what women teach me

thoughts from asheville last month

Excited to read these each Sunday? Would you share on social media to help spread the word? I’d love you forever x

Last month, just a week before my appendix ruptured, we packed our things and headed to Asheville to host our another women’s retreat in the Blue Ridge.

Linds and I started our company, Ember and Solis, the year before the pandemic started. We felt inspired by the newfound platonic love and inspiration given to us by the women in our lives, and embarrassed by the fact that societal pressure had kept us away from each other for so long. We dreamt of creating spaces and experiences to ensure the connection and support of other women, to directly fight the chronic loneliness perpetuated by the structures surrounding us all. Ironically, our first retreat was delayed due to the pandemic— and it felt like a good time to give up our dream of communal gatherings. I’m so glad we pushed through.

Each and every time we host these gatherings, I feel like I am being gifted with irreplaceable love and wisdom and connection that is innate— one that everyone deserves to have in their lives. I push through the nerves of social anxiety, of hoping all runs perfectly smooth, that everyone will connect and feel safe and held and that I can support it all authentically. It is always returned tenfold, and I always walk away feeling like I can never repay the women I’ve been surrounded with: for their bravery, their boldness, their life experience and their knowing and their power. It’s an exchange truly unlike any other. It makes me emotional.

14 strangers came together, pushing past their fears of what if i’m too much, too shy, too loud, too sad, too insecure, too weird— and gave us the gift of sharing who they truly are. We picnicked with mountain backdrops, hiked through forests older than our great, great-grandmothers, cooked over the campfire, zip lined through the trees— we remembered how easy it truly is to see ourselves in one another.

Lessons from this week, straight out of my journal:

We are more alike than we are ever different.

Women of all ages drove from all over the country to be with one another. Some mothers, some not, all raised in different lifestyles and geographical settings. When you step into a room for the first time, we are quick to place people in boxes and worry that we’ve made the wrong choice in being there. It’s so important, maybe the most important thing we can ever do, to push past this notion and be present. Listen. Engage. Be yourself. You will quickly realize how connected we truly are. Judgement and fear keeps us turned away from one another. What this world needs, more than ever before, is the power of turning toward.

You can be human and still be loved.

On the third day, exhausted (now knowing I had an appendicitis brewing it makes sense!) and not double checking my work, I accidentally left our bag of salad dressings in the cabin before leaving for a full day of hiking. It left us without dressings for our lunch. Terrified that I ruined everyones day, I found myself profusely apologizing and begging for forgiveness. I felt I had let everyone down in making a mistake. I expected to be devalued because of it. In fact, everyone did quite the opposite.

In both the group and in private, each and every woman let me know how little of a deal it was. We worked together to problem solve, and continued to hike as a group to our lunch spot with just the snacks. Everyone was in good spirits, gave words of encouragement, and was grateful to still be enjoying the view at the top. I was not punished or outcast for my mistake. I was viewed as human, as still worthy, and I was able to exhale.

Sometimes you wait your entire life for that kind of love.

You can’t control the weather

In both in hiking and in life, no matter how much you’d like to be in control, the world will remind you that you are not. And that’s part of learning to surrender. Linds and I spend an ungodly amount of time preparing for these retreats, always ensuring the hikes and itinerary and activities are perfected to create a nourishing environment. But sometimes the weather has other plans.

On our first official hike day, we took our group up to Mount Mitchell, the highest peak along the East Coast. We knew it was risky— Mount Mitchell is known for being socked in and foggy, but figured we’d give it a shot. After over an hour in the car, we pulled up to the top of the summit. Dense fog, rain and freezing cold surrounded us. It was 70 degrees below the mountain that day, and none of us had dressed for the weather.

Luckily, there was a small gift shop open at the top that sold hot chocolate and souvenir sweatshirts. We all tumbled in and bought extra layers: hats, jackets, sweatpants— leaving there covered in Mount Mitchell gear— a mountain top we would quite literally, never see.

In good spirits, we all agreed that it was still too cold and dreary to hike. We climbed back into our cozy van and made our way back down the mountain.

Halfway, the clouds broke, sun gleaming through the windshield— and we found ourselves at a beautiful pull off with a perfect view of the Blue Ridge. We ate lunch, read books, sketched and napped in the heat. It was the perfect afternoon, regardless of our original plans being washed away.

You will never be able to control the weather. You will always be able to control how you respond to it.

Turning away from death means turning away from life

Many of us in this group have been working through the grief of loss in our personal lives, all in various stages. It is inspiring to observe others who have been through the unimaginable and witness them embody such fullness in their life. When chaos and disaster strike, we sometimes feel as though no one in the world could possibly understand what we are going through. It can feel isolating and enraging that the world continues to go on. The more people you meet, the more you learn how capable we are of moving through grief, holding space for it, for one another, and continuing on. Not in a way that is unsettled or disassociated, but in a way that is changed and moved by the loss. When we do not filter our experiences, others are given the gift of hope. We remember that no one makes it out alive, no matter how far we push the idea of death from our minds. Death becomes a reality to all at some point in our life experience, and it can rattle us to our core. Knowing other people, sharing with other people, and celebrating life with other people— closes the gap. We learn that it is impossible to live a full, authentic life without the possibility of death closing in on our heels. We lean in anyway.

When we tell our stories in safe spaces, shame can no longer suffocate us

We all hold stories. Patterns, experiences, emotions— that cause shame cycles to build and perpetuate. We hold them close to our chest, never speaking of them, worried that others will judge us and cast us out. Instead, it keeps us small… debilitating the way we see ourselves and show up in the world.

Telling our story in safe spaces is the great exhale. It alleviates the weight that makes us believe we are bad, we are unworthy, we are alone. Often, we listen to others tell stories and realize how similar our stories of shame are. Learning to hold space for others can heal the world.

Laughter is the magic adulthood tries to extinguish

As kids, we cannot wait to grow up and have our own clothes, our own money, car, house and job. Then we grow up and wish we could drop back into childhood again; and be thankful for the lack of responsibility and naivety we find everywhere. We long to feel that magic again. It leaves a hole in our lives, this kind of longing.

We forget we have access to it at anytime in the deep belly laughs that come with letting ourselves go. When we give ourselves the permission to be silly, to let our guard down, to take life less seriously and drop into the present moment with other people. We can laugh at our mistakes, the way the world tries to dampen our light. We can skip around and dance in front of a sunset and make weird faces for photos and laugh at ourselves.

Laughter is the childhood magic we all miss. The good news is, we have access to it at anytime.

When you decide you are worth more, the universe puts others in your path that reflect the love you give to everyone else

It’s rare to be brought up and taught the lesson of self love and respect. It is not a fundamental in school curriculums and most parents are out of touch with it themselves. We let people overrun our boundaries, accept the unacceptable, and believe we are not worthy of the love we so boldly give to everyone else.

When we begin to work our courage muscle and redefine self respect, a ripple can be seen throughout our lives. We begin to meet others who support this inner flame in us; the one that says we deserve more. We begin to appreciate those who fan our flames, and begin to light the fire within others. The ripple effect.

The week after this retreat, I was rolled into emergency surgery. I believe, without much of a doubt in my body, that the love I felt surrounded by these women the week before kept me company during the thick of it. I felt less terrified, less uncertain, less alone. Never underestimate the love you radiate to other people, I can assure you it is felt <3

All of these beautiful photos were capture by Lindsey, my partner in crime. If you’d like to learn more about our retreats, you can find us here.

See you next week. With love x