A Silent Retreat in Georgia
Searching for peace (and quiet) at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit
2025 is my personal bucket list year — a time I’ve committed to stepping out of my comfort zone to try new things and have experiences that have eluded me until now. One of the first things on my list —which includes everything from trying archery to getting a tattoo — is a silent retreat. And, I thought, what better place to attempt complete silence than a monastery run by monks?
I first visited the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, Georgia last year for three reasons: I’d never been, I was intrigued by the architecture, and of course, I needed to try the homemade biscotti. But after that first visit, something about it stuck with me. I kept thinking about the robed figures crossing the abbey, how the blue light danced on the floors, and the peace that seemed to settle in that space. I wondered what it would be like to spend more time there — to experience the stillness beyond the retreat house doors.
After learning they offered retreats, I knew I had to try one. They offer a wide range of retreat options from "Messy Spirituality" to "Anger & Forgiveness" and Private Retreats where you are free to follow your own schedule. I chose a 2-night Private Retreat at $100 per night. This included a room, meals, access to the abbey, grounds, vigils, and mass. Since the retreat would be completely self-guided, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try a vow of silence: no talking, no social media, no phone calls, and no texting.
I should mention here that I’m not a religious person. I was raised Catholic, attending church every weekend as a child, but I left the church when I turned 18. So, it might sound strange that I’d drive to Conyers, Georgia, and spend three days living at a Trappist monastery in search of silence. Or maybe it doesn’t seem so strange at all. With the constant noise of everyday life, sometimes we need to make a little extra effort to find the quiet. I thought maybe, just maybe, a place like this might make it more attainable.
The retreat house, my room key, and one of the common lounge areas
I arrived on a Monday and as I opened the door to check in, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d somehow be ‘found out’ — a non-practicing Catholic among the faithful.
But the woman who greeted me immediately put me at ease. She offered to show me around and took me on a brief tour of the public areas. She paused in a hallway and asked if I was Catholic. I froze for a moment, suddenly unsure — was I? It had been years since I’d been to church. Should I even be here?
She smiled and said, "If you are, confession is available every night." That was it. Her question was merely an offer, nothing more. I exhaled and tried to lower the volume of my internal dialogue.
The "talking" dining room, "talking" porch, and the side door that connects the retreat house to the abbey
We continued walking while she pointed things out along the way, a dining room, a porch, a laundry hamper, and finally the side door of the abbey, an entrance available only to retreat guests.
I had been inside before, but seeing the concrete, bathed in the blue light from the stained glass windows, still took my breath away. As I did the first time I saw it, I imagined the labor it must have taken to build such a place and how strong and gentle it looked all at the same time.
Abbey hallway
The last stop on the tour would be my home for the next few days. A room with a single bed, a window, a desk, a chair, and a shared bath, although I would end up alone and not needing to share it for the remainder of my stay.
I turned my phone to Do Not Disturb and promised myself a completely off-grid experience where I would not go online or say a word while there. Spoiler alert — I achieved my goal, but it didn’t work out quite like I thought.
There was a small library outside my room with a collection of reading materials. I noticed a copy of Atlanta magazine and a book about Feminism and faith. I started to relax. I picked up a book on a table called Portraits of Grace: Images and Words from the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in which the author, James Stephen Behrens, offers the following thoughts on solitude:
Humans need solitude. We need a way to get some distance from “it all.” We need some space to better be at peace with ourselves and others.
Everyone has a bit of monk in them.
My bed, writing desk, and retreat welcome
Reading this gave me a sense of inclusion and settled any doubts about whether I belonged here. I felt like I belonged simply because I was a human in search of quiet.
I read the entire book from cover to cover and before I knew it, it was dinnertime. If you’re wondering, like I was, what you eat at a monastery — well, it turns out, a surprisingly flavorful Mexican corn chowder with freshly baked ham and cheese croissants and cookies for dessert! Why did I think the meal would lack flavor? I started to wonder if everything I thought about a monastery was wrong.
I spent a lot of time writing and was so focused that I missed that evening's vigils. I wanted to take advantage of every experience, so I set my alarm for 3:40 a.m. with the intention of attending the 4 a.m. service and silent meditation. I tried to make it, I really did. I even went to bed early to be fully rested. But, I slept so soundly that I missed the pre-dawn service. I would try again the next day, and fail again.
