Building Our Breathwork Yurt in the Forest
Eight years ago, when we bought our little farm in Monbulk, I never could have imagined what I would be creating here today.
Back then, I was simply craving a slower, simpler and more connected life for my family. I wanted space. I wanted animals. I wanted trees, fresh air, muddy boots and a life that felt a little less rushed.
What I didn’t know was that this craving would slowly turn into something much bigger.
Over time, our little farm has become a hideaway for busy people to reconnect with themselves, with nature and with what really matters. And right in the middle of that dream now sits one of the most special spaces we have ever created - our breathwork yurt.
A circular, light-filled, off-grid breathing space tucked away in the forest.
A place to slow down.
A place to soften.
A place to breathe.
From Awkward Paddock to Forest Sanctuary
When we first moved here, one corner of our property was honestly a bit awkward.
It was a sloped paddock with old fallen-down fences, gum trees taking over, and a water table sitting close to the surface. In winter, when the ground became wet and soft, the animals would stomp holes through the mud. Because it was completely out of sight from the house, it also became unsafe.
It didn’t feel useful. It didn’t feel beautiful. It felt like one of those difficult farm areas you don’t quite know what to do with.
But slowly, that corner started to change.
With the help of the Yarra Ranges Council Ribbons of Green program, we planted around 1,800 indigenous plants and fenced the area off from the animals. Over time, two separate bush areas on our property have begun to reconnect, creating a beautiful balance between native bushland and open paddocks.
I often think of it like a yin and yang on the property.
The paddocks give our farm animals space to graze and roam. The bushland gives the native birds, insects and wildlife a place to return. And now, right between those two worlds, the yurt sits quietly on the hill.
Not dominating the landscape.
Just belonging there.
About four years ago, long before I started facilitating breathwork, I went on a solo retreat. During that retreat, I drew a map of the property, off in the triangle paddock, I placed a circle. At the time, I had no real idea what it meant. It was just a circle in the centre of the trees. A gathering place. A meeting place. A space that felt like it wanted to exist.
Then, years later, when I went to the Snowy Mountains to complete my Master Breathwork training, I found that old map again in the journal I took - There it was - a circle!
A vision I had drawn before I understood what I was drawing, now if that wasn’t a sign that something needed to be created there, I don’t know what is.
Designing a Breathwork Space That Felt Different
So, in typical Bek style, I went boots and all into designing and planning the breathing space.
I knew I didn’t want a square room. I didn’t want harsh edges, cold walls or a space that felt clinical. I wanted something soft, open and spacious, but still warm and grounding.
I wanted light.
I wanted flow.
I wanted people to feel held as soon as they walked in.
The space needed to be practical, too. This is Monbulk, and our winters can be cold and frosty. So the yurt needed to be warm, comfortable and weatherproof. but I also wanted open views of the forest, natural light, a sense of beauty and a feeling of being completely tucked away from the world.
It needed to feel homely, but not ordinary.
Spacious, but cosy.
Off-grid, but comfortable.
Beautiful, but practical.
A little bit magical, but still very real.
And that is how the idea of the breathwork yurt came to life.
Preparing the Land and Pouring the Circle
Adam from DigKing did a beautiful job preparing the site and slab for us. Creating a perfect circle on a hill in the middle of a bush area is not exactly a standard little job, and I’m sure I made it more complicated than it needed to be.
But slowly, the yurt began to take shape.
Once the slab was ready, my son polished the concrete floor, with help from Peninsula Products for the hire of the machine.
That floor became such an important part of the finished space. It grounds the yurt beautifully and gives the whole room a strong, earthy feeling.
It isn’t fussy.
It isn’t precious.
It's strong and anchors you to the land.
Building the Yurt
The yurt itself arrived from Yurt in the Dirt - soon to be the most beautiful Oron yurt.
Then came the Easter long weekend, unlike most families who go camping and enjoying the last of the long weekends in summer, I convinced my family to help me.
There were crates to tractor.
Heavy windows to carry the last 50 metres by hand.
Panels to sort.
Instructions to follow.
And then, of course, me changing my mind!
Because once the yurt started coming together, I realised the original layout wasn’t quite right. I wanted the door moved. Then most of the panels needed to move too. They just weren’t perfectly asymmetrical enough.
That probably tells you everything you need to know about how my brain works.
The actual yurt build was pretty straightforward, but I definitely made it more complicated by changing the layout as we went. If I had stuck to the original design, it would have been much easier.
