12/06/2026
Back in 2020, I started Where the Wild Women Are because, quite honestly, I felt a little lost.
I'd moved to the Waikato to build a new life and somewhere along the way, I realised I had very few people I could truly call friends. I felt disconnected, not only from others, but from myself.
Over the years that followed, life happened.
There were seasons of stress, heartbreak, change and healing. Seasons where I kept pushing forward, even when there wasn't much fuel left in the tank. Seasons where I withdrew and went quiet.
But there were also beautiful moments.
I met some incredible women through Wild Women. Women who walked beside me, shared their stories, and gently reminded me that life has a way of swinging from one side to the other until, eventually, we find our balance again.
When I put Wild Women on pause, people would often ask me if it was over.
And honestly?
I never really knew how to answer.
Because I was never ready to say goodbye.
Over the last few years, I've done a lot of healing. I've gone deeper than I ever have before and realised something important.
We often focus so much on reaching the destination that we forget the journey itself is where healing happens.
One thing that kept coming to me was the image of myself as a little girl, sitting quietly in the corner playing by herself. Looking back now, I realise she didn't always want to be alone.
She wanted to feel safe.
Perhaps that's what I've been seeking all along.
And perhaps that's what Where the Wild Women Are has always been about.
Not events.
Not keeping busy.
Not having all the answers.
But connection.
Friendship.
Community.
A place where we can gather and remember who we are.
So, while I sit here eating Squiggles at an alarming rate (please don't judge 😂), I wanted to say hello.
I'm here.
And I'm feeling a little spark of joy at the thought of coming home to Wild Women once again.
It will look different this time.
Slower.
More personal.
More intimate.
Less about organising endless events and more about creating meaningful moments together.
There may be rituals.
There will definitely be stories.
Probably soup.
Blankets.
Gardens.
Laughter.
Perhaps a little magic.
Because I think we've forgotten that we are meant to live in villages. That we are strongest when we come together.
As we approach the Winter Solstice, I'm reminded that nature never rushes.
There is a season for growth, and there is a season for rest.
Without winter, there is no spring.
Without dormancy, there can be no new life.
And perhaps we are no different.
So this feels like the perfect time to gently open the door once again.
On the 21st of June, I'll be celebrating the Winter Solstice with a blanket around my shoulders, a fire to keep me warm, a glass of wine in hand, and intentions for the season ahead.
If you're doing the same, know that somewhere out there, another Wild Woman is too.
🌙✨
Come as you are.
Bring your stories.
We've been saving you a seat.
🩷