When I finally woke after 12 hours (!) of uninterrupted sleep (wondering if it was because I went screen-free before bed), I had a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and fruit to fuel me for a day of walking. The monastery sits on a vast nature/bike trail so I was looking forward to spending the day exploring.
The 9-mile Rockdale bike path, a small nature trail alongside a pond, and the magnolia meditative walkway
Up to this point, I had not spoken a word, relying on hand gestures, nods, and even the occasional note. When I got on the nature trail, I saw a sign that read "protected wildlife area" and immediately after that was a large animal skeleton with fur scattered around and bones picked clean. I shouted, 'What the **** is that?!' before slapping my hand over my mouth, mortified—not only for breaking my silence but for doing it so... enthusiastically.
This would happen twice more during my stay. I had no idea I spoke to myself so often. I decided it didn't count against my vow of silence. Since I made up my own rules, I excused it as an involuntary talking hiccup. My decision is final.
I walked about 8 miles before lunch. The monks did not join us for meals but they cooked everything from scratch including that day's meal, an Italian-style enchilada, broccoli, and frosted lemon pound cake for dessert. One of the monks was serving us on this particular occasion (the rest of the meals were self-serve), giving me a chance to smile and nod gratefully for the wonderful food.
I spent the rest of the afternoon writing, reading, and playing with the abbey cat, who only bit me twice. To be fair, I had it coming both times — reaching for my camera to snap his picture. Even the cat seemed determined to keep me in the moment, and it only made me love him more.
Making friends with the abbey cat
Before I knew it, it was dinnertime — a sausage gumbo with a side salad, lentils, and potatoes. Dessert was a sweet pastry filled with apples and cherries.
That evening I attended the Compline, a prayer to complete the day. Held by candlelight, it was a lovely transition into the Grand Silence which started at 8 p.m. and continued through to the pre-dawn vigil.
The "silent" dining room, porch, and canteen (fruit, cereal, tea, and snacks are always available)
On my final day, I packed my things and went to the abbey for the Mass with Lauds. As someone raised Catholic, the service was very familiar. During the sermon, the priest told us about a staff member who had just lost his 42-year-old daughter to cancer—she was a mother too. I prayed for them and couldn't help but think about my own family -- it was the longest I'd ever gone without speaking to them.
After mass, I stripped my bed and remade it with fresh linens. I liked feeling a part of keeping this place going and would have gladly done more work. I handed in my key after having one last meal — French toast sticks sprinkled with extra sugar and cinnamon. There is a bakery on site where the monks make biscotti and fudge. Their talent for sweet things did not go unnoticed.
The abbey, guest sitting area and hymn book
As I packed my car, I heard a voice call, "Are you Kerry?" It was a man in jeans, a wool hat, and a fleece jacket, driving a golf cart. He didn’t look like a monk but it was, Brother Callistus, the chief operating officer and public face of the monastery — whom I had tried to meet with when I first arrived.
I broke my vow of silence for the opportunity to speak with a monk, introducing myself and asking if I could join him on his way to the food bank. He agreed and then turned to me and said, "So you're an influencer!" This made me laugh — not just because I don’t think of myself that way, but because a monk had just said it. I noticed the Bluetooth device in his ear and thought, maybe we have more in common than I realized. I explained that I love sharing my travels around Georgia, especially when I can connect people to places like this monastery.
He told me he heard from the staff that I attempted complete silence during my stay. He laughed, kindly, when I explained that no matter how silent I tried to be, it never felt 'silent' enough, whether I was absentmindedly talking to myself or just in my head.
As we spoke, he shared that silence isn’t just the absence of talking, as I had originally thought. It’s about stilling the constant noise within us and finding true silence takes work and a little discipline. He offered some great advice to anyone looking to shut out the noise.
"Just turn the phone off," he said. "I have a phone. I’m a monk with a phone because someone has to run this place, but every night I turn it off."
His advice? We should all do the same.
Not all night, not even for an hour. Just 30 minutes. Turn it off. Find a space to be alone, away from any device, and make it a habit. Be intentional and he promises it will work wonders.
So, while I am glad I went, and encourage you to as well, it turns out that I didn’t need to go to a monastery and commit myself to a vow of silence after all. The silence is already inside me, it just takes a little work and practice to find it.
Remember, everyone has a bit of monk in them.
[All images taken by me and shared with permission]
Thank you to the staff and monks at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit for your hospitality.
If you’re curious about a retreat experience, I can’t recommend this enough. Go with an open mind, and if you can, leave your cell phone at home.
Find more information here.
