By Denise Colin
There’s a particular kind of frustration that sometimes comes after a decision has been made.
It usually sounds like, “I knew it.” Or maybe, “Something told me I shouldn’t do that.” Or even, “I felt it in my gut, but I talked myself out of it.”
Most of us know this feeling intimately. That quiet inner nudge we sensed but didn’t trust. The feeling we dismissed because it wasn’t “logical enough,” or because we couldn’t explain it clearly to ourselves or someone else. Sometimes we didn’t ignore it outright; we simply squelched it with pros-and-cons lists, advice from others, or what seemed like the “responsible” choice.
And often, it’s only in hindsight that intuition makes itself unmistakably clear.
Intuition shows up differently for each of us. For some, it’s a physical sensation, possibly a tightening, a warmth, or a subtle pull forward or back. For others, it’s more elusive, like a fleeting thought, a feeling, or a sense of knowing without a clear reason why. Unfortunately for many of us, our intuition has become so faint that we don’t even recognize its signals anymore.
This isn’t a personal failing. It’s a reflection of the world we live in. Our world has trained us to prioritize what can be measured, explained, and defended, while teaching us to distrust what can’t.
We live in a culture that places logic on a pedestal.
From an early age, we’re encouraged to think things through, justify our choices, and make decisions that can be explained, defended, and backed up with evidence. Logic is rewarded in schools, workplaces, and institutions because it feels reliable. It offers structure, predictability, and a sense of control in an uncertain world.
Intuition, on the other hand, is often treated with suspicion.
It’s labeled as “woo-woo,” irrational, or naïve. We’re taught, sometimes subtly and sometimes explicitly, that if we can’t articulate why we know something, then we don’t really know it at all. We learn that trusting an inner feeling is risky, indulgent, or unprofessional, and that it belongs in the realm of spirituality or emotion rather than serious decision-making.
There’s also a deeply gendered layer to this story. Intuition has long been associated with the feminine, along with qualities like softness, receptivity, emotionality, and caring. And in a society that has historically devalued the feminine, intuition has been dismissed as weak by association. Not because it lacks intelligence, but because it doesn’t operate in ways that are easily proven, measured, or controlled.
Over time, many of us internalize these messages. We learn to privilege logic, even when it feels inadequate. We override our inner signals in favor of what looks sensible on paper. We ask ourselves, "What’s the smartest choice?" far more often than "What feels right?"
And while logic can be incredibly useful, this imbalance comes at a cost: we undermine our ability to make wise decisions by denying half of our innate decision-making intelligence.
Logic has real strengths, and it’s important to name them.
It helps us analyze information, weigh options, anticipate consequences, and solve complex problems. Logic is especially useful when decisions require clarity, structure, or long-term planning. It allows us to slow down emotional reactivity and approach situations with discernment rather than impulse.
In many ways, logic protects us. It can help us assess risk, create stability, and make choices that are sustainable over time. When used well, it brings coherence and order to the chaos of daily life.
But logic also has limitations.
Logic relies on the information it’s given, and that information is often incomplete. It tends to prioritize what can be quantified or articulated, leaving out subtler data like emotional resonance, bodily signals, relational dynamics, and values that don’t fit neatly into a spreadsheet. Logic can tell us what makes sense, but it can’t always tell us what matters most.
When logic is over-relied upon, it can become disconnected from lived experience. We may make choices that are technically sound but emotionally hollow. Decisions that look good on paper can still feel wrong in the body. And when logic is used without intuition as a counterbalance, it can even be used to justify staying in situations that drain or diminish us.
Logic is an essential tool, but without intuition, it can steer us into choices that make sense while still leaving us drained or misaligned.
Intuition carries a different kind of intelligence.
It draws on lived experience, pattern recognition, emotional awareness, and the body’s subtle signals. Intuition often knows before the mind can explain. It registers tone, timing, energy, and alignment. It senses when something is off or when something feels deeply right, even if there’s no immediate evidence to support that knowing. This form of knowing is rooted in the body and shaped by everything we’ve lived, learned, and absorbed.
For some, intuition is understood not only as embodied wisdom, but as something spiritual. It may be experienced as guidance from a higher self, a nudge from a spiritual support system, or a sense of being in conversation with something greater than ourselves. In this way, intuition can feel less like something we generate and more like something we receive when we’re present and listening.
These perspectives don’t need to compete. Whether intuition is experienced as bodily intelligence, subconscious awareness, or spiritual guidance, it points to a way of knowing that doesn’t rely solely on logic. And it often arrives before words do, offering information that logic alone can’t access.
But intuition also has its limits.
Not every internal signal is intuition. Fear, conditioning, trauma responses, desire, and habit can all masquerade as inner knowing. A strong feeling doesn’t automatically mean a wise one. Without reflection and discernment, intuition can be misunderstood or misapplied.
This is where intuition is often mischaracterized. It isn’t infallible, and it isn’t meant to replace thoughtful consideration. Intuition becomes clearer and more reliable when it’s met with curiosity rather than urgency, when we learn to listen without immediately acting, and to sense without rushing to interpret.
Intuition is powerful. But like logic, it’s most effective when it’s grounded, tended, and brought into relationship with other forms of knowing.
When logic and intuition are treated as opposites, we’re forced into an unnecessary choice. But when they’re allowed to work together, something more nuanced and supportive becomes possible.
Intuition is often the first to speak. It senses direction, alignment, and dissonance. It alerts us that something deserves attention before we can explain why. Logic, then, becomes a way of engaging that signal thoughtfully. It helps us slow down, gather information, test assumptions, and consider consequences.
Rather than asking which one you should trust, consider how you can use them together. Hear what your intuition is telling you, then leverage logic to help you respond wisely.
In this relationship, intuition sets the direction, and logic helps navigate the terrain. Intuition might tell us that a situation no longer feels right; logic can help us determine next steps, timing, and practical implications. Logic might present several viable options; intuition can help us sense which one aligns most deeply with our values and well-being.
When these two forms of intelligence work in partnership, decisions become both grounded and alive. We’re less likely to override ourselves in the name of reason, and less likely to act impulsively in the name of feeling. Instead, we engage our full capacity for discernment.
