glimpse of what we have been quietly creating together. More than anything, it was reassuring. The response felt like a gentle affirmation that perhaps we are onto something meaningful.

We then invited our sojourners to revisit the day through the art of noticing. The day before, we had encouraged them to pay attention not only to what they did, but also to what quietly revealed itself along the way.

What kept calling your attention?

What beauty did you notice more than once?

What colors, textures, or words stayed with you?

What are you still carrying with you today?

The reflections were beautiful.

Some spoke of the many shades of green throughout the gardens and riverbanks. Others reflected on the weathered stones. Some noticed themes of history, craftsmanship, friendship, and belonging. It was a powerful reminder that no two people experience a place in exactly the same way. Standing side by side, we each notice different things. We carry different memories. We leave with different stories. And perhaps that is the gift of conscious travel, not simply visiting a place, but allowing a place to meet us exactly where we are.

Photos by Michael Ong.

A Feast for the Senses

After our morning Satsang, we ventured to OMO Japanese Soul Food, a relaxed and welcoming spot serving ramen, sushi, stir-fried noodles, bento boxes, and other comforting Japanese favorites. It was the perfect setting to continue enjoying one another's company. There was no agenda, no rush, just good food, easy conversation, and the growing sense that friendships had begun to take root over the course of the weekend.

Stepping inside, the restaurant became a feast for the eyes. For those of us who are designers, it was visual candy. Every corner offered something to admire, from the thoughtfully curated décor to the playful details and beautifully crafted artwork that filled the space. More than once, we found ourselves pausing to take it all in. It almost felt as though we had stepped into a Hayao Miyazaki film, where every corner invites curiosity and even the smallest details tell a story.

Photos by Michael Ong.

Finding a Different Rhythm

From lunch, we made our way to our final destination: Mizumoto Japanese Stroll Garden. A serene seven-acre garden featuring traditional Japanese landscaping, a peaceful koi lake, graceful bridges, winding paths, and a teahouse tucked quietly among the trees.

Before wandering into the garden, we gathered for one final group photograph, a moment to capture the people who had shared this journey together. It felt fitting somehow. Two days earlier, many of us had arrived as strangers. Now, we stood together as fellow sojourners, carrying memories that would linger long after the weekend had come to an end.

Then, almost instinctively, everyone drifted off in their own direction. There was no itinerary to follow, no destination to reach. Just a quiet invitation to wander. The garden invited the very thing we had been practicing throughout the weekend: presence. The gentle rustling of leaves, reflections dancing across the water, the rich textures of stone, wood, and moss, and the occasional flash of orange and white as koi glided beneath the surface all seemed to slow time itself. Nearby, a wise old tortoise or at least I'd like to think he was the garden's quiet rōshi, a wise Zen elder watching over everything with patient stillness, basked contentedly on a warm rock.

A slow weekend deserved a slow ending.

As we wandered the paths, I couldn't help but think about how much can happen when we give ourselves permission to step away from our routines and enter a different rhythm. A rhythm where conversations deepen, creativity awakens, strangers become friends, and fellow sojourners become kindred spirits.

Photo by reliable tripod.

Photo by Michael Ong.

Top left photo by Michael Ong. Rest of photos by Subashini Nadarajah

Coming Home

Our first Satsang Sojourn felt like a success not because we packed every moment with activity, but because we created space. Space to connect, reflect, and notice. The three-hour drive back to Kansas City was sunny and calm, a striking contrast to the stormy journey that had brought us there just two days before. Somehow, that felt fitting. We had driven into the weekend beneath dark skies and relentless rain. We returned home under sunshine, carrying something a little different than what we had arrived with.

As I reflect on our very first Satsang Sojourn, I'm reminded that conscious living isn't found in grand gestures or perfectly planned itineraries. It's found in the quiet art of noticing in slowing down long enough to see what has been there all along. It's found in meaningful conversations shared over a meal, in wandering without a destination, in discovering beauty in the weathered grain of an old mill, the changing colors of a garden, or the warmth of a cup held between your hands.

Most of all, it's found in people.

A group of strangers who, over the course of a single weekend, became something more.

Fellow sojourners.

Kindred spirits.

Friends.

In a world that constantly asks us to do more, move faster, and consume endlessly, this weekend offered something entirely different: a chance to refill our creative bowls and remember that the most meaningful journeys are rarely measured by the miles we travel. They're measured by the people we meet, the moments we notice, and the way those experiences quietly transform us long after the journey has ended.

We are already dreaming, planning, and curating our next Satsang Sojourn. Until then, may we all continue to breathe, remain open, create, capture, and curate the beauty that surrounds us every day.

Photo by Kim Downs.