Some conversations arrive exactly when you need them.

My recent Wild and Wise episode with Tina LeAnn was one of those. It unfolded in that quiet, in-between space where winter hasn’t fully loosened its grip and spring hasn’t made itself known yet. The season where nothing looks dramatic on the outside, yet everything is reorganizing underneath.

We talked a lot about stillness. Not to stop living or disengage from the world, but to pause long enough to actually hear yourself again.

What stood out to me most is how often we override what we already know. Our bodies signal. Our energy shifts. Our focus starts to scatter. Instead of listening, many of us push harder and tell ourselves we will slow down later. Tina named this so clearly. When you ignore the signs long enough, life finds louder ways to get your attention.

I found myself nodding throughout the conversation because this mirrors what I see with the women I work with. Especially in midlife. There is a deep inner knowing present. It just gets drowned out by urgency, responsibility, and the fear of “loosing momentum”.

One moment that really stayed with me was our reflection on stillness as a practice of honesty. When you slow down, you notice where your energy leaks. You notice where you are saying yes out of habit. You notice what no longer fits. Stillness does not create chaos. It reveals clarity.

We also talked about future you. The version of you that already lives on the other side of the choices you are circling now. Tina shared how listening differently today shapes who you become next. Winter teaches us this every year. Seeds do not rush. They rest, recalibrate, and gather strength before they move.

This episode felt grounding in the truest sense, which feels especially important as we move toward a Fire Horse year. There’s a lot of forward energy coming. Momentum, speed, intensity. Without grounding, that kind of movement can pull us off center. Winter gives us the chance to strengthen our roots now, so when things start running, we’re choosing the direction instead of being dragged by it.

If you are feeling scattered, tired, or quietly restless, this conversation offers something steady to lean into. It is an invitation to slow your pace, trust what your body is telling you, and allow clarity to rise without force.

You can listen to the full conversation on the Wild and Wise Show wherever you usually tune in. YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts.

And if you find yourself wanting to stay in these conversations a little longer, the Wild Woman Collective is where we continue them in a slower, more honest way.

Join the Wild Woman Collective Today

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December always carries a particular kind of stillness. Not the holiday kind, but the deeper rhythm just beneath it. The part of the year where the body starts whispering what the mind has been too busy to hear. The part of the cycle where everything in nature draws inward to gather strength for what’s coming.

I’ve been thinking a lot about rest lately. Not the kind we talk about casually, but the kind that actually restores something inside us. True rest. The kind that lets us return to ourselves.

This month is the final stretch of a 9 energy year, a year of completions, releasing, and integrating. And as much as we might want to get this year over with… it’s been a lot, we’re not quite there yet. We’re still in the final contractions of letting go. We’re still in the Snake year until February 2026, still shedding what no longer fits, what no longer supports us, what no longer feels true. Winter is the season where thinking and doing ease, and the body, mind, and spirit have space to recover.

We recover through rest.

It’s interesting how often we imagine new beginnings without acknowledging the mess of becoming. There is a tenderness to that threshold that we don’t always talk about. And yet, my Instagram keeps lighting up with all these shiny predictions and fierce 2026 vibes. We love the promise of January, the hope of a fresh start, the idea of clarity and momentum. But new beginnings rarely arrive tidy. They come with their own chaos. Their own stretching. Their own learning curve. I keep coming back to the metaphor of pregnancy and birth. The beauty of a newborn is undeniable, but any mother will tell you that everything changes the moment that new life arrives. Life will never be the same as it were. Beginnings take energy. They take trust. They take a willingness to move through the unknown.

So this month isn’t about pushing to get the year over with; it’s about noticing the shift in rhythm and letting yourself slow down. It’s about preparing the inner soil. It’s about resting the parts of us that have been gripping all year. It’s about letting the nervous system settle enough that we can enter spring with presence rather than pressure.

When I spoke with Miranda Brooking for this season’s Wild and Wise Show, something clicked in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve lived by cycles for years, but even with all that awareness, I realized my understanding of rest was much narrower than I imagined. I shared more about this in The Seven Kinds of Rest We Aren’t Talking About, for those who want the deeper dive.

What surfaced for me was how many forms of restoration my body had been asking for without the language to name them. Suddenly the irritability, the overstimulation, the fog… it all made sense. It wasn’t sleep I was missing. It was the deeper kind of rest I hadn’t been giving myself.

That realization softened something in me. I don’t need to push harder. I don’t need to get more disciplined. I don’t need a new strategy. What I need is to listen inward with more honesty. To hear the quieter requests of my own system. To give myself what I actually need instead of what I think I should need.

That’s what winter asks of us. To sink into a slower rhythm. To empty out. To stop holding ourselves to the tempo of summer. Winter isn’t a punishment. It’s a turning inward. A gathering of wisdom. A pause that strengthens what will eventually rise.

And it ties so beautifully with another conversation I had recently, this time with Anita Adams. If you missed that episode, you can catch it here. We talked about the art of listening to the soul and the practice of letting go of worry. The gentle surrender that happens when we stop gripping the past and the future quite so tightly.

Anita said something that stayed with me. She spoke about releasing the habit of worrying, the constant scanning for what might go wrong, and the way it steals us from the present moment. And, I believe that’s what rest really is at its essence. Not doing nothing, but loosening the grip. Letting ourselves drop the past we keep rehearsing. Letting ourselves stop trying to control what hasn’t happened yet.

Neil Donald Walsh said that frustration and anxiety come from not listening to the soul. I feel that deeply this winter. Rest is the invitation to listen again. To hear the truth that rises only when we get quiet enough to notice.

And as we prepare to shift from a 9 year into a 1 year, this listening becomes even more important. A new cycle is forming, but it won’t arrive all at once. My coach once told me that snow melts from the inside out, and that has stayed with me. Change begins quietly, in the places no one sees. By the time anything looks different on the surface, the real transformation has already been happening underneath. That’s how new beginnings work. They gather strength slowly, and closer to spring than to January. Winter is still winter. And when the moment of arrival finally comes, it isn’t the tidy kind of fresh start we picture in January. It’s more like childbirth. Beautiful, yes, but also demanding. It asks for a version of you that didn’t exist before. It asks for courage, honesty, and the capacity to hold both the beauty and the difficulty at the same time.

The Fire Horse energy that comes in February brings both potential and shadow. It’s vibrant and alive and powerful, and it can burn too hot if we don’t ground ourselves. This is why rest matters so much right now. Rest prepares the system for what’s coming. Rest steadies us. Rest clears the fog so we can move into the new cycle with clarity instead of urgency.

This is the wisdom of winter. This is the wisdom of the 9 year closing. This is the wisdom of the Snake year continuing to shed what cannot come with us. This is the wisdom of nature.

So this December, instead of rushing toward resolutions or pushing yourself into action...

Listen.

Let yourself rest in the ways you didn’t know you needed. Let yourself soften into the truth that is rising. Let yourself release one worry at a time. Let yourself be held by the season you’re in.

On December 21st, we are gathering for our Winter Solstice inside the Wild Woman Collective. A quiet space. A moment to meet yourself without the weight of expectation. Miranda will join us to explore the deeper layers of rest, and together we’ll open the kind of space that winter makes possible.

If you feel the pull to pause, to breathe, to listen, you are welcome to join us.

Join Winter Solstice Gathering

This is the season of remembering. This is the season of returning to yourself. This is the season of rest.

Seeds of Becoming: A Winter-to-Spring Rhythm Journey

If you feel the season asking you to slow down, listen inward, and prepare gently for what comes next, I created a space for that work.

Seeds of Becoming is a winter to spring rhythm journey for women who are standing at the edge of a new cycle, sensing something is shifting but not yet ready to rush into the next chapter. It’s a guided, seasonal container where we honor the wintering process, recover our energy, and attune to the beginnings that are already stirring beneath the surface.

It’s not a program. It’s a sanctuary for your becoming.

If your body is asking for a different way to enter the new year, you’re invited to start here.

Learn more and join us

There are moments in a woman’s life when the noise becomes too loud to hear herself anymore. Midlife has a way of doing that. Responsibilities stack. Identities shift. The world asks more, even as our bodies ask us to slow down.

But beneath the noise, something else is happening. A whisper. A nudge. A quiet invitation back to yourself.