This kind of decision-making takes practice. It asks us to pause, to listen inwardly, and to resist the urge to rush toward resolution.
If you’ve ever looked back on a decision and thought, "I knew better," you’re not alone. Most of us are still learning how to hear ourselves clearly, and how to trust what we hear.
The invitation isn’t to abandon logic or to elevate intuition above all else. It’s to let them meet. To notice the signals that arise from your body, your experience, or your spirit and to give them space alongside thoughtful evaluation.
When logic and intuition are allowed to inform one another, decision-making becomes less about getting it “right” and more about staying in relationship with yourself. And that, over time, is what builds trust.
A More Authentic Approach to Goals and Growth
The New Year often arrives carrying a quiet pressure. We’re encouraged to set goals, improve ourselves, fix what feels unfinished, and aim higher than we did before. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this impulse. It usually comes from a sincere desire for clarity, stability, or a sense of direction.
But many of us know the other side of this story, too.
We set goals with sincere motivation. Then we get distracted or busy and they quickly become good but unrealized intentions, and we like we failed. Or we may meet them. But still, something feels off. Not broken — just lacking. The goal didn’t provide the outcome we anticipated.
What if the issue isn’t a lack of discipline, low motivation, or insatiability? What if the answer isn’t something external we need to achieve, but something internal we need to pay attention to?
This year, instead of asking What do I want to accomplish? we might try a different question: How can I live more authentically and true to myself?
Focusing on alignment rather than achievement invites a deeper kind of growth. It shifts the purpose of goals away from proving, fixing, or measuring ourselves, and toward living in a way that feels honest, sustainable, and true.
From this place, goals don’t disappear. They simply change their role. They become tools for supporting an authentic life, rather than measures of our success.
Achievement-focused goals tend to direct our attention outward, emphasizing productivity, improvement, and outcomes. Alignment-focused goals bring the focus inward, centering our values, needs, priorities, and the ways we want to move through our lives.
Alignment means living in relationship with yourself — your values, your needs, your limits, and what matters most to you right now. When your life is aligned, your actions feel connected to an inner compass, even when circumstances are uncertain or imperfect.
Many of us were taught to measure progress primarily by outcomes: milestones reached, productivity maintained, boxes checked. Alignment invites a different kind of awareness. It asks whether your days feel sustainable, whether your commitments feel honest, and whether the way you spend your time reflects what you value most.
Achievement can be motivating, but without alignment it often leads to exhaustion or disconnection. Alignment creates a steadier foundation. From that place, effort feels purposeful rather than draining, and growth feels integrated rather than forced.
When goals are shaped by alignment, they no longer ask you to override yourself in order to succeed. Instead, they support the life you’re actually trying to live. From this place, it becomes easier to follow through on your goals. And when you accomplish them, they’re more likely to bring a genuine sense of fulfillment rather than a fleeting sense of completion.
Living out of alignment doesn’t usually announce itself in dramatic ways. More often, it shows up quietly in patterns we normalize, the discomfort we push through, or in a persistent sense that something isn’t quite right even when things appear fine on the surface.
You might notice that your days feel overly full but strangely unsatisfying. You’re doing what needs to be done, meeting expectations and staying busy, yet you don’t feel present or find meaning in what you’re doing. Or perhaps you feel a constant tension between what you say yes to and what you actually want to do.
Being out of alignment can also show up as chronic exhaustion, irritability, or numbness. You may find yourself operating on autopilot, moving from one obligation to the next without checking in with how you’re actually doing. Over time, this can create a feeling of living your life from the outside rather than from within.
Another sign is the quiet habit of overriding yourself. This could be ignoring your body’s signals, minimizing your needs, or silencing your intuition in order to stay productive, helpful, or agreeable. These patterns are often learned and adaptive, but they can slowly pull us away from ourselves.
These signs don’t indicate failure or an urgent need to fix something. But they are useful information. Awareness is often the first indication that authenticity is asking to be prioritized and that you may need to reconsider how you relate to your life.
Living more authentically doesn’t happen through intention alone. It happens through practice.
Listening to your body, honoring your boundaries, and making aligned choices are skills. And llike any skill, they get stronger when they’re exercised regularly. Without consistent moments of reflection, it’s easy to default back to habits of busyness, obligation, and self-overriding, even when we genuinely want to live differently.
This is where goals can become useful again.
Rather than resolutions focused on outcomes, consider goals that create ongoing opportunities live more authentically. These habits are about building a steady relationship with your inner experience so your choices come from awareness instead of autopilot.
Some alignment-based goals might look like:
A daily or weekly meditation practice focused on listening rather than problem-solving. Even just a few minutes of noticing what’s present without trying to change it
A consistent journaling habit, such as a morning or evening check-in that returns to the same question:
What feels important today?
What do I need more or less of right now?
An evening reflection ritual, asking:
Where did I feel most like myself today?
Where did I override my needs or instincts?
A weekly pause to reflect on what’s feeling aligned and what feels forced so you can refocus your efforts for the rest of the week.
Intentional boundaries around rest, silence, or screen time that create space to notice your internal state.
Choosing one core value, such as honesty, presence, or compassion, and paying attention to how it shows up in your daily choices (this is another great evening ritual question).
These are still goals. They require commitment and repetition. The difference is that their purpose is awareness rather than performance. Progress is simply consistency.
Over time, these habits build momentum. They make it easier to recognize when something isn’t aligned and to choose differently when it matters.
When goals are rooted in alignment rather than achievement alone, the way we define success naturally begins to shift.
Success stops being measured only by what you complete, produce, or accomplish, and starts being measured by how you experience your life. Do your choices feel intentional? Do your commitments reflect your values? Are you able to stay connected to yourself even when things are busy or uncertain?
Focusing on aligning with your authentic self is not a softer or lesser form of growth. It is one of the most personal and impactful kinds of growth there is. When you understand yourself more clearly (your needs, limits, values, and inner signals), that understanding carries into every area of your life. It shapes how you work, how you relate to others, and how you respond to change.
This kind of growth tends to be quieter, but it’s also more enduring. Instead of chasing motivation or relying on willpower, your goals begin to feel self-reinforcing. You follow through not because you “should,” but because what you’re doing actually supports the life you want to live.
