This November marks ten years since I made my first trip to the Sahara.

Over that decade I have travelled there with people who found a way to step away from their usual pace and share a few days of life together in the desert. Some years I led two journeys. Then Covid brought travel to a stop for a while. Groups have been as small as three and as large as thirty.

No two trips were ever quite the same – each shaped by the people who came and what unfolded between us.

What continues to amaze me is the way the desert sets the pace. The light shifts across the day, the temperature drops at night, and people often sleep more deeply than they expected, or lie outside watching the stars and night sky. Conversations take their time, meals are never rushed, and the urgency many people arrive with tends to soften.

There is good food, mint tea, and plenty of laughter. We are looked after by our Bedouin guides, whose presence becomes part of the rhythm of the days. Gradually, people find their place within it – with the land, with one another, and with the experience of being there.

Evenings change the feel of things. As the sun lowers, the light softens and the temperature begins to drop. Extra layers appear, the fire is lit, and people draw closer without really deciding to. Darkness settles quickly in the desert, and we find ourselves sitting under a sky far wider than the one many of us left at home.

Last year I decided I would not lead a group to the Sahara in 2026. But I have just returned from the desert with my family, and being back there reminded me of the connection I have to that place and to the people I have travelled there with. I found myself thinking about earlier journeys and recognised that I wanted to go back this year with a group.

More than that, I wanted to return to the original idea that started all of this.

How It Began

When I first brought people to the Sahara, the idea was straightforward: gather a group, create the conditions for shared life, and invite those who came to offer something of their own. Participants were encouraged, if they wished, to host a workshop, lead a practice, or open a space for conversation.

On that first retreat it included meditation at sunrise, qigong in the cool morning air, breathwork, sand art, painting, laughter yoga, juggling, structured play, stretches of silence, fire walking, board breaking, dance, and good conversations.

Some arrived knowing exactly what they wanted to offer. Others stepped forward once we were there, as ideas emerged and we found our rhythm. Between the planned sessions were the ordinary moments of living alongside one another: sharing tea, walking, talking late into the evening, or resting in silence.

You learn quickly that community is built as much in these small moments as in anything formally organised.

From the beginning I hoped these journeys might become something people would return to. Familiar in the way good places become familiar.

The format shifted over the years, but that early impulse never really disappeared.

Calling It Village

From this year onward, the gathering will be called Village.

I chose the name because of something I have watched happen when people spend time together in the desert. People stop feeling like strangers and begin to know who they are sitting beside. Conversations continue without needing to be restarted, and the camp itself begins to feel different.

Village is a desert gathering shaped through participation. Those who would like to offer a workshop, practice, or conversation will be invited to submit a short proposal in advance, so the days take shape without every hour being filled.

There is no expectation to lead anything. Arriving as you are is enough. What is asked is a willingness to live alongside others for a few days and to be part of the village

Marking Ten Years

When I stop and take it in, ten years of bringing groups to the Sahara feels significant.

Over that time, I have watched groups arrive as strangers and leave knowing one another. Some have returned. Some have brought others with them. Each gathering has found its own tone from the very beginning.

So this year is both a continuation and a return, stepping back toward the simplicity of the original idea.

Bring people together.
Share a few days of life.
See what takes shape.