CREATING SAFE SPACE (welcome)
“I don’t promise a safe space,” I said, pausing to let the air return to the room as twelve women stared back at me from the circle.
One gorgeous woman—a psychotherapist and psychedelic facilitator with a pixie cut and rich Colombian eyes—parted her lips in anticipated confrontation.
“Take a breath,” I continued. “Look around.”
I named the waning moon against the daylit sky, the silhouette of the trees, and the seeds flying away from the wildflower field. A hawk introduced itself overhead. Vultures swirled in contrast. The sound of frogs—easily mistaken for crickets—echoed along the valley.
“There are things in the forest dying right now. A bird on the edge of birth. The river tumbles over rocks. A fawn is standing for the first time, sheltered out of sight, while a bobcat stalks. A first-time mother buries a nest of baby hares.
And then, there’s you.”
Expressions shift from defensiveness to inquiry as I meet the gaze of eyes lifted, and honor those glancing at the wet Earth.
“Each of you holds a different interpretation of snakes and spiders, of water and the howl of coyotes, of the blanket of night.
Each of you carries your own landscape here and now.
Some are easily recognized in the shadow of your sister—mountains of relational trauma, ancestral pain, shared hope.
Some of your geology is altogether foreign to yourself or to another.
What is a sanctuary for one woman may be a fatal stumble over the edge of discomfort for another.
To promise you safety in a place like this is irresponsible.
To project safety outside of your very being as you greet yourself through growth is theft of your deepest capacity to evolve.
I don’t promise a safe space.
But I am committed to creating a space where you can explore what safety means within yourself.”
—
This excerpt is how I begin every retreat and workshop. It’s how I train NSR students:
• to decommodify and decondition the performative notion of “safe space,”
• to release the ego of the facilitator,
• and to restore communal responsibility, reciprocity, and personal agency to everyone in the container.
I have led events and lived solo as a mother in the Western Catskill Mountains on sixty-five acres without a neighbor in sight. The winters were deep and arduous. We had flash floods in early summer and bears on our front deck.
I’ve guided groups through the Peruvian mountains and the remote jungles of the Amazon—meeting sacred medicines, mosquito-borne illnesses, and deep physical, emotional, and psychological discomfort. I’ve led groups in the desert with climbing guides. I’ve been immersed in luxury spaces in Manhattan.
I’ve consulted on the creation of sanctuaries and programs for organizations where people gather, grow, and engage in healing work.
Across deserts, forests, cities, and jungles, I’ve met hundreds of facilitators—my own teachers and students—promising “safe space.” I once echoed it myself and meant every word.
But even with the best intentions, that promise quietly displaces both the independence and interdependence essential for true growth.
So while you’re here—whether simply reading these words, entering a program, or traveling the world with us—remember:
No one can promise you safety. But you can.
Here, you’re invited to discover and define what safety means to you—to reshape it as you gather new tools, move through new seasons of becoming, and express yourself in emergent ways.
I don’t promise a safe space.
I offer a place to land while you nurture a root of safety within yourself.
Welcome.
Program Resources:
SPACE: A Nuance — content exploring four kinds of space beyond the threshold of safety that every facilitator needs to assess and develop personal boundaries, container creation, and communication with participants. Includes a beautiful PDF workbook and form for self-determined foundational elements from purpose driven statements to practical insurance and logistics. Included with Nature System Reset Immersion.