And when you do accomplish something from this place, the fulfillment feels different. It’s not just the relief of finishing or the satisfaction of checking a box. It’s the sense that what you worked toward mattered, and that you didn’t have to disconnect from yourself to get there.
Redefining success in this way doesn’t mean letting go of structure, purpose, or aspiration. It means choosing measures of success that reflect who you are, not just what you can achieve.
Choosing alignment as a guiding principle for the year ahead is an act of intention. It’s a decision to pay attention to your inner life, to let awareness inform your choices, and to allow growth to unfold from a place of honesty rather than pressure.
Spaces that support reflection and self-connection can make this process easier. At Womanspace, the emphasis is on slowing down, listening deeply, and exploring what authenticity looks like in your own life, in community with others who are doing the same. It’s not about becoming someone new, but about creating room to be more fully yourself.
As you move into the New Year, you might consider not just what you want to accomplish, but how you want to live. Let alignment guide the way and allow your goals to grow from there.
On Rest, Resilience, and Trusting the Season We’re In
Winter arrived this year with a sharp edge. Snow and bitter cold settled in earlier than in recent years, leaving less time to ease into the season’s discomforts. The shift felt sudden, with routines disrupted, bodies adjusting, and spirits bracing.
It’s natural to resist a season like this. Cold complicates even simple tasks. Snow slows us down. Early darkness fatigues us. When winter shows up forcefully, the instinct is often to endure it, begrudgingly, and count the days until it loosens its grip.
Rather than bracing for the potential brutality of winter weather, we might pause to consider what winter is actually doing. Beneath the snow and the cold, a great deal of work is underway. Work that is protective, restorative, and largely unseen. Understanding that work can offer a different way of being with this season, one rooted in rest, resilience, and trust.
Winter’s work is easy to overlook because so much of it happens quietly and out of sight. But in the natural world, cold and snow are not simply endured. They are integral to how ecosystems remain healthy over time.
One of winter’s most important roles is protective. A consistent layer of snow acts as insulation, keeping soil temperatures more stable than the air above it. Beneath that cover, roots, seeds, and microorganisms are shielded from extreme temperature swings that could otherwise damage or destroy them. Even in the coldest months, the ground is often warmer than the air, thanks to this natural blanket.
For many plants and soil systems, winter rest is not optional. It is built into their life cycles. Periods of cold allow energy to be conserved and vital processes to slow in ways that support long-term survival. What appears lifeless on the surface is often carefully preserved below.
Winter does not halt life. It shelters it.
Cold temperatures also play a critical role in maintaining ecological balance. Extended periods of freezing help interrupt the life cycles of insects, pests, and pathogens that might otherwise multiply unchecked. This natural limitation protects ecosystems from becoming overburdened once warmer seasons return.
Wildlife, too, is shaped by these rhythms. Many animals are adapted for winter through migration, hibernation, thicker coats, stored food, or changes in behavior. While winter is undoubtedly demanding, it is not unfamiliar. The cold is part of the environment they have evolved to navigate, season after season.
Seen this way, winter moves beyond just survival. It is about preventing imbalance, protecting future growth, and sustaining the whole.
Dormancy can look like stillness, but it is far from inactivity. Across the natural world, winter triggers a slowing of metabolism, careful conservation of energy, and a turning inward. Systems shift their focus from outward growth to internal maintenance and repair.
This quiet period is essential. Growth does not begin in spring; it begins long before, in the unseen preparation of winter. Strength is gathered slowly, patiently, and out of view.
What looks spent is often life being replenished.
In nature, difficulty is not always a negative. Stress can prompt adaptation. Limitation can create resilience. Harsh conditions, when they occur within natural rhythms, often support long-term health rather than undermine it.
Winter reminds us that challenge and balance can coexist. Not every season is meant to be comfortable, and that discomfort alone does not mean that there’s a problem.
Instead of looking ahead to how winter might play out, we can turn our attention to what this season is already setting in motion. Across ecosystems, the same patterns appear again and again: slowing, conserving, protecting, restoring. These are not signs of weakness or retreat. They are how life sustains itself through difficult conditions.
Humans are not separate from these patterns. Our lives, too, move in cycles. We have times of expansion and times of contraction. Yet we often struggle to grant ourselves the same permission that nature takes for granted. We resist slowing down. We interpret rest as falling behind. We perceive constant motion is the measure of health.
Winter offers a different perspective. It shows us that resilience is not built through relentless activity, but through wise pacing. That preparation does not always look productive. That strength can be quietly assembled, piece by piece, in moments that appear uneventful from the outside.
When we view winter through this lens, it becomes less something to battle and more something to listen to. Not a season demanding endurance alone, but one inviting attention to what needs care and time.
If slowing, protection, and restoration are essential across the natural world, it’s worth asking what those same patterns might offer us during the winter months. This season invites us to adjust our pace and expectations to match the conditions we are living in.
In winter, rest serves a protective function. Just as snow insulates the ground, rest can insulate us from depletion. It preserves energy, steadies the nervous system, and creates a buffer against constant demand. This kind of rest is about ensuring that what matters most is not worn thin by continuous strain.
Winter reminds us that rest does not have to be justified by exhaustion. It can be a wise response to limited light, colder temperatures, and the body’s natural need to conserve energy.
Shorter days and longer nights naturally reshape the rhythm of life. Winter narrows the world in a way that encourages focus and simplicity.
For many of us, this slowing can feel frustrating or restrictive. But recalibration is not about shrinking our lives. Rather, it’s about aligning them. Winter offers an opportunity to notice what feels sustainable at a slower pace and what might benefit from gentle boundaries.
Winter is rarely comfortable, and it makes no attempt to be. Cold, darkness, and disruption are part of the season’s reality. But nature shows us that some seasons are demanding because they promote important work.
When we stop treating winter’s discomfort as something that must be overcome, we make room for a response that’s rooted in patience and care rather than resistance. Instead of asking how quickly we can move past this season, we might ask what support would help us move through it well.
Winter has a way of narrowing our worlds. Travel becomes harder. Plans grow simpler. While this contraction can feel limiting, it also carries an invitation to draw nearer to one another.
In many places, winter naturally shifts attention toward connection and care. We welcome the warmth of others and give it more freely. Presence matters more than productivity. There is value in gathering together, in checking on one another, in creating spaces where people can feel supported through the darker months.
