Goodbye From Mother Wild - A Message From Karryn

We created Mother Wild during the pandemic. Our need for connection was palpable through the zoom screens we first met in.

There was a desire to find a sense of meaning when our wider in-person support networks had been abruptly taken away from us. In the beginning, in those tiny boxes on each of our screens, we shared tears and laughter, we danced and we debated, we grew together and found strength to grow ourselves in the outside world—a world that wasn’t as forgiving as our safe virtual container.

Over the years those virtual hugs became real ones. We ran our first retreat together in Seattle once borders reopened, pinching each other to confirm that each of us was in fact real. It was a phenomenal group of women that gathered that first time—and every time since. They showed up ready and willing to be present with themselves and with the group. We shared deep insight with each other and uncontrollable giggles. We all craved some levity.

From there we kept growing virtually and in-person. As Carmela said in her message, through it all Mother Wild has always been about the women and it was the mothers – many of whom have no idea of their true strength and how the seemingly simple words they shared during our time together were actually profound – that kept us wanting to show up again and again.

Over the years Mother Wild has helped me strip away layers of conditioning.

It has helped me reflect on who I am and what I want from this “one wild and precious life” (thank you Mary Oliver). It has helped dig me out of the trenches of that brutiful stage of early motherhood (and a global pandemic) and see what I’m capable of. But more than that it taught me the power of community, of joy and of not taking things too seriously. 

As a typical type A, I found that with the shedding of the layers, I shook off some of the self-imposed harmful ideals and structure that limited me. I moved away from the kind of discipline that doesn’t propel you forward but instead holds you back. I began to embody how the act of letting go and going more with the flow helps us grow. I allowed myself to be silly, unraveling and discovering some of that childlike nature and freedom that got lost as I became responsible for children.  

Who knew self-liberation could come through wearing bright Lycra, leggings and dancing wildly to 80s dance music blaring from a zoom screen (Well … Carmela did). 

With the idea that sometimes letting go and allowing what is supposed to happen just happen in mind, we’re wrapping things up with Mother Wild.

We’re proud of what we’ve created. We’re in awe of all the women who have walked alongside us on this sometimes crazy path. The women who have shown up at all hours online or retreated with us, physically and mentally diving in.

Some of it has been light. Topless tarot with Gilly in Italy was a hit and optimized sunbathing time. While other times it has been deep. I’ll never forget Carmela breaking down in tears in Gili Meno when we did a session on thought work, uncovering some of the inner dialogue that holds so many of us back. “Is this the way that women walk through the world?” she asked through sobs. It brings me to tears thinking about it.

Our time together helped me rewrite unhelpful internal narratives. We hope it also helped to break down some of the negative inner dialogue of the mothers who joined us. Having a moment to pause, reflect and question the legitimacy of thoughts that we’ve had playing internally on repeat is a powerful act.

Also knowing that what women have shared with each other through Mother Wild has not only given them, and us, a chance to be heard, it has helped others feel less alone and more justified in how they feel, giving voice to thoughts many people have had but didn’t know how to share. That has been one of the gifts this community has given us.  

I tell my children often that the only constant is change. For good or bad things will always change. Of course, it’s not my profound wisdom (thank you Heraclitus) but it’s the one thing that has always stuck with me. I’m often met with an eye roll and the kind of exaggerated sigh that’s becoming more frequent as my kids grow. 

They are pre-teen now and I’m in a different kind of trench than I was when Mother Wild started. It’s one that still feels like it’ll bury me at times but also one that feels less raw than it did with Matrescence - the birth of myself as a mother (side note: how sad is it that the word “Matrescence” that denotes something so profound still shows as a spelling mistake here despite being coined over 50 years ago. Thanks for the gaslighting Microsoft Word). 

We’re all at different stages of our lives now. Since we started two of the original team, Tash and Angeli, have moved on. Gilly has stepped on board to share her magic and our constellation has shifted. Once again change is the only constant. 

We’re all craving more in-person and less digital – the whole world is — and it feels like the right time to move on from Mother Wild. 

I write this with sadness, knowing how important and magical this has been for me, but also with a quiet confidence that this is the right next move that honors those that have been involved. 

This is not a goodbye as we still all adore each other. Gilly, Carmela, and I will be showing up again together in some new shape or form. We’ll come together to share what feels right and bring people together, but it won’t be under the umbrella of Mother Wild. Afterall energy doesn’t disappear, it transforms (thanks Albert Einstein). 

With that said this is not an email launching a new business. It’s one that says sometimes you need to pause, reflect, and then figure out what’s next once you’ve created some space. We’re at one of those junctures. 

I know that the saying “words can’t express how much Mother Wild has meant to me” is cliché but this community has helped open me up in so many ways. 

To the women of Mother Wild I have loved dancing beside you metaphorically and physically. 

As Rumi wrote: “In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” 

Thank you for dancing inside my heart.