Do you ever feel exhausted, like you’re on the other side of life, looking out the window?
Are you worried you won’t ever do what you feel drawn to do?
Is there something exciting calling to you, asking you to step into a bigger, more powerful way of being?
Join us for a taste of Wild Women Rising and what it might be like to:
-
Find your passion and be a part of the shift that needs to happen
-
Stop putting others first so you can live and give from abundance
-
Find your wolf pack, believe in yourself, love wildly, and become unstoppable
Are you ready to overcome your fear, just say “Yes!” and go for it?
Saturday January 26th
9:30am-2:30pm
(2:30-5:00pm Wild Women graduates only)
Rivendell School — click for map
Davis
Free*
Anyone who identifies as female is welcome!
Space is Limited, Register now!
*$40 deposit required to save your seat. Your deposit will be refunded upon arrival.
![There should be a name for the emotion when you return to civilization from the wilderness, when you descend from snow melt alpine meadows to central valley strip malls, from giant ferns and old growth redwoods, to tiny garden plots between fences and driveways.
My son melts down almost every time. The first time we noticed, he was inconsolable on the drive home from Santa Cruz about losing a clump of hair from the squirrel tail he found. That morning we had woken up on redwood duff in the woods above campus, after hiking in late night in the pitch dark, acutely attuned to every sound: the creaking redwoods, the conversing owls. We realized it wasn't about the squirrel tail, it was leaving the woods. Since then, he will predictably melt down with deep grief over the loss of a toy, or something breaking while we are packing to leave a wild space.
We took him backpacking when he was two and I have a recording of a talk I had with him, soon after we got back, in the Target parking lot. I saw him crouching in the bushes and asked what he was up to, and he replied, "Pooping in the jungle [his word for woods]." I explained to him that we only poop in the jungle when we're backpacking, that the rest of time we need to poop in the toilet.
There is a long pause before he responds, a pause which captures his comprehension that backpacking is the anomaly and THIS, the Target parkinglot and all in connotes, is how he/we will spend the bulk of our lives. After this long pause, with deep existential sadness and rejection he says, "Noooooooo!" I feel this.
My eyes are watering as I type this. This wilder way of life is fading. Because we too are wild animals, it is our habitat, not just endangered species habitat, that is disappearing. To read more (and learn about my upcoming free grief event) click the link in my bio.](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/vp/21b79c63d3cee466d06b0ba9b29c7e6d/5D71D9E0/t51.2885-15/e15/57122346_183038046014322_4279501078914545754_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent.cdninstagram.com "There should be a name for the emotion when you return to civilization from the wilderness, when you descend from snow melt alpine meadows to central valley strip malls, from giant ferns and old growth redwoods, to tiny garden plots between fences and driveways.
My son melts down almost every time. The first time we noticed, he was inconsolable on the drive home from Santa Cruz about losing a clump of hair from the squirrel tail he found. That morning we had woken up on redwood duff in the woods above campus, after hiking in late night in the pitch dark, acutely attuned to every sound: the creaking redwoods, the conversing owls. We realized it wasn't about the squirrel tail, it was leaving the woods. Since then, he will predictably melt down with deep grief over the loss of a toy, or something breaking while we are packing to leave a wild space.
We took him backpacking when he was two and I have a recording of a talk I had with him, soon after we got back, in the Target parking lot. I saw him crouching in the bushes and asked what he was up to, and he replied, \"Pooping in the jungle [his word for woods].\" I explained to him that we only poop in the jungle when we're backpacking, that the rest of time we need to poop in the toilet.
There is a long pause before he responds, a pause which captures his comprehension that backpacking is the anomaly and THIS, the Target parkinglot and all in connotes, is how he/we will spend the bulk of our lives. After this long pause, with deep existential sadness and rejection he says, \"Noooooooo!\" I feel this.
My eyes are watering as I type this. This wilder way of life is fading. Because we too are wild animals, it is our habitat, not just endangered species habitat, that is disappearing. To read more (and learn about my upcoming free grief event) click the link in my bio.")