Community plays a vital role during seasons that are physically and emotionally demanding. Being with others, whether in conversation, shared silence, or simple companionship, reminds us that we are not meant to endure difficult seasons alone.
Winter does not require our enthusiasm or approval. It asks only that we recognize it as the season we are in and respond with care rather than resistance.
This is not a call to diminish the challenges of the season, but an invitation to move through winter with more intention. To rest without guilt. To slow without fear of falling behind. To trust that quiet work is happening, even when progress is not visible.
Beneath the snow and the stillness, life continues. It’s protected while it recalibrates and prepares. We can allow ourselves to do the same. Not rushing ahead, not wishing the season away, but letting winter be winter, and trusting that, in its own time, it will give way to what comes next.
The holiday season arrives with its familiar busyness and expectations, making
The holiday season arrives with its familiar swirl, with gatherings and quiet moments, joy and tenderness, nostalgia and expectation. It’s a time that can fill us up and stretch us thin, sometimes within the very same day.
Rather than letting the season shape us, we’re invited to consciously shape our experience — to curate the emotional and spiritual landscape we want to inhabit. When we pause to listen inward, we begin to choose not only what we do, but how we want to feel as we move through these weeks.
This is about creating a holiday that feels true to you, leaving you feeling joyful and fulfilled when it’s over. When we approach the season with intention, even small choices become nurturing, steadying, and rewarding.
Before the holidays gain momentum, there’s value in pausing to consider what you genuinely hope to experience this season. Not just the emotions you want to feel, but the kinds of moments, connections, and energies you want to welcome into your days.
You might ask yourself:
What experiences would make this season feel meaningful to me?
When this season has passed, what memories do I hope will linger?
What do I want this season to feel like in my body, my home, my relationships?
These reflections open a door to possibilities that are shaped by your own needs. Rather than starting with traditions or obligations, you begin with your own inner landscape and let the season build outward from there.
This clarity becomes a compass. When you know what kind of experiences you’re hoping to cultivate, your choices naturally begin to align, helping the season unfold in a way that feels authentic, nourishing, and entirely your own.
Once you’ve uncovered what you hope to experience and remember this season, the next step is grounding those intentions in practical choices. This is where reflection becomes direction.
Look at the experiences you named and let them guide your priorities. Which gatherings, rituals, or traditions truly support those experiences? Which ones feel misaligned or draining?
Choosing what matters most doesn’t require a complete overhaul. Often, it’s simply a matter of letting fewer meaningful moments shine brighter than many rushed ones. Or it could be releasing annual obligations that result in stress rather than nourishment.
Boundaries are often viewed as restrictive, but they’re about honoring your well-being. When you know what you want your season to hold, it becomes easier to say yes with intention and no with kindness.
This might look like:
Limiting the number of commitments in a week.
Simplifying gift-giving or shared meals.
Leaving room on the calendar for rest or spontaneity.
Communicating gently when something doesn’t fit your needs.
Your “no” is simply a way of creating space for a more intentional “yes.”
Honesty delivered with kindness can strengthen relationships. Let loved ones know what you’re hoping for this season and how you’re choosing to care for yourself.
A simple message like, “I’m keeping things slow and simple this year, so I won’t be able to make it, but I’m holding you in my thoughts,” honors both your needs and your connections.
Priorities and boundaries work hand in hand: one clarifies what you want to carry forward, and the other gently protects the space you need to experience it fully.
Once your intentions are clear and your priorities are named, the real work (and the real gift) is tending to them in the midst of daily life. These practices help you stay aligned with the holiday experience you’re consciously shaping, even as plans shift and energy ebbs and flows.
Each morning, take a brief, honest look at your calendar or task list.
Ask yourself:
Does this lineup still reflect what I hope to experience this season?
Does anything need to be simplified, moved, or released?
A few minutes of adjustment can create a day that feels far more manageable and aligned.
In the evening, a brief reflection helps integrate the day:
What felt fulfilling?
Where did I feel stretched?
What might I shift for tomorrow?
These small reviews act as quiet course corrections, helping your intentions stay alive and adaptable.
Mindfulness can take many forms, each one helping your intentions hold firm.
Pause before committing. Notice your energy and ask whether a “yes” supports or undermines your priorities.
Practice presence. Focusing on the current experience rather than allowing your mind to wander will keep you in the landscape you’ve chosen to inhabit this season.
Honor your needs. Do a quick internal check-in to identify what you need. Maybe rest, a stretch, a glass of water… This keeps your well-being centered.
These practices help you stay in tune with what truly matters.
For many, eating well or maintaining movement is more challenging during the holidays. Our routines shift, treats are abundant, and schedules fill up. Rather than approaching nourishment as a strict set of guilt-inducing guidelines, consider it a gentle support system.
Choose foods that help you feel grounded and energized when you can, and enjoy seasonal indulgences with presence and gratitude. Move your body in ways that restore you, like a walk, a stretch, or a few minutes of controlled breathing. Even small acts can create more balance.
Build breathing room into your days and plans.
Spaciousness protects your energy. But it also makes room for spontaneity, one of the most delightful parts of the season. Unscripted experiences often create the memories that linger the longest.
By giving yourself margin, you create space for both your intentions and the magic that can’t be scheduled.
Even with thoughtful planning, the holiday season can bring moments that feel overwhelming. Stress, emotion, and exhaustion are natural responses to a time filled with expectation and activity. Do your best to gently return to yourself when those moments arise.
When you feel stretched or frazzled, a brief pause can create just enough space to reset.
A slow exhale, a few breaths with your feet firmly on the floor, or simply acknowledging, “This is a lot right now” can calm your nervous system and help you move through the moment.
Once the immediate tension softens, small re-centering practices can help you reconnect with the experience you’re hoping to cultivate this season.
A short meditation prayer, or a few minutes of quiet.
Getting outside to feel the air or sun on your skin.
Returning to a mantra or affirmation that grounds you.
For many, comfort is found in the presence of people who replenish their energy. Reaching out to a friend or family member can be an act of courage and care.
For others, the most restorative balm is solitude. Establishing time for yourself is just as legitimate and nourishing as companionship.
