This is not a retreat you attend. It's a threshold you cross.
For four nights in San Miguel de Allende, during the one week each year this city turns luminous with candlelight and marigolds, six women will gather in a vineyard estate outside the noise of everything. Tantric embodiment. Yoga. Ceremony. Full immersion in Día de los Muertos, the city's oldest festival of love and grief.
This is deep work, held in an intentional container, for the woman ready to be witnessed, undone a little, and rebuilt in ritual.
Tantric embodiment and pleasure work to come home to your body as a source of aliveness, not performance.
Full immersion in Día de los Muertos: ofrendas, candlelight, and the parts of you ready to be released.
Daily yoga, movement, and ritual to integrate what surfaces, and to walk out changed.
Día de los Muertos began long before Spanish colonization, in the death rituals of Mesoamerica's Indigenous peoples, the Aztec, Toltec, and Maya among them, who understood death not as an ending but as a continuation. When Spanish Catholicism arrived in the sixteenth century, these traditions merged with All Saints' and All Souls' Day, landing on November 1st and 2nd, where they've remained ever since.
At its center is the ofrenda, the altar. Marigolds, cempasúchil, are laid in bright paths said to guide spirits home by their scent. Photos, favorite foods, and small offerings invite the dead back for one night of reunion. It is not a somber holiday. It is closer to a family reunion that happens to include the ones who've passed.
We enter this week as guests of a living tradition, not as costume. Our own ofrenda, our own grief work, sits alongside the city's, not on top of it. When we join the parades, we're stepping into a celebration that belongs to San Miguel first, and to us as participants second.
Eighteen minutes outside Centro, past the last roundabout, the noise of the city gives way to rows of vines and quiet. Stone and timber, wrapped in olive trees, built for long tables and slow mornings. A jacuzzi under open sky, a vine-shaded terrace looking out over the vineyard, and a stillness that starts the moment you arrive.
A loose map of our days together. The heart of it is fixed, the finer edges may shift.
This schedule is a living document and subject to change. Final timing is confirmed closer to the retreat.
This is for the woman who feels the pull of both thresholds at once, the erotic and the sacred, and wants to walk through them with other women rather than alone. A woman in a real season of change: after a loss, a marriage, a body she's finally learning to listen to again. A woman who has done the workshops, the therapy, the retreats, and is still circling something none of it quite reached.
This is for women. If you have a partner, wonderful, this retreat is women only.
This is not a party. It is an intentional container, held with structure and reverence.
There is no alcohol in the villa. Dinners out are your own choice, and your own expense, to enjoy as you like. This isn't the retreat if a physically full week, a temazcal, daily movement, cobblestone streets underfoot, isn't something your body can meet right now.
If you're picturing a wellness vacation with cocktails by a pool, this isn't that retreat. If you're ready to be witnessed, undone a little, and rebuilt in ritual, keep reading.
Ashleigh Coughlin has died and come back to herself more times than she can count, rarely gracefully. Childhood abuse, an eating disorder that lasted two decades, addiction, chronic illness, catastrophic choices dressed up as healing. She crawled through most of it. What she built on the other side isn't a smooth, effortless life. It's something better: peace regardless of circumstance.
She holds over 1,000 hours of training across classical Hatha yoga, Yoga Nidra, tantra, somatic healing, polarity, plant medicine, and psychedelic integration, plus two trips to India that rearranged her from the inside out. She has organized and co-facilitated conscious retreats across Colombia and Mexico, and built her practice from nothing, entirely on word of mouth.
Her authority isn't the certifications. It's the life underneath them, every unglamorous, still-messy, still-feral inch of it. She isn't a finished woman. She's a woman who has learned to actually come home to herself, hips loose, breath full, done apologizing for taking up space. That's the only thing she's actually qualified to teach, and it's what this week is built to offer you.
All prices in USD
DM Ashleigh directly. With only six spots total, no deposit is required just to start the conversation.
DM me and I'll walk you through everything: what each day holds, what to bring, and whether this is the right season for you.
DM me to claim your spot