In this episode of the Wild and Wise Show, I sat down with bestselling author and retreat guide Anita Adams to talk about the art of listening to that whisper and the courage it takes to follow it.

Anita didn’t come to this work through strategy or ambition. She came to it through a dream, one of those vivid, soul-level dreams that arrives when we’re stretched thin and ready for truth. It was the beginning of her journey back to herself, a journey she now teaches through The Wisdom Way, a method rooted in nature, stillness, and surrender.

What struck me most in our conversation was how familiar her story felt. I didn’t trade my heels for Merrells on a whim; I had a whisper of my soul that said I must go. Even when the voices around me insisted I was throwing away my career, something deeper in me knew this was the path I needed to take. So many women in midlife are standing in that same doorway: no longer who they were, not yet sure who they’re becoming. And somewhere in that in-between, the soul begins to whisper again.

Anita reminds us that the answers we’re looking for rarely live in our minds. They live in our bodies. In the wind. In the trees. In the moments of quiet we give ourselves permission to have.

One practice she shared (simple but profound) is spending 17 minutes in nature every day. Not walking for steps. Not listening to a podcast. Just being. The research backs it, but more importantly, your nervous system does. Stillness clears the static so the message underneath can finally come through.

Our conversation left me with a deep exhale, the kind that rises when someone finally puts words to what you’ve been carrying. And I wanted to extend that same exhale to you.

If you’ve been feeling disconnected from your intuition, unsure how to trust what you feel, or longing for a deeper sense of home inside your own life, I think this episode will meet you right where you are.

Tune in to Wild and Wise Show: Whispers of the Soul: The Art of Listening, Surrendering and Coming Home to Yourself with Anita Adams, now streaming on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts.

A 30-Day Invitation

Anita and I created something special to help you turn this episode into a lived experience: the Wild and Wise 30-Day Nature Challenge.

It’s simple. It’s grounding. And it’s a beautiful way to begin hearing yourself again.

You can find the details and free guide in the show notes.

Inside the Collective, we’ll continue the conversation from this episode in a slower, more intimate way. This is where we talk honestly about the patterns we’re unlearning, the rhythms we’re reclaiming, and the way rest actually looks in real life for women choosing a different way of living.

If you want to be part of that space - a place that doesn’t rush you, judge you, or expect you to perform - you’re welcome to join us.

Join the Wild Woman Collective

Here’s to the whispers we are finally ready to hear.

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Some books arrive at the right moment, and Wintering feels like one of them.

Katherine May writes about the seasons of life when we slow down, turn inward, or find ourselves moving through a quieter, more tender chapter. She names the experience of stepping back from the world and tending to our inner landscape in a way that feels honest and deeply familiar.

Her stories weave together nature, healing, illness, solitude, and the quiet work that happens beneath the surface when we give ourselves time.
The writing feels spacious. Real. Permission-giving.
It’s a beautifully written memoir — tender, honest, and rooted in personal stories rather than advice.

It feels like the perfect companion for our own inner winter.
And for everything this season is asking of us.

If you’d like to join the discussion in February, you can become a member of the Wild Woman Collective and read along with us throughout the season.

Join the Wild Woman Collective

We’ll spend the whole season with this book. Take your time. Read a little, listen a little, or follow the themes as they rise for you. You don’t need to finish it to be part of the conversation. What makes this circle meaningful is the way we explore the book together over time, not how quickly we get through it.

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As we enter the last month of 2025 we step into the peak of inner winter. This is the season of deep quiet where the natural world contracts so we can sense what is true beneath the noise. The full moon on the 4th opens a powerful window for release and clarity and the solstice on the 21st marks the still point of the year. We are preparing for a Fire Horse year which is not about new year or new you messaging. It asks for a deeper honesty and a different level of commitment to ourselves.

Tomorrow, I’m hosting a live December Opening Session, and here’s a glimpse of what we’ll explore:

What December Is Really Asking Of You

This month carries the rhythm of deep winter. We are not meant to push or force momentum right now. We are in the middle of the season that asks us to rest, reflect, and listen beneath the surface. Your body knows this even when your mind and our culture try to convince you otherwise. December gives us a rare permission to honour that slower pace and together we will explore what that means for your energy, your focus, and your inner season.

Your Year-End Check-In

Not a performance review. Not a productivity sprint. A soul-level review:

• What type of rest do you need the most?

Here are a few places to look:

• Physical rest When your body feels heavy or exhausted and needs sleep, warmth, stillness, or less stimulation.

• Emotional rest When you are carrying too many feelings at once and need softness, spaciousness, or a place to set things down.

• Mental rest When your mind is busy, looping, or overloaded and needs quiet, clarity, or fewer decisions.

• Sensory rest When noise, screens, lights, and demands feel too sharp and you need darkness, silence, or nature.

• Creative rest When your inspiration feels flat and you need beauty, play, or time away from output.

• Social rest When togetherness feels draining and you need solitude or gentler connections.

• Spiritual rest When you feel disconnected from purpose or meaning and need stillness, reflection, or ritual.

Setting a True December Intention

Not a resolution. Not a goal. A direction. A feeling. A word that anchors you into the month ahead.

Creating a Rhythm That Supports You

Together, we’ll look at the shape of your month — responsibilities, energy windows, time for rest, and the things that make this season meaningful.

If you’re not yet part of the Collective, now is a beautiful time to join and close the year in community.

Join the Wild Woman Collective to engage live or watch the replay.

JOIN THE COLLECTIVE

A Fire Horse year asks us to meet ourselves deeper than before and choose the version of us that can hold real truth. Your usual word of the year may not quite hold the depth of who you’re becoming

.

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Many of us learned young to override our own limits. To keep moving because stopping felt inconvenient, or selfish, or unsafe. We learned to adapt, to be agreeable, to keep the peace, to stay useful. Some of us became so good at it that we stopped noticing the signals altogether.

When Miranda and I sat down for this conversation, what surfaced wasn’t a list of rest strategies. It was the truth of how far we drift from ourselves without even noticing.

I’ve lived by my natural cycles for years, trusting the ebb and flow of energy that all women carry. But even with all that awareness, this conversation with Miranda showed me there were forms of rest I had never named before.

Miranda spoke about the seven kinds of rest, and what I realized was that my understanding of rest was narrower than I thought (spoiler alert - it’s not sleep!) and that some parts of me weren’t being restored, which explained so many subtle symptoms..

This conversation feels right for winter.
The season that invites us to empty out.
The season that asks nothing of us except presence and honesty.

There is a kind of rest that doesn’t come from sleep or time off. It comes from returning to ourselves after years of drifting. It comes from listening again.

If you’ve been feeling stretched, scattered, sped up, or strangely numb, you’re not failing. Something in you is asking for your attention.
Let this episode be a place to land for a moment.

Tune in to Wild & Wise Show: Rest Revolution: Why Sleep Isn’t Enough for Women over 40 with Miranda Brooking, now streaming on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts.

A Winter Invitation

On December 21st, as we enter the deepest part of the winter season, we’re gathering for the Winter Solstice.
A circle.
A soft space to exhale.
A moment in the seasonal cycle where we are invited to rest, soften, and let the deeper layers rise.

Miranda will guide us deeper into the seven types of rest, but this gathering is not a workshop. It’s an opening. A remembering. A chance to hear yourself again.

Details and registration:
https://everydayhaiku.ca/winter-solstice-gathering

Inside the Collective, we’ll continue the conversation from this episode in a slower, more intimate way. This is where we talk honestly about the patterns we’re unlearning, the rhythms we’re reclaiming, and the way rest actually looks in real life for women choosing a different way of living.

If you want to be part of that space — a place that doesn’t rush you, judge you, or expect you to perform — you’re welcome to join us.

Join The Wild Women Collective

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November holds a quiet potency. The leaves have dropped, the air stills, and nature itself withdraws. It’s not an end, it is a sacred pause. In the turning of the wheel, we are being invited to do the same: to slow, to soften, and to listen. Now isn’t the dramatic blossoming of spring or the outward drive of summer, despite what the media and culture might suggest. This is the threshold of winter. And in this liminal space, something essential is available.

I misunderstood this season for years, until I learned to listen to it. I saw the pull toward quiet and rest as something to push through. There was always one more thing to finish, one more goal to tick off before year end, one more part of myself to prove worthy. But rest, I’ve come to learn, isn’t doing nothing. It’s the quiet work of renewal, another way of being present. It’s the soil preparing the seeds. The compost of all that has been.

