Houston Chronicle

CHAPPELL HILL
A yoga retreat for all types
By JENNIFER LATSON STAFF WRITER
March 25, 2010, 11:02AM

JENNIFER LATSON CHRONICLE
The weekend retreat in Chappell Hill offers a chance to focus on yoga, meditation and philosophy.

Resources

IF YOU GO
Austin-based yoga instructor Charles MacInerney leads weekend retreats in Chappell Hill about four times a year. The three-day workshops include hatha yoga sessions, meditation and discussions on the philosophy behind yoga.

• Dates: May 7-9 and Dec. 3-5
• Place: The Margaret Austin Center is off U.S. 290, a little more than an hour from Houston.
• Cost: Registration is $425, including meals and lodging.
• What to bring: Towels, bed linens, toiletries and a yoga mat.
• For more information: www.yogateacher.com or www.macenter.org.

Original Article can be found on the Houston Chronicle website.

The yoga retreat combined elements of spa resort and summer camp. You could sign up for a deep-tissue massage or go for a walk along the forest's edge, looking for sticks to build a campfire. A talented French chef prepared the meals, but you washed your own dishes.

The retreat, held at the Margaret Austin Center in the town of Chappell Hill, attracted a mixed group, some seeking enlightenment, some just looking for a calming getaway. From Friday night to Sunday afternoon, we breathed better, ate better and spent more time sitting quietly than many of us had in weeks.

Halfway between Houston and Austin, the center is just far enough away to be in the middle of nowhere. A cluster of buildings — dormitories, dining hall, yoga studio — sits at the center of 40 acres of rolling fields.

The Margaret Austin Center is a nonprofit that hosts groups it describes as having a “spiritual, educational or healing focus.” I had signed up for a March yoga workshop taught by Austin-based yoga instructor Charles MacInerney.

Taking U.S. 290 out of Houston at rush hour on a Friday was a study in stop-and-go frustration. But an hour and a half later, my white knuckles relaxed on a dirt road through cow pastures, where the only other traffic was a tractor hauling hay. I reached the retreat as the sun set.

“Good thing you got here,” said the woman who greeted me. “It's hard to find your way after dark.”

I had never attended a yoga retreat before, and although I enjoy the occasional downward-facing dog, I was a little nervous that the crowd would be too New Age-y and that the yoga would be too advanced. But the group was diverse and decidedly normal, comprising a pediatrician, poet, geologist, singer, engineer, computer programmer and small-business owner.

The yoga, too, was unpretentious and easy to follow. Asked about proper form for a pose, MacInerney told a student: “Pretend you're a cowboy, and you're in jail. The sheriff dropped the keys on the floor, just out of reach.” He may have studied the sutras, but this yogi is also a Texan.

The center's accommodations are rustic but modern. You won't find turndown service here: You bring your own linens, and the bunk beds are first come, first served.

I claimed a bed in the loft of the main dorm, a wooden cube set sideways on its edge, known to staff as the “hippie house” — it was designed and built in the 1960s by a collective of architecture students from the University of Houston.

When I woke up at dawn Saturday for a 7 a.m. hatha yoga session, pink light streamed through the balcony doors. The dorms were quiet except for the creaking of wooden floorboards underfoot and the ringing of a gong that called us to class.

MacInerney put together an impressive syllabus of yoga classes, meditation sessions and workshops on the philosophy of yoga. He also encouraged students to skip any session, or every session.

“I'd rather have you sit under a tree and read than be in here wishing you were sitting under a tree and reading,” he said.

I chose not to miss a class — MacInerney is a compelling speaker, and he covered a range of topics, from a brainstorming technique called mind mapping to how to use a neti pot. As part of a session on concentration, he taught us to juggle.

But the retreat grounds offered alternatives to class time: a mile-long walking trail skirted an abundance of flora and fauna. Deer made occasional appearances near the tree line, and a formidable but friendly buzzard alighted outside the dining hall's picture windows every time a meal was served.

On Saturday night, we built a campfire against the chill of the March breeze and roasted marshmallows under the stars, listening to yip-howls of coyotes in the distance.

On a relaxation-to-cost scale, the retreat was a bargain. A $425 registration fee covered two nights' lodging and all meals.

Worried that I would get nothing to eat but lentils for three days, I had brought along a hoard of snack food. But the chef cooked rich, robust vegetarian meals, from buttery scalloped potatoes to a dramatic bananas Foster. When I left Sunday, I took my peanut butter crackers home with me, untouched.