When stress arises, it’s easy to slip into self-criticism and believe you should be handling things better, feeling differently, or keeping up with others’ expectations.
But letting yourself be imperfect without judgement is one of the most generous gifts you can offer yourself during the holidays.
As the holidays unfold, may you remember that you get to actively shape the season. Through reflection, intention, thoughtful choices, and self-care, you’re curating the emotional and spiritual landscape you want to inhabit.
Some days will feel beautifully aligned; others may feel messy or tender. Both are part of a human holiday, rooted in truth rather than perfection. What matters most is the care you offer yourself along the way.
May this season reflect who you are and what you value, and become one you’ll look back on with warmth.
Honoring the strength that carried generations forward
As the season of gratitude arrives, it invites a moment to imagine the life of a Pilgrim woman in late autumn — the sharp air, the scent of woodsmoke, and the weight of survival woven into every task. Her days were shaped by necessity rather than choice, and by a society that depended on her labor while seldom recognizing her voice. Still, she rose each morning to tend, to carry, to create, and to hold her family and community together.
As a holiday layered with both tradition and complexity, Thanksgiving offers an opportunity to look back with honesty and respect. Rather than romanticizing a difficult life, this reflection honors the women who lived it. Their stories, largely unrecorded, form part of the long lineage of women whose resilience and quiet leadership helped build families, communities, and the world we know today.
The life of a Pilgrim woman was defined by relentless, hands-on work. It was work that sustained her family’s survival in a world that offered little margin for error. Every day began before sunrise, with fires to stoke, food to prepare from raw ingredients, water to haul, and a household to keep warm through the long New England winter. Meals required grinding, kneading, preserving, and planning. Nothing was simple and nothing was wasted.
Beyond the hearth, her labor stretched into every corner of domestic life. Clothing had to be mended or made by hand. Soap, candles, and remedies for illness were crafted from what the land provided. Children needed constant tending, and elders required care. Illness, injury, and loss were common companions, demanding emotional steadiness as well as physical endurance.
And when necessity called, she worked alongside men in fields, gardens, and shared tasks that blurred the boundaries of “women’s work.” Yet despite her essential contributions, the patriarchal structure of the time meant that her autonomy was sharply limited, her labor expected, and her voice rarely recorded.
These unacknowledged efforts — steady, skilled, and often invisible — formed the backbone of early colonial life. Without them, communities could not have survived.
Behind the constant motion of daily work lived an inner world shaped by endurance, resourcefulness, and quiet courage. Pilgrim women shouldered not only the physical demands of survival, but also the day-to-day emotional labor of tending to those around them. They comforted the sick, calmed frightened children, created small moments of warmth in a world that could be harsh, and brought steadiness to households facing illness, scarcity, and uncertainty.
This was not spiritual leadership in a formal sense. The religious life of the community, shaped by men and steeped in patriarchal norms, often limited women’s roles and reinforced their lack of autonomy. Yet within these constraints, women still cultivated forms of inner strength that supported their families in ways religion did not name or honor: patience, compassion, intuition, and the ability to hold others through hardship.
Their strength was rarely acknowledged. It was assumed, expected, and often invisible. But it was also essential. This quiet resilience helped families endure seasons of loss and isolation, shaping the survival and continuity of early communities.
Though their names and stories seldom appear in the historical record, the impact of their steady presence remains. Their courage reminds us that not all forms of strength are public. Some live in the consistent acts of care that make survival possible.
Stepping back from the Pilgrim story reveals a wider landscape of women’s experiences. It was a landscape marked by both constraint and strength. For many women around the world, their work was essential yet overlooked, their days filled with labor that supported entire households and communities while offering little recognition in return. Pilgrim women lived within this pattern, facing the strict gender roles and limited autonomy common in European society at the time.
Yet this was not the only way women lived on this land. Many Indigenous nations held very different understandings of gender and authority, with matrilineal structures and respected roles for women in agriculture, healing, cultural preservation, and at times political decision-making. As Europeans settled, they often imposed their own patriarchal norms, disrupting the more balanced or women-centered roles that existed in some Native societies.
Across all cultures, women have contributed in ways both visible and unseen — nurturing families, sustaining traditions, and guiding communities through times of change. Recognizing these varied histories allows the story of Pilgrim women to be seen as part of a much larger lineage of resilience and contribution.
Reflecting on the lives of Pilgrim women, and on the broader lineage of women across cultures, offers a clearer view of how far women have come. The freedoms many enjoy today — access to education, the ability to make personal choices, economic independence, a public voice — were unimaginable for countless women who lived before us. These changes did not arrive suddenly; they unfolded across generations, shaped by women who pushed boundaries, challenged norms, or simply persisted in caring for their families despite the limits placed on them.
Gratitude for this progress can grow from an honest understanding of the past. It invites appreciation for the women who endured hardship while planting the early seeds of change. Their strength — often quiet, unseen, or unacknowledged — helped widen the path for those who followed.
By recognizing both the struggles they faced and the transformation that has taken place since, this moment becomes an opportunity to honor the lineage of women whose resilience made today’s possibilities attainable.
Thanksgiving invites a moment to look beyond the meal and toward the people and histories that brought us to the table. It can serve as a reminder to honor not only abundance, but also the progress born from countless women whose labor, care, and resilience shaped generations before us.
This season offers space to recognize the women who cooked, carried, tended, taught, healed, and held families together through circumstances far more demanding than most will ever face. Their perseverance laid the foundation for the greater choices and opportunities available today, and their resilience forms part of the bedrock on which our current freedoms rest.
In honoring them, Thanksgiving becomes more than a tradition; it becomes a moment to acknowledge the enduring strength carried by the women who came before and the women who continue to support and sustain our communities now. Their legacy calls us toward deeper gratitude — one that remembers the past honestly, celebrates the progress made, and encourages a more compassionate and equitable future for all.
This season invites us to rediscover the power of gratitude. As autumn settles in, nature begins to rest. The trees release their leaves, the days grow shorter, and the earth itself seems to exhale. Yet for many of us, this same time of year brings a quickening pace. As the holidays approach, to-do lists grow, obligations increase, and our minds race even as the world around us slows down.