This November, as I marked Samhain with a burning ceremony, I saw clearly how I’d been living the unspoken stories of my grandmothers. One who gave endlessly, carried her family through war and illness, never stopping to be held. The other silenced, her ambitions locked away by patriarchy. Two women, two legacies, and both were alive in me.

The reckoning this year has been deep. A 9 year in numerology and a year of the snake, it has demanded completion, clearing, and deep integration. My patterns of over-giving, self-silencing, and overextending all rose to the surface as teachers, showing me what was ready to be transformed.

And this is what I want to share with you:

Winter is not the end. It is the sacred beginning.

It’s no coincidence that the third anniversary of my book Freedom Seeker: Reclaiming Feminine Wisdom falls in this same season. I chose November 9, the day the Berlin Wall came down, as a quiet declaration:

That true freedom begins within.
That the most enduring walls aren’t out there, but inside us.
The ones we inherited. The ones we built to survive.
The ones we’re now ready to dismantle, not with force, but with truth.

As I stood in ceremony burning old stories, I realized that the walls I’m ready to release were never mine alone. They were built by generations. Held up by silence. Passed down in the name of love, survival, loyalty.

But the lineage ends here.
Not with blame, but with reverence.
Not with rebellion, but with remembering.

That’s why I do this work.
Not to fix or rush anyone’s journey, but to walk beside women who are ready to reclaim their time, their rhythm, their voice.
Especially now. Especially in this season.

Winter isn’t a full stop. These are the months to rest and reflect. It’s a sacred opening.
A liminal threshold. A place where deep remembering begins.

If this season is stirring your grief, your exhaustion, your longing for something more…let that be the invitation.

Let it be the time you choose yourself.
Let it be the moment you say: “I am ready to remember who I was before the world told me who to be.”

This work is not quick. It’s not transactional. It is sacred. It requires rhythm, reflection, and reverence.

And there is no more aligned time to begin than now.

This is what I do. I hold space for women in midlife who are walking the edge between what was and what wants to be. Women who are ready to burn what no longer serves, compost what has passed, and tend to the tender shoots of their own becoming.

If that’s you, I’m here.

Let the stillness show you the way.
Let winter be the womb of your reclamation.

You are not behind.
You are in season.

Starting this month, we’re merging our two communities, the Wild Woman Collective and Everyday Seasonal Living, into one shared space. A place for women who want to live in tune with the seasons, rooted in nature, and connected through shared experience.

You can expect a gentle rhythm of offerings each month: a newsletter to begin the month, a blog to deepen reflection, a haiku for pause and presence, and The Wild and Wise Show to close the month. We’ll continue to gather seasonally, both online and, in time, in person.

Members are also invited to join my Friday Rhythm Circles, a weekly space to plan the week ahead in alignment with nature’s cycles. And when we gather in retreats and seasonal events, members are always welcomed at a special rate as part of our inner circle.

This is a merging of hearts and intentions. Together, we’re creating a sanctuary where wisdom, creativity, and community can grow side by side.

As we bring our two communities together, there’s a natural mix of tenderness and excitement.
Something new is being born, but not without acknowledging what’s changing.

Every ending carries a trace of grief, even when it’s born from love.
We’re letting go of what has been — not to forget it, but to carry forward what’s true and lasting.

This month, as we explore grieving in our Seasonal Reading Circle, Anne shares reflections that echo this very moment of transition and renewal. Her words, as always, bring us back to what matters most.

Anne, over to you.

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As nature prepares for winter, fall gently shows you the beauty of release, gracefully letting go in a way that reminds you of life’s cycles and the necessity of surrender. The falling leaves, the cooling air, and the shifting light all signal that winter is approaching when the earth seems to pause, rest, and transform beneath the surface. This transformation is a powerful metaphor for navigating grief, showing that even in loss, there is a quiet invitation to grow, be reborn, and renewed.

Grief and death are often heavy burdens to carry, but they are part of life and the natural rhythm of existence. The process of grief is unique for everyone. I lost my dad ten years ago and my mom three years ago and if you have every lost a parent, it is one of the most painful losses. I would do anything to have one more visit, one more hug, one more day... but life goes on, and with each day, grief does dissipate. Whether you are grieving for a loved one, a season of life, or a part of yourself that you no longer resonate with, this process of letting go mirrors the shedding that occurs in nature. When you see the trees release their leaves in fall, you are invited to let go of what no longer serves you, trusting that this release, however painful, can make space for something new. Through release and letting go, the bare branches of winter are able to prepare for spring’s buds to form and the cycle starts all over again.

Rather than viewing death and grief as an ending, Mother Nature shows herself to us as a path to transformation that offers you to step into a new chapter of spiritual healing. This perspective encourages you to see grief not as something to rush through or avoid, but to be gentle with yourself and see it as a healing process. Each stage of grief offers wisdom: anger can reveal your deep attachments, sadness reminds you of what once was, and acceptance can open a door to peace. In sitting with each of these emotions, you can allow them to work within you, softening your heart and widening your capacity for love and compassion. Navigating grief is an opportunity to connect more deeply with your inner landscape. It is a time of inner work, where you can allow yourself to go to the quiet spaces and give yourself permission to rest, cry, reflect, and feel. The waves of grief are messy, bumpy and deep. As nature starts to shift from fall into winter and prepares for spring’s renewal, you can use the seasons as a way to reflect on how to cultivate the soil of your heart, nurturing seeds of resilience, insight, and spiritual rebirth.

Grief can become a path toward spiritual growth. It teaches you about impermanence, the importance of the present moment, and the capacity of the human spirit to heal and be renewed. Grief and rebirth is not linear or easy, but it is part of the soul’s deep, transformative work. As you release and make peace with the cycles of loss and renewal, you may find yourself growing in ways you never imagined, embodying a strength and wisdom rooted in the rhythms of nature.

I’m wishing you a week filled with personal transformation, letting go and care.

Slow down, breathe and let go.

Anne


If grief and renewal are stirring something in you, we’ll be exploring The Wild Edge of Sorrow in our Seasonal Reading Circle this month.
Join us in the Collective — a space for reflection, reading, and connection through the turning seasons.

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If your relationship with food has gotten more complicated in midlife, you’re not imagining it. You’re not weak, undisciplined, or doing it wrong. You’re just in perimenopause.

In this week’s episode of the Wild & Wise Show, I sit down with holistic nutritionist Heather Abbott to talk about something we don’t often connect with food: our emotions.

Heather calls it “the perfect storm” of midlife.
Our hormones are shifting, our parents need more care, our kids are growing up (or moving back), our careers demand everything, and food becomes the easiest way to soothe, celebrate, or simply survive the day.

But Heather’s work isn’t about restriction. It’s about awareness. She helps women look at how they eat, why they eat, and what stories they carry about food, then rebuild a relationship that actually nourishes.

We talk about her Six Pillars of Perimenopause Health: Nutrition, Stress, Sleep, Movement, Timed Eating, and Support. And how creating personal standards instead of rigid rules can change everything.

For example, rather than saying “I can’t have dessert,” you might set a standard like:

“If I have something sweet, I’ll enjoy it in the afternoon with a cup of tea.”

It’s a mindset shift that takes food off the battlefield and makes it part of your self-trust practice.

Heather also shares some real-life, doable advice, from adding protein and fiber to your day (without tracking every bite) to redefining what it means to care for your body through the lens of compassion, not control.

Here’s one of my favorite reminders from our conversation:

“Your body is intuitive. It’s telling you what it needs. You just have to slow down and listen.”

That, to me, is the heart of midlife healing. Slowing down enough to hear what our body, heart, and soul are asking for, and giving ourselves permission to respond differently this time.

If you’ve been caught in the loop of trying to “fix” your body, this episode will feel like a deep exhale. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present.

Tune in to Wild & Wise: Creating Sustainable Health Through the Six Pillars of Perimenopause with Heather Abbott, now streaming on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts.

Because nourishment isn’t a diet. It’s a dialogue.

And if you’re ready to go deeper, Amanda shares exclusive Q&A insights inside the Wild Woman Collective. Join us and find the courage to reclaim your whole story—mess, magic, and all.

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It started with a comment, something I meant with sincerity and admiration.

