Mt Waddington Reflections

Reflections from Mount Waddington

I had talked about this trip for years. Ski touring into the remote wilderness of Mount Waddington, flying in by helicopter to one of the most breathtaking and untouched ranges in BC. And then, quietly, I let it go. Too far. Too big. Too impossible.

And then somehow — it manifested anyway.

There I was, stepping out of a helicopter onto the Dais Glacier, skis in hand, the world opening into ice and silence and a vastness that made my chest do something funny. Awe and disbelief at the same time. This is actually happening. And underneath that — something older. Something that knew this place, even though I'd never been.

I've felt that before. Not on a glacier — but in my body.

There was a time when feeling fully at home in myself felt just as unreachable as this mountain once had. I didn't have language for it then. I just knew something was off. I was living my life, doing all the things — and somehow missing myself in the middle of it. A low hum of disconnection I'd almost stopped noticing.

So I did what I knew. I kept moving. I adapted. I quietly stopped expecting more.

And there was real frustration in that. The kind that comes from wanting something deeply and not knowing how to reach it. I tried things. Some helped a little. None of it quite landed. And after a while the trying itself became its own kind of exhaustion — this loop of reaching and not arriving, reaching and not arriving. So eventually I stopped reaching. Not because the longing went away. But because I didn't know what else to do with it.

But something in me didn't go out. It just waited.

There was still this deep, steady longing. This sense that there had to be another way to feel. Another way to be in my body.

When I was introduced to Tao Tantric Arts and Sacred Femininity practices, something in me said yes almost immediately. Even though it was unknown. Even though it felt a little scary. It felt right — like stepping into something I couldn't fully see yet, but somehow trusted.

Standing on that glacier, I recognized the feeling exactly. That edge of not fully knowing, and choosing it anyway.

Choosing to feel — to really feel — can be intimidating. Opening your body, listening more deeply, slowing down… it's not always comfortable. But just like arriving at Mount Waddington, when I took the time to prepare and arrive with care, I felt held. Held by the land. Held by the glacier. Held by something ancient and steady beneath me and within me.

That same support exists within us too. There is an intelligence in the earth — in the rock, the ice, the stillness — and there is that same intelligence in our bodies.

When we slow down enough to actually feel, to listen, to stay… something begins to open. We start to reconnect with our own depth, our own knowing, our own quiet, steady power. Like something inside gently meets the fear instead of pushing it away.

Moments like that remind me that we're not separate from any of this. We are part of it — especially as women — connected, sensitive, intuitive, powerful. And there's a kind of freedom that comes from remembering that. It's not about doing more. It's about relaxing into who we are.

I forget this sometimes. That I have a choice. That we all do. That I don't have to stay in that disconnected place. When I do listen, even just a little, something shifts. And that shift can open into something completely new.