Many of us are being called to make returns. These returns do not come with a receipt, as they have been handed down generation after generation—cultural conditioning, passed down trauma, and unconscious old stories resulting in feeling contained and small.

Before leading a retreat with Wendy in Scotland this past summer, I did a solo hike on the West Highland Way. Here, I made many returns—and returned home a lot freer. 

MIDWAY through my hike, after lots of unfurling and settling into the land, I arrived at my destination earlier in the day than anticipated. I dropped off my backpack and found a local trail leading to a majestic peak. It was beautiful, moving in and out of darkness, calling to me—but I also felt a little trepidation. I shared with a friendly local woman where I was going, just so someone on the planet knew what I was up to.

I felt happy and free. As I began making my ascent, an older couple was coming down. We stopped and chatted, and before we parted ways, the gentleman gave me a kind word of warning to be careful. I was grateful for this moment of sharing gratitude for the beautiful landscape and tips about the remote trail. 

As I continued to climb, I felt full of life and deeply connected with my inner landscape and the one surrounding me. But as I made my way up the trail, this gentleman’s warning began to settle in. 

Nature is my home; I’ve backpacked in the wilderness for months at a time, and this is not a place I experience fear. Yet it had crept in. The more I climbed, the more in its grip I became. As I approached a boulder, I decided to sit and be with the fear and deep grief that had risen within me. I wasn’t sure if I could go any further as I was feeling the stories of the land in my body—faded memories marking the land where women and young women had been abused— stripped of their innocence, strength, power, body, and connection with Nature. 

So much collective feminine wisdom was lost.

I grieved deeply, wept, felt extreme anger, imagined fear for my own safety, and wanted to leave it all behind and run back down the mountain. To free myself of the pain. But I couldn’t turn away. I needed to witness these women, my ancestors, and the collective pain within my own body. AND say enough. I am your daughter’s daughter, carrying your wisdom forward—returning what was not ours and reclaiming our story.

I needed to continue to climb upward towards what now felt like an ominous, looming peak. So, with each step and every shred of my being, I began returning what was not mine. I continued this process—moments of being stopped in my tracks by fear, grieving, and deep sadness—feeling what was asking to be felt—then taking the next step forward. With each step, I felt I was being set free and unbounded.

As I neared the peak, I had reached the time I set for myself to turn around (the above picture is from my turn-around point). But I felt complete. It had been one of the most powerful days of my life. I had reclaimed some of my own innocence and strength on that mountain. 

Trading in what was not mine for what truly was.

Since returning home, I have continued this process of returning what is not mine. So much of it was never mine to start with—which is why I’ve landed on the concept of making returns. It feels like less effort on my part than trying to let go of something. The returns are not mine; they never were, so I give them back to unconsciousness from which they came. And consciously chose my next step. 

I offer each of you an invitation this fall. Step out into the “wild” of your backyard or local park, somewhere you feel safe, land in your body, and orient yourself to the landscape through your senses and listen. What is one thing that is not yours that needs to be returned? Allow it to rise up as a whisper or the cry of a wildcat. Don’t filter or think. Your body and heart know what isn’t yours. Hand it back. 

Connecting with Nature holds a mirror for what is true—offering us a clearer lens to help us discern what is ours and what isn’t.  

Blessings on returning what is not yours. Please reach out, it would be my honor to support you.