I had expressed how impressed I was that a woman in her 70s was continuing to show up and embrace new technology with grace. It was true. I was witnessing her not just learning, but transforming, and I felt genuine awe. But the moment didn’t land as I expected.

A peer in the room asked gently, “Are you open to some feedback?”

Everything in me wanted to say no. My heart felt tender, exposed. But before I could decline, the feedback came anyway: what I said was considered ageist.

What followed wasn’t an argument or a debate. It was something quieter and more destabilizing: I shut down.

Instead of staying in my body, I froze. Instead of defending or explaining, I turned inward and collapsed. Not from shame over being wrong, but from a familiar pattern, a sense that I had done something wrong, and that my belonging was suddenly on the line.

Have you ever had one of those moments when feedback doesn’t land as feedback, it lands as shame? When a simple comment or misunderstanding touches something far older and deeper than the situation itself.

This is the part I want to talk about. Not the semantics of ageism. Not the validity of someone else’s lens. But what happens in the space between their story and mine, where my nervous system flinched, my voice retreated, and an old, invisible script kicked in.

For many of us, especially those who were raised in environments where adaptation was necessary for safety, these moments hit deep.

I grew up in former communist Germany, where saying the wrong thing could cost you, not just approval, but freedom. Conformity wasn’t a preference; it was a survival strategy. That early conditioning taught me that conflict is dangerous, authority must be appeased, and visibility comes at a cost.

So even now, decades and continents away from that landscape, feedback, especially when wrapped in the language of justice or awareness, can feel like a threat. Not because the feedback is inherently wrong, but because it activates an old trauma blueprint, a survival pattern that says, “You’ve said too much. You’re no longer safe.”

The truth is, neither of us in that moment were wrong. My words came from love. Her lens came from care. And yet, what it activated in me revealed a deeper invitation: to reclaim my sovereignty.

By sovereignty, I don’t mean control or separation. I mean the quiet power of staying with yourself when your belonging feels at risk. The capacity to stay rooted in truth and compassion, even when someone else sees you through a different lens.

Because sovereignty isn’t about never being triggered. It’s about noticing when we’ve left ourselves and choosing to return.

That’s the real work: staying present in our bodies, even when we feel misunderstood. Softening into self-trust, even when someone sees us through a different lens. Not collapsing, not over-explaining, not shrinking to make everyone else comfortable.

This wasn’t about being right or wrong, it was about remembering how easily we leave ourselves when we feel misunderstood.

That moment reminded me that tenderness is not the absence of discomfort. It’s the choice to stay with ourselves in the discomfort, and to discern what belongs to us and what doesn’t.

This is the threshold I walk with women in midlife, the place where we stop outsourcing our worth and start anchoring into our own knowing.

I share this not as a polished lesson, but as a living, breathing edge. I’m still learning to stay rooted when my belonging feels threatened. Still noticing where old patterns try to pull me out of myself. Still practicing sovereignty, not as an armor, but as an invitation to live more honestly.

So if you find yourself tender, uncertain, or quietly unraveling after someone names something you didn’t intend…

Know that the moment doesn’t define you.

It’s an invitation.
To breathe.
To return.
To stay with yourself.

You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re simply becoming.

And that is sacred work, too.

Join the Wild Woman Collective

It’s been nearly two years since the release of my memoir: Freedom Seeker: Reclaiming Feminine Wisdom.
That chapter felt like the completion of something, a long-held identity shedding its final layers.

Now, a new chapter begins.

One where my inner truth and outer presence finally align.
You’ll find a reimagined website, a resonance path that reflects who I am now, and invitations that meet you exactly where you are.

For a while, I went quiet.
Not launching. Not reinventing. Just listening.
Beneath the surface, something was shifting.
I wasn’t shape-shifting anymore.
I was arriving.

And maybe you’ve felt it too? That moment when the life you built no longer feels like it fits. When the way you’ve been showing up doesn’t reflect who you truly are becoming.

That was the question I brought to Kati Pauls, my longtime brand designer and creative collaborator. For over five years, she has walked beside me through seasons of change. This time, I didn’t come to her for a brand refresh, but to reflect a deeper truth.

She met me there.
She didn’t ask for copy points or color palettes.
She asked: Who are you becoming?

And then she said something that took my breath away.
“We need to wipe the whole thing clean.”

Because what was emerging wasn’t a new aesthetic.
It was a new way of being.

We didn’t build this brand from a strategy document. We sat with it. We breathed into it. I lived inside it for months before a single pixel was placed.

This brand is not a look.
It’s a field.
A sanctuary.
A truth-telling.
A reclamation.
It is where my work and my essence now meet.

And today, I’m inviting you in. Not just to a new website, but to a new era.
If you’re a woman in midlife who’s outgrown the masks and the grind and the branding that no longer fits…

If you’re standing at the edge of something truer…

Welcome home.

Want to hear the full behind-the-scenes of how we built this resonance field?

In the latest episode of the Wild & Wise Show, Kati joins me for a vulnerable, laughter-filled, soul-rich conversation about:

• How branding can be rooted in presence instead of performance

• What it looks like to midwife a business through a metamorphosis

• Why your brand isn’t something you design—it’s something you remember
  

🎧 Listen now: Beyond Marketing: Creating a Brand That Feels Like Home
Watch on YouTube or [Listen on Spotify/Apple]

This is my love letter to what’s possible when we stop performing and start embodying.
When we stop marketing and start listening.
When we stop building brands and start becoming them.

Stillness. Soul. Cedar.
This is what holds it all.

Visit the NEW sanctuary

And if you’re craving more…
Inside the Wild Women Collective, Kati and I go even deeper—sharing the sacred behind-the-scenes of how this brand was energetically anchored, what it means to lead from essence, and how you can begin attuning your own work to what’s most true. Join us there.

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My husband and I were walking Sophie the other night and right in the middle of the sidewalk, staring back at us was a giant deep purple maple leaf. We both pointed at it and screamed. (For my Canadian readers: yes, exactly like that Tim Hortons commercial.) The first fallen leaf marks the end of summer. Funny how one leaf can hold so much. The beauty of change and the ache of letting go.

September is usually my favorite month, and for the first time, I’m not excited for it to begin. Am I ready to let go of the ease and freedom summer always seems to hold for me? Why do I feel that ease and freedom can’t follow me into this next season? And there it was. To me, it translates to: “back to reality.” But whose reality?

As I look around, I see pictures on Facebook of moms sending their kids off to college. I’m hearing of (and tending to) marriages that are breaking up. Women are reaching out to me to weave the threads of their experiences and what lights them up. Perimenopause is (thankfully) a hot topic in my circles (and everywhere). We’re all letting go of old identities, and September feels like the threshold, the moment that tips us into change.

This year also carries extra weight. 2025 is the year of the snake, a numerological completion year, and marks a "new epoch" with major planetary realignments. We begin this season with what astrologers call "a cosmic turning point" eclipse season. We have the Pisces lunar eclipse which dissolves boundaries and invites intuitive clarity and the Virgo solar eclipse which offers a reset “rooted in precision and pragmatic self improvement”. Together, these eclipses create a cycle of letting go and rebuilding from tangible realignment in our daily life.

Astrologers, like Pam Gregory and feminine embodiment guide Sabrina Lynn, are naming what many of us are feeling: this isn’t just another seasonal shift, this is a galactic recalibration. The emergence of "new earth." It’s not just our nervous system that’s frayed. It’s our cells, our soul, our entire energetic field is being asked to release the old codes and recalibrate to something more real. No wonder we feel so weary.

Rest isn’t optional right now. It’s medicine. It’s the body’s way of saying yes to what’s real.

So you could say that is my “reality,” and I’m not sure I’m ready to dive in. A week ago I went to Salsa Night, a community dance lesson. When Chris taught us the basic steps, I found my groove quickly. But when he added, “Now let’s do this with a partner,” I froze. You want me to be vulnerable and possibly step on someone’s toes? “I’m not sure but I’ll try,” became my (not so quiet) mantra. And that was enough. The moral? I had fun. I trusted the rhythm. And... I knew when I was done. That’s the wisdom I’ll carry into this next season. Like dancing, autumn asks us to feel our way through, not nail the perfect steps. Letting go is messy and it’s beautiful.