Adam had just had gallbladder surgery, so he couldn’t lift. Luckily, our son is basically a man now and stronger than both of us combined, so we relied on him for a lot of the heavy lifting.
There was also a hired man lift, which then took almost an entire day to tow back out again, but certainly made the lifting easier.
There was heat.
There were disagreements.
There was problem-solving.
There was standing around staring at things, wondering what on earth we should do next.
There was also a lot of love.
And slowly, piece by piece, the yurt became real.
All the 'Tiny' Decisions
After the yurt shell was up, the next few weeks were all about the details. During the week, I kept working through problems, and on weekends Adam joined in where he could.
I had to figure out the bathroom and verandah. I built the brick wall behind the fireplace and the front step. I think I must have been a brickie in a past life because I absolutely loved that part.
Then came the solar panels, battery system, water, composting toilet, lighting options, soft furnishings, bolsters, pillows, blankets and all the little pieces that make a space feel warm and intentional.
And then there was the fireplace.
A breathwork yurt in the Dandenong Ranges needs warmth. Not just physical warmth, but that deep nervous-system warmth that comes from firelight, softness and feeling safe.
Peter from Stoked Industries helped with the fireplace, and it has become one of the most loved parts of the space. There is something about breathing beside the fire that feels ancient, grounding and deeply comforting.
The yurt is off-grid, but it doesn’t feel rough.
It feels simple.
It feels warm.
It feels considered
The Magic Dome
One of my favourite features is the tinted dome.
I don’t think I could have understood how much it would change the feeling of the space until I stood inside it.
The dome fills the yurt with the most beautiful golden light. It feels like sunrise all day long, even when the weather outside is stormy and grey.
That matters in a breathwork space.
The light changes the way people feel when they arrive. It softens the room. It makes the space feel alive. It reminds you that even on heavy days, there is still light coming through.
During breathwork, people are often coming to release what they no longer need to carry. They might be overwhelmed, exhausted, burnt out, grieving, anxious or simply disconnected from themselves.
The space needed to support that.
The light helps.
The circle helps.
The fire helps.
The forest helps.
The whole space seems to say: you can let go here.
Now, when I look at the yurt sitting on the hill between the two old sections of forest, I can honestly say it feels like it was always meant to be there.
The seedlings we planted are growing. The two bush areas are slowly joining. Birds move through the trees. The animals graze nearby. The wind moves through the gums.
And in the middle of it all is this circular space for breathwork, retreats, stillness, release and reconnection.
It is hard to describe the feeling I get when I stand inside it.
Pride, yes.
But also something deeper.
A sense of following the breadcrumbs.
First, we gave the space back to nature.
Then, years before I understood it, I drew a circle on a map.
Then breathwork found me.
Then the yurt arrived.
Then the space became real.
It feels like one of those creations that was built by our hands, but guided by something much bigger than me.
A Place for Coming Back to Yourself
Today, the yurt is home to our breathwork sessions, retreats and private healing experiences at Nurture Creek.
It is where people come to pause.
To breathe.
To release.
To reconnect with their body.
To remember who they are underneath the noise of life.
Our breathwork sessions are not about escaping life. They are about coming back to yourself so you can return to your life feeling clearer, steadier and more connected.
For some people, that means joining a gentle Just Breathe session.
For others, it means coming to a deeper Release breathwork workshop.
And for some, it means stepping away from everything for a few days and joining one of our retreats, where breathwork, nature, animals, nourishing food, rest and connection all come together.
The yurt has become the heart of that work.
Everyone who walks into the space seems to feel it.
They notice the light.
They notice the quiet.
They notice the feeling of being tucked away, but held.
And honestly, it has become my favourite place to be.
We built the yurt because I wanted to create a space where people could feel safe enough to slow down.
Safe enough to soften.
Safe enough to breathe deeply.
Safe enough to let go of what they no longer need to carry.
Life is loud. People are busy. So many of us are running on empty, holding everything together, doing all the things, and rarely giving ourselves permission to stop.
This space is an invitation to stop.
To come back to your breath.
To come back to your body.
To come back to the land.
To come back to yourself.
That is what this yurt was built for.
And now, it is time to fill it with beautiful people looking to find their place in the world and a little more ease inside themselves.
If you are looking for breathwork in the Yarra Ranges, a women’s retreat near Melbourne, or simply a quiet place to reconnect with yourself in nature, our yurt is waiting for you.
Tucked away in the forest.
Held by the hills.
Ready when you are.
Need to take a breath?
