Forget rooftop cocktails, goat yoga and overpriced 'digital detox' retreats in Tulum - burned-out workers are seeking a new kind of ...
Forget rooftop cocktails, goat yoga and overpriced 'digital detox' retreats in Tulum - burned-out workers are seeking a new kind of solace: monasteries.
Religious retreats are seeing a surge in demand across the US as more stressed-out city dwellers trade screen time for solitude.
At the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky, demand is so high that even the waitlist is full. ‘We get hundreds of new requests continuously pouring in,’ the woman who has managed reservations there for over a decade told the Daily Mail.
Brother Paul Quenon, an 85-year-old monk who’s lived at Gethsemani for 65 years, said the trend has been consistent for at least a decade.
‘We’re usually booked up; we don’t have enough room for everybody,’ he told the Daily Mail.
‘They’re not here to see the sights - they’re here to pray. They’re pilgrims, not tourists.’
At Blue Cliff Monastery in New York, staff say they have also seen an uptick, even though they don’t offer formal silent retreats.
And in upstate New York, the Franciscans of the Immaculate are doing what they can to keep up.
‘We’ve seen a slight increase in demand, but we can only accommodate a handful of people at a time,’ said Father Jacinta, a friar and priest since 2008.
‘Some of our cabins are aging and need to be rebuilt, so we’re limited in what we can offer right now.’
Visitors stay in small, rustic hermitages and join friars for prayers throughout the day. While the setup is private and unstructured, these hosts say, the spiritual payoff is powerful.
‘People are starving for a deeper spiritual life - for God,’ Father Jacinta said.
‘There’s so much noise in everyday life. At a certain point, if people don’t step away from that, something breaks - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.’
He believes the divisive political climate and modern chaos also play a role, stating there is 'a certain chaotic state we’re living in right now'.
And despite the lack of frills, guests tend to leave refreshed - and they often return.
‘It’s like a spiritual vacation. Some people don’t want to leave,’ he said. ‘Every single one of us needs retreat time.’
Meanwhile, the Zen Center of New York City – a branch of Zen Mountain Monastery – reported a 'significant rise in attendance', even joking that 'the current American President has been good for Zen Buddhism'.
The center added that the real disconnection happens upstate, where guests immerse in week–long silent retreats far from phones and urban chaos.
On the Buddhist side, the Dharma Drum Retreat Center in upstate New York offers structured, intensive silence.
'All of our retreats have to be in silent mode,' said resident monk and teacher Chang Yao Shi. Phones are surrendered at the door, and guests practice mindfulness in everything – sitting, walking, eating, even sleeping.
The center caps retreats at around 50 people, depending on volunteer support, and Shi says their waitlists grow longer by the season. 'We don't focus on politics or trends,' he added. 'People come because they experience something here and tell their friends.'
And that's exactly what happened to Mary Catherine Nanda.
The 28–year–old tech worker from Brooklyn fits the mold of your standard–issue girl boss.
But last fall, she did something most of her peers only post about on close friends Instagram stories: She closed her laptop, put her phone on airplane mode and checked into a Catholic monastery in the woods.
'I did feel evil,' she told the Daily Mail. 'Filled with malice, dread, discontent. So I knew I needed to go to the monastery and be with the nuns in the woods.'
She said that, like everyone, she 'feels the devil on her shoulder from time to time', adding that she has a wonderful life and there was no specific event that sparked this desire to retreat – she just knew she needed some time away to reset.
And that's just what she did. No WiFi. No Slack. No small talk. Just incense, handwritten notes, and sunrise prayers with five cloistered women in upstate New York.
It's almost like a storyline straight out of The White Lotus – specifically Season 3's Piper Ratliff, the sweet–faced rich kid who flirted with joining a Buddhist monastery after attending a silent dinner. But unlike Piper, Nanda didn't bail. She went – and loved it.
The retreat she attended in November 2023 was no influencer–branded wellness weekend. It was stripped down, sacred and refreshingly analog.
'You just email the nuns, they confirm, and you pay when you get there,' she said. 'It's an all–cash deal, which is very nice.'
There was no chitchat, no apps, no wellness swag. To communicate, guests leave handwritten notes in a wooden box. 'They bring the box up to the monastery every night,' she said. 'You come back in the morning, and your response is there.'
Later, she posted a short, deadpan TikTok about her failed attempt to return this summer but she couldn't because it was all booked out.
She accidentally went viral as the clip, which is now just shy of 1 million views, struck a nerve with spiritually exhausted Gen Z women drawn to ritual, retreat and the fantasy of disappearing (at least temporarily) from modern life.
'I think everyone feels the call of the monastery – or to be with nuns more generally in the woods,' she said. 'I hope more people go.'
Still, she was caught off guard by the video's reach. 'I do feel a little bad,' she admitted. 'When my video started to blow up, I said to a friend, 'Maybe I should take this down.' I didn't think it would reach outside my immediate friend group.'
She had every intention of going back this summer but she was waitlisted.
'I emailed them early this year, and they did have openings, but the timing just didn't work out,' she said.
'I reached out again for June and July, and the nun that emailed me back said, 'We're fully booked, but I'll let you know if someone cancels their vow.''
Her reaction? 'Kind of immediately filled with malice,' she joked.
'I'm gatekeeping,' she added. 'They're five nuns and terrible at email – they don't need this blowing up.'
But blow up it has.
Now she's seeking alternatives to find her calm. 'I went on a hike to a sort of abandoned rock quarry nearby and sat for a while, and that felt pretty good,' she said.
'Then I went shopping at a really nice boutique in New York – and trying on clothes there felt pretty spiritually fulfilling,' she added.
And while her TikTok may have introduced her as a kind of Gen Z mystic, she's happy to own the contradiction.
'I'm a high–powered girl boss,' she laughed. 'And an evil woman.'
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