Because this year the shedding is on a cellular level, the upgrade is more demanding. We’re not just clearing closets or simplifying schedules. We’re being asked to release identities that once kept us safe, to set down who we’ve been so we can step into who we truly are.

For me it’s been a reckoning. Earlier this year, I made the difficult but necessary decision to close my company, Lotus Consulting Inc. It wasn’t easy. I wrestled with doubt, with the voice that whispered “you failed,” and with the ache of letting go the identity I attached to being incorporated. Yet once I released it, what surfaced was a deeper, truer version of me: lighter, more authentic, and ready to create from a place that feels a whole lot more like me. Much of this summer I’ve been clearing the remnants: old files, outdated documents, digital clutter. And now, I’m letting go of an era. The ink wasn't dry on the dissolution, and creativity and new possibilities emerged. My incredible brand alchemist Kati Pauls was there to catch me and visually bring this new, unfolding work alive. (More on that later this month—stay tuned).

Now that the pictures were taken and the new business cards arrived, I’ve been waking in the middle of the night from dreams showing me what I still need to shed. The stories I built to avoid rejection. The masks I wore to be accepted. The performance I perfected to stay palatable. I see how often I scan the field and shape-shift to meet what others expect. It’s been both my gift and my wound.

So, this month I’m loosening my grip on being understood by everyone. I’m choosing truth over performance. This eclipse season is no joke. It’s karmic cleanup time. What’s heavy can’t come with us. And if your body feels tired, your heart tender, it’s because you’re carrying what’s ready to be put down.

Where have you abandoned your truest self in order to belong? What would it feel like to stay rooted in who you are, even if it means letting go of who you’ve been?

A friend and I were talking about how September carries a rhythm of release, of summer’s ease, of identities that no longer fit, of roles we no longer need to play. She shared with me that in Traditional Chinese Medicine, each organ has its own season of strength, its own rhythm of letting go. From September into October, the stomach and spleen work hardest, helping us digest not only food but also the experiences of our lives. As autumn deepens into October and November, the lungs and large intestine take the lead, organs that know grief, breath, and release. Our bodies, too, are wired to shed.

To help you move gently through this threshold, I’ve gathered a few soul offerings for you.

Self-Guided Practices

• Journal Prompts:
  Where have I been “chewing” on thoughts I can’t digest?
  What would it feel like to feed myself something softer this season?
  What am I still gripping because I think it keeps me safe—even though it no longer fits?
  

• Mini Release Ritual:
  Write down one outdated story or belief you’ve been carrying. Burn it. Bury it. Tear it up and let the wind take it. Then breathe into your belly and ask: What do I really want to carry forward?
  

• Body Check-In:
  Place your hand on your stomach and breathe for one minute. Ask: Where am I still gripping? What might soften if I trusted the season?
  

Join Me This Month

Autumn Equinox Gathering with Anne Dunnett
September 18, 2025 – 6:30 PM PST
Not a workshop. Not a masterclass. A virtual space to gather, celebrate the ending of one season, and pause between the next.

Get Your Ticket Here

Wild Women Collective Reading Circle
We’re currently reading The Wild Edge of Sorrow by Francis Weller. Our next circle is November 15th. This circle is held within the Wild Women Collective community, so membership is needed to take part.

Subscribe now

This is the season of un-becoming. Of letting go of what we’ve outgrown—sometimes quietly, sometimes tenderly, and sometimes willingly. After years of holding, producing, and performing, it can feel radical to set something down. But what if you didn’t carry it into the next cycle?

Sending you so much love this season,

Our next Seasonal Reading Circle pick is The Wild Edge of Sorrow by Francis Weller.

I chose this book because it feels right for the moment we’re in—autumn, a season of letting go. And with this being a 9 energy year (all about completion) and the year of snake (shedding!), it feels natural that grief might be closer to the surface than usual for this season.

Grief isn’t something to fix. It’s part of being human, part of change, part of caring deeply. I think it deserves space—and I’d love for us to explore it together.

Here’s how it’ll flow:
We’ll read through September and October, then gather on Saturday morning, November 15th, for a cozy conversation over tea or coffee. I’ll bring the questions—you bring what stood out to you.

Because when we gather and share what’s true for us, something shifts. The learning deepens. It multiplies.

This circle is for paid members of the Wild Woman Collective. It’s $8/month. You can join just for this season if you’d like—or stay and be part of something that keeps unfolding.

This community isn’t about more content. It’s about connection. About having a place to land and be all of you—curious, wise, still figuring things out.

Subscribe now

Please note there are two editions same content:
The sunset cover is the original edition.
The blue tree cover is the updated edition, expanded with an additional foreword.

Let me know that you’re coming and I’ll add you to our private chat for in between check ins.

Sending you lots of Love through this season of fall(ing) away

Yvonne

For the fourth summer, I came to the patch with a simple plan: fill a few buckets for my freezer, lend a hand to Little River farm, and get away from my screen for a while. But as soon as I stepped between the rows and breathed in the summer air, something in me softened. I wasn’t just harvesting fruit, I was remembering something I didn’t know I’d forgotten.

The evening air was warm with a soft breeze, the world hushed except for the birds singing in the bushes behind me. I cupped a cluster of blueberries in my palm, each one holding the sky in its skin. My thumb gently pressed for that subtle give, a sure sign they were ripe. My shoulders softened as I exhaled fully for the first time all day, the tension in my jaw finally letting go.

Some berries slipped easily into my hand, sweet and ready. Others clung tight, still tart. Nature doesn’t reward impatience. Pull too soon, the berry resists, and suddenly you broke the entire cane of unripe berries between your fingers.

As I slowly filled my bucket with the delicious fruit, occasionally slipping one into my mouth, the sun sank low through the branches. The rhythm brought me back to my childhood summers spent picking fruit—moving down rows in quiet focus, working alongside my family, learning where food came from and how to tend to it with care.

When I first visited this island nearly twenty years ago, I remember driving through the countryside, imagining what it might feel like to live close to the ocean, to eat from the land, to return to a simpler rhythm. Now, decades later, here I am—hands stained with juice and nurturing something deeper within myself: my energy, my creativity, my values, and my soul-led work.

The blueberry patch has become a sanctuary. It’s where I remember that work doesn’t have to be high-strung or complex to be meaningful. It can feel quiet, present, abundant. When I let go of the need to prove, when I trust the pace of things, when I stop forcing and start listening, life responds with ease. With sweetness. With just the right yield.

I was raised picking fruit. It's part of my story. Not in a farmer’s daughter kind of way, but in the way many women are taught to tend and gather, to feed and care. Now, this simple act of harvesting has become a way to return to myself. A way to recover from overwork, to slow down and listen. It reminds me how to live in tune with what matters.

1. Trusting Timing

Life ripens in its own rhythm, just like the berries. When I’ve tried to rush outcomes—clients, launches, income—it feels like tugging on a berry that isn’t ready. All that effort, no sweetness. Slowing down lets me sense when things are naturally ready instead of forcing.

2. Releasing Over-Effort

I spent decades in patterns of pushing and proving, believing that if I hustled harder, I’d finally arrive. The blueberries remind me that the sweetest moments come when I pause. My nervous system is learning that tending with care is more powerful than grinding to earn results.

3. Mirroring My Creative Work

My work is a living field, not a factory line. Some projects are ready to share; others need quiet time to ripen. And some eventually get composted back into the soil, feeding future growth. When I give them space, the right clients, conversations, and opportunities appear without force.

4. Choosing Self-Trust Over External Validation

In my old way of working, worth was measured by speed and output. The patch whispers a different truth: value comes from the integrity of how I move, not quick results. This is the deeper work I hold for the women I serve—the ones who feel the old ways of pushing no longer fit but still need reassurance that slowing down won’t make life pass them by.

The blueberries remind me that life ripens on its own rhythm, and the sweetest harvests come when we trust the cycle.

Notice your own inner season. See where you might be tugging on unripe fruit, and where life is already offering sweetness if you pause to taste it.

Your life, like a blueberry patch, knows when it’s ready to bloom.

What’s quietly ripening for you right now, waiting for your trust?

If you feel the invitation to realign your rhythm, I’d love to explore whether my work is the right fit for you.

Step into the field with me → Book an Alignment Call

Out and about? Listen to me read this to you instead

What if the story you’ve been telling yourself... isn’t the whole truth?

