I climbed out of the silk cocoon that had served as my napping — er, meditation — lair for the previous 45 minutes. Our ceremonialist for the session stood beside the hammock and smiled while I thanked her profusely for the arc of the sound bath and for the singing voice she kept slipping into above the bowls.
“I was snoring, wasn’t I?” I muttered on the walk out of the room to my husband, who had been suspended in the silks next to mine.
“Uh, yeah.”
Apologies to my fellow classmates at Miraval Berkshires: We were warned before class that we might feel a calming hand if anyone chose to accompany our guide with nasal flute music of their own. In my defense, that was the best sleep I had gotten in years, and I am not a napper.
We were a day and a half into a three-night stay, and I was rapidly becoming a Miraval convert. Miraval Berkshires sits in Lenox, Massachusetts, two hours west of Boston and a few minutes down the road from Canyon Ranch’s New England perch, which makes this stretch of the Berkshires the rare place where American wellness travel’s two best-known names operate as neighbors.
The stay begins about six weeks out, when an Experience Planner calls to sort out what you want from your visit. Take it seriously, because you will be asked to make genuinely difficult scheduling choices around activities and coveted spa treatments. The all-inclusive rate covers meals, snacks, non-alcoholic beverages, complimentary activities, and $175 per day in resort credits to use on classes, experiences, and spa treatments that carry their own charge.
A Miraval Docent greets you on arrival and guides you throughout the stay. Ours was Dan, who was stellar, and who walked us through setting intentions and choosing a word to describe ourselves, an exercise borrowed from the staff name badges, where you will notice ones like “grounded,” “calm,” and, memorably, “glamorous.” While you'll want to book experiences early, Dan was also a guiding force to let things flow and not be afraid to change one's schedule based on how your Miraval journey takes you. In case you can't tell from my tone, I'm still riding my Miraval high, but more on that later.
We stayed in a Ginkgo Balcony Suite in the Renewal Cottages, the section built around a tree that some refer to online as Grandfather Ginkgo. It is a spacious place to be alone with your thoughts, with a private balcony, a decadently large soaking tub, and evening turndown. I also heard a lot of pre-arrival bedding hype, which proved to be true: Marshmallow-soft, pillowy expectations were met and almost as rejuvenating as some of the spa treatments provided at Miraval.
Given New England weather, it’s wise that most of the property is connected through indoor pathways. When it comes time for relaxation, you reach the Miraval Spa through a dimly lit, wood-planked corridor that opens into hot tubs, steam rooms, and a sauna (at least for the men’s changing facilities). Past it are an indoor-outdoor pool and plenty of places to settle in with a book pre- and post- oh-so-fabulous treatment. A robust fitness center and pools throughout cover the days when Berkshires weather works against the outdoor slate of activities.
If you are going to Miraval, you may as well Miraval. We jumped right in with a tarot class minutes after check-in, followed by sessions on relationship health and spinal work before a facial in the spa. Arrival day concluded with a prix fixe menu at 1894 Restaurant in the property’s Gilded Age Wyndhurst Mansion that won me over with lobster paella and caviar.
In the middle of dinner, our new mixologist friend from The Roost, the all-day grab-and-go that doubles as coffee counter and cocktail bar, walked a cocktail over to our table after hearing us mention it’d be nice to have during our meal. The Roost team also tracked down an order of the must-have meatballs from Harvest Moon, the all-day venue where you will eat most meals, when a Sunday chef’s experience left us no time for dinner there. Life in balance, as the branding goes, includes an extraordinarily hospitable crew making culinary magic happen.
Remember how I said I was still riding my Miraval high? Miraval has data on what all of this does: A Humin study released earlier this year tracked 266 guests before their stay, two weeks after, and again at 60 days out. Sixty-six percent reported reduced perceived stress after checkout, and 62 percent still reported it two months later. The 60-day design is the difference between advisors selling a spa weekend and selling something with a lifestyle change.
Simon Marxer, vice president of spa and wellbeing at Miraval Resorts, framed the distinction for me in March.
“One can engage in well-being practice at home,” he said. “It’s like listening to a record. Going to Miraval is like being at the concert.”
For advisors, he added, the third-party validation offers “a sense of trust in making a recommendation for their clients, that they will be cared for very thoughtfully.”
When I caught up with Marxer in Lenox, he was candid about how hard that is to reproduce as the brand grows. Expansion, he said, “is what keeps me up at night.”
Austin taught him something he carried into the Berkshires. The instinct there had been to replicate Tucson, and he invited longtime Tucson guests to see the new property, then sat through a dinner where they kept asking after staff they knew by name from Arizona.
“If you try to duplicate the experience, what immediately becomes apparent and is missed is the people,” he said. “I had learned the lesson by the time we finally reopened here.”
The approach now is to hand each property the themes and framework and let the staff supply the rest. No guest must do all of it either, he said, and some get the most from sitting still and watching birds.
As for what we got out of it? Saturday of our visit delivered a body scrub, a massage, and the session I have not stopped thinking about. Miraval’s equine experience puts you in a ring with rescued horses and asks you to open up to an animal that reads body language. Ours were a study in contrast: one confident and one shy enough that earning eye contact felt like an achievement. Marxer, whose own equine session during his 2007 interview process is what brought him to the brand, calls the program “foundational,” and the Humin study found that participants reported incremental gains in wellbeing and mindfulness. I went in expecting a petting zoo and came out having learned something about how trauma sits in a body and how connection gets rebuilt without language. A raku pottery class that afternoon made a similar case, which is that you do not get to control what comes out of the kiln.
But the study’s other finding shows up in the hallways. Ninety-five percent of surveyed guests reported a strong sense of belonging within the Miraval community, and more than 70 percent said they had formed new, meaningful connections on property. Phone use is confined to guest rooms and a handful of designated spots, which strips away the excuse for not making eye contact with a stranger. You meet them in the tarot class, journaling by the fire, waiting your turn with the medium, or around the chef’s table at the “Just Cook for Me” experience at Life in Balance Kitchen, and by the second day you have inside jokes and someone is asking how the equine session went.
A guest connects with another guest or with someone on staff, Marxer told me, and “that’s the gateway to more.” Occasionally the gateway leads to the resort or spa store, where the tarot decks and loungewear and “Botox in a bottle” are available for purchase, so capitalism gets its place in a wellness weekend too. Yes, I bought all three.
Monday morning arrived too quickly. Dan sent us off with the strike of a gong and a question about one’s intention and chosen word. I will keep my answers to myself, but let’s just say there’s a calmness still happening within yours truly three months after check-out. Consider me the 90-day arc of the study.
I departed what felt like a mix of summer camp for adults and a much-needed inner tune-up having gotten considerably more than I bargained for — not bad for the guy who fell asleep in the sound bath.
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