That’s why this season offers such a meaningful invitation to pause. Thanksgiving, rooted in the harvest season, began as a time to honor abundance and give thanks for what the earth provided and for the relationships that made survival possible. When we return to that essence, we reconnect with the deeper rhythm of gratitude — not as an obligation, but as an act of awareness and appreciation.
At Womanspace, we strive to create space for that awareness — for moments of grounding, reflection, and connection amid the swirl of the season. Gratitude reminds us that even in the busyness, there is beauty to be found and peace to be reclaimed.
Gratitude is often thought of as a response, as something we feel when good things happen or others show us kindness. But the importance of gratitude reaches far beyond a reactionary feeling or expression. True gratitude is not dependent on circumstances or people; it’s a way of noticing life itself. It’s the quiet awe of a colorful sunset, the simple beauty of a butterfly crossing your path, or the steady comfort of knowing you’re still here, still breathing.
When we rest in that feeling of genuine appreciation for what is, we create a vibration of abundance. That energy draws in more of the same. In other words, it attracts to us more reasons to be grateful, more moments of peace, kindness, and connection. In this way, the power of gratitude lies in its ability to transform both our inner world and the way life responds to us. It reminds us that even in uncertainty, there is still goodness and connection to be found.
Both science and spirituality affirm the importance of gratitude. Studies show that practicing it can calm the nervous system, strengthen relationships, and support emotional healing. Spiritually, gratitude opens the heart and restores flow. It helps us release the heaviness of worry or scarcity and make space for hope and renewal.
Gratitude heals not by denying what’s difficult, but by expanding our awareness to include what’s still good. It invites balance, grounding, and a gentle return to wholeness.
Gratitude and presence are reflections of one another with each giving rise to the other. When we pause long enough to be truly present, to feel the air in our lungs or notice the light shifting through the trees, gratitude awakens naturally. And when we practice gratitude, our attention returns to the present moment. We see what’s here instead of what’s missing.
In a world that moves quickly, this simple awareness is transformative. Presence grounds us; gratitude expands us. Together, they bring us back to the rhythm of life as it’s happening rather than allowing us to contemplate yesterday’s worries or tomorrow’s plans. We stay where peace and appreciation live side by side.
Feeling gratitude, rather than simply stating it, strengthens that connection. The emotion turns awareness into a current of positive energy that subtly impacts not only our own wellbeing, but that of everyone around us.
There are times when gratitude doesn’t come easily. When loss, uncertainty, or exhaustion weigh on the heart, the belief in thepower of gratitude can feel distant and unrealistic. Yet these are often the times when gratitude holds the greatest potential to heal.
Gratitude doesn’t ask us to pretend everything is okay. It invites us to hold both truth and tenderness by acknowledging the pain and still finding a glimmer of light within it. It might begin with something small: a warm cup of coffee, the presence of a pet, a kind word from someone who cares. These simple acknowledgments don’t erase hardship, but they remind us that goodness still exists, even during difficult times.
The importance of gratitude is reflected in its ability to help us see the whole picture without denying the hard parts of life. Gratitude shifts our focus from what’s missing to what’s present. It reminds us that alongside the pain, there is also beauty, comfort, and love. In this way, it restores balance and helps us return to the truth that light and shadow coexist and both are part of being fully alive.
As we approach Thanksgiving, Womanspace invites you to join us in a reflective community practice: the 21-Day Gratitude Flow.
For the 21 days leading up to Thanksgiving (beginning November 6th), we’ll come together to cultivate the power of gratitude. Each evening, before ending your day, take a few quiet moments to reflect on one thing you are grateful for. It could be something profound or something simple: a kind gesture, the laughter of a friend, the steady warmth of your home, or even the lessons that came with a challenge. Write it down, or simply hold the feeling in your heart. The important part is to let yourself feel the emotion fully. Over time, you may begin to notice subtle shifts in yourself such as a calmer mind, a lighter heart, and a growing sense of optimism as gratitude gently rewires the way you see the world.
As we do this collectively, our shared gratitude creates a current of positive energy that flows outward and connects us. The more we nurture it, the more it expands, promotes compassion, and draws in abundance for ourselves and for others.
This practice is about being present long enough to notice what is good and letting that awareness reshape how we meet each day. Each acknowledgment, however small, adds to the collective flow of kindness, connection, and hope that defines this season and the spirit of Womanspace itself.
As the season unfolds, may this practice of gratitude shift from being a daily exercise to becoming a way of being. The power of gratitude lies in how it changes our relationship with life itself. It grounds us and reminds us that even amidst all we cannot control, there is always something to appreciate.
When we live in gratitude, we live in flow. We begin to see how every moment — the joyful, the ordinary, and even the difficult — offers something to learn, to cherish, or to simply receive. Gratitude transforms this season from a rush of activity into a rhythm of awareness.
As we move toward Thanksgiving and beyond, may we carry this awareness with us through sharing kindness, noticing beauty, and contributing to the energy of gratitude that uplifts us all.
From all of us at Womanspace: may your days be touched with peace, your heart open to abundance, and your spirit grounded in the quiet joy of gratitude.
A reflection on the history of witches, women’s wisdom, and the modern reawakening of the sacred feminine inspired by the mission of Womanspace.
At Womanspace, we gather in community, meditate, celebrate creativity, and listen for the wisdom that lives in silence. We tend gardens and honor the earth. We trust intuition as a kind of truth. Centuries ago, these same acts — connecting with nature, practicing natural healing methods, listening inward — could have branded a woman a witch.
The word still conjures feelings of mystery, danger, and power. But behind the myths and stereotypical portraits lies a deeper story based on fear and misunderstanding. Women once called witches were often simply women who knew things, like how to heal, comfort, or live close to the rhythms of the earth.
At a time when spiritual authority was tightly controlled, such knowledge made these women dangerous. Their independence, their insight, and their ability to nurture life outside the sanctioned boundaries of church and state became reasons to condemn them.
Today, many of the same practices that once drew suspicion are celebrated as paths to wholeness and connection. We call them mindfulness, holistic healing, yoga, energy work, or simply spirituality. How did we move from fear to reverence? And what can remembering this history teach us about the sacred feminine today?