In our latest episode of The Wild and Wise Show, I sit down with the incredible Amanda Johnson—story oracle, writing coach, and founder of Saved by Story—to talk about how storytelling can reconnect us with the parts of ourselves we’ve forgotten, hidden, or never truly seen.

Amanda is known for helping women excavate their inner wisdom through writing, not just for books or brands, but for deep, personal healing. And in this conversation, she explains why midlife is the perfect time to pick up the pen and get honest with ourselves.

Why now?

Midlife is often painted as a crisis, but as Amanda shares, it can be a portal. As our biological seasons shift, so does our creative energy. The call to create legacy, to mentor, to reflect, and to integrate our lived experience becomes stronger and writing is one of the most accessible, powerful ways to answer that call.

It’s not just journaling. It’s transformation.

We dive into how writing helps us uncover the unspoken: the memories we’ve buried, the beliefs that no longer serve us, and the raw truths that actually connect us to others in the most beautiful way. Amanda shares how getting words out of the body and onto the page can release stuck grief, create clarity, and even shift how our nervous system holds trauma.

She also reveals one of the most important questions she asks her clients: Why do you care about this message? It’s a question that surfaces stories. Stories with heart. Stories that heal.

Don’t do it alone.

Another key takeaway? The power of community. Amanda describes the magic that happens when women gather in safe spaces, whether in retreat or in circle, and witness one another’s truth. It’s not just cathartic. It’s transformative. When someone hears your story and reflects back your courage, it changes how you see yourself. It breaks old loops. It rewrites who you believe yourself to be.

Want to start your own story journey?

Amanda shares a simple, powerful practice in the episode: write a vivid scene, not necessarily the hardest one, but one that shaped you. Get back into the moment. What were you seeing? Hearing? Feeling? Then notice what surfaces. Start small, but start.

Whether you dream of writing a book or just want to know yourself better, this episode will speak to your soul. It’s for the women who feel a story stirring inside, for those wondering if their words are “worth” sharing, and for anyone ready to stop editing themselves out of their own life.

Tune into this episode of The Wild and Wise Show and discover the healing power of telling your truth.

And if you’re ready to go deeper, Amanda shares exclusive Q&A insights inside the Wild Woman Collective. Join us and find the courage to reclaim your whole story—mess, magic, and all.

Subscribe now

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🎧 No time to read? Listen to it instead! Link to the audio is at the bottom.

I used to believe if I could just keep it all together, I’d eventually arrive somewhere that felt like freedom.

Corporate deadlines, emotional labor, busy calendar, big dreams. Add a smile, a glass of red, and a to-do list that never ended, and you had me—high-functioning and completely disconnected from myself.

I didn’t realize how far I’d drifted from myself until everything I was holding together started to fall apart. The burnout wasn’t just exhaustion. It was a full-body rebellion. My system had finally had enough of the constant output, the constant performance.

The unraveling didn’t start with a dramatic exit, it started with a quiet knowing. The first time I left corporate, it was because of a deep discontent I couldn’t name. I packed a backpack and solo-traveled through Europe for a year, thinking I’d find myself on the road. And in many ways, I did.

When I returned, I dipped my toes back into the corporate world through consulting, which felt more freeing. I had more autonomy. But soon I realized I was still jumping through hoops, still chasing someone else’s version of success. So I left again—this time to start my own practice, thinking I’d finally found my rhythm.

Instead, the wheels came off. I applied everything I’d learned, threw in financial pressure, and hit a wall so hard I lost my ability to function. Mornings felt like molasses. My brain couldn’t string two thoughts together. And despite working endlessly, I wasn’t creating anything that felt meaningful. My program went quiet. My community pulled back. There was no joy in anything I was doing anymore and with that I lost creativity. I wasn’t magnetic anymore.

And then the world paused. Everything stopped, including me. That collective stillness cracked something open—and in that quiet, I made one of the most important decisions of my life: I quit drinking.

That’s when I started writing. Without the numbing, I began to feel again. To tune into my body. And that’s what led me deeper into the path I now live and guide others through: body wisdom, rhythm, and reclamation. It led me to coaching. And it brought me back to something deeper than strategy or goals—something my body knew but I had long forgotten. A pace, a pulse, a rhythm that didn’t need to be earned. It reminded me that not everything needs a plan. Sometimes what we need most is space to hear what’s already true inside us.

The Cost of Constant Blooming

We live in a culture obsessed with peak performance. We glorify “busy.” We reward visibility. We chase the next milestone, thinking it will finally give us permission to exhale. But that rhythm—the one that tells us to always be “on”—it’s not human. It’s industrial.

Women are especially susceptible. We’re taught to take care of everyone else first, to prove ourselves at work, to look polished no matter how we feel—and to never let it show when we’re falling apart. But the body knows. Eventually, it sends signals: fatigue, irritability, brain fog, resentment. Mine showed up as burnout, wine to unwind, and that gnawing feeling that even though I was doing everything “right,” it was never enough. I wore high-functioning like a badge, but underneath it all, I was unraveling—and pretending otherwise took everything I had.

The truth is: we are not designed to bloom all year. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

The Power of Seasons

That turning point came when I discovered cyclical living—not as a trend or tactic, but as a remembering of what I’d always known in my body. I began tracking my menstrual cycle and syncing it with how I planned my days and weeks. I was first introduced to this idea through the work of Kate Northrup and her book Do Less. Her words opened the door to something that felt both radical and deeply familiar. I started asking new questions:

Where am I in my cycle?
What do I need right now?
Where am I pushing when I could be pausing?

Through that process, I re-learned what my body had been trying to tell me for years. Energy is not linear. It’s seasonal. Just like nature.

Spring is when new ideas start to sprout. You feel energized, hopeful, and ready to begin again. Summer brings that outward buzz—it’s when you’re most visible, social, and expressive. It’s your full bloom. Autumn is when discernment kicks in. You get clearer on what needs to stay and what needs to go. It’s a season of boundaries, of refining. And Winter? That’s the deep exhale. The invitation to rest, to listen inward, and to let what’s no longer true fall away.

Each one is necessary. And when we allow ourselves to move with them instead of against them, life gets a whole lot more aligned—and a lot less draining.

Every woman has these inner seasons, whether she menstruates or not. We are wired for rhythm. But we’ve been conditioned to override it.

A Story From My Own Reclamation

I remember a time in the early days of sobriety when I was still hustling. I had just launched my book, Freedom Seeker, and felt the pressure to push on, to promote and perform—to prove the book was worth the time, the energy, the investment it took to write. You see, even creative work has seasons: seeding, growing, harvesting, and resting. My body was in winter. What I needed was stillness. What I gave myself was three weeks and then I was back on the road.

It was like asking a woman who just gave birth to return to work before her body has even begun to heal. The emotional labor was intense, and I skipped right over it—just like so many of us do, because the world rewards output, not integration.

Writing that book cracked me open. And instead of tending to what had shifted inside, I jumped straight back into proving my worth. One morning, I sat at my desk staring at a blinking cursor, exhausted and uninspired. Instead of pushing through like I used to, I closed my laptop and went for a walk. Halfway through the woods, clarity came—not just about the writing, but about how I had been measuring my worth by output for too long.

That walk was the beginning of something. It showed me that when I honor my inner season, life doesn’t stop. It aligns. Insight finds me when I stop chasing it. Creativity comes when I make space for it.

What Happens When We Don’t Listen

We say we want to slow down—but when the opportunity finally comes, it feels terrifying. Who am I without the hustle? What will fall apart if I stop?

When we ignore our rhythms, we lose our relationship with ourselves. We become brittle. We disconnect. We cope in ways that don’t serve us: over-caffeinating, over-scrolling, overworking. We try to fill the void instead of facing it.

For me, that looked like pouring myself into work all day and wine all night. A cycle of proving and numbing. I remember one night, standing in the kitchen with my laptop still open on the counter, glass of wine in hand, heart racing from an inbox I couldn’t keep up with—and suddenly realizing: I don’t even know what I’m working toward anymore.

It wasn’t until I chose sobriety that I could finally hear the deeper need: to slow down and return to my rhythm. That’s when I saw a commercial advertising fast-absorbing moisturizer so you could “get back to your day” faster. As if even self-care had to be optimized. That was the final straw. If even taking a couple of minutes to care for our own skin is seen as a waste of time, what does that say about how fast we’re expected to move through our days, our needs, our lives?

