spring morning haiku

golden yellow sun
fog lifts off the tender growth
wet after the rain

jw 4/25/23

Galentine, Jillian Winters, 2023

A love letter for the women in my life known and unknown. Yes, YOU. You know who you are.

YOU who are transforming, birthing, reclaiming, howling, creating, destroying, belly-laughing, shedding, dancing, resting, IN-joying, speaking, singing, loving, rewilding, receiving, grieving, sweating, grounding, flowing, screaming, self-nourishing, snorting, leading, channeling, journeying, painting, forgiving, gestating, healing, releasing.

I see you. I love you. I thank you. I celebrate you. I am you.

Happy Galentine's Day, 
Jillian

Nazare, Portugal
​photo credit: Joshua Winters

Waterfall along Monroe trail in Duxbury, Vermont

On this solstice day, I'm reflecting on how to let go of expectations and beliefs about how I should be or how life should be. This helps make room, in both big and subtle ways, for the magic in the present moment so I can love what is actually here with my whole heart.

I was hiking this past weekend on a new trail and watching my mind as it flowed through several stages. first, I noticed excitement for the adventure of a exploring a new territory and anticipation for what the summit would look like. then, I started to worry as I tired and my boots grew more and more uncomfortable. Thoughts like, am I going to make it to the top? Is it supposed to be this hard? stirred in my mind. I wanted to feel inspired not tired. I wanted the moment to be different than what is actually was.

I decided to let go of these expectations and surrender to the experience I was actually having. Yes, maybe it is supposed to be hard sometimes. Yes, I might choose to turn around if it feels like the best option for my body. Perhaps letting go doesn't always look passive. Once I accepted the experience, I was no longer wasting energy fighting the experience. With the extra energy, I was able to see the next wise step and the hiking experience felt richer and more fulfilling. Aligning with life takes practice and patience. Keep coming back to it.

It's finally ready! I'm so excited to offer this new in-person group called Earth Circle. The group size is limited to 8 women interested in a nature-based storytelling process. This is a culmination of many years of training.

~ opportunity to connect with nature 
~ meet with a small, intimate group of women in a beautifully remodeled healing space
~ weather permitting, the group may meet outdoors
~ together we will create an "island of coherence in the sea of chaos" that we are now facing

Many of you know that I am relocating out of state. This will be my last in-person offering in Boise for some time. Please see the flyer and contact me with questions and interest.

I look forward to the possibility of taking these next steps with you!

Kenai peninsula, Alaska

I now honor all parts of me
and this is a sacred act.
I now honor the parts considered
weak, vulnerable, wounded, undesirable
and this is a sacred act.

This does not mean I let parts run the show
or speak for me or steer the way for too long.
It means I am my own safe space
to exist, to live, and be inspired.

All parts have a voice on the inner council,
a seat at the table, a place by the fire.
When I open to what they have to say,
my body hears an old, familiar wisdom.
​

Trinity hot springs, Idaho
​photo credit: Carolyn Messier

In 2019 I wanted to quit my job as a counselor and do something else. I was uninspired and depleted. I remember having coffee with a colleague and sharing my frustration and desire for a change over a latte one Saturday afternoon in downtown Boise.

Then the very next day I went skiing and fell and broke my leg.

My life changed that day on the mountain. As I recover from the injury and continue to process the experience, I realize that I learned how to be still. Very still. Well, because I had to. There's no way to move very fast in a boot. As I became more still, I found myself surrendering to the healing process. The more I relinquished control over the healing, I noticed a deep reservoir of compassion opening up in my body that I didn't know existed. I recovered a love for holding space with others and felt a natural desire to continue my career as a counselor. Perhaps I didn't need to change what I was doing, but how I was doing it. Through my long journey of healing I learned how to hold space for both myself and others. This is medicine.

Thoughts about trees.

​No two trees are exactly alike yet every tree begins with a tiny seed.

Trees teach us a lot about how to be human. For example, we can learn how to be flexible in the face of adversity by observing how trees bend and flex in the wind. Trees can teach us how to be in community, how to share resources with other living things, and how to be in a mutually sustaining relationship. They show us how to stay rooted deep in the earth while reaching for the light. 

Trees change with the seasons; letting old leaves drop in the fall. They nourish themselves first before bearing fruit for other living things. 

Is it possible to find moments of stillness, rooted in our own being? Is it possible to let go of perfectionism and be bent, twisted, gnarled, completely, uniquely beautiful? Is it possible to regenerate?