So WTAF are the DO Lectures?

Is it just a weekend camping in Wales?

I’m not the same person anymore.

Last Thursday I arrived at a little farm outside Cardigan in Wales with no expectations and a bag full of animal-print clothes. Five days later, I arrived home with my brain chemistry completely re-wired.

I have often talked about the importance of retreats and “thinking time” and refreshes and resets. But nothing comes close to the level of immersion created by the Do Lectures.

My route into the Do Lectures was triggered by a casual exchange last year: “have you heard of the Do Lectures?” asked Shelly Rourke.
Nope.
Knew absolutely nothing about it.
Then a few weeks later: “are you applying to the Do Lectures?”
You have to apply? To a retreat? I had no time to process as the deadline was fast approaching, so without much research I filled out the (slightly whacky) application form. More time passed and life was too busy for me to do anything more than attend to life things. And then one day, I received an email telling me I had secured a place.

The Do Lectures is not cheap. It’s a significant investment and came at a time for me when things were tight. I persevered and worked on an instalment scheme; again - with very little understanding of what was ahead of me. I posted about it on LinkedIn and Laura Costello from Thinkhouse dropped me a comment to chat to her about it. And that voice-note was enough for me to know I was making the right decision (thank you Laura)

Everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - was telling me not to go. Childcare and summer camp logistics; the most frantic few months beforehand leaving me with no headspace to actually investigate the retreat; a complicated travel route involving multiple modes of transport (fun fact: booking travel things fills me with dread); a stress-rash the week prior circling my forehead.

And yet I persevered.

So, what is it?

Four days of ideas; of collective effervescence; of chance meetings and conversations; of clean air and salty sea; of wholesome and nourishing and diverse food; of dancing and doodling and singing and running.

There is no real way to capture this in words - it is something to be experienced; to be felt. Ostensibly it’s a festival for purpose-led entrepreneurs, creators, change-makers and more. You live in a tent for 4-days and every part of your day and night is programmed with something to awaken all of the senses. There is a programme of speakers; there is a series of workshops; there is evening entertainment and morning movement.

But on a deeper level; it is a magical alchemy of ideas and feelings and connections that make you view the world - and your place in it - in a radically different way.

I threw myself into every part of it, despite at times feeling overwhelmed or tired or awkward. Hundreds of conversations melt into the programmed talks around themes of kindness, loss, AI, emotions, self-love, grief, connection, joy, humanity and the planet. No pressure, no filler, no PR - just lots of little moments and reflections to make you think, feel, hear and see differently.

Things I did I couldn’t believe:

I sang. Out loud. In a choir. James Sills hosts the “Do Choir” over the weekend. Something I thought I might skip in lieu of some downtime. And yet, a sneaky practice riff was introduced at the end of one of the talks. I joined in. And I liked it. A complete 180 for someone who doesn’t even like singing in the shower on her own. We practised “God Only Knows” in intervals over the 3 days with a view to closing out the weekend with 160 people belting out the chorus. Incredibly poignant after Brian Wilson’s recent passing, and many, many tears were shed.

I ran 10k on the first morning. I had signed up to the running “Power Hour” at 7am and ran with a gang of seasoned runners under the guidance of ultra-marathon runner Rebecca Brennan. I don’t “do” run clubs…I don’t like talking when I’m running…and I prefer to jog than run (I did not realise there would be seasoned runners...) But the chats and the peer pressure and the fresh air propelled me along. Propelled me to come home and buy my first proper pair of running shoes. And listening to Rebecca talk about her Cape Wrath journey (5 days and 5 hours running straight from the bottom of Scotland to the top) wasn’t simply astonishing - it was deeply moving.

I signed up to a “Make Your Mark” workshop; not actually knowing what it was. It turned out to be a doodling workshop with print and textile artist Zoe Murphy. Since 3rd year in secondary school where my sketch of a swan prompted disgust in the face of my art teacher, I decided I was not creative. And sitting with a group, being given prompt after prompt to draw things around us, I felt…not quite so much an artist, but like someone who simply enjoyed doodling and didn’t feel shame or embarrassment that I didn’t have artist-level sketching. It’s ok to just “enjoy” and not have to produce.

I sat beside someone new every breakfast, lunch and dinner. Queuing for coffee, for the toilet, for a shower, for a snack - I spoke to someone new. Strongly encouraged by the Do team, a little challenging when you’ve arrived on your own, but deeply, deeply rewarding. On that note, I shared a tent with Aoife from Bua Marketing and Maire from Inis Meain Knitwear. I met Aoife in Sligo (ten years ago, TEN!) when she was running Swell Sligo and I had yet to meet Maire. And that was my only source of comfort - the Irish connection. I couldn’t have asked for better tent buddies…because let’s be clear here. Tents mean noise and async toilet trips and different starts and ends to the festivities and a narrow space to manage yourself, your things and your rituals. And we thrived.

Where to, from here?

I picked up at least three core messages that deeply impacted me and I will be sharing my thoughts on each - and what it means for my world-view - over the next few articles. And for someone who works in marketing and ecommerce and advertising and fashion; for someone who doesn’t “do” camping; for someone who spends much of her time juggling and balancing and on the brink of burnout…I think there are insights here for all.