That was my deep winter. A season of undoing. Of staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m. wondering who I was if I wasn’t busy, successful, or needed. I didn’t stop everything—but I did step out of the spotlight. I took a 9-to-5 job to ease the financial pressure and quiet the constant CEO thinking. I picked blueberries in the summer, tended my garden, joined women’s circles, and spent far less time on social media. I started listening inward again. Eventually, the noise began to fade. It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly I began to remember who I was beneath all the performance.

How You Can Begin

Living cyclically doesn’t require an overhaul. It starts with tuning in.

If you’re new to tracking your cycle, it might feel a bit unfamiliar or even awkward at first—and that’s understandable. Most of us were never taught how to work with our rhythm. In fact, we learned to downplay it, dismiss it, or even feel ashamed of it. But with time, tracking becomes second nature—and the insight it offers is worth every moment of attention.

To get started tracking your inner seasons, take the last day of your period and count forward in 7-day phases. While the length of each phase can vary, using a 7-day rhythm is a simple and effective way to tune in. Over time, you’ll begin to notice how your energy shifts, and what supports you in each phase.
Below is a simple breakdown of each inner season, beginning with the one that follows your menstrual phase. These are here to help you get a feel for the energy of each phase and begin to notice how they show up in your own life.

• Follicular Phase / Waxing Moon = Spring: time for clarity and initiating

• Ovulation / Full Moon = Summer: high energy, confidence, connection

• Luteal / Waning Moon = Autumn: emotional truth, boundaries, discernment

• Menstruation / New Moon = Winter: rest, reflection, renewal

If you’re in perimenopause or post menopause, look up and follow the rhythm of the moon.

Track your energy daily or weekly. Notice your cravings, your emotions, your focus. Schedule rest like you schedule meetings. I hold off on booking meetings, social events, or anything that requires me to be “on” during my menstrual phase. That time is reserved for slowing down, disconnecting from digital noise, and tending to myself without performance. Move big conversations or launches to your “inner summer” when your clarity and confidence are highest.

Let your body lead.

This is what I guide women through in my 1:1 sessions and in the Friday Huddles—our weekly one-hour planning circles that help you pause, reflect, and align your week with your actual energy, not just your calendar. It’s what we explore in the Wild Woman Collective, a warm, grounded community where we gather around seasonal themes, explore body wisdom, and reconnect with our inner knowing in a way that feels both real and supportive. And it’s why I created the Moon Cycle Flow Guide—a practical, soulful tool to help you sync your energy and plans with your natural rhythm, instead of forcing yourself to fit someone else’s schedule.

The Invitation

You’re not meant to bloom all the time. And if you feel tired, it’s not because you’re doing it wrong—it’s because you’ve been doing too much for too long without honoring your rhythm.

But you can come back to it.

If this message speaks to you, and your organization or community is ready to explore a different way forward, I’d love to bring this work into your space. You can invite me to speak or host a workshop that gives women real tools to reconnect with their rhythm, reflect on their patterns, and begin to rebuild from the inside out.

Want to begin your own exploration?

Download the Moon Cycle Flow Guide.

Join us in the Wild Woman Collective for seasonal support and sisterhood.

Subscribe now

If your organization or circle needs this message, I’d love to bring it to you. Book a conversation HERE.

You were never meant to bloom all year.
Your body knows how to move through seasons.
Let’s return to that truth, together.

This isn’t a self-improvement project. It’s a homecoming.

Prefer to listen instead of read?

I recorded this piece as a podcast episode so you can take it with you on your walk, drive, or cozy tea break. Let it wash over you like a remembering.

When was the last time you felt strong in your body—not just “functioning,” but truly capable, energized, and connected?

In this episode of the Wild & Wise Show, I sat down with my dear friend and personal trainer Laura Stewart for a conversation that goes way beyond reps and routines. Laura is not just a coach—she’s a wife, mom, BMX racer, and fierce advocate for women in sport and wellness. She also happens to be the woman who got me moving again after frozen shoulder—and helped me start rewriting my own story around strength, aging, and what’s possible.

We talk about why strength and flexibility become non-negotiable in midlife, how “movement as medicine” isn’t just a cute phrase (it’s a survival strategy), and why it’s time to stop sitting out of your own life because something hurts—or because someone once made you feel like you didn’t belong.

Laura shares her journey from postpartum mental health struggles to becoming a respected trainer and competitive BMX racer in her 40s. Yes, you read that right. BMX. Racing. As a mom. And she loves it.

She also shares:

• Why so many women stop doing what they love because of pain or injury—and how to start again safely

• What “getting weird” with movement actually means (and why it matters more than you think)

• The invisible emotional labor many women carry when trying to care for their bodies, and how community support can change everything

• Why shoulder mobility, squatting, and joint range of motion are just as important as cardio (maybe more)

One of my favorite moments? When Laura explained why older people shuffle. Not because of age. Because they’ve lost the strength and stability to balance on one leg. Something so simple—and so powerful.

Laura doesn’t preach perfection. She encourages presence. “Start where you are,” she says. “And move more often.” Whether you’re walking with a friend, deep-squatting to pull weeds, or rolling your shoulders while standing in line—it all counts.

This episode is full of practical wisdom and generous reminders that your body is not broken. You don’t need to be “fit” to start—you just need to begin.

So if you’ve ever felt stiff, tired, discouraged, or disconnected from your body... if you’re wondering how to rebuild strength in a way that feels supported, not shame-based... this one’s for you.

🎧 Listen to the full episode now on YouTube, Spotify, or Apple Podcasts

💬 Want even more? Members of the Wild Women Collective get access to Laura’s bonus Q&A, where we talk about body changes, unsupportive relationships, and how to keep showing up for yourself—especially when you feel alone in it all.

Subscribe now

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Four years sober and still catching myself chasing the high of “enough.”

This month, I’m celebrating four years alcohol-free. And I’ll be honest, that feels big. Not because I followed a perfect path but because I kept choosing myself, even when it was messy. But what I’m sitting with now, what feels real and loud and very here is this: addiction didn’t vanish when the wine stopped flowing. It just shape-shifted.

Four years ago, we had just arrived at the second stop on our big BC pilgrimage, landing on the Naramata Bench—yes, wine country. Surrounded by some of the finest grapes in the province, I was in the thick of it: unsettled, post-move, and carrying the kind of emotional residue that makes wine feel like a good idea.

It had been a long pandemic. And I’d been drinking more than ever. Not to party, not even to celebrate. Just to… regulate. To dull the edges of uncertainty. To get through.

But this isn’t about that part of the story. I wrote about all of that in my memoir Freedom Seeker: Reclaiming Feminine Wisdom. What I want to share now is something different.

Sobriety isn’t just about quitting drinking.

It’s about seeing more clearly what was never working to begin with.

And what I’ve been noticing lately is how easily addiction shapeshifts. Even after the wine is gone. Even when the cigarette cravings have long faded (I quit those 17 years ago).

Addiction, I’m learning, is less about substances and more about the ways we reach outside ourselves for control, for comfort, for escape.

My parents recently came to visit us after living temporarily back in Germany, my birthplace, for the past two years. I was excited because FaceTime, while better than faxing, isn't the same as planting flowers or baking with my mom. I was also nervous, because this visit held some hard conversations and decisions.

When they first decided to move back after thirty years in Canada, it made sense. They were retired, on a fixed income, and still wanted to travel. Europe made that doable. But when they told me over our Sunday FaceTime that it might be permanent, I completely fell apart. That little girl that needs her mom closer than 5000 miles came out tantrum-ing, stomping, sobbing and swinging. To keep myself from spiraling back into old habits, I picked up my pen and let it bleed. I booked extra sessions with my coach and hypnotherapist, knowing I’d need every bit of support I could get to show up with some steadiness when they arrived.

I also threw myself into work so hard I woke up with a headache every morning, and my neck, shoulders, jaw—all locked up.

When they finally arrived, I was tired but resolved.

I was determined to have a good time and keep our conversations calm and kind. It felt like the oxygen had left the room, and I was holding my breath the entire visit. I tried so hard to stay present, to really hear what they were saying instead of projecting my own fears. But every word felt heavier than it should have. I did my best to stay composed (at least most of the time), but inside, I was swirling in grief, tension, tenderness, and this ache I didn’t know what to do with. I didn’t want to seem dramatic or fragile. I just didn’t want to feel that much. And every night, I had the same thought: a glass of wine would fix this. Just one.

