The Gift I Really Give Women Isn't Backpacking.

Why so many of us struggle with stillness—and what happens when we're finally given the space to choose.

"What do you do?"

It's one of the questions I get asked most often.

People expect me to say I'm a hiking guide.

A therapist.

A coach.

A retreat leader.

And while all of those are true in one way or another, my answer is usually much simpler.

"I give women the gift of time."

Almost every time, I get the same puzzled look.

"What do you mean?"

Because somewhere along the way, we've forgotten that time itself is a gift.

Not scheduled time.

Not productive time.

Not "let's maximize every minute" time.

I'm talking about open-ended, unscripted, uninterrupted time.

The kind where no one needs anything from you.

The kind where there is nowhere you're supposed to be.

The kind where no one is asking for dinner, another meeting, another ride, another decision, another piece of you.

The kind where your only responsibility is yourself.

For many women...

That feels almost foreign.

The Freedom We Don't Know What to Do With

One of the most fascinating things I witness on every Wild Resilience retreat has very little to do with hiking.

It's what happens when I say:

"The time is yours."

Activities are invitational.

Not required.

Want to sketch?

Wonderful.

Want to read?

Go for it.

Want to take a nap?

Please do.

Want to wander down to the creek and spend two hours listening to the water?

Absolutely.

And almost without fail, someone asks:

"But... what am I supposed to do?"

Nothing.

You don't have to do anything.

You get to choose.

And for many women, that's the hardest part of the entire weekend.

Not carrying a backpack.

Not sleeping in a tent.

Not hiking the miles.

Choosing.

We Have Forgotten What Freedom Feels Like

Most women don't wake up asking,

"What do I want today?"

They wake up asking,

"What has to get done?"

Our calendars are already full before our feet hit the floor.

Work.

Kids.

Partners.

Parents.

Laundry.

Groceries.

Appointments.

Emails.

Sports.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

The mental load of remembering everyone else's lives while somehow keeping our own together.

We've become so accustomed to living by obligation that freedom can actually feel uncomfortable.

We're conditioned to produce.

To achieve.

To optimize.

To stay busy.

Our culture applauds the woman who "does it all."

Rarely does it celebrate the woman who simply rests.

I Had to Move Before I Could Sit

I wasn't always good at this.

In fact, I struggled with it.

When I first started backpacking, I realized something about myself.

I had to move before I could sit.

I needed to hike.

To breathe hard.

To sweat.

To climb.

To burn off the restless energy that had been living inside my body for years.

Only then could I finally sit beside a creek or on a mountain overlook and simply be.

That became one of the greatest lessons nature ever taught me.

Movement prepared me for stillness.

This is why the design of Wild Resilience is intentional.

We hike.

We challenge ourselves.

We move through beautiful landscapes.

And then...

We stop.

Not because you've earned rest.

Not because you checked enough boxes.

Because movement often quiets the mind enough that stillness becomes possible.

I remember setting up camp and immediately looking for another task.

Organize my backpack.

Filter more water.

Adjust my tent.

Clean something.

Anything.

Anything except sitting.

Then one afternoon, I caught myself.

Why was this so hard?

The answer wasn't physical.

It was emotional.

Because when I stopped moving...

I had to listen.

To my thoughts.

My fears.

My grief.

The questions I'd been outrunning.

Movement had become my distraction.

Stillness invited honesty.

And honesty can be uncomfortable.

But honesty is also where healing begins.

Nature Doesn't Ask Anything of You

One of the reasons nature is so restorative is because it doesn't demand your attention.

It gently holds it.

The sound of water flowing over rocks.

The wind moving through pine trees.

Birdsong.

The warmth of the sun.

The crackling campfire.

Psychologists Rachel and Stephen Kaplan described this through Attention Restoration Theory, which suggests our brains recover from mental fatigue when we spend time in natural environments. Unlike our phones, calendars, and endless notifications, nature captures our attention effortlessly instead of demanding it.

Our minds finally get a chance to exhale.

And when they do...

Something remarkable happens.

We begin hearing ourselves again.

The Other Gift I Give Is Choice

There's another part of every retreat that's just as intentional.

Choice.

Not just downtime.

Choice.

Everything is an invitation.

Nothing is a requirement.

That might sound ordinary.

It isn't.

Because many women have very little genuine choice in their daily lives.

Responsibilities dictate almost every hour.

When to wake up.

Where to be.

Who needs what.

What's for dinner.

Who forgot their homework.

Who has soccer.

Who has dance.

Who has an appointment.

The question becomes,

"What needs me next?"

Not,

"What do I want?"

So when I ask a woman,

"What would you like to do?"

Many don't know.

Not because they're incapable.

Because it's been years since anyone asked.

"I'm Not Creative."

This is another sentence I hear often.

"I'm just not creative."

I don't believe that.

I think you've been busy.

Research on the brain's Default Mode Network tells us something fascinating.

When we allow ourselves periods of rest, daydreaming, wandering, and quiet reflection, different parts of the brain become active—parts associated with creativity, imagination, problem-solving, and making meaning of our lives.

In other words...

Your brain needs spaciousness to create.

It needs boredom.

It needs wandering.

It needs moments that aren't scheduled or optimized.

Creativity isn't something reserved for artists.

It's something that emerges when we finally have room to think.

Maybe that's why some of the most profound conversations I've ever had with women didn't happen while hiking.

They happened sitting beside a creek.

Watching a fire.

Looking at the stars.

Doing absolutely nothing.

Maybe This Is the Real Work

People often assume the hiking is the transformative part of my retreats.

It's certainly part of it.

But it isn't the whole story.

The real work often begins after the miles are done.

When there is nowhere else to go.

Nothing left to accomplish.

No one asking anything from you.

Just you.

Your thoughts.

Your breath.

Your heart.

Sometimes that's when the tears come.

Sometimes it's laughter.

Sometimes it's clarity.

Sometimes it's simply relief.

Not because anyone gave you the answers.

But because you finally had enough quiet to hear your own.

The Gift of Time

So when someone asks me what I do...

I'll probably keep giving the same answer.

"I give women the gift of time."

Time to breathe.

Time to move.

Time to be still.

Time to choose.

Time to create.

Time to remember who they are underneath all the roles they've been carrying.

Because I don't think most women need another thing on their calendar.

I think they need permission to step off of it.

To discover that they are more than what they produce.

More than what they accomplish.

More than what they do for everyone else.

And maybe the greatest gift we can give ourselves isn't another hour.

It's the freedom to decide how we'll spend it.

Journal Prompts

1. How do you respond to unstructured time?

If someone handed you four uninterrupted hours with no agenda, what emotions would come up first? Excitement? Anxiety? Guilt? Restlessness? What might those emotions be trying to tell you?

2. When was the last time you chose something simply because you wanted to?

Not because it was productive.Not because someone needed you.Not because it was expected.

What did you choose, and how did it feel?

3. What part of yourself might be waiting in the quiet?

If you created just one hour of intentional stillness this week—with no phone, no agenda, and no obligations—what do you think you might discover about yourself?