The story of witches begins long before the witch hunts. The earliest meanings of the word wicce or wicca in Old English simply referred to a “wise woman” or “one who shapes.” She was the midwife, the herbalist, or the storyteller. Her knowledge of the earth, birth, and death connected her to the mysteries of life itself.
But wisdom, especially women’s wisdom, has often been treated with suspicion. As Christianity spread through Europe, the old folk traditions like honoring earth, moon, and seasons were gradually pushed to the margins. Women who continued to practice them were viewed as threats to the new order.
Beneath the myths and accusations lay a struggle over power: who was allowed to hold it, name it, and use it. A woman whose authority came from intuition and experience, rather than the pulpit or the throne, represented a kind of freedom the world wasn’t ready to allow.
By the late 15th century, fear of witches had hardened into a system of control. Across Europe, tens of thousands of people, mostly women, were accused, tortured, and executed. Those targeted were often widows, midwives, herbalists, or women who simply lived beyond society’s expectations.
The witch hunts arose from a convergence of power and fear. The Church provided the framework, defining witchcraft as heresy and linking it to sin and female weakness. The state supplied the enforcement through courts, prisons, and executions that carried out the punishments. And society provided the fuel, as neighbors and villages, grappling with plague, famine, and loss, sought someone to blame.
In times of upheaval, accusing someone of witchcraft offered a terrible kind of order. It was a way to name fear and burn it away.
When this mindset crossed the Atlantic with European settlers, it found new soil in the Puritan colonies of North America. In 1692, Salem, Massachusetts became the most famous example. However, it was part of a much larger inheritance — the suspicion of women’s independence, intellect, and influence.
Behind every accusation was a story: a midwife whose patient died in childbirth, a woman whose herbs healed too many, a female neighbor who owned property, or spoke her mind too freely. These were not women who worshiped dark forces; they were women who stood fully in their own power.
The witch hunts became a centuries-long attempt to silence what could not be controlled: women’s wisdom, their connection to the natural world, and their faith in something beyond the sanctioned institutions of the day.
Despite centuries of persecution, the wisdom of these so-called witches never truly disappeared. It simply went underground. It was carried in whispered stories, in gardens behind cottages, in the hands of healers who passed their knowledge from mother to daughter, mentor to apprentice.
Herbal remedies, midwifery, and seasonal rituals survived in fragments of folklore and household practice. Though the world silenced their voices, women kept listening. They tended herbs for healing, honored the changing seasons, and carried forward an understanding that the sacred could still be felt in the living earth. Even in silence, women kept tending the sacred.
Through every era, there were those who remembered that healing could be an act of love, that intuition was a kind of truth, that the divine could be found in earth and water and breath. These quiet preservations formed a lineage of care and connection that would one day be called the reawakening of the sacred feminine.
While the witch hunts largely suppressed women’s power and what they stood for, their wisdom was never completely lost. Some of it continued living quietly in the West, passed down through family lines of women who kept the old ways alive — midwives, healers, and caregivers who trusted the rhythms of nature. And in other parts of the world, that same wisdom remained central to health, balance, and spiritual life.
In Native American cultures, for example, women continued to serve as healers, dreamers, and keepers of natural medicine. In Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, herbalism, energy work, and spiritual ceremony remained vital parts of community life. Even in the West, where such wisdom was suppressed, traces endured in kitchen gardens, home remedies, and the intuition passed from mother to daughter.
By the late 19th and 20th centuries, a reawakening began. The feminist movement questioned old hierarchies of power and belief, while psychology and holistic medicine started recognizing the unity of body, mind, and spirit. Practices once dismissed as superstition found new validation in science and wellness. Midwifery reemerged as a respected healthcare field.
At the same time, the West began looking East for spiritual depth beyond materialism and dogma. Buddhism and Taoism offered paths of mindfulness and balance; Ayurveda and Traditional Chinese Medicine revealed systems of healing rooted in harmony rather than dominance. Women, in particular, were drawn to these traditions because they offered something both radical and familiar. They encouraged spiritual authority grounded in direct experience rather than external permission.
The sacred feminine was rising again, expressed through many cultures and languages. But they carried the same essence of intuition, compassion, interconnectedness, and care for all living things.
At Womanspace, we see this reawakening every day. In yoga classes, women breathe into stillness. In meditation circles, people of all genders discover the wisdom that arises in silence. In creative and spiritual workshops, we honor the many expressions of the divine, within ourselves, each other, and the natural world.
This reawakening reminds us that the world has long been shaped by imbalance. For centuries, masculine energy, with its drive to build, reason, and control, has dominated our institutions and our understanding of power. These qualities have brought progress, yet without the tempering feminine presence of compassion, empathy, and connection, we lose our harmony. The return of the sacred feminine invites us not to replace one with the other, but to restore balance between them.
To reclaim the word “witch” is not to summon the past’s pain but to honor its courage. The witch was never evil; she was simply free. She was a woman who knew that her connection to the sacred did not need permission.
When we look back on the centuries of fear and persecution, it’s tempting to distance ourselves from that history and to consider it as a relic of darker times. But the echoes remain. Many women still learn to quiet their intuition, to doubt their wisdom, to make themselves smaller so others feel safe. The witch hunts may have ended, but their shadow lingers in subtle expectations and unspoken fears.
Healing that wound begins with remembering. Remembering the women who were silenced — their courage, their connection to nature, and their insistence that the sacred could live within ordinary life. When we honor their stories, we begin to release the fear that once bound them and that sometimes still binds us.
Each time we listen to our inner knowing, share in community, or find the divine in the natural world, we participate in that healing. We reclaim our birthright: the freedom to be fully ourselves, body and spirit, wise and whole.
The history of witches also conveys a story of women’s spiritual resilience. What was once condemned as dangerous has become recognized as divine. The sacred feminine endures, rising again and again wherever compassion, creativity, and courage are welcomed.
At Womanspace, that remembrance takes living form. Here, we honor the wisdom of the body, the beauty of the earth, and the light of the spirit. We gather not to hide what makes us powerful, but to celebrate it in community, in stillness, and in joy.
If this history stirs something in you, we invite you to explore Womanspace’s classes and programs. Discover what helps you feel fully yourself, without judgment, in a space where your inner knowing is not only welcome, but cherished.