But I didn’t.

And that’s where I saw it.

I didn’t reach for the wine but I did reach for the hustle.

That’s when I realized: I wasn’t just distracting myself with work, I was trying to earn my way out of discomfort. If I could just do enough, create enough, earn enough… maybe then I’d feel safe. Worthy. Okay.

What caught me off guard most during their visit was how fast I defaulted to work. Not the meaningful, soul-led kind—but the obsessive, over-scheduled, neck-tensing kind. It wasn’t until I caught myself up late one night, tweaking a spreadsheet no one was waiting for, that it hit me: this wasn’t just about staying busy. This was about trying to control what felt uncontrollable. I couldn’t fix the ache of distance with my parents. I couldn’t undo time. But I could work. I could earn. I could prove—to who, I’m not even sure—that I was okay. And that’s when I saw it clearly: money had become my new regulator. The way wine used to numb uncertainty, hustle became the new fix. It crept in when fear tightened everything, my chest, my thoughts, my sense of what was possible. Fear does that. It squeezes our imagination until we forget that we still get to breathe, that we still have choice.

The word addiction comes from the Latin addictus, which described someone enslaved by debt. That’s where this began. Not pleasure. Bondage. That lands differently, doesn’t it?

My mom’s often said, “Money makes the world go ‘round.” And, while she’s not wrong, we do need money to live, I’ve been thinking about how quickly the fear (or reality) of not having money can shrink our sense of choice. It doesn’t just impact our decisions, it seeps into how we see ourselves, how much we hustle, and how tightly we grip for control when life feels uncertain.

During my parents’ visit, all I wanted was clarity and calm, but instead I found myself spinning. And it wasn’t wine I turned to—it was work. Work became the way I tried to regulate the discomfort. The way I tried to create a sense of control in a moment that felt out of my hands. Just like alcohol once was. Just like money still can be.

When I quit drinking in June of 2021, I did so to save my marriage and to write my book. That first year, I focused only on staying sober and writing daily. We were technically homeless—living in Airbnbs and exploring the province. And, I felt more alive than I had in years.

But the moment we settled into our new home, and the book launched, the pressure was back. Money. Productivity. Strategy. I went from creative flow to “balls to the wall” in a matter of weeks.

I started equating worth with income again. I knew better, but the old story had a grip. And like with drinking, it took time to see that the chase was just another escape.

We’ve let money become the regulator. The validation. The “okay, I’m safe now.”

There’s an old Mexican parable that I think of often and especially when I’m burning the midnight oil.

A businessman, vacationing in a small coastal village, sees a fisherman come in early with his morning catch. Curious, he asks what he plans to do with the rest of his day.

The fisherman shrugs, smiles: “Play with my kids. Nap with my wife. Later, I’ll drink wine with my friends.”

The businessman launches into a whole plan. He could fish longer, sell more, buy more boats, build an empire, become rich beyond measure.

“And then?” the fisherman asks.

“Well,” the businessman says, “then you could retire, move to a quiet village, sleep in, fish a little, nap with your wife, play with your kids, drink wine with your friends.”

The fisherman grins. “But I’m already doing that.”

We chase what we already have—then wonder why we still feel empty.

We confuse more with meaning.

We’re being told to optimize, scale, and monetize every ounce of joy… when maybe what we want is already within reach.

And as I watched myself spiral into productivity mode—while scrolling headlines about housing costs, billionaires, and broken systems—I realized: it’s not just personal. The patterns we live in are reinforced by systems that profit off our disconnection.

We have a choice.

This month, around the solstice, I felt it shift.

My parents flew back to Germany. And it felt like a cord was cut. I was alone—but not lonely. Just… grown.

Thankfully, I’m not alone. I have an amazing network of people around me who see me, love me and show me that sisterhood isn’t about bloodlines, it’s about women caring for each other, helping each other out, from coming together to clean and prep a house that’s no longer a home for sale, shedding tears together as we say goodbye to loved ones, bringing soup during nasty flu knockdowns’, and dancing barefoot while howling at the moon.

CHANI says, “Care is the cornerstone of true wealth.” And I feel that in my bones.

The victimhood I’d been carrying as a woman, the scarcity stories, the self-destructive patterns hiding in perfectionism and overwork…

Done.

Like Kacey Musgraves sings: I found a deeper well.

This summer solstice I declare:

I’m not chasing anymore. I’m choosing.

Choosing relationships over transactions.

Choosing support over solo struggle.

Choosing to love what’s looking back at me in the mirror.

I’m letting go of old programs. Old structures. I’m building from something truer. Writing from a place of reclamation—not survival.

I’m working on my next book and it’s not about proving anything. I’m not bleeding onto the page to feel seen. I’m writing because there’s something stirring in me that wants to be known.

It’s sensual. It’s sacred. It’s mine.

For the first time, I’m writing as a woman who feels at home in her body. Not all the time. But enough to know the old hooks don’t hold the same weight.

Because reclaiming your life force isn’t an idea. It’s a physical, cellular return. It’s what happens when you stop pretending and start softening.

So if you’ve been spinning, hustling, distracting, just to avoid feeling what’s really there, I get it.

And you don’t have to stay there.

This is your invitation to pause. To listen.

Ask yourself:

• What are you chasing that’s costing you peace?

• What are you afraid will happen if you stop?

• Who might you become if you gave yourself permission to be still?
  
  

I don’t have a formula. But I do know this:

Community helps. Witnessing helps. Ritual helps. Rest helps.

That’s what I offer in my work—not because I’ve mastered it, but because I’m walking it too.

Whether you join the Wild Woman Collective or reach out for a conversation—you’re welcome here.

Not when you’ve figured it all out. Now. As you are.

This month, I didn’t want to just think about what freedom means—I wanted to feel it. In my breath. In my body. In ceremony.

So I teamed up with my dear friend Anne Dunnett to create something sacred:
The Solstice Self Ceremony Guide — a gentle companion for the light within you.

Inside, you’ll find:

• A grounding candle ritual

• A soulful playlist for movement

• A sensual tea + oil blend to awaken the senses

• A journal prompt to meet yourself where you are

• And a touch of ritual magic to return to your own rhythm
  
  

You can access it now inside the Wild Woman Collective membership.

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Turn down the volume of the chase. Turn up the whisper of your soul.

You are a keeper of the light.

Prefer to listen? You can catch the audio version of this blog on the Wild & Wise Show—wherever you get your podcasts.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about visibility lately. Not the kind that’s tied to followers or funnels—but the kind that actually feels like me.

For years, I watched other people grow online while my follower count stayed exactly the same. I kept doing the deep work, signing up for more business courses and "how-to" hacks.

I figured I just didn’t have the right strategy. Or script. Or content plan.

But the truth is—I wasn’t missing a tactic. I was missing truth.

I’m not meant to market like everyone else. I’m here to connect.

And connection doesn’t need a funnel or a trending sound. It needs presence. Honesty. Enough inner safety to show up as I am—without all the extras.

The women I work with? They’re not looking for shiny strategies. They’re looking for real stories. Real connection. Real presence.

They want to know what it actually feels like to grow in midlife.
To grieve the dreams that didn’t pan out.
To question your career or your marriage or your body and not have it all figured out yet.
To look in the mirror and make peace with the woman staring back.

That’s the kind of space I’m holding now.

No blueprints. No promises of overnight success.
Just honest conversations about what’s shifting—inside and out.

And I think more of us are craving that.

Because visibility in this season of life? It’s not about getting louder. It’s about getting clearer. It’s about reconnecting with your values, honoring your rhythms, and showing up in a way that doesn’t burn you out.

If you’ve been feeling out of sync with the way we’re “supposed to” show up …
If something in you resists the noise, the push, the constant performance…
You’re not alone.

Maybe you’re not here to perform either.
Maybe you’re here to connect, too.

So come sit with me.
Let’s unlearn all the shoulds.
Let’s remember what presence feels like.
Let’s make this season about what actually matters.

If you’re craving a space where we talk about this stuff—where your truth isn’t too much or too quiet—come join us inside the Wild Woman Collective. We’re building something sacred there.

Subscribe now