Guten Tag, Reader,

I am glad it all has to fit into a 3.8 cu. ft. drybag:

Sleeping bag, down pillow, hiking shoes, camp shoes, river pants, camp pants, long underwear, tank tops, wool hat, sun hat, journal, pens, book, pajamas, chargers, battery packs, toiletries, meds, fleece jacket, rain jacket, rain pants, cotton comfort clothes, costume for the last-night-on-the-river celebration. Oh, and the little stuffed ant eater that has travelled across many oceans, mountain ranges, and emotional landscapes.

Currently, I am staging everything in my office, along with the other necessary items to facilitate a river retreat, including books, pens, maps for the river library, stickers, and other swag, schedules, feedback forms, and oracle cards.

I have until Thursday to whittle it down.

Take only what I really need.

Plus a few items I really want.

For comfort.

Physical, emotional, or spiritual comfort.

Right now, I wonder if there is a difference. I listened to a podcast earlier today where people talked about the mind-body connection without mentioning the spiritual aspect. I wonder if I should start a podcast.

But first, I need to finish this letter.

Then I have to finish packing.

For wildHER, of course. Angie and I are meeting in Medford, Oregon, on Saturday. The participants will arrive at the lodge by the Rogue River on Sunday. We’ll push off the ramp on Monday.

I can’t wait for that moment.

One of the questions we will ask the participants at the end of the trip is,

“What are you ready to leave behind with the river?”

A friend and I were sitting by the creek last week, talking about the aftermath of an emotional hurricane.

“It feels like I am rebuilding my emotions’ home from the ground up, and I get to be very intentional about what goes inside.”

Social media? Nope.

News? Maybe later.

People? Some.

Resentments? Well, some of them might sneak back in, but they will get a place in the pantry, where I will have to seek them out if I choose to. They won’t be displayed on the mantlepiece.

Tell me

🎒 If you had to reduce your emotional, mental, and spiritual load to a 3.8 cu. ft. drybag, or let’s say a fanny pack that you can carry on your strong hips rather than your back—what would you bring?

🎒 What do you wish you could leave behind?

🎒 What if you can? Now? Before the hurricane forces you to surrender it all and start from the ground up?

If you don’t know where to start or how even to answer the question, respond to this email. I’d love to hear from you.

I will see you back here in two weeks. If you liked this letter, please forward it to a friend.

Always on your side, truly,

p.s. If you found something valuable in today's letter, why not buy me a coffee? I am keeping my writing AI-free, which means a lot of creativity goes into it. You can leave a tip for me here.