January 2, 2023


I want to write stories.

I want to weave the cotton candy sunset into my hair and skin. I want feel it all.

And I want to make you feel, too.

I want to watch you gasp with remembrance of what it’s like to surrender to the deepest places within you.

The roars. The pleasure and curiosity. The thirst you’ve felt your whole life.

I want you to stop and listen.

To reawaken the spaces inside you were told never to go. To brush off the pages of fantasies that other people called outlandish. Too much. Ridiculous.

See how they glisten now. See how they can nourish you.

I want you to challenge everything you were told about who you should be.

Are we done mending together the pieces of what a perfect person should look like?

Enough with the guilt and pressure and exhausting ideals.

We are not interested in that here. Here, we’ll call it all what it really is—


Here, in this naked forest, we are wolves again. Our skin is fur and our eyes glow with an amber intensity that says we don’t f*ck around.

We don’t care if your house is perfectly clean.

We are interested in who you are, what you need, and who you’re becoming.

We are interested in growth and sweat and grit and luscious lessons learned the hard way. We are fascinated by your edges and so-called mistakes. We are in love with your rage and ferocity and the tenderness that runs like rivers through your veins.

You know I’m right. You want this freedom. It calls out to you, doesn’t it?

You can taste it on your tongue in early morning breezes and dark, crisp nights where the stars shine like jewels, a necklace around the earth.

You feel it when you dare to steep in solitude. When you refuse to be everything to everyone. When you speak up and get real.


Go there. Dive into the depths of yourself, where slick rocks covered in rainwater shimmer in the moonlight.

Go where it is quiet and raw—where you can scream and dance.

Demand pleasure.

Heal pain.

Uphold boundaries.

Never forget—

This deep, naked part of us cannot be lost. It cannot be bullied. It cannot be tamed. It cannot be corned into submission.

It is unyielding and fantastic.

It is decisive. Unapologetic. Aggressive when needed. Soft when needed.

It is irrevocably tied to your instincts.

Stop pretending like this isn’t important.

I want you listen today. To the breeze. To yourself. To the stories you need to tell. To the passion inside you that’s dying to be expressed.

Return to what is wilder.

“Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events half understood and half remembered…” ~ Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes



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