Because we who were witches are, and always have been, keepers of our own truth.
The benefits of creativity for wellness are often misunderstood. We tend to think of creativity as something special, a practice reserved for the talented few. But creativity isn’t only about making art, writing a novel, or performing ballet. It’s a way of moving through life with openness and imagination, whether you’re cooking dinner, arranging flowers, or jotting a thought in your journal.
Research shows that creative engagement can reduce stress, improve cognitive function, and even boost physical health. But beyond studies and statistics, many of us know it intuitively: when we create, we feel more alive, more connected, and more ourselves.
Creativity nourishes every dimension of wellness — mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and social. In each of these areas, simple acts of making and expressing can open doors to clarity, resilience, joy, and connection.
Let’s explore the benefits of creativity for whole-self wellness, and how everyday creative choices can bring more balance and meaning into our lives.
Creativity gives the mind a healthy place to rest. When we enter into a creative act, like writing in a journal, painting, cooking, or even solving a puzzle, our busy thoughts slow down. We find ourselves more present.
Creative activities often bring us into what psychologists call a “flow state,” where distractions fade and concentration deepens. This state not only improves productivity but also creates a restorative mental pause. This builds mental clarity and offers the brain a chance to reset.
Studies show that engaging in creative practices can reduce cortisol, the body’s stress hormone, and support memory and problem-solving skills. These findings highlight the benefits of creativity for wellness, especially in cultivating resilience and focus over time.
Mental wellness through creativity doesn’t need to look like studio art. It might be trying a new recipe, rearranging the furniture in a room, doodling while on a phone call, or jotting down three observations from your day. These small creative acts bring focus, calm, and a sense of play to the mind.
Feelings often move through us in ways that words alone can’t capture. Creativity provides a gentle and natural outlet, offering space for joy, sorrow, anger, or gratitude to be expressed safely and meaningfully.
Creative activities like painting, journaling, or playing music allow emotions to move through us instead of getting stuck and coming out in destructive ways. This is one of the benefits of creativity for wellness that helps reduce overwhelm and nurtures greater resilience.
Research suggests that expressive writing and art can reduce anxiety and help people process difficult experiences (American Journal of Public Health). Even beyond formal studies, many of us know the relief of singing in the car, doodling during a tense meeting, or baking when we need comfort. These acts help us regulate emotions and make space for both joy and sorrow.
Emotional wellness through creativity might look like writing a letter you don’t intend to send, choosing table colors that match your mood, or creating a playlist that mirrors your feelings. Even small creative rituals like these allow emotions to be honored and released in safe, supportive ways.
Creativity lives in the body as well as the mind. For example, dancing, painting, gardening, or kneading bread all invite us to move, stretch, and use our hands in new ways. These moments bring us back into connection with our physical selves.
Creative activities that involve movement, like dance, sculpture or baking, challenge muscles and improve coordination. Studies show that dance-based practices can increase flexibility and mobility in safe, enjoyable ways.
Visual arts practices, such as painting or knitting, can help calm the nervous system. Research shows they may reduce muscle tension and even lower blood pressure (Harvard Health). These are some of the benefits of creativity for wellness that directly affect the body’s stress response.
Engaging in creative activities has also been linked with reduced pain perception. Art-making provides distraction, eases tension, and helps the body process discomfort more gently (Frontiers in Psychology).
Creativity can be part of simple routines such as humming while you cook, planting herbs in a windowsill garden, dancing while you cook, or crocheting while you listen to a podcast. These ordinary activities keep the body engaged, increase energy, and remind us that movement and creation are deeply connected.
Creativity can feel like opening a door to something larger than ourselves. When we paint, write, or make music, we often experience a sense of wonder that connects us with purpose and meaning.
Creative acts invite us to notice beauty in the world, whether in a poem, a melody, or a photograph. This deepens our appreciation for life and nurtures gratitude.
For many, creative practices serve as spiritual rituals. Research shows that creative expression can increase feelings of purpose and spiritual well-being (Public Med Central). These experiences highlight the benefits of creativity for wellness by linking daily life to a broader sense of meaning.
Spiritual creativity doesn’t have to be grand. It might mean keeping a “wonder journal” with one moment of beauty each day, photographing the sunset, beautifully arranging your dinner plate, or lighting a candle as you write a note to a loved one. These small rituals turn everyday moments into spaces of reflection and connection.
Creativity naturally draws people together. When we share stories, sing, or make art in community, we strengthen bonds and remind each other that we are not alone.
Creative gatherings encourage trust and closeness. Research shows that group art-making can reduce loneliness and improve social well-being.
Sharing creativity allows us to celebrate one another’s gifts. This is abenefit of creativity for wellness that extends beyond the individual. It strengthens the community as a whole.
Social creativity might look like hosting a potluck with themed dishes, writing cards for loved ones, or swapping music playlists with friends. These acts of sharing bring warmth and connection, turning creativity into a thread that ties people together.
You don’t need “talent” to be creative. At its core, creativity is about being fully yourself. It asks for presence, expression and authenticity. When you create, you give voice to something within you that otherwise might stay hidden. In that act of expression, whether with words, visuals, movement, or sound, you touch a deeper aspect of who you are.
Through creativity, we allow our minds to focus, our emotions to flow, our bodies to move, our spirits to wonder, and our communities to thrive together. These are the many ways we experience the benefits of creativity for wellness.
And the beauty is that you don’t need hours of practice or polished skills to begin. Everyday acts, like doodling in the margin of a page, singing in the shower, cooking with care, or writing a journal entry, become creative rituals. These rituals help nurture balance, joy, and authenticity.
At Womanspace, we believe creativity is a path to wholeness. Our programs in the visual arts, mind and body practices, movement and meditation, and community groups are designed to nurture these dimensions of wellness in a supportive, welcoming environment. If you’re curious to explore creative wellness in community, we invite you to discover what feels right for you:
Creativity is already within you. We encourage you to release and nurture it!
Womanspace is a 501(c)(3) organization. Donations are tax deductible to the extent allowed by law.
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Womanspace, Inc., 3333 Maria Linden Drive, Rockford, IL 61114-5481 | Phone: 815-877-0118
Office Hours: Monday–Thursday 10:00 am– 5:00 pm